Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(66)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Her heart swelled with grief. For him. For all he would not admit. “Where will you go, Winter?”

He shrugged. “I have resources. I’ll find another place to live.”

“And will you find another boy like Joseph Tinbox?”

“No,” he said softly, regretfully, as he placed a few books in his bag and shut it. “No, Joseph Tinbox is quite unique.”

“You love him, Winter,” she said. “You can’t let him go to sea.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and it was suddenly there in his face: all the grief, all the pain she’d expected before.

Then he opened them and his eyes were resolute. “It is because I love Joseph that I will let him go.”

Chapter Fifteen

The Harlequin’s True Love kept to the shadows as she searched the narrow lanes of St. Giles for the Harlequin. Twice she fled dangerous-looking men, and once she had to hide in a doorway for long minutes as a group of drunken louts stumbled by. But no matter how hard her heart beat in fear, she did not give up her search for the Harlequin…

—from The Legend of the Harlequin Ghost of St. Giles

Word travels fast in an orphanage. There are plenty of ears, plenty of watchful little eyes, gathering information and eager to spread it.

All the boys were at lessons. The minute Winter walked into the classroom half an hour later and saw Joseph Tinbox, he could tell that the boy had already heard.

“Joseph Tinbox, may I have a word with you?”

The other boys stared at Joseph as if watching a condemned prisoner. Joseph swallowed and rose from the bench he’d been sitting on. As the boy walked toward him, Winter noticed how tall he’d become. He could almost look Winter in the eye. Only a year ago he’d been less than shoulder height. Now he was nearly the height of a man.

Joseph stopped before him and said low so the other boys wouldn’t hear, “Do I have to?”

The sound of his voice cracking on the last word nearly made Winter’s heart split in two. “Yes, you must.”

Joseph lowered his head and preceded Winter out of the classroom. Winter looked about the hallway for a moment, nonplussed, before leading Joseph to the sickroom. It was empty at present—Peach had felt well enough to join one of the girls’ lessons.

He shut the door and looked at the lad. “You’ve heard, I take it?”

Joseph Tinbox nodded mutely. “Some toff wants to send me off to sea.”

Winter sat on Peach’s empty bed. “He wants to do much more than that, Joseph. He’s promised to buy you a commission in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

The grandeur of the name alone was enough to make Joseph’s face break with awe—for a second, no longer. Then he resumed the stubborn expression he’d had upon entering the room. “I don’t want to go.”

Winter nodded. “Of course not. You’ve never been to sea, and you will be leaving everyone—and everything—you know. But I’m afraid that doesn’t matter. You’re going to have to be as brave as you’ve ever been, Joseph, because you simply can’t pass up this opportunity.”

Joseph’s eyes darted to the bed Winter was sitting on. “Can’t. Peach needs me.”

For a second Winter wanted to close his eyes and admit defeat. Most of the children came to the home alone—bereft of both kin and friend. So it was doubly wonderful when they chose to make a friend. To become close to another child who was alone and lonely in the world. Joseph had, out of pure altruism, become Peach’s protector… and friend. To tear apart such a bond was surely a sin.

But that didn’t matter.

Winter leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Most of the boys who leave here become apprentices. You know that, don’t you, Joseph?”

Joseph nodded warily.

“If they are lucky, after years of service, they might become a cobbler or a butcher or a weaver. All honest trades. All good enough lives.”

Winter spread wide his hands. “But you, Joseph, you have the opportunity now to become more. You can become a gentleman. Once in the Royal Navy—as an officer, not a simple seaman—if you work hard, are brave, and act smart, you can rise far above any of the other boys here. Someday you might be captain of your own ship.”

The boy’s eyes widened before he bit his lip. “But the sea. What if I don’t like the sea, sir?”

At that Winter smiled, for it was the one thing he was certain of. “You will. You’ll learn how to sail a ship, listen to the stories of the older boys and men, and travel to wondrous lands far, far away from England. Joseph, it will be the most amazing adventure of your life.”

For a moment Winter was sure he’d won the match. Had convinced Joseph that this decision was the best for the boy in the long run.

Then Joseph Tinbox’s eyes landed on the pillow, still indented from Peach’s head. He stared for a moment, his eyes uncertain, and then he looked at Winter, resolute. “I’m sorry, sir. It sounds a treat, really it does, but I can’t leave Peach by herself.”

Winter swallowed. He felt so weary, so tired of fighting and fighting without cessation. Without even a little rest.

But that was maudlin self-pity.

“I’m sorry, too, Joseph Tinbox, for I fear you’ve mistaken the matter.” He rose from the bed. “I’m not asking you to go. I’m ordering you.”

ISABEL SAT DOWN to a solitary dinner late that night in her private dining room. A fire crackled in the hearth behind her, there were fresh flowers in a small china vase on the round table, and Cook had made an excellent clear soup, but she seemed to have no appetite.

She’d been invited to a soiree, but with Winter leaving the home and Mr. Fraser-Burnsby having been murdered, she simply didn’t feel like an evening out. Poor Lady Littleton would no doubt have a very sad showing tonight—if anyone came at all.

“Shall I bring in the fish, my lady?” Will the footman asked.

“Please,” Isabel sighed absently.

She was still greatly disturbed both by Winter’s proposal and his defection from the home. For that was what it was, no matter his reasons or how righteous he might think them. He’d given up the home for one child’s future. That simply wasn’t morally correct, no matter his arguments or how much Joseph Tinbox meant to him.

And then there was an even greater worry: Where was he? Pinkney had been excited to tell her earlier that the Ghost had been seen fleeing over the rooftops of St. Giles as Trevillion’s dragoons gave chase. For all she knew, he might be lying gravely wounded somewhere—or worse, dead.