Their control already extended too far, and this just gave Jeremy another reason to neutralize them.
“I’m not leaving him here.” Lydia rose to her feet again and crossed her arms in front of her, pushing her bosom up and reminding him of what they’d been doing before being so rudely interrupted.
The housekeeper at his manor on Cork Street was something of a dragon and ought to be able to keep the boy out of trouble.
Maybe.
He stared down at the orphan, who was feigning innocence all too convincingly. “I might have a position for you.”
“You mean you would take him home with you?” Lydia gazed at him with so much delight and wonder that he was tempted to go in search of ten more orphans to welcome into his home.
And at that ridiculous thought, Jeremy clenched his jaw and scowled. “He’ll have to earn his keep.”
“But you have a warm bed for him, and food, and most importantly, he’ll be safe!” The scowl must not have looked stern enough because her ridiculous wonder flourished—in her smile, her voice, and the grateful clasp of her hands. “Did you hear that, Ollie? Lord Tempest is going to take you home with him.”
“But I’d rather go with you.” Ollie sidled up next to her.
Although doomed to be sorely disappointed, the child had excellent taste.
“You’ll come with me, or you’ll remain with your friends on the docks.” Jeremy supposed he ought to send a watchman over. And repair all the locks. They were lucky the warehouse hadn’t already filled up with vagrants.
“You’ll not regret it, Ollie.” Lydia took hold of the boy’s hand and glanced over her shoulder at Jeremy, her full, pink lips tilted up into that devastating smile of hers.
More worshipful wonder.
“We’re finished here for the day, are we not?”
Jeremy fisted his hands at his sides. “I suppose so.”
* * *
After being delivered back to Heart Place, assured by Jeremy that Ollie would be safely situated in the Tempest household, Lydia lay back and soaked in a long hot bath, feeling acutely aware that but for a colossal stroke of luck, she and Lucinda and her brothers could have ended up just like Ollie. Because she’d been orphaned at the age of four.
Only, her father had been a duke.
Was that why she’d agreed so quickly to work on this project with Clarissa? Because of guilt? She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as Louise carefully poured a pitcher of water, rinsing the soap from Lydia’s hair.
Life wasn’t fair. Was it wrong that guilt motivated her?
Working out her motivations would have been a good deal easier if her mind didn’t persistently return to the most astounding fact that Jeremy had kissed her! And not in the manner he’d kissed her last summer.
This kiss had been… alarming. Devastating. Exciting.
This kiss had been magnificent.
Her heart fluttered, and she shivered.
“Your towel, My Lady,” Louise assisted her out of the copper tub and helped her to dry off and then don one of her day dresses, a low-waisted jonquil muslin with a V-neck and sleeves large enough to store a small dog in each.
Too discombobulated to join her aunt in her knitting downstairs, Lydia sat down to make notes of what she and Jeremy had discussed.
Only… rather than summon words to write, her mind kept going back to those few moments before Ollie had interrupted them.
Jeremy had kissed her with the same desperation she felt. Did that mean he felt the same?
His lips had been hard and demanding, almost as though he was angry. At her? No, she decided, most definitely not at her.
At himself? Lydia dipped her pen in the jar of ink.
When he’d dragged his mouth along her jaw and then down her neck, he’d softened.
He’d fondled her. He tasted me.
It had made her want to taste him as well—to know the essence of his skin in every way imaginable.
Lydia frowned down at the large drop of ink that had plopped onto the parchment and then crumpled it in frustration and tossed it onto the floor.
She’d been exasperated with him one moment and clinging to him desperately the next. Remembering the feel of his body, all hard planes and muscles pressing into her, heat raced to her core.
This was useless. Lydia set down the pen and closed the jar of ink. Had he kissed her because he was regretted sending her away last autumn?
Throwing herself onto her bed, she squeezed her thighs together at the same time she allowed one of her hands to edge over her belly, to just below her breast.
A knock sounded on the door, causing her to sit up guiltily.
“Come in!”
Clarissa peered around the door. “Mr. Hill sent me up.” Her friend looked elegant and sophisticated, wearing a puce linen day dress with a low waist and billowing long sleeves. As she entered the room, she removed her bonnet and then tossed it onto the bed.
“How is little Alexander?” Lydia touched her fingertips to her cheeks, hoping they weren’t flushed.
The young countess shrugged and waved a hand through the air. “He’s fine. That was just an excuse to leave you and Lord Tempest alone.” She dropped into the chair near Lydia’s vanity. “Tell me everything.”
Lydia shot her friend a disapproving glance but then sighed.
“Well?” Clarissa prompted her.
“He’s decided to invest, and he’s amenable to the plans we’ve had drawn up.”
“That’s not what I mean. Is there hope for him? Did the two of you discuss anything personal? Did he kiss you?”
Lydia bit her lip.
“He kissed you!”
“A thief attacked us on the street.” Lydia made an attempt to avoid discussing what had happened between her and Jeremy. Because she didn’t quite understand it herself.
“No!”
“He was a child, Clarissa, the most precious boy you’ve ever seen.” Lydia went on to tell her all about Ollie, and the coat Jeremy gave him, and how he’d returned today, bruised and beaten. And about the gang boss, causing both of them to frown.
“Mason has warned me that there could be trouble. He and Lord Tempest may be forced to deal with the gang bosses early on. But what can we do about the boy until then?”
“Jeremy took Ollie home with him,” Lydia announced and then paused abruptly. He’d surprised her. And yet, it was precisely what he’d have done before his brother died.
Clarissa tilted her head in disbelief. “Your Lord Tempest? A gentleman who had to be coerced into the project to begin with? He has opened his home up to an orphan?”
Lydia nodded. “He said his cook would put Ollie to work. And even though he says he’s only doing it to keep me from bringing Ollie home with me to Heart Place, I refuse to believe it.” She held Clarissa’s gaze, almost afraid to appear too hopeful. “I could see it in his eyes, Clarissa. He could no more leave that child alone there than I could.”
“But when did this kiss happen?”
Lydia smoothed the fabric of her gown and then shrugged. “Just before Ollie came running in.”
“Was it more than just a kiss?” Clarissa asked.
Lydia pinched her lips together, feigning innocence.
And obviously failing.
“Oh, Lydia.” The other girl was shaking her head.
Lydia hadn’t intended to tell Clarissa anything about it, but since she already knew… “It was glorious. Fantastic. It’s never been that way before, and I never wanted it to end.”
“Oh, dear.” Clarissa looked more concerned than delighted. “I should have thought this through better.”
“What?”
“It’s a good thing that kiss did end, though. Little Ollie deserves your thanks. You’re terribly young and if Tempest ruined you, Baxter would have to send for Blackheart to defend your honor.”
Which, all in all, would be an utter catastrophe.
“I really do need more friends who don’t read my mind
like you do.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible, what with your emotions written all over your face.”
Lydia conceded with a shrug. It was true. “What should I do if he kisses me again?”
“What do you want to do?” Clarissa countered.
“Probably something that I oughtn’t.”
Her friend brushed her hands together decisively. “And for precisely that reason, the two of you cannot be alone together again. At least not until we know his intentions are honorable. I’ll host a dinner party next week. That will give him the opportunity to show his affection for you in a socially acceptable manner.”
Lydia held back a groan. “Next week?” She didn’t want to wait until next week to see him again.
“And in the future, I’ll not send you alone again to discuss the orphanage with him. I ought to have realized…” Clarissa wagged a finger. “But let him stew a little. He’s had a taste, now he must decide: is he prepared to commit to the entire meal?”
Lydia groaned. “I don’t know.” She wished it was as simple as that.
“Keep yourself busy. Visit Madam Chantal and ask her if she knows of any seamstresses we can hire. The children will need proper clothing and we might as well have them wear uniforms. And if you’ve time, drop by the employment agency as well. No time like the present to begin interviewing teachers and whatnot, now that we’ve secured funds.” The young countess rose and brushed at her skirts. “I can’t stay long. Mason is taking me to the opera this evening. He rather enjoys sitting in the dark with me.” A grin flashed across her face, but she schooled it and sent Lydia a warning glance. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
In the past, Lydia would have laughed outright at such a warning. But on the heels of Arthur’s scorching kiss… “I won’t.”
She walked Clarissa downstairs to the door and then watched her climb into the elegant carriage waiting for her.
What would it be like to… sit in the dark with one’s husband in a private box at the opera? And to have children of her own?
Feeling lonelier than she had before Clarissa’s visit, Lydia closed the door behind her and, after peeking inside the drawing room, wandered the corridors until she located Mr. Hill. “Have you seen my aunt this afternoon?”
“She went out with Lord Beasley one hour ago. She said she wasn’t certain of when she intended to return.” Mr. Hill seemed almost apologetic. Lydia must look as pathetic as she felt.
“Thank you, Mr. Hill.”
This wasn’t the first time her aunt had gone out with Lord Beasley, an elderly baron who’d courted Aunt Emma about a hundred or so years ago. And if Lydia wasn’t mistaken, the gentleman was as smitten now as he must have been before.
Lydia needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and do something productive. Just as she went to return to her chamber, however, pounding sounded on the door, fists rather than the knocker. Curious as to who it could be, Lydia paused on the steps and waited for Mr. Hill to open it. When he did so, a gush of wind swept into the foyer, along with Jeremy, who looked fit to be tied.
“Is he here?”
“Who?”
“Our innocent little orphan,” Jeremy growled.
Oh, Ollie! Lydia’s heart sunk at the implication of Jeremy showing up here looking for him.
“You lost him already?”
“I didn’t lose him. Mrs. Crump fed him, found him proper clothing and shoes, and then insisted he bathe, which, by the way, had the entire household suffering his caterwauling for nearly half an hour. But when she sent him to collect coal from the cellar, he disappeared instead.”
“Oh, no.”
“I thought he might have come here. He paid very close attention to our directions after we delivered you yesterday.” Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. And in that single motion, Lydia saw it. He was concerned that Ollie had returned to the docks and put himself in danger.
Worry swept through her at the thought.
“We need to find him,” she said. “We need to go back to the warehouse now.” She glanced down at her gown, which would stand out like a sore thumb amongst the fishmongers, beggars, and seaman ever-present along Wapping Street.
Jeremy shook his head. “It’s getting late. Perhaps Baxter—”
“Pardon me, My Lord, My Lady.” Lydia turned around to see Mrs. Duckworth, the housekeeper, hovering at the door that led to the kitchens. “This little one insists that he knows you.”
Tucked behind the housekeeper’s skirts, wearing perfectly fitted short pants, a shining pair of boots, and a pristine white shirt beneath a fitted jacket, hid a small boy who looked suspiciously familiar.
“Ollie!” Lydia gasped. Absent his usual dirt and grime, her little orphan was barely recognizable. Lydia rushed forward and took both his hands in hers and then lifted them out to his sides in admiration. “Just look at you!”
“Ahem.” Jeremy stepped forward with a scowl, and Ollie’s relieved smile fell.
“Tell me, Oliver, did or did not Mrs. Crump ask you to bring up some coal.” Jeremy pointedly swept his gaze around the gilded foyer. “You are a long way from my coal cellar. Did you get lost?”
Lydia bit her lip and watched silently. This was a matter to be settled between the two of them.
Ollie squirmed. “I don’t like no baths. That old woman dumped hot water over my head—tried to drown me.” And then he threw his arms around Lydia’s legs. “Don’t make me go back!”
Lydia pinched her mouth into a straight line and stared at Jeremy expectantly, all but biting her tongue so as not to interfere.
Hands behind his back, Jeremy stood firm, looking quite imposing but also… like that of a disappointed parent.
“You promised me you would assist in the kitchen, and in exchange, what did I promise you in return?
“Hot food. And sweet biscuits, and a bed that ain’t outside,” Ollie admitted grudgingly.
“And what did you have when we arrived at Charles Street?”
“Stew. With meat. And a piece of pie.”
“And where did Mrs. Crump show you to afterward?”
“A bed with three blankets!”
Jeremy allowed silence to fall between them as Ollie considered his circumstances.
“You would give all that up because of a bath?” Lydia could not help herself. The child looked so determined... but also a little bit lost. “I can’t have you visit me for tea if you don’t bathe. All proper gentlemen know it’s important to smell properly clean when they visit a lady.”
At this, she thought she saw Jeremy roll his eyes heavenward.
“But I ain’t no proper gentleman,” Ollie said.
“Not yet, but with help from Lord Tempest, perhaps someday you will be one. You could learn to speak and read and write…”
Jeremy appeared as skeptical as Ollie.
But then Ollie loosened his hold on her legs, looking rather torn.
“Go outside and wait for me in the carriage.” Jeremy met Ollie’s gaze meaningfully. “If you aren’t inside of it when I come out, I’ll know you’ve made your choice. You won’t be given the same opportunity again.”
Ollie fidgeted with a button on the new jacket he was wearing.
“Choose wisely, Ollie,” Lydia said.
He glanced up at her, melting her heart with those violet eyes. “You mean it? You really think I could be a gentleman?”
“I do indeed. But you must learn to follow rules first. You must take your baths and do as Mrs. Crump tells you. You are worthy, Ollie, but you cannot run away simply because you’re a little uncomfortable. Do you understand?”
Ollie nodded.
“In the carriage, Ollie. At once.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, m’lord.” He turned to head back toward the kitchen before being halted by Mr. Hill’s voice. “Parden me, Mr. Ollie. The carriage is this way.”
Ollie turned around in both terror and awe as Mr. Hill reached out his hand and escorted the diminutive little man out the fr
ont door.
Likely, it was the first time Ollie had used a front door to enter any sort of home, let alone one of the grandest mansions in all of Mayfair.
Chapter 6
“Really, Lydia? A gentleman?” The sarcasm in Jeremy’s voice echoed off the ornate walls of the suddenly empty foyer. “I knew you were naïve, but…”
His gaze trailed down her person, and as he did so, the look in his eyes changed from one of derision to something else. They were alone again, and he was as aware of it as she was.
“It is possible.” She forced herself to remember what they were discussing. “As a ward of yours.”
She expected him to groan or adamantly deny anything of the sort.
“He’s to work for me, Lydia.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Ollie had disappeared with Mr. Hill. “And we’re not off to a very auspicious start.”
“He is learning,” she pointed out. “It is a beginning.”
“He’s a little pest.”
“He is a pest that you were worried about.” Lydia could do nothing to stop the satisfied smile that stretched her lips.
Jeremy stared at the floor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “How old would you guess he is?”
The question surprised her. “Five? Six at the most?”
“He is nine, Lydia.” Jeremy pinned his gaze back on her. “At least he thinks he is nine. He says he lost track of time after his mother disappeared but believes he was nearing his seventh birthday at the time.”
“But he’s so small.”
Jeremy’s eyes darkened. “He only eats what he finds in rubbish bins or what he can steal.”
Lydia and Clarissa had discussed this aspect of an orphan’s life before. She ought to have realized Ollie was older than he looked.
As horrifying as the reminder was, though, she also felt a sense of peace.
Because Ollie was going to get proper meals now, and Jeremy did not look nearly as cold and cynical, as he had just a few days before. Of course, he was still not the same as he once was; the tragedies of the past year had scarred him. But…
He was not uncaring.
Earl of Tempest: The Wicked Earls Club Page 5
