Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(76)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

By the time Winter made it to St. Giles, the sun was up fully, but the sky was so overcast it looked like evening. He pulled his long cloak about himself, glad he’d decided to wear it today. If he wasn’t mistaken, there would be rain before noon.

The home was up, of course, the single kitchen window bright. He knocked softly at the back door.

Mistress Medina opened the door, her normally neat cap askew. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. “Have you come back to the home, then, Mr. Makepeace?”

“I’m sorry, no,” Winter replied. “I gave my word to leave and so I have. But I wonder if I might speak with Joseph Tinbox out here.” He gestured to the alley.

Mistress Medina’s lips pursed. “Don’t seem right, it don’t, you not being able to come inside the home. And Lord knows we need you.”

She ducked back inside before he could comment.

There was a series of thuds inside, followed by an angry shout.

Winter cocked an eyebrow at the door. It sounded as if active warfare were going on inside.

A minute later, Joseph Tinbox came outside. His hair was down instead of tied back properly and his waistcoat had a stain on it that looked older than breakfast.

The boy stared at his feet, his mouth turned down at the corners. “Whatcha want?”

“I’ve come to say good-bye to you, Joseph,” Winter said gently. “You’re to report to your ship tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Joseph nodded, mute.

Winter looked away from his sullen face, beset with sudden qualms. Perhaps this wasn’t the right thing for Joseph. Perhaps the boy would hate him for the rest of his life, blaming Winter for sending him to sea and the hard life of a sailor.

But he wasn’t going to be just a sailor. He would be an officer. The position opened up the possibilities of a career, of good money if not wealth, of a home someday in the country. This commission would change Joseph’s entire life in a way that nothing else could: it gave him the freedom of a gentleman.

Winter looked back at the boy. “I trust that you’ll write, Joseph. If not me, then Peach and Nell and all the other children at the home.”

The boy’s lip trembled, but he muttered, “Yes, sir.”

“To that end, I have something for you,” Winter said. He set down his soft bag and drew out a wooden box.

Curiosity had always been one of Joseph’s defining characteristics. He leaned forward now, peering at the box. “What is it, sir?”

Winter unlatched the box, opening the flat lid. Inside was a small glass jar of ink, papers, various newly sharpened pens, and even a tiny penknife. “It’s a traveling writing box. My father used to take it with him when he went to the country to buy hops. See? Everything is fitted neatly so they shan’t move or be spoiled if the box is shaken.”

Winter relatched the box and stood, holding out the box to Joseph. “I’d like you to have it.”

Joseph’s eyes widened to saucer size and he opened his mouth, but nothing emerged. It seemed that Winter had succeeded in rendering the boy speechless. Joseph took the box and stood a moment simply staring at it.

He ran the fingertips of his right hand delicately across the worn surface of the top and looked up at Winter. “Thank you, sir.”

Winter nodded. For a moment he was speechless as his throat worked. When his voice emerged, it was gruff. “Joseph, would you like to shake hands?”

The boy’s lower lip trembled. “Yes, sir.” He held out his hand.

Winter took it and then he did something he’d never done to any of the home’s children. He bent, awkwardly, and drew the boy into a hug, writing desk and all. Joseph’s free arm came about his neck and squeezed fiercely. Winter bent his head and smelled jam and boy sweat. This is what it is like to feel with all one’s soul.

Winter stepped back, blinking. “Take care, Joseph.”

The boy’s eyes were sparkling. “I will, sir.” He ran into the home, but an instant later poked his head outside the door again. “And I’ll write you, sir. I promise.”

He was gone then and Winter stared at the door, his throat thick, wondering when next he’d see Joseph Tinbox again. Would the boy thank him for sending him to sea? Or curse him?

Winter tilted back his head, feeling the first ice-cold drops of rain spatter against his face. Either way, he’d make the same decision again.

“I thought I’d had your word to leave the home, Makepeace.” Viscount d’Arque’s voice came from behind him.

“You do, my lord.” Winter turned slowly, gesturing to the closed kitchen door. “You’ll notice that I’m on the outside of the home.”

D’Arque stood with his friends the Earl of Kershaw and Mr. Seymour in the alley behind him.

The viscount grunted suspiciously. “Well, see that you stay away. I can always renege on this bargain.”

“No, you can’t,” Winter said pleasantly. “You gave your word as a gentleman. Renege and I’ll make sure the news that you broke your word is in every breakfast room by noon the next day.”

D’Arque looked startled by the sudden steel in Winter’s voice. Good. The man needed to learn that he couldn’t play with lives.

Mr. Seymour cleared his throat. “If you’re not here to visit the home, Mr. Makepeace, then why are you here?”

“I believe I could ask the same of you,” Winter said. “I do notice both you and Lord Kershaw hanging about the place quite a lot.”

Lord Kershaw stiffened, clearly offended by Winter’s familiar tone, but Mr. Seymour merely smiled sheepishly. “You’ll have to forgive us gentlemen of leisure, Mr. Makepeace. An orphanage is quite fascinating in its own way. ’Sides, we heard that the Ghost of St. Giles delivered a pack of feral children here the night before last. Kershaw and I thought we’d see what it was about.”

“Ah, then your mission is not so very different from my own,” Winter replied. “I’m interested in finding out who was holding these children. To that end, I thought I’d search again the place where the Ghost found them.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Seymour looked eager. “You know where they were found by the Ghost?”

Winter nodded, watching the man. Only Seymour seemed interested in the illegal workshop. Kershaw was yawning and d’Arque merely stared into space as if thinking of something else.

“Then with your permission I would like to accompany you and investigate the site as well,” Mr. Seymour said.