Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (22 page)

Y
awning, 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.

A
bigail 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 char
acter 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.

Moreover, acting like a lovesick pup was the last thing that would endear her to her employer.

Embarrassment and mortification would weigh down her joy as effectively as creeling stones.

But he’d looked at her so endearingly last night, his gaze warm, his lips lifted in a sweet smile. Just remembering the glorious feel of his soft lips kissing the back of her hand raised bumps on her skin. She was overwhelmed with gratitude as she recalled how sweetly Steele had spoken to her, wanting to help her find her brother. All those wondrous feelings of joy and excitement would wash over her once more, making her feel giddy.

Feeling as if her emotions were surging up and then down like the ocean’s waves, she muttered, “I’ll go mad if I keep this up.”

Sighing, she went back to work. Tending a garden was such straightforward, enjoyable work, much easier than trying to sort the mixed-up feeling she had about Lord Steele.

Jason
, the name whispered in her mind. It fit him nicely, reminding her of Jason and the Argonauts. Strong, adventurous, a good leader…
Jason
…A man of honor and integrity, a man who watched over those he loved…
Jason.

A sudden shadow blocked the sun over Abigail.

Lord Steele stood over her, looking around the garden. He stepped away and the sun shined on her once more. “What are you up to, Miss West?”

She shadowed her eyes with her hand. “Just tidying up a bit, my lord. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be a good exercise for the boys.”

“I’m delighted you’ve taken an interest in my garden.” Scratching his chin, he eyed the overgrown bushes.

“It’s somewhat of a mess at the moment, but with a little work, it will be lovely.”

“I’ve been neglectful when it comes to my yard,” Steele confessed, as he watched the boys gathering brambles and tossing them onto the pile by the gate. “This was an excellent idea. I think I’ll join you.”

Abigail’s eyes widened. “But what of your injury, my lord?”

“It’ll do me good to warm up the old muscles.” To her utter shock, Lord Steele shrugged off his coat and then rolled up his sleeves. “I purposefully wore this coat because it’s easy to remove,” he commented, reminding her of their entanglement the other night. Her cheeks heated at the memory and at the stirring vision before her eyes.

In his white linen shirt and marcella waistcoat, he looked as fit and muscular as any Greek hero. His shoulders were broad and enticing enough to make any woman swoon, so much so that Abigail was glad that she was already on her knees. His trim waist only enhanced his strapping shoulders and back. The memory of the golden glow of his bare back flashed in her mind. Her hands clenched around the spade,
recalling the feel of his velvety flesh beneath her fingers.

“Is there a shovel about?” he asked, peering around.

Abigail’s gaze fixed on the muscles of his thighs bulging in his tight breeches as he roved about the garden, looking for the tool.

Her mouth went dry as sawdust. She swallowed, hard.

“Ah, there it is.” Walking over, he grabbed the shovel from against a nearby tree and came back to stand before Abigail. “Where do you want me?”

“Ah, ah…” She blinked.

His brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head to clear it. “Yes, ah…how about…I was thinking of clearing a path.” She pointed to the tree next to where she was working. “Right there. The boys want to put in ropes for a swing. If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Excellent notion.” Stepping over to the area she’d identified, Steele began to dig out the overgrown brush and toss it over to the side.

Abigail watched, mesmerized by the powerful muscles of his arms. His white shirt stretched tight with every motion, outlining his broad chest and shoulders. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his bulging thighs as he leaned to and fro with each dig of the shovel.

She realized that she was ogling, and shook herself awake from the heavenly vision of his thighs. “Are you sure you don’t mind, my lord? You must have a lot of important work to do.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that my work will still be on my desk in an hour’s time, so I might as well enjoy the day as much as I can.”

Thrusting the blade into the soil, he set his boot upon the shovel and rammed it deeper. “I apologize for leaving so abruptly in the middle of our conversation last night.”

Looking down, she swallowed. “Oh, that’s all right. You have guests…”

“Can you tell me about your brother?” His voice was gentle.

Clearly he’d noticed her difficulty the night before and was trying to make it easier for her. Gratitude washed through her for this considerate man, and her heart warmed.

Biting her lip, she exhaled. “My brother. Well, his name is Reginald. But everyone always called him Reggie. Retiring Reggie, I used to call him, every time he called me Abby the Gale.”

Steele rammed the shovel into the soil. “Abby the Gale?”

Smiling shyly, she lifted a shoulder. “My name is Abigail and he used to tease me that I was too quiet. That I needed to get more ‘stormy’ now and again.” She sighed, muttering, “He was stormy enough for the both of us.”

“How so?”

Abigail paused, sudden fear pinching her chest. Was confiding in Steele a mistake? He was a man of the law, the most powerful prosecutor in the land. He would have to follow the law; he would have to stand by his oath of office…

“There’s a warrant out for his arrest,” Abigail blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand, shocked that she’d spoken so bluntly.

The shovel stopped mid-swing. “I see.” After a moment’s pause, he began digging once more. “No wonder he’s hard to find. You’re not the only one looking for him.”

Abigail let out the breath she’d been holding.

Kicking aside a rock, Steele asked, “What’s the charge?”

“Theft.”

Steele struck the shovel into the ground and leaned his elbow on it. “Did he do it?”

“Yes.”

“That could be a problem.” Exhaling, he looked around, ensuring that the boys weren’t within earshot. “Can you tell me what transpired?”

Staring down, she realized that her hands toyed with the spade and she stopped. “It doesn’t reflect well on me…in fact, I feel like it’s my fault…”

“Did you break the law?”

She shook her head. “I was simply a reckless fool.”

“Regrets?”

A small, mirthless laugh escaped her mouth. “Huge.”

“Byrnwyck?”

Looking up, she nodded. “So you’d heard.”

He shrugged. “A little. Not much. But I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

Biting her lip, she realized that she desperately feared his knowing of her terrible mistakes, yet longed for his help with her brother. The two went
hand in hand. Yet her love for her brother overrode any concerns she had for her injured pride or sullied reputation.
I’m a scarlet woman
, she told herself.
I might as well own up to at least some of my misadventures. And perhaps it can help Reggie.

Slowly the whole sordid tale spilled from her mouth like water pouring from a pitcher. Gradually the words increased, gushing forth; she couldn’t seem to stop until the carafe was bone dry.

She spoke of losing her head over Phineas, of stupidly believing Phineas’s empty promises…She described Lord Byrnwyck and his nephew Silas’s outrage, her abrupt dismissal…Phineas’s betrayal…and finally her brother’s furious acts of revenge, including stealing the Byrnwyck family crest.

Throughout her tale, she could not meet Steele’s eyes, fearful of what she might see there. “Lord Byrnwyck had a warrant issued for Reggie’s arrest and set the constable on him. Reggie ran off in the middle of the night. Lord Byrnwyck set a price on Reggie’s head and hired Bow Street Runners to track Reggie down. Reggie’s been running ever since. That’s…that’s…all of it.”

When she was done, the silence was deafening. Abigail’s heart hammered with instant regret. She’d exposed her stupidity and her impropriety—and to the one man whose good opinion she prized above all others!

He was quiet for so long, fearfully she looked up.

Steele’s face was hardened in anger.

Oh no! What have I done?
Her bottom lip began to tremble, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.
Stupid
,
stupid girl!

“Did Byrnwyck come after you?” Steele bit out.

“Wh-what?”

“Did Lord Byrnwyck come after you? Did he try to hurt you?”

Abigail rubbed her eye trying to grasp his response. “I…well…he tried to put me in jail as an accomplice but Jan and her husband saved me.”

Steele kicked at the shovel, knocking it over with a clank loud enough that the boys’ heads turned in their direction.

Steele waved them off. “It’s fine. Go inside and ask Cook to make lemonade.”

Quickly the boys tossed their brambles into the pile and ran, happy for the break, but also clearly knowing that something was amiss and not longing to be a part of it.

Abigail couldn’t fault them; Steele’s anger was like a storm cloud brewing and about to explode.

“Are you going to dismiss me?” she asked, wincing.

Steele’s head whipped up. “Pardon?”

“Are you going to let me go?”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Abigail straightened. “Didn’t you just hear what I said? I acted immorally and protected a fugitive of the law!”

His eyes flashed with fury, and the muscle in his jaw worked. “They took advantage of you. Every last one of them! Except your innkeeper friends, of course.” He began to pace, his boots crunching in the pebbled brush.

“Phineas never should’ve laid his filthy hands on you. And Byrnwyck…well, he should’ve done right by you!”

Dropping her head, Abigail stared down at her hands. “It was my own fault. I was a fool to believe that a nobleman would want me for his wife.”

Abruptly he stopped pacing, crouched down beside her, and grasped her hand. “Don’t ever say that! He doesn’t deserve you! The slimy bugger!”

Abigail blinked, shocked by the fervor of his words and the astonishingly wonderful sensation of his warm, large hand cocooning hers.

He squeezed her hand. “You are more worthy than ten thousand Byrnwycks and all of their wretched cousins combined.”

His faith in her brought tears to her eyes.

Thinking of the masked rescuer, her joy dimmed. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “You don’t know the scandalous things I’ve done.”

His face softened, his eyes filling with compassion. “Nothing worse than what I’ve done.” Lifting her hand, he laid a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Nothing worse.”

Abigail was swept up in the force of his affectionate gaze, which warmed her deep inside the secret places of her heart, giving her hope…“Perhaps we both need a little forgiveness?” she whispered.

“I know I do.” His rumbling voice was like a caress.

With her hand still wrapped in his, he lowered his head.

She closed her eyes, her heart hammering, her body yearning…She leaned forward…

His lips met hers. So smooth, so perfect…

A chord struck deep within her soul, one that felt so familiar, so achingly true that all she could think was…
I’m home
.

A deep sigh escaped her lips as she melted in his arms. Knowing him, loving him, wanting more of him, as she’d never wanted any man before.