Nick nodded absently, rifling about in his coat pockets. He patted his chest as if content that he’d found whatever he’d been searching for. Then, those sharp green eyes snapped up to meet hers, and Calliope’s belly clenched in reaction.
“Very good. I will do my best to stay out of your way and be as unobtrusive as possible.”
Was that some sort of joke? The man had as much a chance of being inconspicuous as a peacock amongst ducks.
Before she could muster a response, a footman had entered the room. Diana had perked up, but then issued a huff of annoyance as she realized it wasn’t her husband coming through the door. The servant offered Diana a calling card, then bent to whisper something to his mistress.
“Thank you, send him in,” she had replied, before giving Calliope a meaningful look.
Before Calliope could puzzle out what her sister was trying to silently communicate, the footman disappeared and someone else had stood in his place. Someone who made her heart skip a beat, and something that felt a lot like guilt settle in her middle.
“Mr. Lewes,” she’d choked out, her gaze darting to Dominick before settling back on her unexpected visitor. “What a pleasant surprise.”
The sunlight had gleamed off the golden locks of his hair as he offered a slight bow to the countess before turning to offer her a smile.
“I do hope this isn’t an inopportune time. I was nearby and thought to call upon you, but …”
He had trailed off, the smile fading from his face as he noticed Dominick for the first time. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the other man, who leaned against the mantel, his thumb fiddling with a ring adorning his little finger.
“Good afternoon, Lewes.”
“Burke.”
Calliope had swallowed past the sickening feeling welling in her throat, uncertain why she should feel as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. For Mr. Lewes to see her in Dominick’s company was exactly what she wanted.
“How good of you to call,” Calliope had said, drawing Mr. Lewes’s attention back to her. “Though, we are waiting for Hastings to join us for an outing to the London Home for the Care Foundling Children.”
“Ah, yes,” Mr. Lewes replied. “I’ve heard you are a rather devoted patroness of that particular orphanage. A most admirable use of your time, Miss Barrington.”
“Diana is also a patroness,” Calliope said with a nod in her sister’s direction.
Mr. Lewes’s eyebrows shot up as if in shock. “Truly, my lady? I confess to being surprised to hear that you’ve continued with such activities after your marriage to Hastings.”
Diana’s brow had furrowed, and Calliope found herself wrestling with the most visceral reaction to such a statement. Was her coveted suitor averse to married ladies concerning themselves with matters of charity? Did he think that just because she’d wed an earl, Diana should busy herself with frivolous pursuits?”
“I admire a woman who takes it upon herself to better the lives of the less fortunate,” Dominick spoke up, a sly smile curving his mouth. “It proves she has something more between her ears than air, and cares more about others than herself. A most estimable quality in a lady. Wouldn’t you agree, Lewes?”
Calliope had sucked in a breath as Mr. Lewes stiffened. While she couldn’t agree more with Dominick, it unnerved her to see him challenge the man so openly. He was supposed to be helping her win him over, not insulting him.
“Of course,” Mr. Lewes had said in a rush. “I did not mean to imply otherwise. I think Lady Hastings and Miss Barrington are to be commended for their dedication.”
Dominick went on toying with his ring, his gaze unwaveringly fixed upon Mr. Lewes. “Indeed.”
“Well,” Diana had said suddenly, cutting through the tension thrumming between the two men. “It seems we no longer need to await my husband. Unfortunately, he has been detained and is no longer able to join us. Mr. Burke, I hope you are up to the task of acting as our only escort.”
“I’ll be the envy of London, my lady,” Nick had said, straightening from the mantel and giving Diana the sort of smile Calliope was certain could melt the starch out of a nun’s habit.
“If you are in need of another escort, I would be happy to oblige,” Mr. Lewes had put in.
If Calliope’s stomach ever recovered from the encounter, she would deem it a miracle. For, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted less than being forced to endure the company of both men at once. A ball was one thing, as she could count on the presence of a crowd to act as a buffer of sorts. But with two of them making up their party of four, Calliope wasn’t certain how she would make it through the afternoon.
“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Dominick said. “I had already committed to accompanying the ladies, and it is no hardship for me to do so even without Hastings’s company.”
Calliope was taken aback by the acerbic bite in Dominick’s tone. He’d sounded as if he wanted Mr. Lewes’s presence for this outing even less than she did.
No, that wasn’t it. She did want Mr. Lewes to be near; she always did. What she truly wished was to send Dominick away, so she didn’t have to wrestle with the conflict he’d stoked in her with nothing more than a brief touch. However, there was no way for her to accomplish that without appearing rude, so she simply watched in stunned silence as the men squared off from opposite sides of the room like two bulls about to charge.
“Truly, it is no trouble,” Mr. Lewes had insisted, politeness mixing with determination in every word. “In fact, I find myself curious about the cause that commands so much of Miss Barrington’s time and devotion.”
Dominick looked ready to protest again, but Diana had cut in before he could.
“Wonderful! It will be nice to have you both along, will it not, sister?”
Calliope could have murdered Diana, who merely gave her a wink before approaching Mr. Lewes.
“I’ve been informed that the carriage is ready. Shall we, Mr. Lewes?”
Calliope had tensed as two pairs of male eyes settled on her, making her feel as if she were physically being tugged in opposite directions. However, Mr. Lewes could hardly cross the room to offer his arm with Diana standing right in front of him.
So, he’d offered a smile—though it was clearly forced—and extended his bent arm toward Diana. Dominick did the same with her, and together the four of them had departed for the home.
Now, Calliope sat in the conveyance praying for a quick end to this visit so she could escape—from Dominick or Mr. Lewes, she wasn’t certain.
The two men overwhelmed her senses—Mr. Lewes sitting close on the squabs at her side, his arm brushing hers with every jostle, Dominick doing nothing to disguise the fact that he was watching her from his side of the carriage.
Diana chatted about nothing in particular, and Dominick did an admirable job of lending her his ear and replying when appropriate. But his piercing gaze never wavered from Calliope, making it difficult for her not to squirm in her seat.
She nearly lunged through the open carriage door when they arrived, the footman laying the steps and waiting for them to descend. Instead, she gathered every bit of her composure, and waited for Mr. Lewes to step down and offer his hand, pointedly meeting her gaze and not Diana’s.
A low, masculine sound emitted from within the carriage—Dominick, she realized. The noise was heavy with disapproval, but Calliope ignored him and took Mr. Lewes’s hand. As he led her toward the front door of the orphanage, she told herself to make the best of this day. Instead of working to spread gossip about her and Dominick, she could now spend the next few hours in the company of the man she truly wanted. She’d lost her head momentarily, forgetting what was most important. It didn’t matter that another man’s touch had affected her in such a way. How could she know whether that reaction had been good or bad when she didn’t yet know what it was like to be touched that way by Mr. Lewes? Dominick was a courtesan, which meant there was nothing special about the things he’d done or s
aid to her. It likely came as second nature for him to flirt and seduce. Why should she make more of it than that?
As she raised the brass doorknocker, she took a deep breath and pushed Dominick out of her mind—a difficult feat when he stood just behind her, but not an impossible one.
“Is it safe for you to visit a place in such an … unfortunate part of town?” Mr. Lewes asked, nose wrinkled as he gazed about him.
The orphanage was situated where it was most needed—only a few blocks over from a notorious slum known as Devil’s Acre, which sat in the shadow of Westminster Palace. The home provided sanctuary to orphans who came primarily from the cesspit of poverty and iniquity. The building itself was a new construction, only five-years-old, and a beacon of hope in a sea of despair.
“There is hardly a need for such a place on the West End, I am sure you will agree,” Calliope replied. “The lady patronesses never travel here alone, and never after the sun has set. As well, the home is staffed with big, strong servants capable of defending its inhabitants from all manner of miscreants. We are perfectly safe here, Mr. Lewes.”
“Surely you aren’t afraid of a few pickpockets and beggars, Lewes?” Dominick drawled.
Mr. Lewes’s arm stiffened beneath Calliope’s hand. “Simply concerned for the welfare of the ladies in our company, as any gentleman would be.”
The door swung open then, and they were greeted by Mrs. Fisher, the matron of the home. A smile lit up her plump face at the sight of them, and she swung the door open wide.
“Miss Barrington, Lady Hastings, you’ve arrived!” Her wide eyes took in their male escorts. “And who’s this?”
“Mrs. Fisher,” Calliope said as they were ushered over the threshold. “May I introduce my dear friends, Mr. Lewes and Mr. Burke. Hastings was unable to escort us today, so these two gentlemen were kind enough to take on the responsibility.”
“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Fisher insisted, urging them deeper into the wide entrance hall—which branched off in three directions, with a narrow staircase leading to the upper floors. “The others have already gathered, and tea is to be served shortly. I’ll send word to the kitchen that we have two others joining the meeting. I am so glad you’re here! There are a number of things for us to tend to this month …”
Calliope’s mind wandered as it often did when Mrs. Fisher began babbling. She was a dear woman—a widow who had never been able to bear children of her own, and now dedicated her life to raising London’s lost little ones. Calliope and the other patronesses had installed her as the new manager after learning of the cruel practices of the woman who had held the position before her. She’d quickly recommended her nephew, a schoolteacher looking for work, as a tutor. Together, they ran the home more smoothly than anyone who had managed it before them.
They followed Mrs. Fisher down the left corridor, past a set of French doors that opened into the herb and vegetable garden that many of the home’s young ladies helped to tend. They were ushered into a small room reserved for meetings such as these, as well as the entertaining of prospective new patrons. Diana had financed the decor and furnishings, ensuring a plush, comfortable space that the people who supported the home would feel at home in.
The room was filled with familiar faces—the other patronesses of the home, some having brought their spouses along. Lewes found an empty armchair to settle Calliope into and opted to remain standing, hovering at her shoulder. Calliope folded her hands in her lap and did her best not to watch Dominick too closely. The man had once again drawn every eye in the room. A few low whispers were traded between ladies as word spread that Dominick Burke, notorious son of the Earl of Wrenworth, was in their midst.
Tea was served shortly after their arrival, and she was grateful for the distraction of accepting her cup and lacing it with sugar and milk. Then, all eyes fell on her as they waited for the meeting to begin. Most piercing of all was the gaze of the man perched on a settee in a shadowy corner of the room, his cup and saucer balanced precariously on one knee as he watched her. She cleared her throat and took a sip of tea, before setting the cup aside and reaching out to accept the slip of paper Mrs. Fisher offered her—containing a list of the needs of the home for the month, broken down precisely by their cost.
Searching for her voice, she did her best to attend the task at hand. She was never quite able to shake her awareness of Dominick, who loomed on the periphery of her vision like some kind of inescapable specter.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
Chapter 6
“It seems the world may soon come to an end. Glance out your windows and keep a weather eye for flying pigs. Think you I exaggerate? You need only to have witnessed the sight I beheld yesterday afternoon to be convinced. That most infamous son of the Earl of W … visiting a London foundling home along with a charity organization. Why, I’d never thought I’d see the day! Of course, it could simply be a matter of a certain heiress who happens to be a patroness of the home. In fact, I also spied a certain future viscount amongst the party in question. It seems the stakes have just been raised.”
The London Gossip, September 3, 1819
As it turned out, not only was Calliope a saint, she was also a damned good patroness and committee organizer. Dominick had been prepared for a yawn-inducing afternoon listening to women titter about orphans and funds, and whatever else they got up to at these meetings. He’d been grateful for the tea, as drinking it would give him something to do other than sink into the settee and doze off.
He could not have been more surprised to watch Calliope take control of the committee with a deft understanding of the home she gave her money to, as well as a confident command of the people around her. Most of the women here were a decade or more older than her, with the exception of her sister, yet snapped to attention with nothing but a word from her. She ruled them like the strictest of governesses, jotting down notes on Mrs. Fisher’s list as she led the discussion on the needs of the home and the allocation of funds for the month.
Dominick had always been adept at turning figures over in his head without nary a scrap of paper in sight. As Calliope and her committee talked, he couldn’t help mentally adding and subtracting as they voted for or against various expenditures. He realized as he watched her make her notes, that she was doing the exact same thing—running the figures in her head, and, without second-guessing her calculations, informed the committee whether something could be afforded based on the monies already apportioned.
By the time she stood to announce the meeting was adjourned, an hour and a half had passed. Nick stood and set his untouched tea aside, realizing he’d hardly felt the time passing by, so engrossed had he been with watching Calliope excel at something she so obviously enjoyed. He could imagine her a general leading troops into battle as he fell in step among the others to follow her on their tour of the home. Mr. Lewes offered his arm, but she refused it, choosing instead to continue making notes with her stub of a pencil while they made their way through the corridors.
The foundling home was nothing like he would have imagined—not that Nick had ever been inside such a place. The efforts of its patronesses were clear in the bright decor of each room, as well as the abundance of coal for keeping fires lit, toys and books, and even the hearty food the children consumed at every meal.
She took them to the empty schoolroom and introduced them to Mr. Young, the tutor, and interviewed the man about his needs for the schoolroom. Then, she led them into the attached music room—a small, cramped space containing a harpsichord, violin, and lute—informing the rest of the committee that their efforts at expanding the available instruments would commence at their next meeting. There were three outer courtyards off each small wing of the home—one housing the herb and vegetable garden, one for the cultivating of flowers, and another for the purpose of play.
From there, they ascended to the upper floors, where they inspected the dormitories, which were separated by age and sex. The uppermost room turned out to
be a nursery for the infants, and was filled wall to wall with cradles. Three matrons in aprons tended to them with soft coos and murmurs, their affection for the babes clear.
Naturally, the women in their company collapsed into fits of awe at the sight of the babies, and they descended like a flock of sighing birds. Babes were taken into arms and paraded about, each lady gasping or exclaiming over some thing or other that their infant had done.
Even Calliope set her notes aside long enough to crouch and bring a babe of at least two years onto her hip, bouncing and murmuring to the child as naturally as if she’d birthed him herself. Nick leaned against the door frame and watched as Martin Lewes made his way over to Calliope. His teeth clenched as the man stood far too close, bending his head to murmur something in her ear. She smiled at him, then urged the baby in his direction. Lewes faltered, brow furrowed as if uncertain, but Calliope offered him an encouraging smile and said something Nick couldn’t make out. His teeth began to ache from the grinding motion of his jaw, something unpleasant and unmistakable washing over him at the sight of them together, Calliope handing the baby into Lewes’s arms and looking at him with such adoration in her eyes that it made him feel physically ill.
He didn’t want to acknowledge what he felt, but the longer he watched them, the more apparent it became.
He was jealous. No, that was too mild a term, though it was the only one that would do, it seemed. He was beset by mind-numbing, jaw clenching, belly-churning, murderous jealousy. Because, watching them coddle a baby between them only made him think of the fact that eventually, these two would have offspring of their own. It didn’t matter that Lewes looked uncomfortable and completely unnatural holding the babe, or that they had made no real progress toward an eventual marriage. If Nick did his job well, they’d be wed by the end of the year, which meant babies would follow close behind.
Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Page 12