by Merry Farmer
Stephen jerked to stare at him with wide eyes. “I’m not taking it out—” He stopped abruptly, pressing his lips into a tight line. “I just want to find Jane and the boys,” he went on in a distracted voice, shaking his head as he marched past Max to the chapel door.
Max was ready to tear his hair out from frustration. He would be damned if he’d let Stephen’s guilt shut him out, but he didn’t know where to begin to wheedle his way back into the man’s heart. “You were right to send for the police,” he said as he followed Stephen to the hall. “They’ll know how to widen the search.”
“I just can’t believe no one noticed Jane and the others were missing yesterday.” Stephen marched ahead, tense as a tiger. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Max said, catching up to him. He caught Stephen’s arm, holding him still. “You are an excellent father to your girls, but it is a massive job. You’re doing everything right.”
“Am I?” Stephen broke away from him, taking a long step back. He studied Max as though he were a perplexing problem. “Am I the man you seem to think I am?”
“Of course, you are.”
“Or am I a selfish cad who puts his own desires above those of the children in his care?”
Max took a half step toward him, resting a hand on the side of Stephen’s face. “You are not to blame for any of this,” he said, meeting and holding Stephen’s eyes with stalwart strength.
Stephen shook his head, but placed his hand over Max’s, holding it to his cheek. “I’ve been good for years, but one night of abandon, and this is the punishment I get.”
Max’s heart rejected the notion so vehemently that he nearly laughed. “No one is punishing you for enjoying yourself.” When Stephen’s expression turned doubtful, he went on with, “What we did, what we feel for each other, it isn’t wrong, Stephen. You have every right to a life of your own, every right to give your heart and body away.”
Stephen’s wary look deepened. He pulled Max’s hand from his face, though their fingers remained entwined, and glanced back toward the chapel. “I can think of quite a few authorities who would disagree with that sentiment,” he said in a wry voice.
“Fuck them,” Max said, a giddy thrill passing through him at the idea of using coarse language in a church. “Most of the people who made those rules are stodgy pricks who wouldn’t know love or pleasure if it shouted in their face. And your heart is so big that there is more than enough to lavish on your girls and to give it to a lover, whether that’s me or not.” It hurt to add the last bit, but it was something Stephen needed to hear.
Stephen’s lips twitched, but a smile didn’t fully form on his worried face. “I will never be as sure of myself as you are.” He paused, then added, “And I have no wish to give my heart to any other lover but you.”
Max swayed closer to him, squeezing his hand. “Thank God for that.” He was desperate to kiss Stephen, but wasn’t sure he dared to. “And I have to be sure of myself. I’ve tried the alternative, and that way lies misery. The world isn’t going to accept me, so I have to accept myself. And I accept you, Stephen. I accept you just as you are.”
At last, a smile blossomed on Stephen’s gorgeous face. His blue eyes turned suddenly glassy behind his spectacles, as though he’d never heard such tender words before, as if he’d never expected to hear them. Max changed his mind about daring. In spite of standing in a church hall with the possibility of being interrupted at any moment, he slipped an arm around Stephen’s waist and pulled him close, slanting his lips over Stephen’s.
It was a sweet kiss and a brief one. Just as it reached into Max’s soul, making him want more, they heard the clatter of footsteps on the flagstones around the corner from where they stood. The warning gave them enough time to jump apart and head toward the corner before a young nun with a tear-stained face met them.
“The police are here,” she said in a wispy voice. “Sister Constance sent me to fetch you.”
“Lead the way,” Stephen said, back to sounding as though he were in command, though his cheeks were flushed and his eyes glowed.
By the time they reached the entryway of the orphanage, Sister Constance had revived her towering temper as she addressed a single police officer in a disheveled uniform.
“There are children missing, sir,” she shouted. “Young children. None of them older than ten. You must do something about it.”
The officer raised his hands as though to ward Sister Constance off. Max was alarmed at the banality of his expression. “Now, now, Sister. I’m sure it’s nothing to get upset about,” he said in a cockney accent.
“Missing children are most certainly something to get upset about,” Stephen said, raising his voice as he marched to join the conversation. “Three children, a girl named Jane, a boy named Jerry, and another boy named Robbie, have been missing since yesterday afternoon,” he went on. “They were last seen at a concert hosted by Lady Bardess at her home in Mayfair.”
The officer looked at him as though he had snatched a mug of beer out of his hands for no reason. “And what do you expect me to do about it here, in Limehouse, if the kids went missing from Mayfair?” he demanded, his tone as slovenly as his appearance.
“I expect you to do your job and open an investigation into the children’s whereabouts,” Max said, adding his weight to the confrontation.
The officer jerked back, staring incredulously at him. “Who are you when you’re at home?” he asked with far more sass than Max was accustomed to.
“I am Lord Hillsboro,” Max said with as much imperiousness as he could manage. “My father is Lord Eastleigh.”
The officer seemed to shrink a bit as he realized he was speaking to a nobleman. All the same, it was clear that he either didn’t entirely know his place or he didn’t care about hierarchy. “Look, m’lord,” he began, ignoring Sister Constance and Stephen entirely. “So you’ve got three kids missing. Kids go missing from places like this all the time.”
“Then they should be found,” Max insisted.
The officer’s face pinched. “Maybe where you come from, m’lord. But around here?” He shrugged as though none of it mattered.
“These three children are precious to us,” Stephen insisted, glaring at the officer.
Again, the officer shrugged. “I’m guessing the kiddos are orphans?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Max demanded.
“No one much cares about orphans, do they?” the officer said. “That’s why they’re orphans to begin with. Folks dump ’em off on you lot because they’re not wanted. So why should I waste my time turning over stones to find a few whelps that no one wants anyhow?”
Max was so appalled by the man’s attitude that it turned his stomach. “These orphans are very much wanted,” he insisted.
“They are loved,” Stephen agreed.
“You will do your duty and find them,” Sister Constance added.
The officer sighed and rubbed a hand across his stubbly chin impatiently. “Look. You can lodge a complaint with the district office if you’d like. I doubt anyone will care much, though. We’ve got thieves and murderers to catch. These streets are rotten, all of them. No one cares about kids when businesses are being robbed blind and blokes are being stabbed in the alleys.”
“But you can’t just—” Sister Constance started.
Stephen silenced her with a raised hand. “We understand,” he said in a seething voice. “You’re not going to help us.”
“No, sir, I’m not.” The officer nodded.
“Then get out,” Max growled.
Between him and Stephen, and even Sister Constance, they must have presented an intimidating enough front to unnerve the man. He touched the brim of his hat and scurried back out to the street without another word, looking glad to be rid of them and the problems.
“I’ve never seen anything so irresponsible and callous in my life,” Sister Constance huffed once the man was
gone.
Max exchanged a glance with Stephen that said they’d both seen more than their share of unfair treatment for unfair reasons.
“What do we do next?” Max asked. “Since the police aren’t going to be of any help.”
“Maybe not these police,” Stephen said, rubbing a hand over his stubbly chin. “There has to be someone who will help, though.”
Something tickled in the back of Max’s mind. He could have sworn he knew of someone who had mentioned something about searching for missing children recently, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.
“We should return to Bardess Mansion,” Stephen said after a few intense moments of silence. “Someone there might have seen the children.”
“Do you think they could still be there?” Sister Constance asked. “Could they be hiding belowstairs?”
“Possibly,” Stephen said, though from his expression, Max could tell he didn’t think so.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Max said.
They jumped into action. Max went out to find a cab—not an easy task so deep into the bad end of the city—while Sister Constance informed her nuns of what they were planning to do and Stephen dashed back to tell Mrs. Ross and Annie their plan. It took the better part of an hour, but at last they were on their way to Mayfair.
Unfortunately, they were met by the same level of indifference there that the officer had shown them.
“Missing children?” Lady Bardess tilted up her chin and sneered at Stephen when he asked about Jane, Jerry, and Robbie. “Good Lord, what would I know about that?”
“The last time any of them were seen was here, at the concert,” Stephen told her, clearly trying to hold his temper in check. His jaw was tight and his back as rigid as a statue.
“That doesn’t mean I know anything about them.” Lady Bardess looked aghast at having to speak to Stephen at all, let alone answer his questions. The way she curled her lip at him, at his unshaven appearance and threadbare suit, filled Max with disgust. And he was supposed to be allied with her and people of her class instead of Stephen?
“Perhaps we could speak with your staff,” Max said, throwing caution to the wind and stepping toward Lady Bardess on the off chance she would be more amenable to speaking with him. “Servants always see things that we don’t.” He was disgusted with himself for grinning and flirting with the woman, but if it would help them find the children, he was willing to do almost anything.
Irritatingly, Lady Bardess responded to his forwardness, though not in any sort of helpful way.
“Why, Lord Hillsboro, your concern for these waifs is charming.” She batted her eyelashes at him and shifted her shoulders in a way that accentuated her bust. “Your father must be so proud.”
Max’s mouth twitched into a humorless smile. His father hadn’t been proud of him in a decade, if not longer. “As I have told you many times before, Lady Bardess, the Briar Street Orphanage is my particular cause. When one of its charges goes missing, it is of great concern to me.”
Lady Bardess laughed as though he’d told a clever joke. She sauntered forward to take his arm, pulling him away from Stephen and Sister Constance to take a nonsensical turn about the room. “I think you are charming to support such a pedestrian cause as a London orphanage when most of our friends are patrons of much more exciting foreign establishments. There’s something so exotic about patronizing institutions in the orient to Christianize those poor, lost souls.”
“My interests are closer to home,” Max said through a clenched jaw.
“Which I find so sweet.” Lady Bardess glanced at his mouth, which Max supposed was intended to be an invitation of some sort.
“Truly, my lady, any information you might have about these dear children would be greatly appreciated.” He found himself contemplating the horrific notion of letting the odious woman drag him aside for a snog if it would pry just the slightest hint of the children’s whereabouts from her.
“You know, I’ve never cared about children,” Lady Bardess said, turning to face him as they reached a window near the far end of the room. She traced her fingertips along the lapels of his jacket. “My interests are far more…adult.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes.
The situation was laughable, but Max wasn’t amused. “My lady, I’m afraid you misunderstand my intention in coming here today.”
“What do your original reasons matter?” she flirted. “Send your friends away and you and I can discuss far more important matters than those wretched orphans. I’ve heard that your mother is intent on marrying you off at last.” Her eyes flashed with avarice.
“Perhaps some other day, my lady.” Max walked a fine line between putting her off completely and trying to pry information out of her. “The sooner we locate these children, the sooner I will be free to pay social calls.”
He was certain his ploy worked when a splash of color came to Lady Bardess’s face and her smile warmed. “In that case—” She leaned closer to him. “I wish you all the luck in the world in searching for those little dears.”
Max held his breath, waiting for more information. When none came, he prompted her with, “Do you know anything at all that might help?”
“I truly wish I did.” She sighed, laying a hand on his lapel and stroking his chest. “I was far too busy admiring the patron to pay much attention to the orphans yesterday. My father cares more about those sorts of causes than I do anyhow.”
Disappointment crashed through Max. He let out a breath, stepping away from her. “Thank you for your help, my lady,” he said. As an afterthought, on the off chance that they would need her help again in the future, Max took her hand, bent over it, and placed a gallant kiss on her knuckles. His gesture was rewarded with a look of carnal enjoyment that turned his blood cold. He would need a night and a day locked alone with Stephen where no one would disturb them to shake the way Lady Bardess’s glance made him feel.
With that in mind, he turned away from her, catching Stephen’s eye from across the room and sending him a look like he’d barely escaped the gallows. He hurried to Stephen’s side as fast as he could.
“She doesn’t know anything,” he murmured bitterly.
“Dammit,” Sister Constance hissed.
Max’s mouth twitched into a grin, but he sobered his expression as the three of them took their leave from Lady Bardess and marched back through the hall, led by the butler, Mr. Chambers.
Max was already plotting their next move and hoping Stephen had a few ideas too as they reached the front door and Mr. Chambers turned to him with a frown.
“My lord, you are the brother of Lord Westerbrook, are you not?” Mr. Chambers asked.
Max blinked at the use of George’s formal title. “I am,” he answered cautiously.
Mr. Chambers’s look soured. “Would you kindly pass along the message to him that the vase he shattered in his haste to retreat after the concert yesterday was over one hundred pounds and that the antique sewing scissors that were also found broken cost at least twenty pounds?”
Max frowned, though he wanted to roll his eyes at his brother. “I’ll tell him,” he answered the butler with a grin nod. Though, if it were up to him, it would be a long, long time before he would see the bastard.
“I guess that’s that, then,” Stephen said with a sigh when they stepped out to the street and started up the road to where it would be easier to hire a carriage.
Max stopped suddenly and glanced back at the house. “You don’t think the fact that my brother destroyed a pair of scissors is a sign, do you?” he asked.
Stephen paused to turn back with him. “Jane is rather fond of scissors,” he said, his expression growing more troubled.
“Is Jane clever enough to leave behind a deliberate sign?” Max went on.
“Or was she playing with those scissors and just happened to drop them as she was taken?” Stephen seemed to finish his thought.
They exchanged a look that communicated far more than words co
uld. Max couldn’t shake the feeling that the ruined scissors were proof that Jane had been taken from the house itself, and therefore Lady Bardess had to be involved.
“We left as empty-handed as we arrived,” Sister Constance moaned, several yards ahead of them, oblivious to their conversation.
“We need to find a police officer who doesn’t think orphans from Limehouse are lower than the scum of the earth,” Stephen said as he and Max strode to catch up to her.
“There have to be some out there somewhere,” Max agreed. He blinked as inspiration hit him. “Someone in The Brotherhood might be able to help.”
“The Brotherhood?” Sister Constance asked, then frowned. “That’s not one of those non-conformist religious orders, is it?”
Stephen and Max exchanged a wary look. Max cursed himself for speaking out of turn. He cleared his throat. “In fact, it is, Sister. But I’ve found their contacts to be quite useful in the past.”
As he spoke, Stephen’s eyes lit with inspiration. “I know who could help,” he said, his energy visibly renewing. He sent Max a significant look. “Someone I spoke to at a recent social outing. A chap from a solicitor’s office.”
David Wirth. It came back to Max in an instant. He remembered Stephen and David talking while Lionel whirled him around the dance floor at the ball. Stephen had mentioned the investigation into missing children in passing as they’d made their way home late that night. In fact, Lionel himself might be able to help with their particular situation. Max was fired up to go with Stephen before remembering his other duties.
“I have to go home,” he said, his disappointment obvious. “I need to tell Father about George’s indiscretions. But I’ll check back in with you as soon as possible.”
Stephen nodded as they reached a busier street and raised a hand to hail a cab. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said. “One way or another. We’ll find those children.”
