“I do indeed. But you must learn to follow rules first. You must take your baths and do as Mrs. Crump tells you. You are worthy, Ollie, but you cannot run away simply because you’re a little uncomfortable. Do you understand?”
Ollie nodded.
“In the carriage, Ollie. At once.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, m’lord.” He turned to head back toward the kitchen before being halted by Mr. Hill’s voice. “Pardon me, Mr. Ollie. The carriage is this way.”
Ollie turned around in both terror and awe as Mr. Hill reached out his hand and escorted the diminutive little man out the front door.
Likely, it was the first time Ollie had used a front door to enter any sort of home, let alone one of the grandest mansions in all of Mayfair.
LOVE ME
“Really, Lydia? A gentleman?” The sarcasm in Jeremy’s voice echoed off the ornate walls of the suddenly empty foyer. “I knew you were naïve, but…”
His gaze trailed down her person, and as he did so, the look in his eyes changed from one of derision to something else. They were alone again, and he was as aware of it as she was.
“It is possible.” She forced herself to remember what they were discussing. “As a ward of yours.”
She expected him to groan or adamantly deny anything of the sort.
“He’s to work for me, Lydia.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Ollie had disappeared with Mr. Hill. “And we’re not off to a very auspicious start.”
“He is learning,” she pointed out. “It is a beginning.”
“He’s a little pest.”
“He is a pest that you were worried about.” Lydia could do nothing to stop the satisfied smile that stretched her lips.
Jeremy stared at the floor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “How old would you guess he is?”
The question surprised her. “Five? Six at the most?”
“He is nine, Lydia.” Jeremy pinned his gaze back on her. “At least, he thinks he is nine. He says he lost track of time after his mother disappeared but believes he was nearing his seventh birthday at the time.”
“But he’s so small.”
Jeremy’s eyes darkened. “He only eats what he finds in rubbish bins or what he can steal.”
Lydia and Clarissa had discussed this aspect of an orphan’s life before, the dangers they faced, the suffering they experienced. She ought to have realized Ollie was older than he looked.
“It’s good that we found him then,” she said. “That he’s with you now. I’m glad.”
Because, as horrifying as the reminder was, she also felt a sense of peace. Ollie was going to get proper meals now, and Jeremy did not look nearly as cold and cynical as he had just a few days before. Of course, he was still not the same as he once was; the tragedies of the past year had scarred him. But…
He was not uncaring.
And he had kissed her earlier today—he’d done it as though he couldn’t help himself. He’d been like a man starved.
Much the way she had felt.
Jeremy took a step closer, reached out, and brushed his fingertips along the fabric of her sleeve. The touch was light, almost absentminded, as his eyes trailed up from that point of contact until they locked onto her own. “How do you manage to look more beautiful each time I see you?”
Lydia sucked in a surprised breath. It was a strangely genuine question, not simple flattery, more like he was truly baffled by the phenomenon.
“Jeremy.” All she could do was say his name, but all of her feelings sounded in that single word. In that moment, the broken heart she’d lived with since that dreadful November daymade itself known as actual physical pain. “What happened? Why do you hate us? Why do you hate me?”
He exhaled loudly, in such a way that she sensed the weight of the world crashing down on him.
