Lucy nodded, blonde curls bobbing, her lively light amber eyes sparkling with confounded amusement. “A few days ago, I received a letter from Lord Rhys Osborne, asking how he could be of use at Hope House.” A dry laugh sounded through her nose. “I thought it must be a jape.”
“Why’s that?”
“Lord Rhys Osborne has a reputation.” Lucy waggled her eyebrows for emphasis.
“Does he now?”
Tilly supposed he hadn’t been exaggerating that past of his.
Lucy seemed only too happy to elaborate on the topic. “I’ve personally heard him described as a rake from a lady who, honestly, probably knows firsthand. Oh, and unrepentant waster. That was another description.” She shook her head on a snort. “I thought he must be inveigling himself into Hope House to look for his favorite, erm, lady of the night. He does have a reputation, you know, so one must be forgiven for thinking as much.”
“Cuts quite a figure in society then?”
Lucy’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Even with his reputation, half the ladies I know would run off with him at the slightest crook of his pinky.”
From everything Tilly had observed of the man, that squared.
“A real paragon of manhood, it sounds like.”
That got another snort from Lucy.
Yet there was something else Tilly felt she must say on the subject of Lord Rhys Osborne… “Maybe he’s here trying to reform himself.”
Or earn back his pa’s ring, she wouldn’t say.
Tilly found herself of two minds.
On one side, she itched to ask questions and get answers.
Plainly, she wanted to know more about Lord Rhys.
But Lucy knew him only by reputation.
Which, according to him, was the man he was a year ago.
The man he was trying to no longer be.
Which led Tilly to the other side of her mind.
That she should resist gossipy curiosity and come to know Lord Rhys as the person he was today.
That in doing so, she could allow him to be that person.
After all, nine years ago, wasn’t that the grace Isabel had extended to her?
Shouldn’t everyone get the opportunity at a second chance when they were really trying?
Unable to keep her curiosity at bay a moment longer, Tilly stepped into the drawing room’s open doorway, the sight before her stopping her in her tracks.
“See what I mean?” said Lucy, her voice pitched low.
This was definitely a scene from Bedlam. Frenetic children running around and playing—some laughing…some squealing—while others sat still and quiet, half seated around the massive boat that could only be a Noah’s Ark with all the attendant animals littered about and the other half gathered before the four-story dollhouse and the little people and furnishings. Meanwhile, the children’s mothers were arranged on the sofas and adjacent armchairs, taking tea as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening in their day.
A scene straight out of Bedlam, yes, but also curiously magical.
And it was down to the man whose back was to them as he shuttled to and fro, obeying one command after the other from the women, whose eyes shone with equal parts mischief, appreciation, and delight. They were having a right grand old time, weren’t they?
Tilly leaned toward Lucy. “Lord Rhys brought all this?”
