Lords and ladies gave way first to merchants and shopkeepers, but then even they seemed to drop away.
They had entered a part of London that Alison wasn’t familiar with, and given the stench beginning to permeate the carriage, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.
Though there had been one or two areas that didn’t look half so bad as where she was now; the buildings clean, the streets adequately paved, and even obviously wealthy gentlemen milling around them, for the most part, this place was truly deplorable.
The slums, because to call them buildings would be a gross exaggeration, seemed to be toppling over onto one another, and she could barely tell where one ended and the other began.
To her horror, she saw tiny, filthy children darting in and out of them and concluded that these shacks must be where they lived.
The streets were littered with people half-starved and barely moving, the ground sludgy with something she couldn’t even bring herself to contemplate.
These were the dregs of society. The poorest of the poor. And Alison’s heart ached for every soul she gazed upon.
How could people live like this? So close yet so vastly far from where she, herself, lived in grandeur and luxury?
It didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t fair.
Alison was so distracted by her maudlin musings that she didn’t even feel the carriage coming to a halt.
“’Ere ye are, Miss.”
She snapped her gaze to the driver then looked out to see that they’d come to a stop in front of a surprisingly clean and pleasant-looking building.
This one was clean and well-maintained, with three stories of windows and a sturdy-looking roof.
“Th-this is where the carriage came to?”
“Just gone round the back, Miss,” the driver confirmed, nodding toward a wide alleyway by the side of the building.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked, hoping against hope that it wasn’t a brothel or something equally scandalous.
Her heart would break at the mere thought that Nicholas could have gone from kissing her last night to –
“Oi haven’t a clue, Miss. You just told me to follow the carriage, and Oi did.”
Alison was alarmed as an impatient edge entered the driver’s tone.
She didn’t want to leave the relative safety of the hack, but she had a feeling if she didn’t leave of her own accord, or tell him to turn immediately back around, she’d be tossed out regardless.
Self-preservation warred with curiosity.
“Miss?”
Alison took a deep breath, trying not to gag at the stench of rot and filth filling her lungs.
“Th-thank you.”
She pressed a guinea into his soiled glove and stepped out of the hackney.
Stumbling slightly at the rather large drop from the carriage to the ground, she righted herself and glanced around her.
Her stomach dropped as she swiftly gained the attention of more than one hostile-looking person, and fear snaked its way around her heart.
I shouldn’t have come, she thought a little hysterically.
There were only steps between where she stood and the front of the building into which Nicholas had apparently disappeared, but it suddenly felt like miles.
From the corner of her eye, Alison saw a man, caked in dirt and staggering slightly, begin to move toward her.
Without hesitation, she darted toward the building.
Whatever she was going to find in there, she could only hope that it would be safer than the streets.
Chapter Twenty
“And how are John and Bonnie doing now?” Nic was finishing up a meeting with Mrs. Cafferty, which should have held all his attention.
But instead, inevitably, his mind was elsewhere.
On a pair of blue eyes that he couldn’t stop thinking about and a mouth that had kept him awake all last night.
“Bonnie is doing right as rain, your grace.” The older lady smiled.
“And John?”
Here, her face fell.
“It’s different for him, I think,” she began carefully, “He’s older. He remembers things that, God willing, Bonnie has forgotten. It will take him some time. He’s skittish. Won’t let anyone near him.”
Nic frowned.
The problem with boys like John wasn’t that they weren’t trusting. God knew they had no reason to be.
But sometimes they were bolters. And Nic couldn’t be sure that he would find him again if he did take off.
The idea of losing a child he was trying to save filled him with horror.
“How are his studies?”
Mrs. Cafferty sighed.
“Again, your grace, it’s not that the child hasn’t a brain in his head. But he won’t let nobody help him. Bonnie is doing well with her letters and numbers, though.”
Nic nodded.
“I’m sure she’d love to see you. All of the children would.”
Seeing Bonnie would be yet another reason to think of nothing but Alison Langton, Nic knew. But he always called in to see the children when he came here, and today would be no different.
After all, he couldn’t stop thinking about Alison anyway. He might as well visit with the children. If anything were going to distract him from Alison, it would be them.
He wandered to the schoolrooms. At this time of day, the tutors Nic paid for would have small groups of children in various rooms teaching them to read, write, and for the more able, history and the sciences.
Nic’s goal was to give the children a good education and then, when they were older, help them to procure good, honest work with a steady income and a dependable roof over their heads.
A lot of them ended up on his various estates.
The groups were kept purposely small.
When the children came to them, they didn’t do particularly well in big groups.
And none of them were ever forced to take part in any of the lessons.
Gradual coaxing worked better.
All the children who came here had suffered abuse at the hands of adults. Some worse than others. Some so unspeakable that Nic couldn’t allow himself to think of it.
“Bonnie and John will be in the yellow playroom,” Mrs. Cafferty said referring to one of the many bright, airy rooms filled with toys and books. “John doesn’t want to join lessons yet, and Bonnie won’t leave him. We send a tutor in every morning to help them both.”
Nic nodded, frowning in concern.
“Do they spend much time out of doors?” he asked.
“When we can spare someone to take them,” Mrs. Cafferty responded. “They’re not mixing too well with the other children just yet. There’s nobody free this afternoon, but we’ll make sure that they go outside tomorrow.”
Just like the playrooms and classrooms, the garden outside had been designed with children in mind. There was a rockery and trees for them to climb, ponds to study fish and frogs in. Gardens with vegetable and flower beds where they could learn to grow their own food, and in the middle, a fountain for them to paddle in during summer months.
Upon reaching the door of the yellow room, Nic pushed it open.
It was empty.
He turned to question Mrs. Cafferty and saw the woman’s face blanch.
“Where are they?” he asked, his voice stamped with concern.
“I-I don’t know,” she gasped. “They were right here, your grace. I –”
A maid appeared at the end of the corridor, and Mrs. Cafferty called out to her. “Lizzie, have you seen Bonnie and John?”
The maid blinked in shock, no doubt surprised at the usually affable Mrs. Cafferty sounding so severe.
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered, bobbing a curtsy to Nic. “The young lady took them outside. Bonnie was of a mind to look at the fish.”
“What young lady?” Nic barked, feeling guilty when the young girl’s face paled. “My apologies, Lizzie, is it?” he asked.
The maids here were just like everyone else;
the gardeners, the cook and her helpers, the burly footmen. All born and raised on the streets. All helped by Nicholas and his various charities.
“Y-yes, your grace,” she stammered.
“What young lady took them?” He kept his tone calm and steady.
Bonnie and John wouldn’t be the first children to have been born to a prostitute or to end up with someone who would use them for ill purposes. Evil purposes, a lot of the time.
If someone had come to take them back to wherever they’d come from…
“Your friend, your grace,” Lizzie said, confusing him all the more.
His friend?
Who would –?
No! It couldn’t be.
Nobody knew of the amount of time Nic personally spent here. They were aware of his charitable endeavours but believed he gave his money and not his time and attention to his causes.
And he had no friends from St. Giles that didn’t work in one of his charities.
The only way someone would know he was here would be if they’d seen him come in.
And only one person, one irritating, hoydenish tearaway would be foolish enough, and courageous enough, and uncaring about flouting the rules of Society enough to follow him into the depth of St. Giles.
But surely the fates wouldn’t be so cruel?
“Miss Langton, your grace.”
And apparently the fates were exactly that cruel.
She’d followed him?
She’d bloody well come to St. Giles alone?
A fear unlike any he’d experienced in years at what could have happened to her exploded inside him and set his feet in motion before the maid had finished speaking. He had to see for himself that Alison was well.
Then he could decide whether he wanted to kiss her or wring her foolish neck.
Nic burst into the gardens, Mrs. Cafferty huffing and puffing behind him.
He darted his gaze around, spotting a glimpse of bright, golden hair by the fountain.
He moved toward it, his heart thundering at what might have been.
Getting ready to ring a peal over her beautiful, foolish head, Nic came to an abrupt halt and took in the scene before him, jaw open in shock.
Bonnie was splashing about the fountain, squealing and giggling to her heart’s content.
As usual, John was standing to the side, watching with sullen, mistrustful eyes.
And Alison – Alison was standing between them both, bedecked in white and pink, a breath of fresh air and purity in a world so filled with misery and depravity.
She reminded him once again of an angel as she laughed at Bonnie’s splashing, the sound like a melody ringing out across the gardens.
Alison was getting splashed – her hair, her face. Nic swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat.
Even the front of her gown.
He thanked God for her pelisse because he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to control himself if it wasn’t covering her.
He didn’t know a single woman of Quality who wouldn’t be horrified by a street urchin ruining an expensive gown, wetting her perfectly coiffed hair.
Yet, there she stood, uncaring about it all.
Nic had intended to march over there and after making sure there wasn’t a hair on her head hurt, giving her the set down she obviously needed.
Had she no care for her safety?
Had she any idea what lurked in these streets morning, noon, and night?
Anything could have happened.
He could have walked out of here and found her body, lifeless on the street.
Just like –
No. He wouldn’t think it. Couldn’t think it.
All intentions of yelling at her flew from his mind. He stood frozen. Mesmerised.
Bonnie ran over and threw her arms around Alison, well and truly soaking her.
But instead of shying away, Alison lifted the child into a cuddle Nic was sure she had rarely received in her short life.
With their heads bent together, they looked so alike. Alison could be her mother.
And Nic’s heart pounded for a very different reason.
After a whispered conversation, they both turned to look at John.
He was gazing at them both. A mixture of longing and defiance in his young eyes.
“Should we take the children, your grace?” Mrs. Cafferty, whom Nic had quite forgotten about, spoke in soft tones, apparently as unwilling to let the occupants of the garden know of their presence as Nic was himself.
He merely shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
As he watched, Alison put Bonnie carefully back in the low-walled fountain and moved toward John.
The child glared up at her, but she continued, hunkering in front of him when she was close.
They spoke for a moment or two and Nic could tell, even from here, that John wasn’t giving much more than one-word answers.
Alison pointed to the fountain, earning a stubborn shake of his head.
Nic was about to step in, afraid that John would run off, when suddenly, Alison sat on the ground proving once and for all that she was very much unconcerned about her dress.
He watched, couldn’t tear his eyes away, as she reached down and pulled off her kid boots.
Surely she wasn’t doing what he thought she was doing.
The devil himself couldn’t have dragged Nic’s gaze away from her as she reached under her skirts and pulled off her stockings.
Nic had seen women naked from the time he’d been a lad.
Never had any of them affected him as much as seeing Alison Langton’s calves.
It took every bit of strength he had not to groan aloud at the sight of legs that would haunt him now just as much as her kiss.
She stood and hitched her skirts up to her knees, striding forward and, without hesitating, stepping into the fountain alongside Bonnie, laughing at the child’s cry of delight.
Hell and damnation, he thought. She’ll be the death of me.
Chapter Twenty-One
If anyone from the ton saw her now, she would be well and truly ruined.
But Alison grinned as the adorable little girl, so like Poppy, kicked water in the air, well and truly destroying her dress.
That would take some explaining, she knew.
She watched Bonnie’s brother, John, out of the corner of her eye.
He had taken a few hesitant steps forward. But Alison sensed even that was hard for the poor boy.
When she’d burst through the front door of this place only two hours ago, never would she have imagined that this is what she’d find.
It was hard to believe that such a frightening, dismal place lurked beyond these walls.
Even the air seemed cleaner in this secluded garden. So filled was it with the scent of flowers and apples from the small orchard in the corner.
It was like a little spot of Heaven, right in the middle of Hell.
The whole place was incredible.
She’d run up the steps to the front door, hammering on it in her panic.
It had been opened by a burly footman who had glared at her, his eyes suspicious and unforgiving.
“I-I’m a friend of his grace, the Duke of Barnbury,” she’d gasped, still unaware of what she’d find but hoping it would be safer than outside.
The man’s eyes had widened as she spoke then raked over her clothing before stepping back and allowing her entrance.
Alison had been amazed.
She was standing in a bright, sunny entrance, spotlessly clean and filled with solid, good quality furniture.
She’d gazed around open-mouthed, sure that it wasn’t a brothel or a gambling hell.
The arrival of a young lady, not in anything scandalous but in a clean, serviceable grey gown and apron confirmed that this couldn’t be any place sinful.
“Can I help you, Miss?” She had bobbed a curtsy, staring curiously at Alison.
“Miss Langton,” Alison finally said. “I am acquainted with the Duke of
Barnbury. I –”
“Oh, you are one of our patronesses?” The maid smiled kindly. “You’ve not come alone, have you Miss?”
“Um – m-my maid took ill. So, I sent her home.”
It had been as poor an excuse as any she’d ever thought of, but it was the best she could do on the spot.
Whether the young maid, Lizzie, had believed her or not, Alison didn’t know.
Thankfully, she hadn’t pried any further.
“What is this place?” Alison had asked.
Lizzie had launched into an explanation of the incredible work they did here, showing her around the rooms, introducing her to the children.
A relief unlike any she’d ever known had swept through Alison. This was the reason he came to St. Giles all the time. It wasn’t depravity or gambling. It was to help those less fortunate.
The tour brought her to the schoolrooms, and that was how she’d come across Bonnie and her untrusting brother, alone in a beautiful room. Bonnie had been looking out the window; John was sitting with his arms crossed, scowling at nothing.
It had taken some doing, but she’d managed to coax John out into the garden, claiming she wanted to see them but didn’t feel entirely safe without a male escort.
As she’d guessed, the boy had an innate instinct to protect, and he’d grudgingly agreed to accompany Alison and Bonnie.
Now, she hoped that by making a spectacle of herself, John would be convinced to join the fun in the water.
He was just a boy. He deserved to have some childish fun.
She didn’t press him or force him.
Instead, she played with Bonnie and gave him some space.
Alison had her back to where John had been standing when she heard the distinctive splash of a pair of feet.
Her heart raced as she turned slowly, trying to appear nonchalant.
To her elation, John was standing in the water, his charcoal breeches rolled up to the knee.
She grinned at him and was thrilled when he grinned back.
She opened her mouth to say something when he suddenly kicked out, covering her in a deluge of water.
She gasped in shock as it hit her square in the face.
They stared at each other for a moment before Alison burst into peals of laughter.
The Saint of St. Giles Page 13