Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

P ercy was sitting at White’s speaking with one of his business associates when Cecil came through the door. He stood glaring at all of the unwed men in the room, his gaze landing lastly on Percy. Percy lifted his brow in question. Cecil came over to join him. “Should I ask why you were glaring angrily at all of the unattached men in the room?”

“I am attempting to incite fear into their souls,” Cecil admitted, his voice determined.

Percy laughed. “Dare I ask why?”

“I have spent the last several hours acting as chaperone for my sister’s many suitors. I had assumed that your courtship of my sister would bring such visitations to an end; however, it appears to have had the opposite effect.” Cecil frowned grumpily. “It is as if they are roaches crawling out of the walls.”

Percy’s amused nature shifted into annoyance immediately, but he gathered his emotion quickly and forced his smile to stay in place.

“It cannot be that bad,” Percy retorted, offering a dry, false chuckle.

“Believe me, it is that bad.” Cecil gave him a disapproving look. “Where have you been? It should be you that is sitting there beside her scaring them all into submission.”

Percy chuckled, shaking his head. “That duty, my dear friend, falls to you. Were I there, you would still be sitting there beside us as chaperone.”

“At least I would enjoy the conversation if you were there,” Cecil grumbled under his breath. “The unwed masses of the English ton have turned into simpering dolts where my sister is concerned.”

Another young, unwed gentleman of the ton walked into the room, and Cecil stared him down to the point where the man immediately turned around and left.

“My Lord,” the club steward cleared his throat from behind Cecil. “My Lord, my apologies, but you are frightening the other gentlemen. There have been complaints.”

Percy stood and motioned for Cecil to follow him.

“Then perhaps the offended gentlemen should accept when they are not wanted,” he replied on Cecil’s behalf. “Regardless, Lord Gillett is not himself at the moment. We shall retire to more conducive environs for his current temperament.”

“As you say, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.” The club steward nodded in acceptance of the apology, and Cecil followed Percy out onto the street.

“There is a pub near here with a decent steak and kidney pie and a stout pint of ale. You should be safe from all of your sister’s gentlemen callers there,” Percy promised with an amused glint in his eye. “And we should not be asked to leave if you persist in giving everyone that you pass the evil eye.”

Cecil snorted. “I suppose attempting to instill fear into the unwed gentlemen of the English ton was not my best idea.”

Percy chuckled, shaking his head. “I am certain that it is not the first time that said gentlemen have been given a reproachful look. They will survive. No actual harm was done.”

The two men made their way to the pub and took a seat in a back corner. A young barmaid came over and attempted to sit in Percy’s lap. “May I be of service, My Lord?” She attempted a seductive tone. “I have much to offer a man of your quality.”

“No, thank you,” Percy refused her, shaking his head, and raised his hands to fend her off. “Two steak and kidney pies and two of your stoutest ales is all that we require.”

“Suit yourself,” the girl pouted in disappointment, but she did as she was asked and went to retrieve their food.

“You have changed,” Cecil noted, studying Percy’s face. “The old Percy would not have hesitated to forget his worries in the arms of a buxom lass such as that. Is it my sister that has changed you, or do you simply wish to be perceived as worthy of her in my eyes?” Concern tinted his voice.

Percy shook his head, giving Cecil a warning look. “Not now, Cecil. I am in no mood. A man has the right to refuse company without enduring an inquisition.”

Cecil studied Percy for a moment longer then decided to let it go for the moment. “Will you be attending Emily and Charles’ garden party?”

Percy nodded. “I will.”

Cecil nodded, pleased. “Father chose well for Emily when he chose the Viscount of Kensington.”

“Charles is a good man,” Percy agreed. If only the Earl had been as careful with his choice of suitor for Madeleine. Percy chose not to voice his thoughts aloud. Steering the conversation away from marriage and onto safer waters, Percy informed Cecil about the meeting that he had had at White’s before Cecil’s arrival. “I may have a new investor for our venture.”

Cecil’s face lit up. “Oh?”

“It is tentative but promising. I will give you his information and let you work out the details. What he is offering could be enough to go ahead with the expansion.”

“Wonderful!” Cecil’s face lit up at the news, the worry lines smoothing from his forehead. His sister and all thoughts of courtship seemed to vanish from his mind. They talked on in this manner for some time before at long last Cecil arose to bid Percy farewell. “I will see you at the cricket match tomorrow. I am looking forward to it.”

Percy nodded. “I was informed that the ladies of the ton have arranged a picnic for us all afterwards.”

“Excellent. I will see you tomorrow then.” Cecil tipped his hat then left the pub to return to his family.

Once Cecil departed, the barmaid made her way back over to Percy. “I see that you are at long last alone. Would you care for some company now?” Her eyes looked at him lustily.

Cecil had been right. At one time not that long ago, Percy would have taken her up on her offer, but he had not touched another woman since he and Madeleine had come to their arrangement. What once would have held temptation for him, no longer even aroused his curiosity.

“I am sure your talents for carnal pleasure many, but, no, thank you,” he replied. This time the woman pouted, looking genuinely disappointed that he had refused her services, but she accepted payment of his tab and let him be.

After leaving the pub, Percy walked the streets of London for some time, his mind filled with thoughts of Madeleine. How she was as a child. How she was now. So different in many ways and yet still so similar where it counted. Her kindness had not faded. Even when her witty retorts came out brashly, it was still there.

Thoughts of his own past then stemmed from noting this, driving him more inside of himself as he walked. While he was distracted, a young pickpocket slipped his hand inside of Percy’s coat and attempted to take off with his father’s pocket watch.

Reacting out of reflex, Percy grabbed the boy’s arm and snatched the watch out of his hand. He whirled the boy around and was met with a thin, young face smothered in grime and freckles. His eyes, a pale blue, were wide from the shock of being caught.

“And what, pray tell, do you believe yourself to be doing?” Percy asked, a brow perked in near amusement as he stared down at the young thief. “Are you trying to get yourself hanged or transported to America?”

“Let me go!” the boy yelled, squirming to get away. It was no use against Percy’s firm hold, but he attempted to kick Percy in the shins all the same. The Duke, though, having been in many fights himself, was far was too fast for him and dodged the blow with ease.

“Plucky little fellow, aren’t you? No, I will not,” Percy chuckled, now more amused than annoyed. “Now, hold still while I decide what to do with you.”

Pocketing his watch again, he grabbed the boy’s other shoulder and looked at him square on. He had already noticed the thinness of the boy’s face, but as he looked him over, he noted that his entire frame was far too frail and small. His collarbone jutted out like a platform, and through thin, torn, filthy clothes he could feel the sharpness of his bones. The boy hadn’t eaten. Probably in days. And from the pale blue half-moon bruises beneath his eyes, Percy assumed he had not had much to drink either.

“Who are your parents, boy?” he asked, his tone firm.

The boy flashed him an angry glare, and Percy immediately knew the answer.

“What parents?” he spat out, bitterly, confirming Percy’s suspicions.

“An orphan, huh?” Percy mused, compassion entering his tone.

The boy fell silent, refusing to answer as he lowered his head until his chin rested in the sharp little hallow between either side of his collarbone. He kicked at a clump of dirt on the street, a sob disguised as a growl leaving his throat as two small rivers formed a trail down each cheek, drawing a stark, pale line through the grime.

“Me too,” Percy admitted.

He decided to leave the choice to stay or flee up to the boy and released his arms. Instead of running, though, the boy seemed to plant his feet and look up Percy in surprise.

“You?” he asked.

Percy nodded. “Me.”

It was the boy’s turn to look Percy up and down in scrutiny. Like Percy had done to him, the boy looked at him studiously, measuring every detail he could take in.

“You do not look like an orphan,” he said finally, giving Percy a dubious look as he crossed his arms across his thin chest.

Percy chuckled. “And what does an orphan look like?”

The boy cocked his head to the side in thought. “Well, like me, I suppose.”

“Children from all social classes can be orphans,” Percy explained. “Wealth does not make you immune to death.”

“It certainly helps,” the boy scoffed.

Percy could not argue with that.

“An accurate perception,” he praised, “How did your parents die?”

The boy began to tremble as he lowered his eyes, looking at something far off and imperceptible behind Percy.

“Mum was making supper like she always did in the evenings. It was—everything was as it always was. Then suddenly, wind blew in down chimney and sent the burning logs and embers spewing everywhere. The house… my parents burned up in a fire so quickly.” Tears returned to the boy’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

“Where were you?” Percy asked, his tone quiet.

“I was in the loft,” the boy replied, his tone hollow. “Saw the whole thing before I jumped out of the window.”

The boy then raised up his torn, filthy shirt to reveal a long scar along the right side of his ribcage.

“I landed halfway on the trough outside. Knocked me out cold from the pain. When I came to, the house was gone, my parents… gone. Just ash now.”

“You watched them die,” Percy said hoarsely, memories of his own losses flashing through his mind.

The boy nodded.

“Where do you live now?”

The boy shook his head. “I sleep wherever I can find a place.”

“You have no other family?”

He shook his head again.

“I have no aunts or uncles. My grandparents all died before I was born.”

Percy put his hand back on the boy, this time gently and on the shoulder. The boy flinched a little at the touch, but then, if possible, his thin shoulders slumped even lower. This boy, Percy realized, had not felt kindness in a very long time, and he could change that.

There had been no one to help the poor la,d and he had turned to stealing to survive. At least, Percy had had his father until he had come to an age to care for himself. After that, he had had Gregor. The thought of Gregor gave Percy an idea, and his spirit lifted.

“Aside from thievery, do you possess any other talents?” he asked.

A flash of fear and panic filled the boy’s eyes.

“Why? You don’t want anything from me, do you? Other men have tried to do those things, and I will tell you now that I am stronger than I look!” The boy began to tremble in terror at the thoughts in his mind.

Percy’s heart broke at the unspoken meaning behind the boy’s words, and he forced down the bile that suddenly threatened to work its way up his throat. He shook his head to reassure the boy.

“Easy, lad. I do not believe in that nasty business. You need never fear me in that way. Do you understand?”

The boy met his eyes as if to gauge the level of honesty he might find there then nodded his head. His muscles relaxed a bit.

“That is good,” he breathed then his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you plan to do with me then? Most people would have either beaten me or turned me over to the law by now.”

Percy sighed, weighing his options. He did not wish to turn the boy over to the law as his fate would be sealed in a most terrible way. But he could not simply let him return to his criminal means of survival either. The boy was not very good at it, and he might not be so fortunate when it came to the next pocket that he picked.

“What is your name, lad?” Percy asked.

“Toby,” the boy answered.

“What is your full name?”

The boy frowned at his persistence but answered anyway. “Tobias Matthews.”

“Well, Mr. Matthews, what say you to a steak and kidney pie?” Percy asked.

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise. “I would say, yes, My Lord, but what must I do for it?”

“Nothing,” Percy reassured him quickly. “You need do nothing but come with me and eat. I know a place near here with the best steak and kidney pie in London that will fill that hollow belly of yours and put some meat back on your bones.”

Percy once more released his hold on the boy, half expecting him to make a run for it. To his surprise, the boy did not run away but instead fell in step beside him. Percy smiled but said nothing. The two of them retraced Percy’s steps and walked back to the tavern where he and Cecil had just eaten. As he entered the tavern, the barmaid raised an eyebrow in surprise to see him returning with a young boy in tow. Percy led the boy over to the table that he had just vacated such a short time before.

“Did you miss me, My Lord?” the barmaid purred as she sidled up to the table, her eyes taking in the disheveled nature of the boy beside him. “I had a feeling you would come back for me.”

Percy rose a brow in her direction, and she immediately blushed, her gaze falling down to her ample, milky bosom.

“I came back for another one of your finest steak and kidney pies,” he replied and then in a lower voice so only she could hear, he added, “and there will be some additional coin for you in return to drop such a subject, especially in front of my young friend.”

The barmaid nodded obediently, reluctantly bringing her eyes back up. This time she focused them on the boy and gave him a motherly smile.

“Shall you have a drink as well? We’ve got a nice light ale for boys like you that’ll quench your thirst and make your tummy grow warm.”

“Yes ma’am,” Toby replied eagerly.

The boy had no aversion to the barmaid as Percy did, and he was now looking up at her as if she were a goddess incarnate. Percy huffed out a quiet laugh, and then asked her, “Do you have fresh milk?”

“We do,” the barmaid nodded, only briefly passing her eyes over the Duke. Percy nodded in approval.

“Sweeten it with some honey if you would, and bring that for the boy as well,” he ordered. “But after the meal. I do not want his stomach to upset.”

“Milk?” the boy’s voice held awe as the barmaid left to the order.

“Yes, milk. Do you like milk? I drank a lot of milk as a boy and enjoyed it myself.”

The boy nodded. “I like it very much. I have not had it since—” he paused, giving Percy a knowing look, and simply repeated, “I like it very much.”

“Good,” Percy replied, giving Toby a kind smile.

The barmaid brought their order to the table and set the pie and light ale down in front of the boy. Percy paid her, including the tip he had promised her, and then dismissed her so as not to encourage any further ideas. The boy dove into his steak and kidney pie as if it were the last one on earth, and if he did not eat it all at once, it was going to vanish in a puff of smoke.

“Slow down,” Percy chuckled. “Take smaller bites and then have a drink.”

It took visible effort for Toby to slow his chewing to let his throat swallow just one bite at a time then he washed it down with a long tug of the light ale.

“Apologies, Lord,” Toby sounded around another spoonful of pie.

“No need to apologize, lad,” Percy replied, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “This will not be your last meal. There is plenty more where that one came from. Take your time, or you will suffer stomach discomfort later.”

“More?” The boy’s eyes widened once more.

“Yes, there is more,” Percy reassured him.

The boy slowed down a little bit more at Percy’s reassurance but not by much. It was clear that it had been a long time since his last meal. Once the boy had finished two pies, his cup of light ale, and two glasses of honeyed milk, he sat back with a satisfied sigh and rubbed his extended stomach.

As the boy ate, a comfortable silence fell between them. Percy’s mind wondered back to his mother then to his father then finally to Francis. All precious, good people, who no longer had the privilege of walking the earth.

A yearning for them filled his heart then. Francis had not been the one for him. Their marriage would have been bearably comfortable at best and distant at worse—but she did not have to die. But she had. Because of him. Because of his curse.

“That was good,” Toby praised, shoving his second empty plate away from him.

He patted his now-bloated stomach, and a slight belch escaped his lips. A smile so large it nearly ate up his face was now on his face.

Toby’s apparent happiness pulled Percy out of his morbid reverie, and he nodded his head and gave him a proud smile.

Percy then chuckled, pleased. “I am glad that you liked it.”

“It was the best thing that I have ever eaten,” the boy answered, his voice dreamy at the thought of it. “Thank you, Sir. Truly.”

Percy studied the boy a moment more before he said, “Mr. Matthews, I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal, My Lord?” Toby questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Percy nodded.

“It means offer,” he explained, making a mental note to have one of the more educated servants teach him to read. “What would you think about coming to work for me at my estate? I could use another stable hand. My man, Gregor, is getting on in years and has been asking for me to choose a man for him to train up to replace him someday. I believe that you might be just such a man.”

The boy’s eyes grew wider than they had when he had seen the steak and kidney pie. “You want me to come to work for you, My Lord?”

“I do,” Percy nodded, then added, “in exchange for fair wages and a bed of your own.”

Percy could tell the offer was tempting to the boy, but he was far too jaded to simply accept.

“What would I need to do?” Toby asked slowly.

“You would help Gregor with training the horses, cleaning stalls, keeping the horses fed and watered. Gregor would train you, and when you are grown, you could take his place,” Percy explained.

“With honest wages, I could buy food,” Toby muttered, his eyes widening at the thought. “ Real, good food.”

“We would feed you as well, lad,” Percy replied, trying to not let the sympathy he felt touch his voice. A boy like Toby would not react well to that and might even run off, taking offense.

“But, if what I provide at my manor is not to your liking, then yes, you may buy whatever you like with your wages.”

Toby narrowed at Percy suspiciously.

“Why me?” the boy asked, clearly believing that it was all too good to be true.

“Why not you?” Percy asked simply in return, offering a shrug.

The boy smiled at this.

“What do you say, Mr. Matthews? Would you take the job? Spare my man Gregor the time from finding another? He will need help, either way.”

“I would, My Lord,” Toby replied decidedly. The boy’s brow then furrowed in question. “My Lord?”

“Hmm?”

“Who are you?”

Percy chuckled. “How remiss of me. My apologies, Mr. Matthews. My name is Percival Hardy, Duke of Greyhall.”

The boy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Duke?” he breathed in awe. “I am going to work for a duke?”

“You are indeed if you wish it. Are you available to begin work right away?”

“I am, Your Grace,” the boy nodded enthusiastically.

“Then let us away from here, Mr. Tobias Matthews,” Percy stated with an air of grandeur. “Greyhall Estate awaits her new stable hand.”

“Wait for me!” Toby said excitedly. Scrambling to his feet, he then followed Percy out of the tavern and down the adjoining street.

Returning to White’s, Percy retrieved his horse and paid for a day’s worth of time for another.

“Have you ridden yet?” Percy asked as the stableboy handed him the reins of both steeds.

“My parents and I used to live in the country,” Toby replied. “I used to ride our pony. Sometimes even our cow. I did not arrive in London until after the fire.”

“That’ll do then, lad,” Percy chuckled, handing him the reins to the spare horse.

Though his growth was stunted, Toby had no trouble leading the horse to a nearby barrel, climbing atop it, and then he straddled the saddle. He gave Percy a look of pride as he straightened his shoulders from his new seat.

“Lead the way then, my boy,” Percy said with a nod toward their desired road. “This will lead us out of town and directly into Greyhall. Might as well start learning your bearings of the path now; you’ll no doubt be taking it frequently.

With a capable nod, Toby clicked his tongue and began to lead them home. As they rode past the tavern where they had just eaten, the barmaid who had waited on them stood outside of the door, watching him with full, pouty lips. He could feel her eyes following him as he continued down the street until he was out of sight. Percy did not look back. She held nothing that he desired.

Thoughts of Madeleine—her smile, her figure, her laugh—all filled his head, and he let the pleasant memories play repeatedly in his mind until they approached the gates of Greyhall Estate.

Arriving back home, Percy rode right up to the stables and dismounted, depositing Toby safely onto the ground.

“Your Grace,” Gregor greeted him, taking the horse’s reins. His eyes fell on Toby and turned back to Percy with a questioning brow raised. “And who is this pile of bones?”

“This is Mr. Tobias Matthews, our new stable hand,” Percy explained, patting the neck of Toby’s steed. “Toby, this is Gregor, our stable master. He shall be your overseer, trainer, and no doubt confidant as you grow older.”

He smirked back at Gregor with familial affection.

“I know he provided as much for me.”

Gregor bowed his head toward Percy as he tried to hide the smile of pride and gratitude toward his lord. In turn, Percy gave him a subtle nod back.

“Respect, young man,” Percy said, turning his head back to Toby, “will get you a long way here. Give it and accept it in kind, and you will be fine.”

Toby nodded gravely then dismounted from his horse. He walked over to Gregor, puffing out his small chest, and held out his hand.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Gregor and Percy both gave an approving smile as Gregor took the boy’s small hand, swallowing it in his much larger one, and gave it a firm shake.

“Have you eaten yet, lad?” Gregor asked, and Toby nodded his head so vehemently that Percy feared he would saddle his brain.

“His Grace bought me two steak and kidney pies, some ale, and milk,” he replied, his tone full of gratitude and awe.

“’Course he did,” Gregor chuckled. “Tell you what, that sounds like quite a meal. You are not going to fall asleep on me on the first day of the job, are you?”

“No sir!” Toby replied quickly, his eyes widening.

Gregor and Percy both chuckled, and seeing that it was a jest, Toby quickly relaxed and smiled back at them. He then took a look around, his eyes roaming over the grandiose nature of the manor house, its surrounding outbuildings, and the expanse of land it all sat on.

“This is all yours, Your Grace?”

“It is,” Percy nodded.

“And I get to live here now?” Doubt tinged his voice.

“If you wish it,” Percy confirmed. “This is now your home. You are safe here, and you will never need to steal to survive ever again.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

To Percy’s surprise, Toby threw his arms around Percy’s waist in an exuberant hug. Percy and Gregor exchanged a smile.

“Here now, boy. You are messing His Grace’s fancy suit,” Gregor reprimanded in good humor.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Toby apologized. He stepped back quickly wiping tears from his eyes.

Percy smiled down at the boy, shaking his head. “No damage done.”

“Let us have a look at you, boy,” Gregor instructed, assessing his new stable hand with a pretend critical eye. “How old would you be?”

“Eight summers, sir.”

“That is young to be on your own,” Percy murmured in sympathy.

“I made do, Your Grace. I was six summers when my parents died in the fire.”

Percy and Gregor exchanged a look. Most orphans that age did not survive on the mean streets of London. The things that he must have done to survive were beyond imagination.

“You are a strong young man,” Percy informed him.

“No more than most, Your Grace.”

Gregor gave Percy an impressed look. “He will do,” he mouthed silently for Percy’s ears only. Turning to Toby, Gregor wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Let us find you a bath and some clean clothes.” Nodding to Percy, he led Toby towards the stables.

“Mr. Matthews,” Percy called after his newest hire.

“Your Grace,” Toby stopped and turned back towards Percy.

“Welcome to Greyhall. Welcome home.”

The boy’s face split into a wide grin, joy emanating from his eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he called back. “I will make you proud.”

“I know you will.”

Turning, the pick pocket turned stable hand followed Gregor into the stables and a much brighter future.