Alarm flashed over her features. “Oh?”
“A young boy I found on the street not far from my apartment in New York City.” He dipped his head to where the top of Peter’s head was just visible in his carriage window.
Frances turned to look as Thomas quickly explained the story, careful not to cast blame on the workhouse. For all he knew, they weren’t at fault even if he couldn’t shake the notion that someone within its walls was responsible.
“How terrible.” Frances stared at the carriage for a long moment. Then her focus returned to Thomas, her brown eyes locked on him. “I can hardly bear to think of what might’ve happened to him if you hadn’t come to his aid.”
“He is a good lad.”
She reached for his arm. “Thomas, you are a hero.”
The passion in her tone and expression caught him. It was nice of her to think so, though he knew he wasn’t. He was ordinary. Average. Nothing more. That was evident based on his present circumstances.
A second son with little money to his name who had yet to find his place in the world. The military hadn’t provided that, and he held doubt that New York City would either. But he intended to persevere if it would win him Frances. “I did what anyone would’ve done.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I know that for a fact. Since the house party, I have held you in the highest regard.” A delicate pink color rose in her cheeks, and her gaze dropped to the ground. “Now I do even more,” she said breathlessly, then her gaze returned to meet his.
Thomas shifted, uncomfortable with the compliment even if it touched him. Since he had yet to reunite Peter with his parents, he felt more like a failure than a hero. But his feelings weren’t the issue. Peter was.
“My actions pale in comparison to the work you and your fellow members of The Mayfair Literary League do.” She opened her mouth to deny it. Before she could do so, he gestured toward the carriage. “Would you care to meet Peter?”
He nearly grimaced at the offer. Why would she want to meet a German boy he’d found on the street? Most ladies wouldn’t.
“I would be honored,” Frances said and started toward the carriage.
Thomas stilled in surprise for a moment before hurrying to catch up with her.
Peter stretched to gain a better view out the window only to duck back down at the sight of Frances approaching.
Thomas smiled at the sight. Who knew that shy Frances could be so forward? Then again, he need only think of their kiss the previous day to know she had a hidden spirit. He hadn’t imagined the spark between them. And when he’d kissed her, that spark had turned into a full blaze.
He reached for the carriage door, noting how Peter scooted to the opposite side. “Peter, there’s someone I would like you to meet.”
The boy tugged off his cap then stared between them with wide eyes, saying nothing until Thomas lifted a brow to gently remind the boy of his manners.
“Yes, sir.”
“This is Miss Frances Melbourne.”
Peter dipped his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.”
A smile curled Frances’ mouth. “The pleasure is mine, Peter.”
“She is helping the people in the workhouse to gain new skills so they can move out on their own and find work,” Thomas added.
“How kind of you, miss.”
“Mr. Sinclair told me your story. What an adventure you’ve had.”
Thomas smiled with approval. How clever of her to suggest it was an adventure rather than pity the lad for his terrible fate, something that would only further upset him.
“Not many boys your age have been to Germany, England, and now America,” she continued. “You are a world traveler.”
Peter seemed to consider that and slowly nodded, a light gleaming in his eyes. “I suppose that’s true.” His chest puffed out at the thought.
“I hope Mr. Sinclair is able to find your parents soon.”
“So do I. I miss them something terrible.”
