Page 52 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

None of the children had been here above three years, as that had been when he’d first taken the lease on the house, just after he’d finished at Oxford. Robbie had been the first, a little scrap of a two-year-old, barely heavy enough for a baby, found with his dead mother and brought to them by one of the contacts Gabriel had within the rookery. For money, of course. The best and only way to get the people of St Giles to help him was to offer them money. Each of these six, and the six younger children upstairs, had cost him money he could have spent on their clothes and food, but he didn’t begrudge it. He was just glad they were all safe.

His eyes were drawn to Phoebe’s lovely, concerned face. How many children could he save if he had the Downham fortune behind him? Bessie was telling her how many more children they could help when they opened the next orphanage, and of the six younger children upstairs, all under three, that Eliza was in charge of.

A frown slipped across Phoebe’s brow at mention of Eliza. Had he been wrong, or had he noted a look of relief on Phoebe’s face when Bessie had sent her daughter upstairs to deal with the little ones? Did Phoebe not like Eliza? Surely not. Most puzzling. Eliza was a pleasant, eager-to-please young woman. Why Phoebe might not like her was beyond him.

And he was back to wondering if she might like him. Hoping. Might her offer have been provoked by more than altruism? He couldn’t tell. If so, she was a brave and bold young lady. Braver and bolder than any he’d ever met. He studied Phoebe’s intent expression as she listened to Bessie explaining how they ran the house. How pretty she was with her hair loose about her shoulders. His heart gave a little lurch of sadness. If they succeeded in locating his mother, he would be far below her socially. Too far below for her aunt to consider him as a suitor.

He managed to tune in to what Bessie was now saying.

She was in full flow. “With twelve children all under five in the house, Violet, Miss Anscombe that is, has a tight ship to run. She’s a fine woman with accounts. Never a penny out. And that can make all the difference.”

She was indeed worth every penny of her salary, although he strongly suspected she often bought treats for the children out of it. She was a woman of strong religious beliefs and stern expression, but within her resided the softest of hearts, and she dearly loved the children.

“She used to manage a shop,” Bessie said, lifting each child down from the benches they’d been sitting on. “You children can go out in the yard for a little while for some fresh air until Miss Eliza comes back.”

Cheeky little Robbie, the only redhead amongst the orphans, stood on tiptoe in front of Phoebe to kiss her on the cheek. “You look like an angel, miss.” And he ran away crowing with laughter. The back door banged behind them.

“He’s a one, all right,” Bessie said. “Going to be a charmer when he grows up.” She smiled fondly. “They’ll be all right outside for a few minutes. The yard’s out of the wind and they can’t get out of it. The bolt on the gate’s up high and the walls are too smooth for even Robbie to scale. He’s a right little rascal, that one, always into mischief.”

“He’s very bright,” Gabriel put in. “I think he’ll be our first child to go to Christ’s Hospital School.”

Phoebe studied her hands in her lap.

Bessie’s smile was indulgent. “That’s a long way in the future for him. But I won’t say he’s not got a chance. I’d be that proud if he did.”

“What exactly is this Christ’s Hospital School?” Phoebe looked up from her hands but kept her gaze fixed on Bessie, steadfastly ignoring him.

Bessie smoothed her apron. “It’s a big school a clever boy can go to even if he has no money. An orphan like Robbie could go and really make something of himself. It’s in the City of London, at Greyfriars’ near St Paul’s. It’s a good way out of poverty for a clever boy.”

The interruption caused by Bessie’s return seemed to have wiped Phoebe’s proposal from existence. Only of course, it hadn’t. What she’d said couldn’t be unsaid, even if it could be ignored. However, Phoebe’s heightened color and intense interest in what Bessie was saying combined with her refusal to even look at him suggested she might still be thinking of it.

Which pleased him, as he couldn’t get it out of his own head.

She was listening with such admirable interest one might have said she was hanging on Bessie’s every word. In the rookery he’d detected a variety of emotions—distaste, fear, resentment that he’d brought her there, and pity for those she saw. Now, in a safe place, and perhaps because she was busy shoving all other things out of her mind, she exuded genuine concern and interest in the children. He was right to have brought her both here and to the rookery.

They were interrupted yet again by Violet’s arrival, in the act of tying an apron over her plain gown. “I’m sorry. I had some paperwork to tidy away or I would have been with you sooner. The Reverend Reed left his regards for his fellow do-gooder Lord Gabriel Wycliff.”

She poured herself some tea and sat between Gabriel and Phoebe. A smile appeared on her gaunt face. “I believe he had no notion that the vagabond Eliza was welcoming in was the man he sought an interview with today.”

A little explanation was needed. Gabriel turned to Phoebe. “The Reverend Reed is the gentleman I told you about who has succeeded in gaining the sponsorship of the rich and important for his own orphanage on the Hackney Road. Consequently, it’s on a much larger scale than ours. His establishment is confined to the children of the slightly better off who have fallen on hard times. Those who had upstanding parents. They are not children who are considered to be responsible for their own poverty, you see, but the poor children of the rookeries are.” He gave a shrug. “Although how one can blame a child for being born into a family from the rookeries when he has had no say in the matter, I have no idea.”

Bessie nodded. “I think I’ll take the children to the schoolroom now as it’s too cold for the mites to be out in the yard for long, much as they enjoy it. We don’t want any of them catching a chill. I’ll leave you, miss, to get better acquainted with Violet. And,” she patted her apron pocket and addressed Miss Anscombe, “I’ll put this money in the strong box in the parlor for you. Gabriel brought it for us.”

“I shan’t ask you where it came from,” Violet said, with the air of someone who knew exactly where that was. “But it’ll be very welcome. I’ll put it down as a donation, as usual.”

Gabriel nodded. “I’d stay and let you ladies get to know one another, but I fear I need to get Phoebe home before her absence is spotted. Gadding about the rookeries dressed as a boy is not something her aunt would approve of, nor my stepmother if she were to find out I’d had a hand in it. She’d accuse me of debauchery, for sure. I’m sure she thinks I’m some kind of dissolute rake, like Ambrose.” He stood up. “Until next time, my dear Violet.” And he bowed to her.

“Come, little brother Will. Best to put your hat back on again and cover up your hair. You and I must leave.”

Phoebe got to her feet, eyes cast down, cheeks pink again. Clearly she was once again thinking about the proposition she’d suggested. Should he mention it? Probably not. She hadn’t meant it and must now be regretting her hasty words. He’d pretend she’d never uttered them. That would be the easiest solution.

*

The journey back to Grosvenor Square seemed to take far longer than the outward one had done, possibly because, with her excruciating embarrassment about what she’d said, all Phoebe wanted was to get away from Gabriel. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have thought before she spoke. She should have considered her words more carefully. Oh, if only she could turn back time by an hour.

And he must be angry with her because he remained silent for most of their journey. She wouldn’t think about it. If she concentrated she could pretend it had never happened.

This time, he chose to walk along the length of Oxford Street instead of negotiating the myriad of smaller streets once again. As this was a much more salubrious street than most they’d taken on the outward journey, and straight as an arrow, she began to feel safer the closer they drew to their goal. And with that sense of safety and normality returning, came the conviction that she could ignore her little outburst as though it had never happened, because it had been part of a quite different world.