“Indeed. It is not Jack I wish to thoroughly kiss again.” My gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
Annette’s cheeks tinted red, and she looked away. “I should hope not.”
A smile tugged at my mouth, and I clicked my tongue, signaling Lightning to move forward. I had not confessed the depth of my affection for Annette, nor made an official proposal, but surely she knew? Surely my actions reflected the sentiments I never voiced? I had every intention of telling her, but not until I was free of my guilt. Not until the threads of Lord Paxton’s offer were cut.
Chapter twenty-two
Edward
Chathamwasnottheplace I had anticipated spending my morning. My heart, and much of my thoughts, remained at Kenwick. My plan upon awaking was to visit Lord Paxton, but plans did not always go as we hoped or believed they ought.
I adjusted my hat, pulling it lower over my brow. Whenever in Chatham, I was always careful to be as inconspicuous as possible. I doubted Hollinsby left his manor with frequency, but it never hurt to be cautious, especially with the news I received this morning.
Lord Paxton had assigned one of his footmen to watch the house in my stead, freeing me to speak to those in town and gather more information. Early this morning, the footman had requested a private conversation with me, during which he revealed that visitors had come to Willowbrook. What sort of visitors, he could not say beyond they appeared rather well-off based on their fine carriage and clothing.
Their arrival and the descriptions left me unsettled. I could not work out why Hollinsby would risk more people learning of his criminal actions. The only conclusion that made sense was that these people were either in on the scheme or stood to benefit from it.
Neither option sat well with me.
It was my conversation with the footman that had prompted me to visit Chatham rather than wait for Lord Paxton to awaken. Yesterday, the viscount had been too exhausted for visitors. I still needed to speak to him about the money he’d offered for marrying Annette, but it would have to wait. A sense of urgency to find out precisely what was happening at Willowbrook weighed too heavily on me to ignore.
I crossed the street and headed away from the shops on the main thoroughfare, the small piece of paper bearing Lucas Pomfrey’s address clenched in my fist. The busy street gave way to a narrow alley, and reaching the opposite end, I came out to a cobblestone path lined with buildings in various stages of disrepair. Broken roofs, shutters hanging by a single nail, cracked windows—all of it spoke to the financial state of those who lived here. Lucas certainly did not reside in an affluent part of town, which was no surprise given what Mrs. Galvin had said of his family’s circumstances.
Once I had located the right building, I rapped on the door and waited for a response. Minutes ticked by, and I was required to knock again. This time, the door swung open, revealing a young girl, likely no more than twelve, who cradled a swaddled child in her arms. I blinked, momentarily stunned by her worn dress and the calluses marring her hands.
“May I help ye, sir?” she said, misgiving evident in her tone.
“Yes, I was hoping to speak with Lucas. Is he perchance home?”
She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder.
“Please,” I said. “It is of great importance.”
The girl sighed in a way unbefitting someone so young, as if the circumstances of her life had drained all evidence of her youthful spirit from her body. I imagined such a life could have the effect of forcing children to grow up far faster than necessary.
She led me inside and invited me to sit on the single sofa within the small room, which seemed to also serve as a dining area as well, with its wooden table situated in the far corner. Two brown-haired children, a boy and a girl, stood around it, eyeing me with curiosity. There was only a single chair for the table, and I wondered why neither child chose to occupy it.
“Give me but a moment, sir,” the girl holding the baby said. “I will fetch Lucas for ye.”
I nodded, offering a smile, which she did not return before sweeping out of the room. I turned toward the other children and removed my hat. “Good day to you both.”
The boy crouched so that the table hid him, but I could still see his messy curls as he peered over the edge. The girl blushed but returned my greeting.
“Do you have more siblings?” I asked her. “Besides the baby, your sister, and two brothers?”
“Aye, sir. I have ten siblings in total.”
“Ten?” I reared back in surprise. It was no wonder the older girl appeared exhausted if she assisted in tending to her younger siblings. Quickly correcting my expression, I added, “You must never run out of people to play with, then.”
She tilted her head to one side. “I suppose not. Never really thought of it like that. Haven’t much time to play.”
No, I imagined she did not.
The other girl returned, bouncing the baby, who was crying softly. Behind her, a lanky boy of about fifteen glared at me with a hardened gaze. His hair was tousled and his clothes nearly threadbare. A deep ache formed in my chest, a desire to help in some way. But Mrs. Galvin had been quite clear that any charity would be unwelcome from a stranger. When he was alive, Mr. Pomfrey had been quite prideful, a trait that his young son inherited.
“Edger, Marie, come along,” the older girl said. “I need your help with something.”
Each of the children rushed to her side, and she led them from the room, leaving Lucas and I utterly alone.
