Page 24 of His Improper Lady

This new information meant a return to the Golden Palace, but, after a persistent inquiry (and another bill placed in the stage manager’s hand), Tom learned that Sid Upton had indeed once worked there. He no longer did so, but the stage manager knew his address.

Tom returned to his home, buoyed that he had untangled at least some of the mystery around Desiree Malone. And the next morning, when he interviewed Sid Upton, he just might be able to put the threat to the Morelands to rest.

DESIREE SET OUT the next morning to see Sid Upton, their cook’s plum cake in hand. Sid lived in a village on the outskirts of London, where Brock had bought him a small retirement cottage. She was oddly nervous. If the ring and the Moreland name didn’t call up some other memory in Sid, she didn’t know how she would discover who her father was.

Unlike the disagreeable Mr. Quick, she was not a detective. Years ago, she had gone to the Register’s Office and found that hers and Wells’s birth certificates listed no name for their father. And she knew of no one other than Bruna or Sid who would have known her father’s identity...apart from the members of the Moreland family, of course.

Brock was doubtless right in saying the Morelands would turn her away. Tom Quick would make sure of it. She wished she hadn’t blurted out her parentage to him yesterday. She had been so mad at him for his arrogant attitude—as if he had any right to judge what she did or who she had worked for—that she’d said the first thing she could think of to shake him up.

It had certainly worked in that regard. Just not in a good way. Apparently even more than he disliked Falk, Quick loved the Morelands. She felt her irritation rising as she thought of Tom Quick, so she pushed him out of her mind. She was less than happy, therefore, when the door to Sid’s cottage was opened by Quick himself.

Desiree scowled. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find out who your real father was,” he replied. It lifted Desiree’s spirits a bit to see that he looked thoroughly frustrated. “But Mr. Upton refuses to answer any questions.”

“Does he, now?” Desiree smiled.

An old, stooped man came up behind Tom, his cane thumping against the floor, and Sid Upton appeared behind Tom. Since Tom filled the small doorway, he gave Quick a sharp jab in the ribs. Tom stepped aside, scowling, and Sid moved into the doorway to peer at Desiree.

“Hello, Sid. It’s me.”

“Dezzy?” He adjusted his spectacles, and his sour expression changed to a grin. “Why, so it is! Come in, come in, lass. You’re a sight for sore eyes. Unlike some.” He gave Tom a glare. “That ’un’s been digging for dirt on your ma.”

“I was not—” Tom began, then sighed and threw up his hands. “What’s the point? If you’ve come to tell him to keep his mouth shut, Miss Malone, there is no need.”

“I haven’t done any such thing. I brought Sid a plum cake.” She held it up, and Sid broke into a grin. Seeing his delight, Desiree thought guiltily that she should have visited him more often since his retirement.

“Did you, now? You always were a sweet girl.”

Desiree didn’t bother to look at Tom to see how he reacted to that statement. She was sure she already knew. She came inside, closing the door behind her. The next few minutes were spent unpacking the cake and making tea to go with it. Feeling gratifyingly generous, she even cut a slice for Tom Quick, who obviously intended to stay.

Let him. If he learned who her father was, it would only help her.

Sid spent some time complimenting the cake and inquiring about her brothers, and then they settled into reminiscences about the old days and questions about former friends and acquaintances. Desiree could feel Tom’s impatience, but to give him credit, he didn’t interrupt or try to push them along.

Finally, a break fell in the conversation, and Tom said, “Mr. Upton, I understand that you and your wife took in the Malone children when they were quite young.”

“Aye, we did.” Sid crossed his arms and gazed back at him, offering nothing more.

“Why was that? What happened?”

The old man regarded him stonily for a moment, then looked toward Desiree.

“It’s all right, Sid,” Desiree told him. “Go ahead. I want to know, too. Brock was too young to remember much of anything about my mother leaving.”

“Aye, well...” He sighed and cast his eyes up toward the ceiling, as if his answers might lie there. “You were just a baby, Dezzy, you and Wells. Brock must have been, oh, five or six. And, well, your ma left. She went off one day with her man, and she didn’t come back. After a few days, that woman, the housekeeper, got tired of looking after you, and she remembered about Bruna coming to visit, so she came to her and told her about Stella not coming home. Well, Bruna couldn’t just leave Stella’s children there, now could she? The housekeeper wasn’t going to keep on taking care of them. And Bruna was right fond of babies...we couldn’t have any ourselves.”

“It was a very generous thing for her to do,” Tom said.

“She was a good woman, Bruna.” Sid’s eyes turned a little watery. “I’ve missed her every day. The heart just went out of me when she passed on.”

Desiree reached out and curled her hand around his wrist. It was bony, almost fragile, and it made Desiree’s heart hurt a little. She remembered how he once was, the strength in his arms and hands. She remembered the first time he had latched his hands around her forearms and she had left her trapeze, swinging suspended in the air. She remembered the rush of excitement, the security of his hold.

“She was a good woman,” Desiree told him in a soft voice. “I miss her, too.”

Tom said nothing, and Desiree was glad he didn’t spoil the small moment of shared grief. Desiree patted Sid’s wrist and leaned back, turning to Tom. He took the glance to be a signal he could start again, as she had meant it to be. It was a little annoying, really, that he understood her, that they connected so easily.

“Did you think that Stella Malone might be coming back?” Tom asked. “That maybe keeping the children was only temporary?”