by Merry Farmer
“What do I do?” he asked, glancing from one man to the other. “How do I protect the rest of my girls, and Sister Constance’s children as well? How can I help to find Jane and the others?”
David and Lionel exchanged a look that conveyed a deep level of communication before David said, “I’m sending Patrick to interview you.” He paused, then went on with, “Officer Patrick Wrexham of the Metropolitan Police has been assigned, at my request, to work on this case. He has been coordinating the efforts to thwart this ring.”
“Darling,” Lionel interrupted David with a wry grin. “We have been coordinating the efforts.”
David sent him a warning look that held just enough heat to raise questions about their relationship in Stephen’s mind. “Patrick is officially coordinating the efforts. I’ll send him to your orphanage as soon as I’m able.”
“Thank you,” Stephen said, letting out a breath, even though he was far from feeling relieved.
“In the meantime,” David went on, “you should do everything possible to keep your girls safe and out of sight. Although I honestly don’t believe these kidnappers are the sort to charge into orphanages and snatch children out of their beds. I wouldn’t let your girls play unchaperoned in the streets, though.”
“Never,” Stephen said, balking at the idea. “Not even in the best of times.”
David smiled, patting Stephen’s knee. The gesture would have been condescending coming from any other man, but from David it was comforting. “Good,” David said, standing. “I promise you, Stephen, we are doing everything we can to catch these villains and to bring them to justice. And we will find your Jane, and the others.”
“Thank you again.” Stephen stood, shaking David’s hand. “Anything at all that I can do to help—truly, anything—I will do it.”
“I’m sure you will.” David walked him to the door. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything,” he said.
Stephen said another round of thank yous, shaking Lionel’s hand as well. For a slight, pale man, Lionel had a powerful handshake. Stephen felt better, but not good enough. As soon as he reached the sidewalk in front of the building, he paused. He should return home and see to his girls. Sister Constance deserved to know that there were people fighting in their corner and that there was hope.
But all he could think about was Max. He needed to tell Max what was going on. And he needed to tell Max he was sorry, but they would have to keep their distance for the time being. At least until he was certain the girls were safe. Even if it killed the both of them to be apart.
Chapter 13
Figuring out exactly where Max lived took longer than Stephen anticipated. Few people in Mayfair were willing to answer questions about the home of an aristocratic family when they were asked by a distressed and disheveled man in a threadbare suit and spectacles. It wasn’t until Stephen practically got down on his knees and begged a passing maid for whatever information she could give that he was directed to the home of the Duke of Eastleigh, Max’s father.
But learning the location of Max’s home was only part of the battle.
“Excuse me,” Stephen asked when a pinched-face butler answered the door at the imposing, Georgian townhouse. “Might Lord Hillsboro be at home?” He held his hat in his hand and tried his best to look as innocuous as possible as he addressed the man.
The butler stiffened, glancing down his long nose at Stephen. “Wait here,” he said in an ominous voice, then shut the door in Stephen’s face.
Stephen took a step back, his stomach sinking. It wasn’t a good sign. He hadn’t even been asked to wait in the house, in spite of the fact that night was falling. The shadows that stretched through the square where Max’s house stood were long and dark. Stephen couldn’t help but think it was some sort of horrible omen, that he should have simply sent a note. Or better still, cut off contact with Max without a word. But no, he rejected that thought outright…which only caused him to doubt his intention to put Max aside at all. He would have given anything to be able to think straight.
He was forced to wait, hat in hand, far longer than he should have. Anger began to bubble up within him, but he tamped it down. He was there to reach Max, not to cause trouble with Max’s family by creating a scene. But the more time that passed, the more he convinced himself that he at least owed it to Max to tell him everything David and Lionel had revealed. Otherwise, he would have stormed off, making a rude gesture at the house as he went.
Finally, just when Stephen’s nerves were at their breaking point, the door opened once more. This time, the glaring figure of Lord Eastleigh himself stepped out into the chilly night air.
Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but the duke cut him off with, “He will not see you. Ever again. If you are sighted anywhere near this house again, I will have you arrested for trespassing, attempted thievery, and sodomy.”
Stephen was so taken aback that he could only stand there and gape for a moment. It didn’t matter that he’d convinced himself he was coming to Max’s house with the intention of doing more or less what Lord Eastleigh had just ordered him to do. As soon as Lord Eastleigh issued his demand, the last thing Stephen wanted to do was obey it.
He recovered from his shock quickly, shutting his mouth, shaking his head, and saying, “I do not believe you have the authority to keep me away from my friend.”
The duke reacted as though Stephen had used a term far more intimate than “friend”. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “You dare to defy me? You? A pathetic aberration with delusions of grandeur?”
Stephen shifted his weight, crushing the brim of his hat as his hands formed into fists. “I came to inform Lord Hillsboro of advancements in an investigation into missing children,” he growled.
The duke sucked in a breath, his body going rigid. “Advancements?” he hissed, but rushed quickly on to, “Filth like you should be kept as far away from children as possible.”
Old, deep anger washed through Stephen. He’d lost count of the number of times the same, sordid assumptions about what his character must have been were tossed in his face. “I love every one of my girls as a father, and I care for them better than anyone else could.”
The duke snorted a humorless laugh. “If you care for them as you say you do, you will leave this place and never show your face again. You will forget about my son, wipe him from your memory. If you do not, I will see to it that your precious little charges are handed over to the care of exactly the sort of men you claim not to be one of.”
A chill raced down Stephen’s back. The duke wasn’t bluffing. The fact that he seemed so confident in his ability to find such “caretakers” for his girls was alarming.
He glanced past the Lord Eastleigh and into the house. The only hope he had was that Max was somewhere nearby, close enough to overhear the conversation. “I’ll go,” he said, louder than he should have, taking a step back. “But this is far from over.”
“There you are wrong,” Lord Eastleigh said. He, too, took a step back, nodding to his butler, who slammed the door in Stephen’s face.
Stephen let out a frustrated breath and turned to descend the stairs to the street. Jaw clenched, he clapped his hat on his head and thrust his hands into his coat pockets. He never would have imagined he’d feel worse for attempting to reach Max than if he’d gone straight home after his meeting with David and Lionel. Exasperation like he’d never known hung on him as he marched away from the Eastleigh house and on to a major road, where he could hail a cab.
His mood didn’t improve at all when he returned to the orphanage.
“And just where have you been all day?” Mrs. Ross accosted him as soon as he hung his hat and coat on the pegs in the front hall. “We’ve all been in a right state here without you.” Her expression was equal parts anger and anxiety.
“I’ve been everywhere.” He let out a weary sigh. “At the Sisters’ orphanage, Lady Bardess’s house, a solicitor’s office, Mayfair.” He rubbed a hand over his face, kno
cking his spectacles askew, then straightening them. “Is there anything to eat? I haven’t had a bite all day.”
Mrs. Ross’s expression softened for a moment before turning grouchy all over again. “The girls are just finishing their supper. If you’re lucky, Annie has saved you a plate.”
Of course, Annie had saved him a plate. The moment he stepped into the great hall, she rushed forward from where she was serving the girls, grabbing his arm and leading him up the aisle between the two tables to the head table.
“You look a fright,” she said breathlessly, fussing over him as he took his seat. “I’ve been so worried about you all day, wondering where you’ve been and what might have happened to you.”
She removed an upturned bowl from a plate sitting at his usual place, revealing a feast of cold roast, potatoes, and vegetables. Stephen was tempted to laugh at Annie’s resemblance to a fine chef in a posh restaurant revealing the treats that lay under a silver serving dome. He was too tired to do much of anything but dig into his meal, though.
“Sir?” Katie asked, approaching the table once he’d consumed half of his supper.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, following her with his eyes as she circled around the end of the table and came to stand right next to him.
Her eyes were round with fear and slightly red, as though she’d been crying. “Where’s Jane?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“I’m looking for her, poppet,” Stephen said, his heart melting.
Katie nodded and sniffed. “It’s just….” She sniffed again, tears making her eyes glassy. “It’s just that I miss her. And I think she ran away because…because I was mean to her.”
Everything within Stephen wanted to weep right along with her. “It’s not your fault, darling.” Echoes of Max saying the same to him poked at the edges of Stephen’s mind, but he ignored them to focus on Katie. He set aside his fork and knife, twisting in his chair so that he could draw Katie into his arms for a hug. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I know Jane was bad for dipping my hair in ink,” Katie continued to sob, “but I shouldn’t have put beetles in her bed the other night. And I shouldn’t have cut her hair ribbon in half.”
A bittersweet grin pulled at the corners of Stephen’s mouth as Katie buried her face against his shoulder and wept. He’d always suspected there were far more things going on under his roof than he was aware of. Katie and Jane’s antics seemed adorable compared to the truth.
“We’ll find her, sweetheart,” he said, stroking Katie’s head. “Lord Hillsboro and I are working hard to bring her back. And we’ve enlisted the help of some important friends as well.”
“Lord Hillsboro can find her,” Katie said, standing straight and wiping her streaming face with the back of her hand. “Jane is in love with him.”
Stephen smiled and kissed Katie’s forehead. “She’s not the only one.”
A moment later, he blinked at his slip, his smile fading. Katie was far too young to grasp the implications of what he’d said. More than that, it was as if his heart had spoken all the things his mind had attempted to deny. Katie nodded, threw herself at Stephen for another hug, then shuffled back to her place at one of the long tables. Stephen smiled as best he could as she went, highly aware that nearly every pair of young eyes in the room was looking at him for reassurance and guidance.
“We will find Jane,” he said to them all. “And Jerry and Robbie as well. Don’t you worry about that. You’re all too pretty to worry anyhow.”
The silly words of comfort did their job. His statement was met by relieved smiles, and as the girls returned to their meal, their chatter grew louder and brighter. It was the best Stephen could hope for, particularly since his own worry was as deep and dark as ever.
“I’m glad Lord Hillsboro is helping,” Annie said, her expression guarded as she took a seat at the table a few places down from Stephen. “He’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is.” Warning bells sounded in Stephen’s head at the way Annie didn’t quite look at him. He schooled his expression to neutrality, picking up his fork and knife and returning to his meal. Annie had most certainly been standing close enough to him to hear his declaration of love for Max.
“He’ll make quite a grand couple with Lady Bardess,” Annie went on, uncharacteristic pointedness in her tone.
She’d definitely heard.
Stephen forced his hands to remain steady as he cut through his roast and chewed his bite. “I doubt the two of them will marry,” he said as casually as he could.
“That’s not the impression Sister Constance had after your trip to her home this morning,” Annie went on, pretending just as much casualness.
Stephen swallowed awkwardly and reached for the glass of weak ale at his place. “Lady Bardess isn’t the sort of woman Lord Hillsboro would be interested in,” he said, slightly hoarse, after taking a drink.
“Sister Constance said the two of them seemed quite chummy.” Annie glanced sideways at him. “She said that Lord Hillsboro was flirting up a storm.”
If he was, Stephen reminded himself, it was to pry information out of her. And why was he so bothered by Annie’s insinuations? She hadn’t even been there. Plus, Stephen damn well knew the truth of things. He still had sore muscles to prove it.
“Friendship is a lovely thing,” Annie went on with just a hint of guile. “But marriage is the natural state that God intended us all to be in. We should be happy for Lord Hillsboro, and you should—” She snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.
Stephen didn’t need her to finish her sentence to know what she was thinking. He was all too aware of what she wanted from him, what she expected. It pained him that she would never get it, especially not now. But then again, he would never be able to marry Max, no matter how devoted they wanted to be to each other. And it wasn’t entirely outside of the realm of possibility that Max would be forced into a marriage of convenience for the sake of his family. Some truths just couldn’t be denied, no matter how distasteful they were. Just as he felt a deep conviction to put his girls above himself, would Max do the same and put his family before their love?
The dismal thought made the rest of his supper taste like ash in his mouth. He’d been a fool to think that love could be simple between him and Max. Nothing that far from what society accepted as normal could ever be simple. And yet, for a few, glorious days, he had hoped. Those hopes seemed to be fading fast now.
“I’ll help you get the girls to bed,” he told Mrs. Ross as he finished up his supper and stepped away from the table. “Perhaps they would like it if I read them a fairy tale tonight.”
“Oh, yes, please!” A chorus of small voices rang from the tables as he moved to walk among his little darlings, ruffling their hair and bending down to give them kisses that he knew they all needed.
Focusing on his responsibilities and his heart’s first joy helped to put Stephen at ease. At least, as much as he could be with Jane missing under the most frightening of circumstances. He tried to force himself to be cheerful for the other twenty-four girls’ sakes as he helped them scrub their faces and brush their teeth before bed, then as they all gathered in one of the dormitories, sitting on the floor so they could all be close, as he read from the orphanage’s beloved copy of A Treasury of Classic Fairy Tales. It was exactly what they all needed to settle down enough for sleep.
Mrs. Ross and Annie were on their way to bed as well by the time Stephen finished with the story and headed downstairs. His heart was heavy with the weight of his frustrations, but light around the edges from the love and affection his girls had shown him as he wandered through the downstairs, locking doors, blowing out lanterns, making certain the fire in the kitchen stove was banked, and cleaning up the last remnants of supper. He wanted so desperately to believe that everything would work out for the best, that Jane would be found, that he could forget about his guilt and regret, that Max would be in his arms again soon, and that they would all have a happ
ily ever after, just like the stories he’d read to his girls. His heart was filled with uncertainty, though.
That uncertainty stayed with him as he undressed, washed his face and brushed his teeth, just as the girls had, and began to crawl into bed. A tap at one of his bedroom windows stopped him short as he peeled back his bedcovers, though.
“Stephen,” Max’s muffled whisper sounded through the glass and the closed curtains. “Stephen, are you awake?”
Stephen rushed to the window and threw open the curtains. The alley behind the orphanage was almost pitch black, but there was just enough light from a few, stray lanterns in the windows of nearby buildings and from the moon for Stephen to make out Max’s grim face. He scrambled to unlock the window and to shove the pane up.
“Max,” he gasped, filled with relief and joy so suddenly that it made him dizzy. “What are you doing here?”
“I refuse to be a prisoner in my own home,” Max answered, hoisting himself up through the small window. “Not that I truly consider that mausoleum to be my home.”
Stephen stood back, his heart thumping hard against his ribs, as Max climbed through the window. He lost his balance at the last minute and tumbled to the floor with a thud. Stephen was so happy to have him there that he laughed in spite of himself, rushing to help Max to his feet.
As soon as he was on his feet, Max threw himself into Stephen’s arms as enthusiastically as Katie had. Stephen wrapped his arms around Max with a moan of satisfaction, bringing his mouth crashing down over Max’s. It was the most gratifying kiss he’d ever engaged in, primarily because he had been about to resign himself to not kissing Max again for a long, long time. Stephen threaded his fingers through Max’s hair, pressing close to him and enjoying the nighttime coolness of Max’s coat against the warmth of his thin pajamas. The world seemed right again with Max’s scent in his nose and the taste of him as they devoured each other.