Once She Was Tempted (13 page)

“Where are the items for the girls?” Mama asked.

“The footmen put them in the coach already. Shall we go?”

Mama linked an arm through hers and they climbed into the duke’s luxurious cab and settled themselves against the plush velvet squabs. As they traveled across town, the buildings outside their windows became shabbier,
and the streets became dirtier. With every week that she spent in the comfort of Mayfair, this part of town became more and more foreign.

As though privy to her thoughts, Mama said, “It seems so strange to ride down this street in a fancy coach, doesn’t it? A year ago we would have watched the coach through the dirty windows of our flat and wondered about the privileged people who rode inside. Now we
are
those people. But this place is a part of you, too, and it always will be.”

“I’m not ashamed of where I come from.”

“Anabelle’s worried about you. She thinks you’ve been much more reserved lately—as if something’s troubling you.” Mama patted her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “If there’s anything you want to discuss, anything I can help with, you must let me know. For months you took care of me, playing the part of the caregiver while I left you and Anabelle to struggle.”

“You did no such thing, Mama. You were ill.”

“Yes, but two young ladies should not have to fend for themselves in a city such as this. Especially gently bred women like you and your sister.”

“You must admit we did pretty well.”

Mama’s eyes grew suspiciously moist. “You did, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

Proud? Daphne felt approximately as big as a thimble. Mama would be so disappointed if she knew what she’d done, no matter how worthy the cause. Worse yet, Mama would blame herself for placing her daughter in a predicament where she deemed immoral behavior necessary.

“Anyway,” Mama said with a sniffle, “it is my turn to take care of you. You must think of yourself and your
future. With your beauty and grace, you will have your pick of gentlemen. Make no apologies for who you are. Let your inner light shine.”

The problem was she
had
. She’d let it shine a little too much. “I’ll try, Mama.”

The coach rolled up in front of the foundling home, an old building that looked as neglected as the poor wee ones inside. The stone rubble front was crumbling in many spots, and paint was peeling on the few shutters that hadn’t already come unhinged and fallen off. Imposing iron bars surrounded the ground-floor windows, whether to keep intruders out or the children in, Daphne couldn’t say. Either way, a depressing thought.

She and Mama carried two baskets each to the front door and were greeted almost immediately by a ruddy-faced maid who cheerfully relieved Mama of her load. “Yer looking awfully well, Mrs. Honeycote. Wonderful to see ye again, it is. The children are in the courtyard getting their daily exercise. They’ll be so pleased to see ye.”

“We’ll see ourselves to the yard, Maisey,” Daphne said. “Would you please take these baskets to the kitchen? The other two are linens and a few new articles of clothing.”

“God bless ye, miss. These girls grow like weeds, and the dresses they outgrow are so worn out they’re barely worth passing down. Even this poor lot turn up their noses at ’em. They’d rather wear somethin’ too small for ’em than someone else’s rags.”

“I should think every girl deserves at least one pretty dress,” Mama said thoughtfully. “Maisey, would you ask the director if I might have a moment of her time? I have an idea. Daphne, I’ll see you outside presently.”

She and the maid walked upstairs while Daphne
headed down the long corridor leading to the courtyard. She passed several chilly, dark classrooms and other closed doors, which she supposed were the staff’s living quarters. When she stepped outside, however, sunlight warmed her face and her heart squeezed at the sight of the girls playing hopscotch, jumping rope, reading, and gossiping.

“Miss Honeycote!” a little girl squealed, sparking a small mob of adorable urchins that surged around Daphne.

“Did you bring us some sweets?”

“Do you have the green ribbon you promised me?”

“Look at the awful scrape on my knee!”

Daphne smiled and embraced as many girls as she could reach her arms around. “Let’s see. No to the sweets, but I did bring some lovely oranges. Yes to the green ribbon, and some other colors to share.”

“But the green is just for me, right?” Mary implored.

Daphne cupped the young girl’s cheeks in her palms. “Yes, the green is just for you—to match your pretty eyes. Now, Caro, let’s have a seat on the bench and you may show me your skinned knee.”

The girls gradually resumed their activities, while Daphne and Caroline sat beneath the shade of the courtyard’s only tree—a small one at that. Caroline immediately placed her worn boot on the bench and bent her knee toward her body. The large scrape had scabbed over, and if Daphne was not mistaken, a little mud appeared to be caked on as well. “Look,” Caro whined. “Did you ever see anything so ugly in all your life?”

Daphne placed a finger on her cheek as though pondering the question. “Yes. Yes, I have. I once saw a drawing
of a two-headed snake, and it was uglier than that. But not by much, if you want to know the truth.”

Caro nodded soberly.

“Now tell me, how on earth did this happen?”

“I was climbing the fence back there”—she jerked a thumb toward the wrought-iron fence that separated the yard from the alley behind the orphanage—“and I fell.”

Daphne blinked. This was much more serious than a scraped knee. “Why would you do such a thing, Caro? Was someone bullying you? Were you trying to get away?”

“Nah.” She grimaced as though insulted at the suggestion that she’d shy away from a fight. “Nan dared me, and I wanted to see if I could do it.”

“Well. I guess we know the answer to that question.”

She bobbed her head of short, matted strawberry-blond hair. “I can,” she said proudly.

“From the looks of it, however, things did not end well,” Daphne pointed out.

“I made it over the fence just fine—landed on both feet. But then I had some trouble getting back in. I couldn’t go around to the front door. Mrs. Higgins would have taken a switch to my backside.”

“I can certainly understand why that would be a deterrent.”

“She doesn’t hit hard, but it’s humiliating.”

“Of course,” Daphne sympathized. “So, you injured your knee when you were climbing back into the courtyard?”

Caro nodded. “The lace of my boot caught on the gate’s hinge and tripped me. You should have seen it, Miss Honeycote. Blood was oozing out right here, and it dripped
right down my shin and stained my stocking.” She yanked it up and proudly displayed the small brown stain.

“You are very brave, indeed.” Daphne wrapped her arms around the girl’s thin but surprisingly strong shoulders. “You remind me a little of my sister. She’s very courageous, too. I will tell you the same thing I would tell her. You mustn’t ever try something as foolish as that again. You could have been badly hurt, or kidnapped by a stranger…”

“Like him?” Caro pointed to the back door of the orphanage.

Daphne looked up, pressing a hand to her forehead in order to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun that had just started dipping behind the building.

“Benjamin?” She said his name aloud, momentarily forgetting that Caro sat beside her.

“Who’s Benjamin?”

“Er, Lord Foxburn. He’s an acquaintance of mine.”

With his cane in one hand, he strode toward them, the picture of sinewy strength and masculinity.

“He looks important,” Caro announced. “And handsome, for someone that old.”

Before Daphne could formulate a response, he reached them.

“Hello,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to meet in an orphanage. In a courtyard full of girls, he looked like Gulliver, profoundly out of place and outnumbered.

“What are you doing here?” Daphne asked. Caro jabbed her in the ribs with a pointy elbow. “Ow.”

Benjamin chuckled. “Maybe you should introduce me to your friend.”

“Forgive me,” Daphne said between clenched teeth. “Lord Foxburn, this is Miss Caroline.”

“Hadley,” Caroline amended. “Miss Caroline Hadley.” Daphne chided herself for not using her surname. Not all the orphans had one, but Caro did, and she was rather proud of it.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Caroline Hadley.” Benjamin shook Caro’s grubby little hand as though she were a countess and not a poor little sprite with no family.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” she asked bluntly.

“I was shot.” He inclined his head toward her knee. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

She shrugged. “I took a dare. I don’t need a cane, though.”

“Pity.”

“Yes.” The little imp crossed her arms and stared at Benjamin, sizing him up. After several seconds, she turned to Daphne. “I like him.”

“Caro, it’s not polite to talk about a person as if he’s not there.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

Daphne sighed. Caro was precocious. And correct. “You only have a few minutes until they ring the bell for dinner. Why don’t you run around for a bit?”

“I shall try.” She limped a little as she walked away but soon began chasing after a rubber ball, keeping up with girls a head taller than she.

Benjamin sat on the bench. “I believe she’s cured.”

Her mind still grappled with the idea that he was here. At the orphanage. The cut of his dark blue jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and tapered torso. His right leg—the injured one—was just inches from hers, and
she couldn’t help staring at his thigh. Covered in smooth, snug buckskin, it looked perfectly normal. In fact, far better than average.

Dragging her gaze away, she asked, “Why did you come?”

“I told you—we need to talk. I understand your mother is with the director?”

Daphne glanced over her shoulder at the building. “She’ll probably join me soon.”

“It’s about Hugh’s house party. I hope you’re not planning to attend.”

She drew back like she’d received a slap across the face. Hadn’t they reached an understanding? Weren’t they working together? Maybe he was concerned that she still had designs on Lord Biltmore. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Are you worried that Lord Biltmore will get the wrong impression?”

“No.” He drew his dark brows together. “Though that’s a distinct possibility. It’s too risky for you to come. What if Charlton
does
have the second portrait?”

“I hope he does. Then we would at least know where it is, and you could try to purchase it for me. There’s very little I can do to extract myself from this mess, and I dislike being so dependent on you—”

His head snapped up. “You haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself.”

Oh dear. “I didn’t mean to suggest you are unreliable. I just wish I could fix things on my own. I liked the idea of attending Lord Biltmore’s house party because then, at least, I could be near the action—feel like I was contributing in some small way.”

“You
can’t
help with this. In fact, you shouldn’t be
within a twenty-mile radius of the painting. If Charlton saw you, he’d almost certainly recognize you.”

“We don’t even know for sure if he has the painting. I realize there are risks, but there are risks involved in staying here as well. If Lord Charlton is half as timid as Thomas made him out to be, he’s not likely to spend much time socializing with Lord Biltmore and his house guests.”

Benjamin’s intense stare made her toes curl in her slippers. “You may have a point,” he conceded. “If Hugh invites Charlton to dinner, you could always plead a headache.”

“Precisely. And if I’m there, I won’t feel like a prisoner in the gallows waiting to hear what’s to become of me.”

“That’s courageous of you.” He said it as though he hadn’t realized she had it in her. Well, that made two of them.

“Thank you. But I must confess, I don’t feel very brave. What if Lord Charlton has the painting but won’t sell it?”

“If he’s offered enough money, he’ll sell it.”

Daphne gazed at the children playing across the yard beneath orange-tinged clouds. “My funds are not unlimited.”

“I’m sure we can reach some kind of arrangement.”

She stiffened. “What are you suggesting?”

“That you could pay me back over time. Or not.”

Oh. “That’s very generous of you.”

He shrugged as lending money to women he barely knew were quite routine. “If you say so.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then he jerked his cane in the general direction of the girls. “There are so many of them—must be at least two dozen.”

“Twenty-eight. The older girls help take care of the little ones.”

“What happened to Caroline’s parents?”

“They died in a fire when she was five. She went to live with her grandmother, but she became ill and passed away last year.”

“She had no other family? No one else to take her in?”

Daphne shrugged. “I suppose not.”

He grunted. “Do you know them all?”

“Yes, some better than others. Some of the girls, like Caro, remember their parents. Others have lived here almost all of their short lives.”

A bell rang, and the girls immediately scrambled for a front spot in the dinner line.

“Good lord,” he said. “I’m glad I’m not in their way.”

She smiled. “They’re growing girls—they need their nourishment.”

“Obviously.”

She had a thought then—silly perhaps, but worth a try. “Would you like to see more of the orphanage? That is, if you’re not too busy. I could give you a quick tour while the girls are dining.”

Before he could respond, Caroline popped out of line, ran toward them, and gave Daphne a quick hug before racing back to her spot. “See you next week, Miss Honeycote,” she called. “And you, too, sir… er… my lord.”

A look of mild alarm crossed his face. “I don’t think I’ll—”

“Good-bye,” Daphne called back. The girls filed into the building, waving. To Benjamin, she said, “Never mind. I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend to.” His reaction to Caro’s assumption spoke volumes, and
she chided herself for even asking him about the tour. He was already going out of his way to help her; she had no right to make additional demands on his time.