Regency Disguise. Gail Whitiker

orphanage. To try to make her understand how important the work was to him. He could only think now how fortunate was the timing of her remarks. He had no intention of proving himself to her—or to anyone else. ‘I regret, Miss Bretton, that your opinion of me is so low,’ he said at length. ‘Clearly I am no different to you than the beggar in the street.’

      ‘That’s not true!’

      ‘Isn’t it? You see me as being rich and indolent, with nothing more important to do than while away my time in idle pursuits. But you know nothing of my life or of the type of man I am,’ he said, turning the carriage left at the next street. ‘Which is your house?’

      He saw her look around in surprise, as if only now becoming aware of where they were. ‘I thought you had a call to make first.’

      ‘I did, but the nature of my business would have prevented me from including you in it and I had no wish to leave you standing in the street.’

      Alistair knew he was being vague, just as he knew from the expression on Victoria’s face that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Even so, he was totally unprepared for her next remark. ‘Is it a gambling hell or a brothel from which I have kept you, Mr Devlin?’

      The question stung; the casual assumption that he must be bound for one or the other an unexpected blow to his pride and his self-esteem. But he would not let her see how hard the blow had landed. ‘In my experience, there is little difference between the two. Both offer pleasure without obligation. The type a gentleman like myself enjoys above all.’

      He heard a soft exhalation of air. ‘Then you do not deny that you were en route to one or the other?’ she whispered.

      ‘You have obviously made up your mind about who and what I am,’ Alistair said with a feigned lack of concern. ‘Far be it from me to disappoint you.’

      ‘Stop the carriage here,’ she said tersely. ‘I will walk the rest of the way. I only hope I did not keep you too long from your … intended purpose.’

      ‘You did not. The lady will wait all day for me if she has to.’

      He saw her stiffen and knew she had taken his statement exactly as he’d intended.

      ‘How fortunate for you. No, thank you, I can get down myself.’

      ‘Don’t be silly,’ Alistair said, jumping down and holding his hand out to her. ‘A lady is not meant to disembark a phaeton without assistance.’

      It was true, she did need his help, but the moment her feet touched the ground, she pulled away. ‘Thank you, Mr Devlin. It has been a most enlightening morning.’

      ‘In more ways than you know, Miss Bretton,’ Alistair said, touching the brim of his hat. ‘In more ways than you know.’

      Alistair was not in a good mood by the time he reached his second stop of the morning, one located in a far more humble part of town than the one he had just left. There were no fancy wrought-iron railings here. No brass number plates affixed to freshly painted doors. Just grey stone houses that fronted on to narrow streets populated by people whose priority it was simply to get by.

      He drew the carriage to a halt in front of one such house and glanced at the boy of sixteen leaning negligently against the wall. ‘Mr Tanner,’ he called, ‘be so good as to make sure no harm comes to my property.’ He tossed a shiny silver coin in the boy’s direction. ‘You may have this for your trouble.’

      The lad snatched it out of the air. ‘I’ll pay it good mind, Mr Devlin.’

      Alistair jumped down and headed for the front door. He was glad now that he had not brought Victoria here. Though he had toyed with the idea of showing her what he was involved with, it was clear to him now that her opinion of him was already formed. If she wished to think him a hell-born babe, so be it. It was no concern of his.

      As expected, Mrs Hutchins was waiting for him. A compassionate woman of middling years, she had a round face and rosy cheeks, a generous figure and the energy of six. She still wore a plain-gold wedding band, even though she had been a widow these last five years, and the room into which she welcomed him was bright and cheerful—a reflection of the woman and all she brought to the job. ‘Morning, Mr Devlin. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll put on some fresh tea. I wasn’t sure what time to expect you.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Hutchins, but that won’t be necessary. You have more than enough to do. How fare the twins this morning?’

      The housekeeper’s smile faded. ‘Not as well as I’d hoped, sir. I had the doctor in as you instructed, but I don’t know that he holds out much hope. It’s their lungs, sir, and they’re not going to get better.’

      No, Alistair reflected grimly, they weren’t. Too many years spent working in the mills for that. Barely eleven, the girls had gone in at six years of age and had toiled alongside their parents and their older brother until the mill had burned down and taken both parents and brother with it. After the funeral, they had been brought to London by a well-meaning uncle, only to be turned out by an aunt who wanted nothing to do with them. They had ended up on the streets until their ill health had brought them to the attention of the people Alistair paid to make sure such things were noticed.

      Sadly, for girls like Margaret and Molly, there was only so much money and care could do.

      ‘What about Teddy?’ Alistair said, hoping for better news.

      ‘I don’t think he’s in as much pain, but he’s a brave little soul and doesn’t say much,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘The doctor left some salve for his burns.’

      Alistair nodded. Teddy Erskine was a climbing boy. Not the worst he’d seen, but bad enough. The lad had been skin and bones when he’d come to Mrs Hutchins, with a fear of almost everyone he met. Not only had he been forced up narrow chimneys alive with rats, he had been beaten by a cruel master. A sorry state for a boy of eight, Alistair thought grimly.

      He stood up, tempted to pace, but the confines of the office gave him precious little room to do so. ‘How many are left?’

      ‘Ten,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘I sent twelve away with Mr Scott, as you instructed.’

      ‘And you made sure families were kept together.’

      ‘I did, sir. I hope you don’t mind, but I sent young Edward White along with the Dawkins pair. I thought it would be easier for the three of them to stay together, being as they came in that way.’

      Her concern moved Alistair to a smile. ‘You know the children better than anyone, Mrs Hutchins. I have every confidence you would have done what was best for them.’ His smile faded. ‘How’s Jenny?’

      The matron’s face clouded over with concern. ‘I do worry about her, sir. She hasn’t said a word since she arrived and she still cries every night. I try to spend as much time with her as I can, but I don’t know how much good it’s doing.’

      ‘If nothing else, it’s making her feel safe,’ Alistair said. ‘A trauma like that doesn’t clear up overnight. Have they caught the man who did it?’

      ‘Aye.’ Alistair saw despair darken the woman’s eyes. ‘Her father turned himself in two days ago.’

      ‘Dear God! Her father?’

      ‘He’d been drinking hard, like he did most nights. But apparently, this night he was much worse. One of the fellows saw him stagger out of the tavern. When he got home, he took it out on his wife. Jenny’s mother probably told her to run, fearing he’d go after her next.’

      It was a harsh story, but one Alistair had heard many times over. Poverty brought out the worst in some men. Men who were decent when they were sober, but whose personalities changed under the influence of drink. The best thing that could have happened to Jenny was to escape such an environment, even though it might be years before she realised the extent of her good fortune.

      ‘As soon as the new house is habitable, we’ll move them