They drove on, up Oxford Street and down toward Piccadilly. There were more people out and about still in that part of town. Howard had no illusions about what sort of people would still be awake and in the streets in the middle of the night, but if Clermont was bothered by them, he did not let on.
At one point, just as they were preparing to turn back toward The Chameleon Club, the carriage stopped. A few seconds later, the carriage bobbed and Ben appeared at their door.
“Begging your pardon, sirs,” he said. “One of the horses is favoring his right front foot. I’ve just stopped to have a quick look.”
“Very well,” Howard said. When Ben disappeared, he turned to Clermont and asked, “How are you faring?”
“Surprisingly well,” Clermont said, his voice filled with energy. “Would you,” he hesitated, then continued with, “Would you mind if I stepped down for a moment?”
Howard’s brow went up in surprise. “Of course not,” he said, impressed that Clermont could be so bold.
Clermont smiled, then turned the handle on his side of the carriage and opened the door.
Howard followed his angel out of the carriage, watching carefully and ready to catch Clermont if he lost his nerve. But Clermont seemed to be anything but afraid. He glanced around at the world they found themselves in, the cold streets, the ramshackle houses, and the sparse but hopeful decorations that some of London’s poorer citizens had put out to be enjoyed.
To the side, Howard noticed a bedraggled and heart-wrenchingly thin gaggle of children and young women clustering together under one of the lights and whispering to each other. He hated to think of children out and about in the middle of a cold December night looking as they did. They must have come from the most unfortunate of circumstances.
But once the group had swelled to about ten young people, and as soon as they had agreed on their course of action, they stood straight and faced Howard and Clermont, then eased their way into a simple Christmas carol.
Clermont was still studying the buildings around them, but as soon as he heard the young people singing, he snapped to face them. His startled look turned into a broad smile. He even took a step closer to Howard, though there was a certain danger, even where they were and at that late hour, in appearing too close to him. Strangely, Clermont did not mind at all, and he did not show signs of swooning or having a fit.
When the young people finished their carol, Clermont clapped appreciatively. “Wonderful,” he said. “You all sing beautifully.”
One of the older girls cleared her throat and held out her hand. Howard chuckled and reached into his coat pocket for his coin purse. “Cheeky devils,” he said, fishing around for coins large enough to provide them all with a warm drink and a meal, but not so large that it would draw the attention of older, larger bullies who might beat them around the head to steal what they’d earned.
Each of the children received a coin. A few of the younger ones gasped and stared up at Howard with wide eyes. “Are you Father Christmas?” one of them asked.
“And if I am?” Howard asked right back, then winked.
That seemed to impress all of the young ones. “It’s Father Christmas!” one of them whispered.
“Go along to bed now,” Howard told them. “It is far too late for sweet souls such as yourselves to be out in the streets.”
“No one’s ever bloody called me sweet before,” one of the small lads said, staring at his coin, as they walked away.
Once they were gone, Howard turned to Clermont. He still wore a smile, but that dropped when he saw the strained look on Clermont’s face.
“Are you well, love?” Howard asked, hurrying to his lover’s side.
“I….” Clermont dragged his eyes away from where he’d been watching the children disappear down an alley and met Howard’s. “They’re just children, but their lives are so hard. They should be at home in bed, fast asleep and dreaming, right now.”
Howard shrugged. “Some of them may not have homes. Or if they do, those homes might not be safe,” he said.
Clermont blew out a breath, his shoulders dropping. “You are right,” he said.
He was silent for a moment before turning to get back into the carriage. Howard followed, and since it appeared Ben had sorted out the trouble with the horse’s hoof, they lurched forward and continued back to The Chameleon Club.
“It is not that I have been ignorant that people, children, live like that,” Clermont said once they were cuddled together with a thick carriage blanket over them. “I know that the poor of London live incredibly wretched lives.”
“But?” Howard asked, sensing that there was more to it than that.
Clermont blew out a breath and nestled closer to him. “I sometimes wonder if anyone is seeking to do anything to alleviate their lot in life.”
“There are charitable organizations, churches,” Howard said.
Clermont huffed a humorless laugh. “Churches do as much harm as good.”
Howard could not dispute that. He remained silent, sensing his angel was still caught up in his thoughts. What Clermontneeded most from him in that moment was affection and strong arms around him, not lectures about the fate of the world.
