The Duke (27 page)

She froze.

She gripped the banister with one hand and pressed the other to her midriff, feeling an aghast knot form in her belly as she overheard Tommy blurt out that humiliating piece of her past that she had never in a thousand years wanted her protector to know.

Robert’s back was to her as he crouched before the children. “She sold oranges?” he echoed, sounding amazed, as well he might. In the eyes of a fashionable man, a coster-monger was a thousand times more contemptible than a demirep.

Bel squeezed her eyes shut in mortification, then flicked them open again and stared down at the unlikely trio, feeling trapped. Before she could flee, Andrew saw her and his eyes lit up.

“Miss Bel!”

Abandoning Robert, they ran to her, pounding up the steps. Tommy hugged her around her hips and Andrew grabbed her hand, pulling her down to see the suit of armor, both boys chattering with excitement.

Robert slowly straightened up, folded his arms over his chest, and watched her with an unfathomable expression.

Bel saw that look and nearly threw up her hands in despair. Just when everything seemed to be going well in her life—just when Robert was finally beginning to see her as worthy of him—why now did he have to find out that his supposedly elegant mistress was a former orange girl?
Blast!
It wasn’t fair!

Meanwhile, the children were tugging her every which way.

“Tommy, you’re going to throw me down the stairs. Let go!” She looked down impatiently to pry the child’s hug free, only to spy grubby fingerprints on her pearly gown. It was the last straw.

“Blast!”
she cried in a thunderous tone above their giddy laughter. “Do you know how much this gown cost me? You’ve ruined it! Now I’ll have to go back upstairs and change and we’re going to be late for the party and I don’t even want to go!”

“Boys,” Robert ordered sharply, walking over. “Sit. Here.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the bottom step.

They slunk away from her and obeyed, staring up at him. They glanced at Bel anxiously. “It was an accident, Miss Bel—”

“I know, I know,” she said more gently, already feeling the chagrin that followed inevitably in the wake of her outburst. “It’s all right, Tommy. I didn’t mean to yell.” She wished the earth would swallow her.

Still bright red in the face, she forced herself to look at Robert, dreading to see the lordly disgust she would surely find in his stare. But when she dared glance at him, she found only patience.

“We don’t have to go. Do you want to stay home?”

Home, she thought in misery. Is that where I am?

He took matters into his own capable hands, sending the boys back to Cook for supervision. They didn’t dare disobey him.

He walked slowly to her and examined the small fingerprints on her dress. “My valet can probably get this out with white wine. If not, we’ll buy you another.”

His soft tone was her undoing. She covered her face with her hands and sat right down on the step where she had been standing.

Robert eased down onto the step below her, giving her knee a caress. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I? I didn’t want you to know what I had been reduced to. I have my pride, Robert. I tried everything before turning to this life, you must believe me—”

“I don’t mean the oranges, darling. I don’t care about that. Why didn’t you tell me you brought those children here?”

His question startled her. She lifted her head from her hands and gazed at him uncertainly.

“I will be solely responsible for them, Robert. I swear they won’t make any trouble. I’ll polish the armor myself—”

“Hush. Where did they come from?”

“God only knows. I met them when I was an orange seller, before I resolved to see if Harriette would take me on. I tried to look out for them. Today when I saw them, I tried to enroll them in a charity school, but the headmaster wouldn’t take them. They’ll earn their keep, Robert, I promise you that. It’s just that I’m the only adult they know. They’re good boys, if a little rambunctious, and they have nowhere to go. I feel it is my duty to take care of them—”

“And right now, it’s mine, to take care of you,” he said, gently catching her hand between his.

She stared at him. “You’re not going to tell me to send them away?”

“Of course not. Why are you so upset, Belinda?” His voice was low and lulling. “I feel as though there’s something else bothering you. What aren’t you telling me?”

She gazed longingly at him. “I don’t want my past to come between us, Robert.”

“Miss Hamilton,” he chided softly, “I happen to like oranges.”

“You do?”

He cupped her cheek. “What’s wrong, sweeting? Confide in me.”

I can’t possibly, she thought. Her heart wrenched.

“Didn’t I make you a promise that I would never disappoint you? That first day I came to see you, you didn’t want to tell me about Dolph, but I’ve protected you from him. You didn’t want me to know about Mick Braden, but I was there for you then. You didn’t want me to know your father was in jail or that you used to teach at Mrs. Hall’s, but each time you trusted me with these things, did I ever let you down?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Did I ever frighten you? Betray you? Make you angry?”

“No.”

“I’m on your side, Belinda. Can’t we put an end to the secrets?”

She thought she might well fall apart if he didn’t stop gazing at her so gently and questioning her with such soft intent.

“I only want to help.”

“I know. And you have helped me, Robert. More than you know.”

He petted her knee, his gaze following his hand. “I wish you would let me understand why there is such sorrow in your eyes. I try to chase it away,” he said, “but it always seems to come back.”

She lowered her head, holding on to her composure for all she was worth. She did not know how much more of his gentle chivalry she could bear before she completely fell apart.

“I have seen sorrowful things, I suppose,” she forced out stiffly.

“Like what?”

“Well—” She could barely speak past the lump in her throat. She cast around mentally for some ready excuse. “Those boys, for instance. There are thousands just like them living out there on the streets in direst poverty.”

Suddenly she looked at him—Hawkscliffe—one of the most powerful men in Parliament, with the strength and resources to make a difference where mere mortals like her could not. It was so much easier to think about
their
problems instead of her own.

“Yes?” he prompted, waiting.

Her hand rested lightly in his, but now she wrapped her fingers around his and looked into his velvety brown eyes. “If you don’t mind skipping General Blucher's party, there is somewhere I’d like to go—something I’d like to show you tonight—but it won’t be easy for you to take.”

“What is it?”

“A side of life I wager you have never seen. These children—”

“Belinda, we’re talking about you.”

“Yes—I know.” She dropped her gaze. “And I thank you for caring about me and standing by me as you have. You’ve been one of the truest friends I’ve ever had, Robert. My problems are nothing compared to theirs. Please, won’t you indulge me in this?”

He studied her, then nodded, looking mystified. “If it’s what you wish.”

She leaned to him and kissed his cheek lingeringly.

“Thank you. Best change out of those handsome clothes into something more workaday. Where we’re going, there are people Andrew’s age who would cut your throat for your watch chain.”

“
What?”
  he exclaimed.

“I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes,” she said, then dashed up the stairs before he could ask her any more torturous questions.

A short while later Hawk was mentally cursing his willingness to go along with this. They were riding their horses through the dark labyrinth of filth-strewn back streets that made up the rookery of St. Giles’s. It was no place for a lady or for a civilized man. Astride his tall restless stallion, Hawk rode at a walk beside Belinda’s docile gray gelding, one hand resting on the butt of his pistol while he scanned the street and the ramshackle buildings. William brought up the rear, astride one of the servants’ hack horses.

The moist, musky stink of the river at low tide permeated the close alleys. No streetlamps pierced the unrelenting dark. Broken signs, creaking in the tepid breeze, hung from shops with cages over their windows. Potholes deep enough to cripple a horse yawned in the surface of the medieval streets.

“I hope there is a point to all this,” he muttered.

Beneath her wispy riding veil, Belinda’s face once again wore that haunting mask of serenity. Gracefully perched sidesaddle, she brought her horse to a halt with a slight pull on the reins.

“There,” she murmured, pointing to a large warehouse with one gloved hand.

Hawk studied it. “It looks deserted.”

“Would that it were.” She urged her horse back into motion.

Hawk shook his head at her misguided courage and gave his horse a squeeze with his ankles, keeping abreast of her.

She halted again across the street from the dilapidated warehouse and dismounted.

“What are you doing, Belinda?”

“I’m going in there.”

“Oh, no, you’re not—”

“My horse, William?” She turned to the groom.

“Yes, ma’am.” The lad jumped down with a grim expression and held her gelding’s reins.

“Belinda!”

“This is what we came for, Robert. Let me go in first.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“They know me. I’ll call you over in a moment once they’ve seen that you’re no threat.”

“Belinda Hamilton, you will not go in there. Get back on your horse,” he ordered, but she ignored him, sweeping off her hard brimmed riding hat and hurrying alone across the street.

Muttering oaths, Hawk was already leaping down off his horse and following her when movement stirred in the gloom near the warehouse door. He drew in his breath and pulled out his pistol, but before his eyes, small shadows materialized out of the darkness and began gathering around her.

He stopped and stared.

Children.

He realized he was looking at a flash house. He had known such grim, lurid establishments existed, of course, but he had never seen one with his own eyes.

Belinda bent down and greeted the small, ragged shapes, silhouetted against the wall. Several hugged her. He saw her reach into her reticule and give away her money. He gazed at her, humbled by the grace and compassion she had dared to bring into this underworld of brutish squalor.

In a dawning wave of sorrow, he stared at the thin, wary, needy children surrounding her—budding thieves and prostitutes all, future fodder for Lord Eldon’s gallows. As dismal a realization as this was, his concern for Belinda’s safety was even greater. Lurking somewhere nearby was bound to be the pimp and his associates, no doubt grown and dangerous thugs, for these wraithlike children certainly weren’t taking their profits for themselves. God only knew what kind of cutthroats roamed this rookery. He was glad he’d brought his guns and had armed William, as well. The three of them would be fortunate not to end the night floating facedown in the Thames.

Just then Belinda beckoned him over. He slipped his pistol back into its holster, glanced over his shoulder to assure himself that William was having no trouble with his temperamental stallion, then approached, feeling like a towering Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians as the silent, hollow-eyed children backed out of his path.

At Belinda’s urging he peered into the warehouse through the hanging door. Shock resounded silently through him and horror as his gaze traveled over the mass of youngsters inside.

By the time he drew her away, he was stunned into brooding silence.

“Are you all right?” she asked as they walked back to their horses.

He nodded. “You?”

“Oh, I’m used to this.” She stared for a long moment at a nearby alleyway that yawned into pitch blackness like some corridor to Hell. Absently, she shook herself. “I only wish they hadn’t seen me like this. It sets a bad example.” Putting her riding hat back on, she walked away.

He followed her to her horse and gave her a leg up while William attempted to soothe the nervous stallion. In another few minutes they were on their way out of the St. Giles’s maze.

“Something must be done for them,” Hawk said quietly.

Belinda looked at him—looked into his very soul, it seemed. “I knew you would feel the same as I do. There are a small number of charities that offer these children aid, like the Philanthropic Society and the Relief Society for the Destitute, but from what I’ve seen, it’s like trying to stop a flood with a bottle cork.”

He reached across the empty space between them and took her hand. She looked over, her eyes wary beneath her half veil.

“You have never seemed to me more beautiful than you are right now,” he murmured. “I will do everything in my power to help them, Belinda.”