Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(82)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Peach, who had been sitting with Dodo on her bed, practicing her spinning, looked up. She took the paper reverently, turned it over in her hands, and gave it back. “Please, sir, what does it say?”

Winter had received reports from all the teachers at the home since his return as the manager and wasn’t surprised at her request. Apparently Peach had never been taught to read.

A matter he’d soon see remedied. But for now Winter sat next to the little girl on her bed. She’d been assigned a bed and a small trunk for her possessions in the big girls’ dormitory, for after questioning, Peach had confessed her age to be eight years old.

“You see your name here?” Winter pointed to the address.

“P-E-A-C-H,” Peach carefully named each letter.

“Very good.” Winter smiled at the girl and opened the letter. He tilted it so she could see and ran his finger under the writing as he read:

Dear Peach,

I’m writing you this here Letter before my Ship leaves London. She’s called the Terrier and she’s Brilliant! When we come back to London, I’ll take you to see Her. I’m to sleep in a kind of Swinging Bed. The older lads say as it might take a while to get used to.

Anyway, I hope you and Dodo are Well. Mind you listen to Miss Jones and Mistress Medina and the rest, and if Mr. Makepeace should come back, you Listen to him, too. He’s…

Winter had to stop and clear his throat at this point. Peach looked at him curiously. “What does he say?” Winter blinked a little and continued:

He’s the Best Man in the World.

Your Friend,

Joseph Tinbox

Winter gave the letter to Peach. The little girl stared at the handwriting for a moment before sighing and folding it carefully.

“I wager you’ll be able to read that yourself by the first snowfall,” Winter said softly.

“Really?” Peach brightened for a moment, then looked doubtful. “Winter is a long ways away.”

“It’ll be here sooner than you think.” Winter stood but then impulsively squatted in front of the little girl, taking her hands in his. “I’ll be writing a letter to Joseph soon. Would you like to include a note of your own?”

“But I can’t write.”

“I can help you.”

Peach peered shyly at him. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“There you are,” Temperance called from the doorway.

“Sister,” Winter rose, went to her, and pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“Winter!” She pulled back, looking at him oddly. “What was that for?”

“I’m glad to see you.” He shrugged.

“But”—she glanced at the room full of children, all of them staring curiously, and pulled him into the hall—“you never hug. And did I see you holding that little girl’s hands?”

He blinked. “Yes?”

She laid the back of her hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Of course.” He batted her hand away and smiled down at his sister. “How was the house party?”

“Dreadful!”

“Really?”

“Well, no,” she sighed. “Some of the ladies were actually quite nice and there were ruins nearby to explore, which I enjoyed.”

“So the experience was not as bad as you thought it might be.”

“Are you going to tell me you told me so?” she asked suspiciously.

“Not at all.” He stared at her a moment, wondering.

“What is it?” She nervously touched her nose. “Have I got a spot?”

“No, but something’s different,” he said.

“Oh!” Her cheeks, which seemed rounder somehow, turned rosy. “You’re not supposed to know yet.”

“Know what?”

“I’m expecting an Event come winter,” she said primly.

“Really?” For a moment he felt a tiny pang, somewhere near his heart: Isabel would never experience this particular joy. And then a grin spread across his face. “How marvelous!”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip but couldn’t hold back her own smile any longer. “Oh, I’m so excited, Winter. You have no idea!”

“And Caire?”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “He’s so nervous you’d think he was the one to carry the babe. But that’s part of the reason I came here. I have a favor to ask of you.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She clasped her hands in front of her. “I wonder if I could take Mary Whitsun away? To come live with me. Caire wants someone to help me if I should feel unwell, and after the baby comes, we’ll need a nursemaid. She’d be perfect, and besides, I’ve missed her terribly since I left the home. Please?”

“Of course,” Winter replied, delighted. “I think Mary Whitsun would quite like that.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Temperance beamed up at him. “I suppose with that settled, I ought to get back.”

He blinked. “Get back where?”

“To the Ladies’ Syndicate for the Benefit of the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children,” Temperance said with a touch of asperity. “Didn’t you know we were holding a meeting in the sitting room downstairs?”

“Now?”

He felt the surge of energy through his veins. If there was a meeting of the Ladies’ Syndicate, then Isabel would be here. He hadn’t seen her in a sennight—not since he’d killed Seymour. During that time, he’d been busy with reclaiming the home and helping the traumatized little girls who had been used in the workshop, but that hadn’t been the main reason he’d stayed away from Isabel.

His darkness had come to the fore that night. He’d killed a man—something he’d never done before. Taking a life wasn’t something to be done lightly. He’d prayed over the matter, considered if he should let Isabel go for her own good. But there was another side to his darkness; he’d always known that. When he’d let it free, he’d also set free the ability to hug Temperance. To take a little girl’s hands in his own to comfort her. He knew now that he would never be the manager his father was: distant, reserved, but kind. Instead he would care too much, worry too much, grieve too much when a child was lost. And when a child succeeded? When one thrived or was rescued? Then he would probably be overjoyed.

He couldn’t change that about himself, even if he wanted to. That was simply the kind of manager he was destined to be, and he thought he could now live peaceably with that fact.