Earl of Shefford: Noble Hearts Series: Book Three (Wicked Earls Book 28)

by St. Claire, Anna

“Indulge me in this matter and you will have the choice of that building or, should you decide the orphanage is worthwhile, as I hope, I will give you the value of the property instead, which is considerable, and you may purchase another suitable for your purpose.” She was quiet for a moment. “As for my son’s attempt on your life—I only ask that you show some mercy. I love my son, but I cannot get him to see the error of his ways. I do not wish him hurt, of course, but he should answer for his actions.”

  Colin felt his mouth hang open and quickly closed it.

  “Lord Shefford, are we in agreement?” she said, rising from her chair.

  Standing up at once, Colin looked first to Bergen and then back at Lady Whitton. To all appearances, the arrangement seemed harmless, an exercise in futility. And he would spend time with the incomparable Miss Honoria Mason. What were the objections? I have never made a more certain bet.

  Bergen stood following Colin. He cleared his throat and idly, seemed to unfasten and refasten a button on his waistcoat.

  “My lady, I can see no harm in your proposal. Two weeks does not seem an interminable amount of time for me to wait before beginning my own project. I accept your terms.”

  Colin glanced at Bergen and noticed his friend’s strained expression. This agreement was stacked in his favor. What could possibly have Bergen at sixes and sevens?

  He and Bergen bowed. Having given his answer, Colin suddenly felt eager to leave. This whole meeting felt surreal to him.

  Five minutes later, he and Bergen walked down the steps of the town house and into the carriage.

  When the door to the carriage closed, Bergen turned to Shefford. “There is more to this than meets the eye. You realize that do you not?”

  “I allow her granddaughter to continue to indulge her charitable inclinations with this orphanage project and she honors her son’s debt to me. I may stand to make a profit. It is simple enough.” He adjusted his hat and relaxed against the black leather squabs of his carriage.

  “That is what you heard?” Bergen persisted.

  “It is…” Colin stopped and considered his friend. “I will spend two weeks with her granddaughter—her very attractive, unmarried granddaughter—” He broke off again as the ghastly truth hit him. By God, he had just been bamboozled!

  Chapter 8

  Nora woke to the sound of a child softly whimpering and another one whispering. She slowly opened her eyes and saw Alice standing next to her bed, holding Amy’s hand. Amy had tears streaming down her thin cheeks and wet auburn curls stuck to the sides of her face.

  “Amy misses her mam,” the older child explained, pulling Amy to her. “She was crying, so I climbed into the crib and Becca helped me get her out so’s I could bring her to you.”

  “Oh, gracious! That was very thoughtful of the two of you. Did you notice where Becca went?” Nora asked thoughtfully. It concerned her that the other child might wander about the house. There were too many sections still under construction and the child could be injured.

  “Becca crawled back into bed. Didn’t take long fer her to go to sleep. I know, ’cause she snores. Her cot’s next t’ mine.”

  Nora smiled. “You were right to bring Amy to me,” she said, meaning it. Her curtains were open to the full moon, allowing the brightness to filter into the room and give her plenty of light to see the two girls. She had always preferred moonlight to having a pitch-black room. “Hmm, I am not sure what time it is, but the moon is still out and ’tis very dark.” She sidled across the mattress, against the wall, thus making room for the two girls, and patted the space next to her. “Climb up here, both of you. We will not make a habit of this, mind you, but just this once, it can do no harm.”

  The two girls crawled up into her bed and snuggled under the warm covers, with Amy nudging herself tightly against Nora’s chest. Nora lay for several minutes, listening to the soft snores of the two children. A strange yearning tugged at her heart, one she had never felt before. She looked at the angelic faces of both girls and realized a desire to have children of her own, one day. Unfortunately, with no prospects, Nora felt she was destined to be a spinster, a future that, until this very moment, she had not minded. Determined to sleep, she squeezed her eyes closed, only to feel a lone tear escape and roll across the bridge of her nose before falling to her pillow.

  The night passed without further incident. When Nora awoke the next morning and stretched her arms, movement to her left riveted her attention on the two little girls. They were sitting together in a worn green tapestry-covered chair, quietly drinking milk and eating a biscuit each.

  “You really did come in here last night, then, my dears.” She swallowed a giggle. “I wondered if I had dreamed the whole thing.” She swung across to the side of the bed and slipped her feet inside the warm slippers that she kept nearby and looked at the younger little girl. “Do you feel well now, Amy?”

  “She does,” answered Alice. “She told me so.”

  “I have never heard her speak more than a word or two,” Nora teased. “What did she say?” Nora had noticed that Alice had become so protective of Amy that she kept the toddler close to her and even spoke for her. The small child did not seem to object and stayed quiet.

  “Amy said she was glad you let us sleep with you,” Alice answered brightly.

  Nora chuckled. “I am surprised Mrs. Simpkins did not take you back to your beds,” she remarked hopefully. She knew Mrs. Simpkins had a soft heart where children were concerned, which made Nora doubly glad of the cook’s help with the orphanage.

  “She asked if we wanted to go to our room or wait until she came back with your chocolate. We stayed here,” Alice offered, licking her fingers.

  “You are lucky indeed, not to have been frog-marched back to your rooms,” she smiled, glad they had chosen to stay. “And young ladies do not lick their fingers,” Nora reproved, not desiring to scold, but needing to use the moment to educate. Alice immediately dried her fingers on the hem of her dress and sat up straighter. Amy stayed intent on the biscuit she was nibbling and took no heed.

  “Amy cried so bad, I didn’t know what to do. Becca woke up and helped me get her out. She likes you, so we found your room,” Alice explained in between bites of the shortbread biscuit. “Becca went back to bed. She said we’d both get a whipping for waking you, but I didn’t think you was mean like that,” Alice continued.

  “A whipping?” The idea alarmed Nora. She tried to recall where Becca had come from. Had they whipped the child? She supposed that many of the children had not been treated kindly before they arrived at the orphanage and made a mental note to pay more attention to Becca.

  “’Tis time you both return to your room. I must dress.” The children nodded. Standing, she pulled her wrapper from the chest at the end of her bed. Drawing the silk about her, she glanced out of the window. “We look to have a lovely day ahead of us, girls, and you will miss breakfast if you stay here much longer.” Nora heard the rumbling in her own stomach and determined they could all use a good meal. “Hurry now, my dears! It is hardly seemly for a headmistress to break her fast, thus scantily dressed, you know. Mrs. Simpkins will ring the bell for breakfast shortly, I am sure. We should not be late.” Nora picked up Amy and walked the two girls downstairs to the communal dining room. The men had finally finished working on it. The rooms were slowly taking shape, she reflected.

  On her way back to her bedchamber a little later, she met Mrs. Simpkins by the stairs.

  “I noticed you had company last night,” the cook said, smiling. “Those two girls are attached to you.”

  “I know—as I am to them,” Nora said out loud, realizing how true it was. “Once they learn they can climb out…”

  “They do it over and over,” laughed Mrs. Simpkins. “’I will look for another bed in the attic. I was up there yesterday and found a box of broadcloth I think we can use, if we wash it. The mice did not do too much damage.”

  Nora winced. She would never get used to the mice. Her paren
ts’ home, while not grand, rarely had the little creatures. “I am hoping we can drive those pesky things out of here. I should speak to Grandmama about perhaps installing a couple of cats.”

  “I didn’t see any evidence of rats, which is unusual, considering how long the building was empty,” Mrs. Simpkins added. “If we adopt some cats, I would be ’appy to take care of them. I like the dear creatures.”

  “I plan to visit with Grandmama later this morning and will ask her thoughts on the matter. Will you ladies be able to take charge without me for a few hours?” Nora wanted to gain an idea of how long it might take to learn about Lord Shefford’s supposed deed to this building. She felt reluctant to add any more mouths to their care, even cats, if it meant an obnoxious lord who cared only about his winnings, would soon displace them.

  “Aye, Miss Mason. I believe we can come up trumps.” The older woman winked.

  While Nora realized her thinking was unkind, she did not relish another meeting with his lordship. Jaded by both her mother’s and her own experiences with Society, she maintained what she called a civil distance from the ton. She loved her grandmother dearly, yet she could not but suspect that dear lady of machinations whereby she might endeavor to introduce Nora into Polite Society.

  Her mother had felt the sting of the ton’s dismissal when she married a soldier who was also the son of a well-established merchant. instead of a man of her own rank. When her grandfather’s business failed, Society turned its back completely and the few contracts Grandpapa had thought he could count on were withdrawn, sending him into bankruptcy. By association, Grandpapa’s fall from grace had destroyed her own father’s fortunes. With the barest number of servants, her father had strived to keep a roof over the heads of her two brothers, her sister and herself, being unwilling to ask anything of his in-laws.

  As a young girl, Nora had vowed she would not add to her parents’ misery by sharing their misfortune with Grandmama, although she suspected her grandparents had both known. Uncle knew. He had lorded over them with his veiled threats, like the one to sell this building.

  Shaking off her musing, Nora finished her ablutions. Not having had a lady’s maid of her own, she had become proficient at getting in and out of her clothing, despite the difficulty her undergarments presented. The seamstress had helped by championing buttons and a dress style designed to open down the front. Deciding to wear her yellow and white striped muslin, with a yellow sash and her sensible half-boots, she quickly dressed.

  Securing her braided hair into a low chignon, she dabbed at the edges of the tightly confined locks and pulled a few small curls forward. She thought of Becca’s comments about whipping and, reminding herself of her intention to befriend the child, laid down her brush. If she hurried, she could catch the children before they finished breakfast.

  She also felt an overwhelming need to see little Amy and make sure she and Alice were well. Nora could not imagine what went through the children’s minds. Bridging the void left by the loss of parents remained an insurmountable task. She peeped into the room where the children were sitting and eating at long wooden tables with bench seats. Amy and Alice were eating together. Everyone seemed well enough, although she did not see Becca.

  “Miss Mason, this note came for you.” Mary’s voice sounded from behind her and pulled her from her thoughts. “I believe it was from that woman who brought little Amy to us.”

  “‘Aunt’ Gemma? Did she ask to see Amy?”

  “No, ma’am. Quite the opposite. She insisted that I not disturb either you or little Amy. She only wanted her note delivered.” Mary looked down at her clasped hands before adding, “Ma’am, Miss Gemma had a lot of bruising on her face and looked ill.”

  A sick feeling clenched Nora’s stomach. She knew of the atrocities that were committed in the East End, where Aunt Gemma lived, and praised her lucky stars that the woman had brought Amy to them as she sat down to read the handwritten note.

  Miss Mason,

  Please do not let little Amy out of your sight. A man named Mr. Sneed claims she is his, but she ain’t. And he got naught to prove it. Amy’s mother was my best friend and asked me to keep her baby safe. She told me she did not know who the father was. By my thinking, that means Mr. Sneed can’t know, either. I believe with my heart he would raise Amy to steal. That ain’t no life for her. Her mam wanted better. Tell our baby I love her.

  Aunt Gemma

  Sneed? Nora had never heard the surname before. If Gemma was right, the man meant to train Amy for the streets. Nora vowed never to allow that to happen. Meeting Grandmama would have to wait. Nora needed to ensure no one would harm Amy. She darted down to the hall and called Mrs. Simpkins and Mary.

  “Miss Mason, is there something wrong? Was it the note?” Mary was out of breath, hurrying downstairs from the children’s room, where she was no doubt tidying up and helping with the younger children.

  “Yes, the note concerns me,” Nora acknowledged. “I have questions I must ask of you. Did Aunt Gemma say anything else? Think hard, please, because it could be important.”

  Mary bit her lip and cast her eyes down, as if struggling to recall.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Mason?” Mrs. Simpkins hastened into the front hall, a little winded from rushing from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “I have received a disturbing note.” Nora pulled it from her pocket and passed it to Mrs. Simpkins, whose eyes only grew larger as she read it.

  “It speaks of a man who is passing himself off as Amy’s father. We all know that there was no father. Had there been a responsible sire for the child, her mother may not have died in the way she did.” Nora stopped. Her explanation sounded most uncharitable, and she had not meant to slander the poor woman. “I did not mean that as harsh as it sounded,” she amended. “It is most important that, should anyone inquire about the child while I am gone, you do not give any affirmation that she is here. Amy’s own mother did not know of a father for her child, and this man… this creature… is probably gathering small children to teach them to steal or send up the chimneys. From what I know, it is a horrible business and they treat children like animals.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Keep them inside until I return. I do not want our dear children to end up like that. Do not allow this man entry.” She then turned to her cook. “Mrs. Simpkins, do you know where Woods might be working? I would like him to be on duty at the door, in case I have need of him.”

  “No, ma’am. After his meal, I noticed him returning upstairs to work on some of the rooms that needed maintenance. I think he is working on the boy’s bedchambers,” Mrs. Simpkins supplied.

  “She… Aunt Gemma said…” interrupted Mary, whom Nora realized had still been struggling to recall more details, as asked. “She said the man had black hair and ’is face had scars on it.”

  “Do you remember if there was anything else?” Nora asked gently.

  “I am not sure, miss. I think she also said ’e was tall. I tried to remember what she said. The woman trembled so, I dinna wish to press ’er. Even though we were inside the door, she kept looking over her shoulder.”

  “Thank you, Mary. That description should help immensely.” Nora noticed that the maid had begun to fidget, perhaps also shaken by the occurrence.

  “I will get Mr. Woods, ma’am,” offered Mary. Without waiting for a reply, she shot up the stairs.

  Nora saw a slow grin form on Mrs. Simpkins’ face.

  “Do you have something worth sharing?” she queried, half-smiling. “I would love some good news.”

  “No, Miss Mason. Well, maybe. I noticed them two being friendly to each other, ‘tis all,” she answered.

  “Ah. Thank you for telling me. As long as their work does not suffer, I cannot see any reason to forbid a friendship,” Nora answered, considering each word as she spoke and hoping she was not making a mistake. However, she saw naught wrong with couples in the same employment. Decisions seemed harder when more people’s lives were involved.


  Moments later, Nora heard footsteps approaching the parlor and stood up to see who it was, on the chance it could be two of the older children. Amos Woods opened the door and Mary followed him into the room. Nora bit her bottom lip at the look of adoration on Mary’s face. A small pang of regret struck her at the realization she might never experience such a feeling towards a man.

  “Miss Mason, Mary said you needed me, ma’am.”

  “Yes, Woods. I have just received some startling news. We have fourteen children here and they are all dear.” Nora drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. “One of those children, little Amy, may need to be watched closely. I have received a note which appears to threaten her position here. A man calling himself Mr. Sneed claims to be Amy’s father. I do not know a delicate way to put this, except to say that Amy’s mama could not say who the father was, and therefore, Mr. Sneed cannot know either. Her last wish was that Amy be given a chance at a better life, and we are charged to do that.” She turned to Mary and Mrs. Simpkins. “If you see anyone strange loitering outside the house—even across the street, watching it, please make sure you bring the children inside, lock the doors and alert Mr. Woods and myself. I will not have my children snatched to learn street trades in the East End,” she finished, almost out of breath.

  Nora had not realized how upset she had become over this note. She cared for the little girl and would, somehow, see her with a better future. She needed to visit her grandmother. Grandmama would have ideas about how to deal with this additional problem. However, what Nora really needed was answers about the deed. “I shall return in a couple of hours. If you have need of me, a message will find me at Countess Whitton’s town house,” she added as she began to put on her pelisse and hat.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Woods responded. “I will take a look around the house now and make sure the windows are secure.”

  “That is a good idea. I had not even thought of that. Thank you.”