Seventeen

In Kelton Hall’s main corridor on the way to Lilly’s office

The middle of October—shortly after the midday meal

Would the letter be here today?

The correspondence from the University of Cambridge that Lilly had eagerly awaited, yet simultaneously dreaded?

Those questions had become a daily ritual for her, and each day her stomach twisted into a glob of anxiety when she checked the post.

The fabric of her new mazarine blue wool gown swished softly as she proceeded down the corridor, lost in thought.

Mouth drawn into a tight line of expectancy, she thumbed through the correspondences she collected from the half-table in the entry that had been delivered while she ate luncheon with Zander and Mrs. Jones.

Miss Wobblecroft and Miss McKenzie supervised the children while they ate in what had once been the grand ballroom.

The four instructors rotated supervising the students’ dining.

Lilly turned over a creamy rectangle—foolscap folded into a tidy envelope.

The postmark caught her eye.

Cambridge .

It came .

Her heart catapulted to her throat and then plummeted to her feet, where it flopped around like a bass tossed upon the riverbank at Thamesmead.

She flushed hot, then cold, then hot again.

How could a mere correspondence cause such consternation?

Because this letter could change everything.

It might reveal Zander’s identity.

And then…then he would leave.

Lilly did not doubt that truth.

Her heartbeat quickened with fear.

Or was it anticipation?

She honestly was uncertain which, but the letter’s arrival had thrown her into a proper pucker.

After another two weeks of Zander’s company, she could no longer deny the truth; she had stupidly fallen in love with him.

Fool. Fool. Fool .

She had not even been aware of what was happening until it was too late, and he had completely taken possession of her heart.

Like a na?ve schoolgirl, Lilly had become enamored of the first man to toss a rakish smile her way and wear her defenses down with kindness and charm. Naturally, she did not count Charles among those men.

He was, in every way but blood, her brother.

Placing her thumbnail on the red wax seal, she bit her lower lip as she cast a furtive glance up and down the corridor.

No.

Not here .

Despite the almost overwhelming urge to tear the letter open and scour the contents, Lilly would wait until she was alone, when no one could witness her reaction to whatever news—welcome or dreaded—the small rectangle held.

A crash followed by a loud thump and the distinct sound of glass breaking made Lilly jerk her head up.

A child’s shrill cry rang out immediately.

Her blood froze in her veins.

What in heaven’s name?

Lifting her skirts, she rushed toward the source of the commotion. She hurtled into the dining room but stopped short at the scene before her.

Eddy Cartwright lay on the floor, a hunk of cheese in one little hand and a fistful of salted beef in the other. What once had been pale cream ceramic dishes, along with glass tumblers, lay shattered around him.

She tossed the correspondence on the table.

Mrs. B and Florence tore through the kitchen door just as Lilly reached the weeping child and fell to her knees beside him.

Zander and Miss McKenzie trotted in behind her.

“Oh dear.” As if she had sprinted to the dining room, Miss McKenzie’s breath came in gulps.

She likely had.

“I wondered where the little mite had got himself off to.” Concern pleated the corners of her eyes. “I have been searching everywhere for him.”

Life as a street urchin had taught Eddy the art of hiding well.

Lilly gathered the sobbing child, still clutching the food, into her arms.

“Eddy, darling whatever were you doing?”

“Saving food for later,” Eddy mumbled into her neck.

Her heart wrenched.

“I did not steal it,” he rushed to assure her. “It was left on the table.”

It was not the first time Eddy had sneaked away to horde food.

Orphaned and wandering the streets of Corbridge for God only knew how long, Eddy had not completely adjusted to his life at Kelston Hall. The newest child here, the troubled lad still feared he would not have enough to eat.

The Reverend Thomas Fenton had brought the starving little boy to Kelston Hall just before Zander had been found in the meadow. Living on a stipend, and with six children of his own, the man of God could not afford to take Eddy himself.

Reverend Fenton did not know Eddy’s age, and neither did the boy.

From examining the lad’s teeth, Charles estimated Eddy to be between six and eight years old, but because of malnourishment, he was extremely small for his age. One could easily mistake him for a five-year-old except for the unnatural maturity in his grave gaze.

More should be done for unfortunate waifs like Eddy. Lilly could not comprehend the lack of provision for the urchins and it frustrated her.

Nor could she have turned the big, blue, sad-eyed child away, even if it meant cramming another bed into an already crowded bedchamber. Not for the first time, she wished the children’s home were bigger and she could accommodate more needy boys and girls.

But she was a realist.

That would require more funds than she could afford. It was better to operate Kelston Hall efficiently and make certain the children already here were provided for than entertain grand schemes and risk losing everything.

Then where would the other children at Kelston Hall be?

On the streets, as Eddy had been.

That was a horrific existence, and most children did not survive long.

Still, that had not kept Lilly from sketching her dream home, which could house upward of one hundred children. She hid the drawing in her desk and, once in a while, would drag it out and consider what if …?

What was life without hopes and dreams?

Even for a long on-the-shelf, plump, pockmarked spinster.

Nevertheless, Lilly’s pragmatic side, more often than not, scoffed at such drivel.

Living with one’s head in the clouds could only lead to disappointment and heartache. She had repeated that mantra too many times to count.

At times, the monologue helped center her again, and at others, the inarguable truth filled her with despondency.

Zander crouched beside her and gently lifted a shock of Eddy’s midnight hair away.

“He is bleeding, Lilly.”

Bending her neck, she noticed the blood she had missed in her haste to comfort the boy.

Eddy bore a cut across his forehead and three scarlet ribbons ran down the child’s damp face.

“I do not think he will need stitches, though.” Zander folded his new handkerchief and pressed it to Eddy’s brow.

Lilly hid a wince.

They would never get the bloodstains out of the cloth.

“I shall get the medicine chest.” Mrs. B disappeared back into the kitchen while Florence began clearing the rest of the table.

Lilly continued to cuddle the child, who had stopped crying but still clung to her. Charles was not at Kelston Hall, and she did not know when he would return. That meant she would have to care for the little chap.

It certainly was not the first time, nor would it be the last.

“I shall let Miss Wobblecroft and Mrs. Jones know where Eddy is.” Miss McKenzie offered a sympathetic smile. “The students are off for a nature walk this afternoon if he feels up to it.”

Perking up, Eddy lifted his head.

“Will we see beetles and snails and frogs and maybe even a snake, Miss McKenzie?”

Excitement laced the boy’s voice at the thought.

“We very well may.” To her credit, Miss McKenzie, who loathed creepy crawlies of any kind, nodded and pasted an enthusiastic smile on her face. “The weather is still mild, so if we are truly fortunate, perhaps a bee-fly, or if we are very lucky, even a hummingbird hawk-moth. Wouldn’t that be grand?”

Eddy gave a fervent nod.

“Hold still, young man,” Zander ordered good-naturedly. “I am trying to staunch the flow of blood.”

“We shall be on the terrace shortly. Join us if you feel up to it, Eddy.”

Miss McKenzie crossed to the entrance. Glancing over her shoulder, she swung her too shrewd gaze between Lilly and Zander, as if to say, Exactly what is going on between the two of you ?