“You’re a nosy one.”
“She’s pretty. Ye ought to kiss her.”
Finn grinned broadly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now off with you.”
Robin gave her a little salute. “Night, miss.”
“Good night, Robin.”
He dashed off.
“He’s quite articulate. Seems to have mastered hishs.” She knew some of the lower class tended to lose them when speaking.
“That’s Gillie’s doing. She thinks it’s important for people to talk properly. I suspect next she’ll start working on his pronunciation ofyou.”
“Does he live here?” she asked Finn.
“In the kitchen.”
Horror swept through her. “That’s awful.”
He shrugged. “It’s where he wants to be. He’s convinced his mum will find him here. We took him to our children’s home, but he made his way back here, so Gillie keeps an eye on him and he runs errands for us.”
“Tell me about your children’s home. Would there be room there for any other children I might find?”
“There’s some room.”
“Do you think we’ll make enough and that my share will be such that I could purchase a home someday?”
“If things go as I hope they will, you can purchase several.”
Smiling, she lifted her brandy. “Then here’s to our outstanding success.”
Thorne lent them his carriage to return them home. Apparently, he kept it on hand to take him and his duchess to their London residence when the tavern closed up for the night, which wouldn’t be for a couple of more hours.
Home.The word echoed through her mind, bringing with it a hollowness. Not exactly the destination to which she was traveling. She was going to a business where she had rooms, and yet she couldn’t deny she felt more comfortable within those walls that smelled of Finn than she had ever felt at any of her family’s grand residences—whether in the country or in London. The furniture was certainly more comfortable than what the sisters had provided, but then they were more interested in comforting the soul. Yet in spite of their best efforts, hers still remained ragged and torn. But then perhaps it always would; perhaps there weren’t enough children in all of England to make a difference, to absolve her of the guilt.
“Do you ever think of your mother?” she asked quietly.
Although Finn had been sitting across from her, unmoving, she was aware of him going even more still. “Sometimes.”
“You still don’t know who she is?”
“No.”
“She no doubt thinks of you.” She looked out the window. “As word of your club—”
“Our club.”
He was as obstinate as he’d been in his youth, but still she couldn’t help the warmth that swept through her at his insistence it was theirs. “Ourclub spreads—and it will spread as there is nothing ladies like more than telling tales that enhance their reputation, and receiving an invitation to an exclusive secretive club will certainly be something to boast about—”
She laughed lightly. “It will appear innocent, of course. A whispered, ‘I didn’t see you at the Elysium Club,’ or ‘What are you going to wear to the club?’ Followed by, ‘Oh, did you not receive an invitation? Perhaps I can put in a word.’ And on and around it’ll go. Until there are more whispers about this elusive club. Even the men will hear about it. They might ask their mistresses if they know about the club where their wives are going.” She turned her attention back to him. “Your mother might hear of it, regardless of her station. She might even make an appearance, ask for a membership.”
“I very much doubt she knows who I am or anything at all about what became of me. For surely if she did, during all these years, I’d have had some word from her.”
Unless she’d died in childbirth. Or after. Perhaps she went mad with her child being taken from her. “Will you still not tell me who your father is?”
“He’s unimportant.”
