Startled, Dudley nodded. “Yes, my lord.” He rushed out.
Swallowing, Steele adjusted his coat.
In less than a moment, boot steps pounded in the hallway, drawing near.
Dudley stepped into the room, announcing, “Mr. Gabriel Cutler and Mr. Andrew Cutler.”
Brown-haired, olive-skinned Gabriel was just as tall and broad and beefy as Steele remembered him. He resembled a tree trunk as much as anyone Steele had ever known. His green eyes were twinkling as he stepped into the room, his big boots booming on the wooden floors.
Shaking his head, Gabriel grinned. “If I didn’t see it with me own eyes I’d hardly have accounted for it! Yer a fancy viscount!” His voice had the familiar cadence of Dorset, reminding Steele of home.
Steele’s legs were moving before he’d even realized he stepped forward. “Gabriel!” His extended hand was caught in Gabriel’s meaty grasp. Steele exhaled, a feeling of wonder filling him. Gabriel had been like a brother to him and the closest to him. He’d made a place beside him, teaching Steele how to be one of the brothers, being the strongest of friends. He was the one who’d convinced Steele to become a Sentinel.
With his free hand, Steele squeezed the man’s arm. “It’s so good to see you, my friend!”
“You, too.” Gabriel’s eyes shone with mirth. “I’d have recognized ya in a room of a thousand men! Although to see ya in the papers, yer gettin’ as old as an oak!”
“Ah, you saw the broadsheets.”
Gabriel smirked. “Yer always one for gettin’ in a fix. Who’d you tiff off now?”
Noting the butler behind Gabriel, Steele murmured, “Later.”
Gabriel nodded. “Let me introduce you to my nephew, Andrew.”
Steele was shocked. “Johnny’s boy?”
“The very same,” Gabriel agreed.
Extending his hand, Steele smiled. “Why, you were shorter than a goat when I last saw you!”
Andrew’s square chin lifted a notch. “I’m sixteen now, Yer Lordship.”
“Steele will do just fine.”
“A fancy title and everything.” Gabriel shook his head. “Who’d have thought that a raw ’un like you were would make it to be such a fine gentleman. A lord no less!”
Andrew looked at his uncle. “But you were telling me in the coach that you’d have laid bets on him making more of himself.”
Gabriel winked. “And so I did.” He turned to Steele. “Never did I see a man with such a thirst for justice as ye. When ye left us for London, we thought perhaps ye’d be a Bow Street Runner…but then we heard that ye’d become a barrister, well, it made perfect sense. Ye were always smart as a whip.”
Steele blinked. “You knew?”
“Oh, we kept an eye on ye, no matter how far off ye thought we were.” Gabriel sniffed. “And becoming Solicitor-General of England—well, that was a bit of a shock. Until our neighbor Lord Westerly told us about how the solicitor-general handles special prosecutions. Then it made more sense since we knew you weren’t the kind to be spending all yer time behind a desk. No, preserving justice—that’s yer calling.”
Smiling, Steele shook his head. He’d had no idea that his friends knew about his life. But not only did they know, they approved. Miss West had been right. Contacting them had been a capital idea. A feeling of warmth and fondness swept over him.
Steele turned to Dudley. “Please have Mrs. Pitts prepare some rooms and make my friends welcome.”
Nodding, Dudley departed.
Gabriel laid a hand on Steele’s arm. “I just want to say, I’m sorry about yer wife.”
Steele tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you. I wish you could have known her.”
“Me, too.”
Steele paused. “But you can meet her nephews, Seth and Felix. They’ve come to live with me.”
Beaming, Gabriel winked. “So that’s why the papers say ya need a wife.”
Steele’s hands clenched. “I don’t need a wife, I have Miss West.”
Gabriel’s smile broadened. “Can I have a Miss West, too?”
Pointing his finger, Steele warned, “Don’t you dare—”
“Don’t get your skirts in a knot.” Stepping forward, Gabriel playfully punched Steele in the arm. “I’m just messin’ with ya.”
Steele realized that he needed to have more of a poker face when it came to Miss West. No one could know about his attraction to her or how fond of her he’d grown. “Miss West is Seth and Felix’s governess.”
“Ah.” Gabriel nodded.
Steele licked his lips. “She’s very good with the boys…and has proven herself to be…resourceful.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like there’s a tale to be told.”
Steele realized how happy he was that Gabriel was here. He trusted the man implicitly and didn’t have a friend in which to confide.
Turning to Andrew, Gabriel waved a hand. “Go check in the kitchens and see if there’s some cakes to be found.”
Steele started. “But I want you both to meet the boys and Miss West.”
Gabriel smiled. “Oh, we will. But in a few minutes, if that’s all right with you?”
Steele nodded.
Motioning to the box on the side table, Gabriel remarked, “For the moment, let’s you and I share a smoke and a conversation.”
Andrew turned. “I’m off to the kitchens.”
After he’d gone, Gabriel sat down in the chair. “He’s a good ’un, anxious to see the city and spread his wings a bit. So tell me this tale of yours.”
Steele held out a cigar. “It all started when I received a visit from this crafty old bugger named Sir Lee Devane…”
Chapter 31
Yawning, Seth burrowed deeper beneath his covers. “I like your friends.”
Sitting beside the boy on the bed, Steele tucked the blanket around Seth’s shoulders. “I do, too. I’m glad they came for a visit and you got to meet them.”
“So you were an orphan just like us?”
“Yes. But unlike you, I had no brother.” Steele looked over his shoulder at the lovely governess who was placing the boys’ clothing in the chest of drawers. The candlelight gave her golden hair an added glow. “Nor did I have a nice Miss West to take care of me.” She’d been so quiet today. He’d have thought that she’d have given him an “I told you so” for contacting his friends. But she’d stayed away from him, probably to give him and Gabriel time together.
Felix set aside the book he’d been reading. “You were all alone?”
“Yes. I had an aunt who was infirm and unable to take care of me. I was a young lad of twelve, almost a man, yet I was…struggling.”
“And so you went to live with the Cutler family,” Felix added, his keen eyes filled with understanding.
“Just like we came to live with you.”
“Yes.” Steele scratched his chin. “Which brings me to what I wanted to discuss with you. I was thinking that maybe it’s time for you to call me by a different name other than Lord Steele. It sounds so…formal.” He noticed Miss West’s movements slow as she was clearly listening to every word he said.
“When you went to go live with the Cutler brothers, by what name did you call them?” Felix asked.
“I called them by their Christian names. But I was older and they weren’t related to me. You and I are…family.” A knot formed in his throat. “I need a better name.”
Closing the drawer, Miss West turned to him. Her eyes shone brightly in the candlelight, yet her mouth was set in a worried line.
Steele could guess at her concern. “I don’t expect you to call me Father. That wouldn’t be right.”
Miss West’s dainty shoulders relaxed so visibly, Steele had to resist the urge to chide her for not giving him more credit. But clearly she had the boys’ feelings at heart.
Steele continued, “I was thinking Uncle.”
“Uncle what?” Seth asked.
Felix sat up. “Yes, what is your Christian name?”
“I don’t use my Christian name. I haven’t in years.”
“Why not?” Seth asked.
Steele realized that he hadn’t gotten close enough to anyone to have him use anything but his last name. Previously his male comrades had called him Dagwood, and now they referred to him as Steele. His female companions…well, he’d never allowed anyone to be that intimate.
He looked at his hands, memories washing over him. “I can’t even recall the last time anyone else used it,” he lied. It was on the day Deidre had died.
Their secret meeting place had been behind an old chapel near a ravine. Heavy rains had fallen the night before, and Steele had warned Deidre to stick to the longer trail that swept away from the ravine. But always impatient, Deidre had taken the shorter path. When her horse had lost its footing and slipped into the gully, Deidre had cried out his name. He’d run to her, but he’d been too late. She’d slipped from the saddle and broken her neck. He’d cradled her limp body in his arms for hours before he was able to carry her home to her family.
No wonder Benbrook hated him. Steele hated himself sometimes, too.
A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Miss West’s lovely face was filled with concern. “Perhaps we can discuss it more tomorrow? You seem…tired.”
Reaching up, he grasped her hand and squeezed.
She held his hand as if it were a precious gift, giving him comfort, giving him strength.
“No, it’s time,” he decided. Miss West’s sympathy and practical kindness had helped him to reach out to the Cutlers and he was so thankful to her. She’d also shown him that grief was a part of life, but that it should not interfere with living. He turned to the boys. “My name is Jason.”
“Uncle Jason,” Seth made his mouth go round, testing it out. “Uncle Jason.”
Felix nodded. “I like it.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” Miss West murmured, looking away, her face filled with emotion.
Without thought Steele kissed her hand.
Her eyes flew up, shock and wonder inside them. “Why…why did you do that?”
“I felt like it,” he answered truthfully, wondering where he’d gotten the gumption. But he couldn’t regret it. Her skin was like velvet against his lips, her heathery scent intoxicating in its sweetness.
Felix snorted. “Oh no! Not kissy stuff!”
Seth giggled.
Removing her hand from his, Miss West stepped backward, not meeting his eye. “It’s time for bed. Good night, boys.” She blew them each a kiss.
Seth blew her a kiss. “Good night!”
“Good night, Miss West!” Felix cried, making a kiss motion with his lips.
Quickly she backed out of the room.
Steele stood. “Good night, Seth. Good night, Felix.” He could not imagine blowing them a kiss, but he rumpled each boy’s hair.
“Good night, Uncle Jason,” they cried in unison.
Smiling, he left their bedroom in search of Miss West. He had no idea what he’d say to her. Only that he felt so good, so happy, and she seemed at the source.
He found her at the end of the hallway, speaking with Mrs. Pitts.
Mrs. Pitts’s back was toward him, and she did not notice him. “Thank you ever so much for that book,” the housekeeper said. “When Prince Knightly saved the princess, well, I almost fell out of my chair in a swoon!”
Miss West looked up. “I’m so glad you liked it. Ah, my lord.”
Mrs. Pitts turned, her face cherry red with embarrassment. She dipped into a curtsy. “Your Lordship.”
“Mrs. Pitts. Miss West, if I may have a word?”
Mrs. Pitts moved off.
Self-consciously Miss West tucked a strand of gossamer golden hair behind her ear. “Yes?”
“I wanted…I wanted to thank you. For convincing me to write to the Cutlers.”
She folded her arms and then unfolded them as if she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. “You wrote to them, not I.”
“If not for you, I wouldn’t have had the courage to contact them again.”
Her cheeks were pink. “I’m glad it turned out well.”
Abigail bit her lip, having trouble keeping her resolution to remain aloof from her employer. The way he was treating the boys warmed her in a way that nothing else could. He clearly had opened his heart to them, which to her mind made him the most wonderfully romantic man in the land.
“I appreciate all that you do for the boys,” he continued, his words honey-sweet to her ears. “And for…me. If there’s anything you ever need. Anything I can do…please give me the chance to do so.”
Abigail’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been so alone with her troubles, so worried, so fearful that she was making wrong decisions, imperiling her brother by not doing more. Lord Steele…She swallowed…
He was so smart, knew so much about the law…Perhaps it was time to seek some help?
She realized that she was toying with her hands and quickly grasped them together. “I…I…”
“Yes?”
“I have a brother,” she blurted out.
He nodded. “I did not know that.”
She tried to think of something more to say, but words did not come.
“Was he with you at Andersen Hall Orphanage?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Where does he live now?”
“London.” She knew that she was speaking like an automaton, but she was frozen, filled with fear, yet yearning for Lord Steele’s help.
“Ah. Can we expect to meet him, soon?”
“I can’t find him.”
Steele’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, that must distress you terribly.” Reaching over, he gently grasped her arm. “Would you like for me to help you find him?”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she nodded mutely.
Heavy boot steps banged on the nearby staircase. Gabriel Cutler’s head appeared, followed by his hulking body. “There ye are!” his voice boomed. “I’m as dry as a bone and in need of a pint! What’s holding ye up, man? I’ve some London beer to drink and some city ladies to woo!”
Looking at Abigail, Steele winced. “I promised I’d take them out.”
“Tipton’s Tavern, ye said,” Gabriel Cutler added. “And the first round’s on you!”
A look of apology washed over Steele’s handsome face, and he gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Can we finish this conversation later?”
She was filled with relief; this would give her more time to figure out what she might tell him. “Certainly.”
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
“Tomorrow. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, I haven’t done anything yet.”
Cutler tapped his boot, calling out in a singsong voice, “Beer…women…come on…”
“Until tomorrow then,” Steele said, turning toward his old friend.
“I hope ye don’t plan on waking up too early in the morn,” Cutler chided. “For we’re going to get bosky!”
“You always were a night owl, Gabriel.”
Cutler looked off wistfully. “My favorite time. Cats are out, mischief’s afoot…ye’ll have ta teach me the way of it in London. I’m sure there’s some justice to be meted—”
Eyeing Abigail, Lord Steele quickly interjected. “Tipton’s Tavern! Pints on me!” Then they were gone.
Chapter 32
Abigail hammered the spade into the ground and dug up the clump of weeds in the overgrown flower bed. The scent of roses wafted around her in a heady bouquet that made the work all the more enjoyable. The sun warmed her back, and only the rim of her bonnet kept her fair skin protected from being burned. Abigail had made the boys wear caps for that very same reason, despite their protests that it was too hot for such measures.
“Where should I put these, Miss West?” Seth cried, carrying a bundle of brambles in his arms.
Sitting back on her heels, Abigail pointed to the gate at the rear
of the untidy garden. “Over there. We’ll have Foster haul it to the alley and load it up on a cart.”
Felix moved beside his brother, his arms so full of sticks, she could hardly see his face. “Where will the cart go?”
“We’ll bring the brambles to Andersen Hall Orphanage to be used for kindling.” Looking around, Abigail wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “We should bring some clippings, too. These roses are lovely.”
Surprisingly, Abigail was looking forward to paying a call on her former residence. Lord Steele’s comments about Catherine and Marcus Dunn had inspired her curiosity, and now that Steele knew of her brother, she was eager to visit the place of her youth.
She wondered if Catherine would remember her. Abigail was younger and had kept to herself. Reggie used to tease Abigail calling her Abby the Gale because she was so quiet. She understood that his taunt was an attempt to get her to be a bit more gregarious, but it wasn’t Abigail’s nature. If anyone remembered her, it would be as Reggie’s sister. No one could forget Reggie or his outbursts.
Abigail knew that some of her newfound enthusiasm to revisit her past stemmed from the fact that Lord Steele said that he would come with her to Andersen Hall. She wondered what it would be like to walk those musty halls with the compassionate, handsome gentleman by her side.
Her cheeks warmed, but not from the sun. Every time she thought of Lord Steele—which seemed like every other minute—feelings of excitement, anticipation, joy, and wonder would rush through her. Sensations so startlingly intoxicating, she wondered if she might float away on an afternoon cloud.
But then she’d remind herself that she’d already lived through the terrible fiasco of an affair with her employer’s son. This whole matter could end just as badly.
With Phineas she’d seen a man of depth of character where the mere pretense of a gentleman had existed. She’d imagined love when there had been sexual attraction. She’d expected wedding bells and had almost gotten a prison cell.
She’d be a fool to trust these astounding feelings. She’d be mad to read Steele’s comments and actions as anything more than simply the considerate acts of a gentleman.
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