When a Marquis Chooses a Bride (17 page)

“I suppose that would work,” Fotherby mumbled.

“Then the only thing to do is set a date.” Lavvie acted as if the deal was done. She couldn't afford for Fotherby to back out. Who knew what kind of man her uncle would force upon Elizabeth if Lavvie failed?

“I'll only do this to help Merton, mind,” Fotherby said in a whiny voice. “I've no wish to see him marry against his will.”

“Naturally,” Lavvie said, using her most innocent tone. “That is my desire as well.”

She signaled for her footman to approach with the message she had given him. “My lady, you'll be late for your appointment.”

“Thank you, Edwards. Mr. Fotherby, I am so pleased we could have this discussion.”

He took her outstretched hand. “I as well. When will we—you know?”

She smiled. “I shall send you a note.”

He nodded before mincing off toward St. James Street. Once he was out of hearing, she strolled toward the Park exit nearest Green Street. “Edwards, I want you to keep an eye on a young lady. I need to know her schedule.”

“Yes, my lady. I'll find someone to do the job.” He walked behind her, closer than he should have. Lavvie felt his breath on the back of her neck before she heard him. “I didn't like you leaning against that man.” His tone was insolent, and she glanced at him in time to see his hot gaze raked over her bodice. “Don't let me see it again.”

A shiver of delight speared through her. She couldn't wait to see him naked again and feel his hard body sink into hers. So much different than her soft, pudgy husband who could barely do his part, then blamed her for not conceiving. “Stop that. You mustn't let anyone guess.”

One black brow rose. “You don't think his lordship would like me tupping his wife?”

That was the only fear she had for herself. If Manners knew, he'd divorce her. She would never survive the scandal. “He can't ever know.”

“I want you . . . soon.”

God, she was panting like a bitch in heat. “The old governess's room.”

They entered the hall of her home. Under the guise of removing her cloak, he squeezed and kneaded her derrière. His low voice caressed her ear. “Don't keep me waiting.”

She licked her lips. “I won't.”

A knock sounded on the door. Edwards opened it.

“Lavvie, I did not know if I would find you home.” Elizabeth did not even seem to notice the footman. “We need to discuss something.”

Lavvie allowed her cousin to kiss her cheek. “I'm sorry, my dear, but I cannot visit right now. I have the most vicious headache.”

“Not another migraine?”

“Indeed it is. Can your news wait?” She tried to look ill, when the only thing wrong with her was the dampness between her legs.

“Yes. I'm so sorry you are feeling badly. I have to get back now.”

“I understand. Your aunt Agatha is here.”

Elizabeth gave a small smile. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Lavvie straightened her shoulders. “I am sure we shall see each other soon.”

Chapter Fourteen

Dom had arrived home from White's and called for Tom to be brought to him. He now sat on Dom's lap. Obviously, the boy had lived with both parents at some point, and the time had come to find out as much about them as he could. No one had been successful before, but there was nothing for it, he hoped that the child felt safe enough now to give him the information. “Tom, what's your full name?”

“James Thomas Hubert.” He frowned at Dom. “Are you angry with me?”

“No, of course not.” Why would he think that? “Why?”

“Because my mama used to call me that when she was angry.”

He ruffled the boy's hair. “You've done nothing wrong.” He grinned. “But at least now I know what to call you when you do something wrong. So, ah, Mr. Hubert was your papa?”

“No, that's my third name after Mama's uncle who died.”

Dom might be getting the first headache of his life. “What was your father's last name?”

Once again, the child's lips formed a mulish line.

Dom pressed his fingers to his temple and rubbed. “Let me guess, you're not supposed to tell.”

Tom nodded his head emphatically. What or who the hell had scared the child so thoroughly?

Light feminine voices floated down the hall. Mama was home, and she had someone with her. Perhaps it was Thea. He tugged the bell pull and a footman popped his head in the door.

“My lord?”

“If Miss Stern is here, please ask her to attend me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

It was the correct response, but Dom had never heard it given with so much enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, his mother and Thea entered the room. Tom jumped up and wrapped his arms around her legs.

Thea laughed. “You are getting so big. You'll soon knock me over.”

Dom glanced at the lad. In just a few days, Tom had put on enough weight that he'd started to look healthy. “Isn't it time for your lessons?”

“Yes, sir. I'll go find Sally.” Tom ran to the door, closing it behind him.

Thea raised a brow. “Lessons?”

“With one of the maids until I have time to hire a tutor. We need to discuss the child. He's not what he first seemed.”

“Yes, that's what you said.”

Thea and his mother took seats on the sofa by the windows overlooking the garden and Dom rang for tea.

They discussed Thea's shopping until tea arrived. His mother motioned for Thea to pour.

Dom took his cup. It was nice having her here. He was impatient for the time when he would share every meal with her. “My housekeeper brought it to my attention. The child appears to be gently bred.” He told them about his conversations with Tom. “After what he's been through, I don't want to threaten him.”

“I agree.” Thea poured milk into her cup and stirred. “Perhaps I can talk to him and find out more. Though I believe I know why he is afraid to talk. From what you said, it appears he was taken in by a group of thieves that train children to rob.”

He set his cup down with a snap. “You cannot be serious.”

She gave a light shrug. “If one lives in London, it is fairly common knowledge.”

Yet she did not live in Town and she knew of it. He looked at his tea and wished it was a brandy. “But why use children? I would think there'd be more risk in getting caught.”

“Children are generally transported rather than hanged.”

He spewed his tea. Fortunately, he got his serviette up in time before much damage was done. “
Transported?
I thought he'd be sent to a workhouse.”

How she sat there so calmly, he didn't know.

“Not after being tried for theft. He would have been taken to Newgate.”

Suddenly, the pounding in his head grew louder. “Newgate?”

Thea nodded. “Yes, which is the reason Lady Evesham and Lady Rutherford now have an orphan asylum and are working to change the laws. It is cruel to blame a child for something he has been taught to do in order to eat. He was probably told there would be dire consequences if he told anyone about either the criminal gang or himself.”

Thea poured Dom another cup of tea as he tried to untangle what he had always believed with what appeared to be the facts. Had his uncle known of this when he counseled Dom to vote for harsh punishments for criminals of all ages? What if he would have just listened to Worthington and his set?

“Dominic?” his mother asked.

“Yes, Mama?”

“Dorothea has an appointment with Mrs. Sorley to go over the house. We shall leave you for now.”

“Of course.” He rose when they did and took Thea's hand. “I'll see you this evening if not before.”

She searched his eyes and smiled. “One or the other, perhaps both.”

At some point he had to get to the bottom of what had happened to Tom, but tonight all he wanted was to be with Thea at the ball. He could find a quiet parlor or a secluded place in the garden or on the terrace so he could kiss her as he wanted to do now. She was his and it was time he showed her.

* * *

Dotty left Dom mulling over his newfound knowledge. It had astonished her that he was so insulated from real life. She wondered if he would ever get Tom to tell the truth and thought she might give it a try. After all, she did have younger sisters and one younger brother.

“My lady?”

“You wish to see little Tom, do you not?”

She grinned. In just a few short days, she'd come to like and admire her future mother-in-law's perspicacity. “I would, after I meet with your housekeeper, of course.”

“I think that is a good idea. He might confide in you more willingly than in Dominic.” They continued to her ladyship's parlor where the housekeeper would meet them. “If you'd like a little hint regarding getting on with Mrs. Sorley, encourage her to tell you about the family. She was born at Merton and her mother was the housekeeper before her. There is not a family secret she does not know.”

Dotty widened her eyes. “Are there secrets?”

“More than I knew.” Lady Merton sighed.

They'd reached the parlor and found the housekeeper waiting. Mrs. Sorley appeared to be in her forties. She was of medium height with light brown hair and gray eyes. Her mien was pleasant but sober. Woe to the child who muddied her floors. Still, Dotty liked her instantly.

Mrs. Sorley curtseyed. “Miss, I'm pleased to meet you.”

Dotty held out her hand. “As I am you, Mrs. Sorley. Shall we begin?”

The housekeeper took two of Dotty's fingers and released them. A grin split her long narrow face. “We'll start with the upper floors and work our way down if that suits you.”

“It does indeed.” It appeared Mrs. Sorley thought as Dotty did. “Most particularly the nursery?”

“Yes, miss. Precisely what I was thinking.” She handed Dotty a pocketbook and pencil. “I'll take notes, but you might want to do so as well.”

Dotty followed the housekeeper to the main hall then up three levels of stairs before they reached the nursery. As she expected, the house was clean and neat, but could use some redecoration in areas. Lady Merton hadn't spent a great deal of time here. After having seen the Stanwood House schoolroom floor and the plans for the one at Worthington House, Dotty was full of ideas for remodeling. Although she hoped never to have eleven children. Twelve, if one counted Grace.

In the schoolroom, Tom was busy reading with Sally, the temporary tutor, and asking her questions. “But, Sally, I don't understand this part.”

The girl glanced over and scratched her cheek. “I'm not sure I know the answer myself.”

Dotty moved behind Tom, reading the passage over his shoulder. It was an old book on farm management. “Sally, please do not take this the wrong way, but was there nothing else?”

The girl pulled a face. “No, miss. I can teach him letters from this, but . . .”

Dotty glanced at Mrs. Sorley. “Might there be something in the library?”

“No, miss. After his lordship's father died, Lord Alasdair had all the children's books thrown out.”

What ailed the man to do something like that? “You mean to tell me Lord Merton learned with books like this?” She picked up the offending tome.

Mrs. Sorley sucked in her cheeks, her disapproval evident. “Yes, miss.”

No wonder Matt disliked Lord Alasdair so much. She bit her lip. She was not yet Dom's wife and had no right to criticize a member of his family. “Can a list be sent to a bookstore for more appropriate books?”

“If you make a list, miss, I'll send a footman.” Mrs. Sorley had an almost defiant look in her eyes, her lips curved up enough for Dotty to know the woman agreed with her.

She sat at the small table, took out her notepad, and made a list of the types of books Tom should have.

“Miss?”

“Yes, Mrs. Sorley?”

“The boy's awful good at drawing.”

Sally nodded and handed Dotty a piece of paper. “See here. He did that of me.”

The picture was an amazingly good representation of the maid, even catching the twinkle in her eyes. “Drawing materials as well.” She glanced at Tom who was occupied with another sketch. “Tom, how old are you?”

“Six.” Suddenly he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I'm not supposed to tell, 'cause I look younger.”

Dotty motioned for Mrs. Sorley and Sally to leave the room. After the door closed, Dotty picked him up and put him on her lap. “I know you were mistreated before coming to Merton House. But I promise no one will do so again. Do you believe me?”

Tom nodded. “His lordship said the same thing. But the men said . . .”

It was past time to slay dragons. She turned him so that she could look into his eyes. “Listen to me. Anyone wanting to get at you will have to go through both his lordship and me as well as Paken and
all
his footmen.”

The child's eyes grew wide. “Even Mr. Paken?”

Dom's lofty and unflappable butler had made the impression she'd hoped for. “Do you think the people who had you could do that?”

Slowly, Tom shook his head.

“But in order for Paken to protect you to the best of his ability, you must help.”

“How can I do that?”

“By telling me as much as you know about who your parents are and where you lived before being cast out on to the streets.”

Tom stared at her for what seemed like a very long time before he sank back against her shoulder and began to recite. “My mama's maiden name is Sophia Cummings. Her father is James Cummings, Esquire of Bude, Cornwall. My father is Robert Cavanaugh. His father is the Earl of Stratton. Papa is a major in the 95th Rifles on his way to Brazil.” Tom's voice started to tremble. “My name is James Thomas Hubert Cavanaugh. I was born April 6, 1809. I live at Number 14 St. George Street.”

Dotty held him as sobs wracked his slender body. She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “Hush, now. It's all right. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

When he'd calmed, Mrs. Sorley came back in the room with a cup she pressed into Tom's hands. “Some warm milk might help.”

“Yes. Have Sally come stay with him. She should not leave his side. I'll put him to bed.”

“Yes, miss. Shall I ask his lordship to come up here?”

“No, please ask Lady Merton to join me in the morning room, if you will.”

“Thank you, miss. May I say I'm glad you're going to be joining the family?” The housekeeper bobbed a curtsey and left.

There was no lack of projects here. Dotty dropped a kiss on Tom's head and took the empty cup, placing it on the table, then carried him into his bedchamber, and tucked him under the sheets. Cyrille jumped up on the bed and curled himself next to the sleeping boy.

The first thing to do was take care of Tom. Thank the Lord his mother had made him memorize his family information. How terrifying it must have been for her to be alone with a small child when she died. Dotty brushed away the tear traveling down her cheek.

Rage at the people who had mistreated Tom coursed through her. That landlady had much to answer for. Dotty didn't know if she could even be civil when she met her, but meet her she would. Mrs. Cavanaugh must have left some personal items behind and they belonged to Tom and his father.

Returning to the table, she occupied herself, until the maid returned, by reducing to writing everything Tom had told her. Before this day was out, she would confront the woman who had abandoned a small child to the streets, or more likely, sold him to thieves.

* * *

Dom raised his eyes from the documents he'd been reviewing when Thea entered his study, his mother following her. He rose until they had taken their seats on the two chairs facing his desk. He was glad to see them getting along so well.

He smiled, then noticed they both had their lips pressed tightly together, their eyes were narrowed, and tension seemed to crackle around them. Could it be the house, or God forbid, Mrs. Sorley? “Is anything wrong?”

Thea slid a small piece of paper across the desk. “Tom finally told me who he is. I had planned to go directly to his family's rooms on St. George Street, but your mother convinced me to discuss it with you first.” Her voice hitched in anger. “I shall confront Mrs. White.”

Dom put down his pen. “The landlady?”

“The very one. I surmise she sold Tom to the blackguards who were teaching him to steal.”

Leaning back in the tufted leather chair, Dom tried to catch up with her. Whatever the boy had said obviously had overwrought Thea's sensibilities. “Start from the beginning and tell me what you know.”