by Wendy Vella
“My name is Miss Sinclair and this is my brother, Lord Sinclair. We have come to see Miss Braithwaite.”
“Miss Braithwaite told me to expect your arrival, Miss Sinclair. Please come this way. She is at present taking tea in the kitchens, but told me to see you to the parlor. I shall collect her.”
“Tea. Dear God, run for your lives,” Essie muttered. “Taking tea is such a dangerous pastime.”
“Careful you don't cut the inside of your mouth with that tongue, sister.”
“Oh, please do not disturb her. Perhaps we could simply take tea there also?” Essie said, smiling.
“Oh, I-I'm not sure that would be right.” He looked worried, and Dev thought he was unused to receiving visitors such as they. Deciding he wanted to see Lilliana Braithwaite taking tea in the kitchens, he said, “Please lead on, sir. My sister wishes to take tea in the kitchens.”
The man moved at his command, and Dev motioned Essie to follow. He heard a woman's laughter as they drew near, the sound carefree and light, and he knew it was her because his body tensed in expectation. Drawing in a deep breath, Dev forced himself to appear calm as he walked into the kitchen.
Miss Lilliana Braithwaite was seated on the kitchen bench, swinging her legs like a child while eating a large bun. Her face was turned in profile, but even with his limited view he saw the genuine smile she was bestowing on the two other women in the room. It was open and natural and held him motionless.
God, she was sweet.
“Miss Braithwaite.”
She turned as Essex spoke, the smile falling from her face as she saw him. The heat from the kitchens had put color in her cheeks, and sugar dotted to her lips. Dev battled the impulse to close the distance between them and lick it off.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
The bun fell from her hands as she scrambled to climb off the bench. In her haste she nearly landed in a tangle of limbs on the floor. Stumbling several steps, she managed to remain upright.
“Forgive me for bringing him.”
Dev watched his sister hurry forward to clasp Lilliana's fingers, but she quickly pushed them behind her back so Essie was forced to touch her arm instead.
“I know you have no wish for anyone to know of Temple Street, but he forced me to tell him.”
Dev withstood glares from both women.
“He wanted to check that I was not going anywhere dangerous.”
She still did not face him directly, but Dev kept his eyes on the delightfully flustered Lilliana. Unlike her choice of gowns in the evenings, this one was a simple cream muslin day dress with small blue flowers. The material did not swamp her figure, and allowed him to see what he had already guessed: Lilliana Braithwaite was a curved and lush bundle of woman. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and adorned with nothing more sinister than a blue velvet band that circled her head.
Dev watched as she retrieved her gloves from the bench behind her and hastily pulled them on, then her glasses.
“Oh please, don't—”
“I like to wear gloves in company.”
She cut Essie's words off, and Dev wondered at her need to cover her hands. Were they scarred in some way, or was she simply a lady who did not like to have people touching her?
“Oh, well then.” Essie looked uncomfortable. “I am truly sorry he is here.” She scowled at Dev once more.
“Please do not fuss, Miss Sinclair. Your brother is protective toward you, and I cannot fault that.”
“Essex, please.”
Dev watched as she smoothed the fingers of her gloves in little agitated movements.
“My secret is out, it seems.”
“Secret?” Dev queried, realizing that once again her voice appeared different from the high, grating tone she used in the evenings.
Reluctantly she turned to face him. “I run a high-class brothel here, Lord Sinclair, and as you can see Mrs. Davey is my highest-paid girl.” Enjoying her new role, the housekeeper erupted into giggles. “And it is my intention to recruit your sisters.”
Dev's eyes went to the bruise she had received that night he had caught her. The night that had started his intrigue with this woman.
“It is changing color,” he said, moving closer and running his thumb over her chin. He wanted to touch her, needed to see if his reaction to her had been merely a single experience.
It wasn't. He dropped his hand. It tingled.
“You can leave now, my lord, your sister is safe here.” She backed away from him.
“I protect what is mine, Miss Braithwaite, and I will not apologize for checking my sister's movements.”
Her eyes were amazing this close. Even through the small round lenses, he could see the pale lavender color.
“Well as you can see, I am not bent on anything that will harm your sister, so you may leave.”
“Take your guests to the front parlor, Miss Braithwaite, and I will bring tea.”
“That won't be necessary, as Lord Sinclair is leaving.”
She wanted him gone, and as far away from her as possible.
“I have nothing pressing until this afternoon, Miss Braithwaite, and if Mrs. Davey has a spare cinnamon bun on hand then I would very much like to stay for tea.” Dev followed up his words with a smile, and the housekeeper giggled, as did the maid.
“Stop flirting with Lilliana's staff,” Essie hissed.
“Lord Sinclair is leaving,” Lilliana said, standing still.
“He wishes for tea and one of my cinnamon buns, Miss Braithwaite. Surely you can allow him that?”
Dev could see she did not want to allow him anything.
“Will you show me around your house, Miss Braithwaite? Perhaps I can offer my assistance in some way to aid your charitable works?” he said.
“No,” she said, and then she sighed. “Follow me,” she added ungraciously and turned to leave the room.
She stomped up the first and second steps, and Dev felt it was time to extend the hand of friendship and hope she did not use it to beat him over the head repeatedly.
“I know you would never hurt my sister, Miss Braithwaite, and ask that you forgive me if you believed otherwise.”
Her shoulders remained rigid, and she did not respond to his overture.
“I'm sorry I misjudged you for so long. Essex has told me of your good deeds.”
“And I am supposed to fall at your feet in gratitude.” She rounded on him at the top of the stairs. “You are an arrogant, judgmental man.”
“All true, to be fair,” came his sister's reply from over his shoulder.
“Yes, thank you, Essex,” Dev muttered. “You judged me too, Lilliana,” he added, looking at her, their eyes now level.
Her eyes narrowed. “How?”
“You just said I was rude and judgmental, yet have never spoken to me to find out if indeed that was true.” Dev congratulated himself on his comeback as he stopped on the step below hers. All he had to do was lean forward....
“I have watched you, as you no doubt have watched me, and you are a man who likes his own way... always. And we have spoken, just a few nights ago.”
She blushed at the memory, but did not look away.
“Also true.”
“Yes, thank you, Essie, I don't think she needs your encouragement. Will you show me around your house, Lilliana? Please?”
“I gave you no leave to call me Lilliana.” She then turned and walked down the hall and into a small parlor.
“Perhaps, seeing as you are meant to be on my side, sister, you could endeavor to paint me in a more flattering light?”
Dev took Essie's arm as they followed.
“What do I get?”
“I'll take you to that exhibition in the park with all those herbs and flowers you have been harping on about.”
“Done.”
His sister patted his arm and sailed past him into the room, leaving him shaking his head at the mercenary nature of his siblings.
The parlor was painted in pa
le blue as the hall had been, and furnished simply yet comfortably.
“Will you tell me about the boy you rescued the other night, Lilliana?” Dev and Essie sat while Lilliana moved to stand behind a chair, her gloved hands gripping the back. It was a protective pose, and he hated that she felt the need to do so in his company, yet understood why. A few nights ago he had kissed her senseless.
“You have obviously furnished your sister with the details of that incident?”
She wasn't pleased about that.
“I do not have secrets from my siblings.”
Essie, for once, held her tongue.
“You must know it was reckless of you to be out at such an hour, on those streets, with only a footman at your back.”
“How I conduct myself, my lord, is of no concern to you. Therefore I would ask you to keep your opinions to yourself. In fact, unlike the ballrooms, this is my property, and I do not have to tolerate your presence. Therefore I wish you would leave.”
“I did not know you owned it.”
She realized how much she'd given away in anger, her eyes going from him to Essex. But the thought did not subdue her for long. “Of course I own it. I would not be taking tea in the kitchens otherwise!”
Dev wasn't sure how one led to the other but instead smiled politely. How had she raised the funds to purchase this place? He doubted that fool she had for a brother gave her a penny toward it.
“I think you should leave.”
“I would rather stay,” Dev said politely, which made her teeth snap together.
“Will you show me around your house, Lilliana?” Essie threw her brother a look he could not interpret, which was nothing new; his sisters were a constant mystery to him. “My brother will follow but keep his comments to himself, and let me assure you that, while he can be annoying, he is the best of men most of the time.”
Lilliana's eyes darted from Essie to him and back again. So many emotions chased through the lavender depths it was impossible to decipher each.
“All right, I will show you around. However I have no wish to hear any words of criticism or condemnation from you, Lord Sinclair.”
Essie laughed with delight as Lilly finished speaking. “Oh, what a treat it is to have another female put you in your place, brother dearest.”
“I shall endeavor to behave,” Dev drawled. He then mouthed, “Deal's off” to his sister when Lilly turned away.
“Please follow me.”
Temple Street was three floors. The lower housed the kitchens, and the second was Mr. and Mrs. Davey's living accommodations. The third, where they currently stood, was for the children who came to be cared for. Everything was scrupulously clean and bright, Dev thought, looking at the green curtains in the room they had just entered.
“Hello, Sam, how are you feeling today? Is your leg still hurting you?”
The small boy was dressed in a blue nightshirt and tucked into the third bed in a row of five. Behind him were plump, colored pillows, and over his legs a blanket of red wool. Beside him lay several books and an odd-shaped soft thing that looked like a multicolored pillow; however, Dev was sure he noted a set of ears poking out the top. He was pale and thin and his eyes held more shadows than a child's should. He had existed on streets filled with sights that would make most people shudder, and his face bore the markings of that struggle.
“Sam had an accident and hurt his leg as he fell from a rooftop,” Lilliana said.
Dev had two weaknesses in his life: his family and children. Looking at Lilliana, he had a feeling deep inside that he was about to expand those to three, but as yet was unsure how he felt about that.
He couldn't cope with children in pain, and often struggled to mask his emotions when he saw a child dressed in rags on the streets, or one being mistreated. He gave money where he could, did whatever was in his capacity to do, yet knew the problem was far greater than that. The issue needed to be brought to the attention of those who woke daily in soft beds and large houses.
“It is not hurting near as much, Lilly, and Mrs. Davey says I'll be up out of bed in a while. Mr. Davey read me a story last night.”
Lilly. The name suited her, Dev thought as he watched the boy's eyes shoot first to Essie then him. He wasn't comfortable in their presence, and who could blame him? Gentry in his eyes were people who cared little for the plight of the child who lived on the street.
To his surprise, Lilliana sat on his bed and stroked the boy's hair, then examined the pillow with ears. Sam leaned into her and Dev could see trust in the gesture. They shared a genuine delight in each other’s company that should not have been there. A boy from the streets and a lady born into society. He wondered what had forced her onto this path. What secrets was she hiding? Shame washed over him again for his treatment of her. The woman before him was far from empty-headed. She had simply been hiding the real Lilliana from society.
“By any chance, Sam, is that a Bulgularas two-eared Daturmond?” Dev pointed to the squishy thing with ears. “You see, I have twin sisters and a small brother who would be delighted to own one just the same.”
Sam snuffled and then lifted the squishy thing for Dev's inspection.
“Good grief, it is,” Dev said, reaching over Lilly's head to take the offering. “What you have here, Sam, is very rare indeed.”
This time the boy giggled, sounding like every small boy should, and the sound made Dev's heart lighten.
Lilly didn't want to feel any harmony with the dark and dangerous lord, but watching Sam smile as Lord Sinclair continued to tell him a ludicrous tale about the Bulgularas two-eared Daturmond, she felt something unfamiliar stir in her chest.
Lilly did not feel things for people other than her children. Yes, she cared for her aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Davey, and Bee, then there was Wilson, but no one had ever really made her fingers and toes tingle the way looking at and touching Lord Sinclair did.
“They eat only the rarest form of Daturmond seeds, found only three nights a year on the first three days of the Bulgularas Festival.”
“Where do the seeds grow?”
“Well now, that's the real problem, Sam.”
She watched Lord Sinclair take the seat Lilly vacated.
“Dev is very good with children, Lilliana.” Essie led her to the window. “He is a master storyteller and believe me, he has had plenty of practice over the years.”
Lilly sat at the small table in one of the chairs and watched Sam laugh as Lord Sinclair continued with his tale. She didn't want to like him, yet she had to admit he was good with children.
He was disturbing, and unsettled her. Finding her in the kitchens, swinging her legs as she ate a cinnamon bun had not been an ideal start, especially as she was determined after what they had shared in that conservatory that he would see only the persona she donned for society. That idea had not worked. Lilly couldn't find it in herself to be silly here. No simpering or gushing, not at Temple Street. Here, she was simply the person she wanted to be.
“An ideal elder brother, then.”
“Oh yes, I cannot fault him, even though his faults are many.”
Lilly tried to stifle the flash of jealousy she felt as Essie threw her brother a fond look. Her brother cared nothing for her.
“I am knitting some hats with scarves as a trial for your children, and will send them over when they are finished.”
Lilly turned her attention away from the disturbing nobleman and equally disturbing thoughts running through her head to focus on his sister. She and Essie discussed the children's needs.
“How many children do you watch over, Lilly?”
“In truth, there are many who need help. However, some of them are too scared to come forward when they are in trouble or unwell. Those that do are usually desperate and have little choice.”
“Do they come here or must you always go into the streets to find them?”
“One of the boys, Toby, lives here with Mr. and Mrs. Davey. He was injured and has stayed ever since,”
Lilly said, shooting a quick look at Sam. He would not stay here; she would see him safe to one of her family's estates. Unlike Toby, he would not refuse to go.
“He is my eyes and ears. The children go to him if they need me, and he takes things to them. Sometimes I will go to a place that I know is safe to see them. When winter arrives, some of the cold nights send them here. Mr. and Mrs. Davey will feed them, and let them sleep in the kitchens when the beds are full.”
“It must be hard for you to leave here after the season,” Essex said.
Lilly nodded. In fact, it was unbearable to leave London with her family and retire to her brother's estate. Mrs. Davey wrote with updates on how the children were doing, yet it was not enough. One more year and she would be able to do as she wished—if she could stay unmarried, that was.
They talked for a while longer and then Sam called her back to the bed.
“Did you enjoy that story, Sam?” Lilly said.
“Yes, and Lord Sinclair is going to come back soon and tell me another one.”
“Is he?”
“I have promised the boy. Therefore I will deliver on that promise, Lilliana.”
He had moved to stand beside her and Lilly fought the urge to shuffle away. This man had kissed her—really kissed her—and she had felt it to the soles of her feet.
“Toby was here this morning, Lilly, and he says another boy is missing.”
“When did it happen?” Lilly took Sam's fingers and held them tight. She had not stopped this happening as she had promised.
“Last night. They got little Teddy this time. He just vanished like the others, and no one knows where to.”
Aware that the Sinclairs were listening, Lilly lowered her voice.
“It's all right, Sam. I will pay another visit to the local Watch House to look into it, and demand that someone investigates the matter at once. But right now it is most important that you rest and heal.”
“Toby said to tell you he was going out to see if anyone had heard anything. He'll come back later and tell you what he's learned or send you a message.”
“All right. Now, you sleep and I will come and see you before I go.”
She hugged Sam and kissed the top of his head. Unlike the adults in her life, her children expected nothing from her but what was in her power to give.
