style="font-size:15px;"> “You could help.”
“And ruin the amusement? Never.”
Cursing, Gabe unhooked a miniature, translucent claw from his waistcoat embroidery.
“Perhaps they’ve mistaken you for a tree,” she said.
“Perhaps you tucked a mackerel in my hatband.” A set of tiny, predatory teeth nipped at his earlobe.
“We’re nearly there.”
Nearly there. Nearly where, exactly? Gabe craned his neck to look outside the cab. While he’d been fending off a feline siege, they’d traveled well into the East End.
He frowned. “What the devil are we doing in this neighborhood?”
“Taking the kittens to their new home.”
The hackney came to a stop.
“This will be us, then,” she announced.
“Here?”
“Yes, here.”
She plucked one last intrepid kitten from his sleeve and tucked it into a hamper. The button on Gabe’s cuff was left dangling by a thread.
They’d stopped before a building with a simple brick façade. It appeared to be well-tended, considering the environs—but Gabe didn’t trust appearances.
“If you mean to release them into the streets, they’ll find no shortage of rats hereabouts.”
“I’d never dream of doing such a thing.”
He knew she wouldn’t, and that left him all the more disturbed. Loving homes in this warren of crime and drunkenness came scarce, and not only for kittens. A young, defenseless creature would find no comfort here. Only cold, hunger, and fear.
When Penny moved to exit the cab, he held her back. “Oh, no, you’re not.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s perfectly safe.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Gabriel.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You’ve truly never visited the place?”
Why would he have visited this place? He looked around, searching for street names or numbers, any signs posted overhead. He saw only a window with an astonishing number of faces smashed against the glass.
Children’s faces.
The truth crept over him. Penny, what have you done?
She’d already alighted onto the pavement, carrying hampers in either hand and leaving him with the third. She beckoned him with a tilt of the head. “Come along, then.”
“Wait.”
He scrambled down from the cab to catch her. Stop her. But she’d already rung the bell. “Hammond told you, didn’t he? It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Don’t be anxious.”
“I’m not anxious,” he lied.
“Don’t be frightened, then.”
“I’m not frightened. I’m livid. I’m going to sack that sorry excuse for an architect before he’s—”
“Nonsense. You’re not angry with Mr. Hammond. You’re just put out that I finally found it.”
“Found what?”
She gave him a smug little smile. “Your soft underbelly.”
The door opened, and they were greeted by a woman of middle age, wearing a white smock over a dark green dress. Upon seeing Penny, she broke into a wide smile. “Lady Penny. What a delight to see you again. Do come in, come in.” She waved them through the door.
“I’ve brought the surprise for the children, as we discussed.” Penny lifted a hamper. “And I’ve brought a surprise for you, as well. Mrs. Baker, may I present Mr. Gabriel Duke. Your elusive benefactor.”
“Mr. Duke?” The woman clapped a hand to her chest in shock. She turned to Gabe. “You are most welcome, sir. Most welcome.”
Gabe mumbled a perfunctory greeting in reply. This Mrs. Baker wanted to make him welcome, and all he wanted was to make a half turn and walk out the way he’d come in. Next they’d be insisting he take some god-awful tour of the place.
“Perhaps you’d be so good as to give us a tour of the place,” Penny suggested.
Gabe intervened. “That won’t be necess—”
“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” Mrs. Baker replied. “Please, this way. Mr. Duke, I hope you’ll find everything to your standards.”
It seemed there would be no escaping this.
As they proceeded down the corridor, Gabe spied a small, red-cheeked face peeking at him from behind a door. When he realized he’d been noticed, the child disappeared at once. The boy had been designated a scout, it would seem, judging by the flurry of whispers from behind the door as he went by.
“We have two-and-thirty children in residence at present.”
Despite her evident pride in the place, apparently Mrs. Baker didn’t believe in lingering—a quality Gabe appreciated. She led them through a bustling kitchen and scullery, then through a dining hall with long rows of tables and benches. They emerged into the corridor, and the matron immediately mounted a flight of stairs.
When Gabe hung back, Penny motioned impatiently for him to follow. He had no choice but to join them, unless he wanted to look like a mulish schoolboy dragging his feet.
“This floor is all bedchambers,” Mrs. Baker said when they reached the landing. “Girls to one side, boys to the other. Four to a room.”
At her urging, he looked in on one of the chambers. Simply furnished, but neat as a pin. Beds, a washstand, and a row of pegs on the wall on which coats were hung, in diminishing sizes. Beneath each coat sat a pair of sturdy boots, sized accordingly.
Gabe couldn’t drag his gaze away from those boots.
Mrs. Baker noticed. “The children do have other shoes for every day, sir. Those are for church and outings.”
“Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat.
“Come back here, you little scoundrel.” Penny hurried after a black kitten who’d escaped his hamper. She lifted the little explorer by the scruff.
Mrs. Baker laughed. “He’s eager to meet the children, no doubt. We had best go upstairs straightaway.” As Penny and Gabe followed, she forged ahead to the landing. “The younger children have a nursery to the left. The schoolroom is to the right. Naturally, many of the children come to us behind in their lessons, or unused to lessons at all. We’re fortunate
