Chapter One

December 20, 1819

Mayfair, London

Inspector Gabriel Bright shivered as snow showers filled the air. His breath clouded about his head while he tucked the ends of his red woolen muffler into his greatcoat. This December looked to be a cold and snowy one.

And he couldn’t wait, for there were so many special things in the offing this holiday season.

“Papa, watch out!”

The call from his grown son, Henry, wrenched him out of his thoughts. “What?”

The young man pointed to the snowflake-dotted cobblestone street. “You very nearly stepped in horse excrement.”

“Ah. Thank you for the warning.” At the last second, he stepped around the mess. “I was woolgathering, I suppose.” Ten minutes prior, they’d left a tea house where they had stopped for a repast, for he’d just returned to Town from retrieving Henry from university at Cambridge. It had meant a few hours in the traveling coach, but he’d left early enough that he’d missed the bulk of the traffic and hadn’t encountered any problems on the road.

“You have been doing that a lot lately.” Henry eyed him askance, and though just a young man of two and twenty, he had a maturity that went well beyond his years at times. “But then, I think you have always enjoyed the Christmastide season, especially recently.”

A bit of heat sneaked up the back of Gabriel’s neck, but he nodded. “There are a few reasons for that.” Not for the first time did he grin at the mere thought of going home to Mary, his new wife of two months. “I am excited to spend Christmas with Mary, you, and Cassandra. It’s my second time having a family, and I want to do it right this time.”

The young man shook his head, but a grin flirted with his lips. “You weren’t bad at it the last time, I might remind you, and I think you forget that.”

“Perhaps.” He grinned as well, for Henry was quite correct.

When his son was a boy, Gabriel’s marriage at the time had suffered a few problems that had led to his wife leaving him and eventually dying. However, the one constant in his life back then was Henry, and his unwavering—if sometimes doubtful—belief in him as a father. Now they enjoyed a strong relationship together, and next spring, Henry would finish his schooling. The next step in his development would be to find a barrister who might want to offer an apprenticeship or tutelage within his law practice.

“I appreciate that. Now, let us hope we can find appropriate gifts for the people in our lives we wish to remember.” He nudged his son’s shoulder with his. “It’s good to have you home for a few weeks. I’ve missed you.”

As a couple, he and Mary had decided not to go to Bright’s brother’s country estate—he was a viscount—for the man’s annual Christmastide house party where friends and family gathered. Though that was where his heated romance with Mary had begun last year at this time, they’d figured it was in everyone’s best interest to remain in London and make their own traditions with their new little family.

Besides, in this way, he would be able to spend time with his son uninterrupted by the shenanigans brought on by a house party, and would afford Henry the time to spend with Cassandra and come to know her better.

“It’s good to be home, I’ll admit,” Henry said with a good-natured laugh as he walked beside Gabriel through the Mayfair shopping district. “Christmastide is a good time to spend time with the ones we love, and…” His words trailed away, but when Gabriel glanced at him, he caught a ruddy flush moving up the young man’s neck and into his cheeks. “Being home instead of going to Uncle’s country estate means I can call on a few friends while in Town.”

Ah, so that was how the wind blew, eh? He nodded. “You’re sweet on a young lady.” It wasn’t a question.

“Perhaps.” Yet his grin didn’t lie. “We can discuss it later.”

“Very well. Let’s go in here. No doubt there will be more than enough fripperies to catch our fancy and serve as gifts.”

For the next twenty minutes, he and Henry poked about the sundry shop amidst ladies doing the same thing. Several looks were sent his way as well as Henry’s, for the young man was nearly his exact image, and Gabriel rather thought they both had good heads of thick brown hair. He smiled back at the women but then continued with his mission of picking out gifts for Mary, Cassandra, and Mary’s niece Adelaide.

“These will do perfectly, I think.” He held up a pair of dainty ivory kid gloves. “For Cassandra?”

Henry nodded. “They are quite lovely. Perhaps, uh, I should purchase a pair for… someone as well.” The flush was back on his neck.

Gabriel kept his own counsel, for he well remembered what it was like to be in love. Hell, he was still wildly besotted with his wife and hoped to always be so. Then he selected a different pair of gloves for Mary. She was far too practical and would appreciate the gloves, but he wanted to also buy her something not quite practical too. Moving away from that table, he drifted over to one that offered stockings, both plain and with elaborate embroidery. He chose one of those pairs, for he was feeling all too wicked.

“At least you are predictable, Papa,” Henry said when he spied the silken stockings with the black embroidery that resembled swirls and feathers.

“There are worse things.” Gabriel didn’t care. He adored Mary’s legs, adored even more rolling stockings down them as he kissed his way over her skin. That invariably led to other, extremely pleasurable things, and he couldn’t wait to indulge in those activities on Christmas.

“I’m glad to see you so happy, Papa. Now that you’ve settled into marriage, I feel as if you’ve finally come into your own.” Henry flashed a grin at one of the passing young ladies before turning his attention back to him. “You and Mary fit like, well, a pair of well-made gloves. The fact you found each other is astounding.”

“Indeed, it is, and yes, I’m exquisitely happy.” And damned fortunate. After working three cases together and surviving one or the other of them facing certain death, there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t thank God that he had her in his life. “I think the ladies all deserve these, too.” Waving a hand toward a display of jeweled hair pins, he selected three, one for Mary and one for Adelaide as well as one for his sister-in-law.

“They will adore them. You’re quite generous with your time and coin, Papa. I hope I’m as decent a chap as you in the coming years.”

Gabriel smiled. “How could you not be? You’re a Bright.”

His son snorted. “So is Uncle.”

“Good point.” They both shared a laugh, for in years past, Gabriel’s viscount brother had made some rather questionable and scandalous decisions. “To be fair, he has turned a corner, I think. From what I’ve understood from his last letters, walking the straight and narrow has refreshed his marriage, made him a better father.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Or, in Francis’ case, a third.”

Henry nodded. As they finished their shopping, he bought both Cassandra and Mary a handkerchief lined with delicate lace, and then purchased a satin ribbon in blue for the little girl’s hair. Along with small trinkets for his cousins and Adelaide, the young man was quite satisfied with the outing.

Deciding to head home, they moved out of the shop and onto the street, only to be nearly in the midst of a kerfuffle of some sort, with a ring of people surrounding what appeared to be a short man.

“What the devil is happening over there?” Gabriel asked no one in particular.

“I’m game to investigate if you are.”

When they reached the nearby cul-de-sac and joined the throng of people who’d formed a circle, he frowned, for a handcart vendor had the short man—who wasn’t a man at all but a young boy, dirty, grimy, and small, perhaps a year younger than Cassandra—by the ear. A constable arrived at the same time they did, and he bounced his gaze around the assembled group.

“What’s all this about, then?” the constable asked. He was a big, burly man in a navy greatcoat with an expression that suggested he’d rather be anywhere but here in the snow and cold.

The handcart vendor—a tall, thin man with fingerless gloves and a top hat with a bent brim—held the boy by an ear. “This rat stole a bun and an apple from my cart.”

In fact, the boy still clutched the half-eaten apple in his hand. There was no sign of the bun, so he must have eaten it.

“And?” The constable frowned. “What do you want me to do about it? It’s a child, a street urchin. They’re everywhere like vermin.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not a scourge,” the vendor insisted with a shake to the boy, who let out a cry of pain. “Lock ‘im up. These chimney sweep boys steal from me daily. That’s a loss out of my pocket. Got my own family to feed, and I’m tired of them thinking I’m a charity.”

The constable huffed as he glowered at the child. “I can take him to a workhouse, but they’ll just toss him out. Too much trouble, and they’re already crowded besides.” He rested his stare on the climbing boy. “ Are you a chimney sweep?”

The boy nodded. Beneath the grime, he was frightened and more than a bit resigned. How many times had he been caught in the last month? “I got lost. Couldn’t find me boss.” He shrugged. “I was hungry, so I took the apple. Big Sam takes me coin; I get nothin’ ‘cept a kick in the arse most times.”

Bright’s chest tightened. “This is outside of enough,” he whispered to Henry. “No child, no matter where they come from, deserves to starve.”

“I don’t care.” The handcart vendor snorted. “Toss ‘im in Newgate.”

“For stealing an apple and a bun? That hardly warrants Newgate, and they’ll kill him besides.” The constable shook his head. “He’s a child. Next time, beat him with a stick. There are real crimes to attend to.” At least there was a shred of compassion, but only just.

When he left, the handcart vendor muttered a curse and then shoved the child away. “Get out of here, you thief. Next time it’ll be the broom handle for you.”

With a cry, the boy stumbled and fell to the ground as the crowd broke apart.

Gabriel glanced at Henry, who looked as shocked and dismayed as he felt. “There is truly no caring left in this city when there is no latitude for a starving child.” He went to the boy, helped him to his feet, and then kneeled on one knee before him. “Are you well?”

“I sp’ect so.” The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve. Tears had made tracks through the grime and soot on his cheeks.

Sympathy squeezed Gabriel’s heart. “Where do you live?”

“Around.” The child shrugged. “Wherever it’s warm.”

As the snowflakes continued to swirl down and around them, Gabriel frowned. “The man who makes you climb chimneys to clean them, where is he?”

The boy didn’t answer. He darted his gaze about the area, no doubt in the hopes of finding an escape route.

“I know you’re no doubt frightened. I would be too in your position.” Bright tried a different tactic. “Do you belong to him, this Big Sam? Are you his son?”

“No.” The boy brushed himself off. While watching Gabriel, he continued to eat his apple. “I ain’t got parents.”

“Why is that?”

Again, the boy shrugged. Quite a pungent odor came from either him or his clothing. “Died in a fire a bit ago.”

How terrible. How the devil had he survived on his own? With a glance at Henry, who frowned, Gabriel once more regarded the child. “When did you meet the man you work for?”

“Don’t ‘member. Since there was still leaves on the trees?”

Dear God, that meant at least six weeks or so. “Do you see him every day?”

“Sometimes.” He crunched on the apple. “He hits and kicks us if we’re late or get stuck.”

How could someone look at a small child like this and deliberately hurt them? Children made mistakes; that was how they learned, and they were not put on the earth to toil at a profession. “How old are you?”

The boy shrugged again. “‘Round seven I wager.”

“Just seven.” Gabriel put a hand to his tight chest as he glanced at Henry with a lifted eyebrow. His son nodded, and seemed as concerned as he was, but was that nod permission or encouragement? “The streets aren’t a place for a boy, you see.” Bright removed his handkerchief and gave the boy’s face a few swipes to remove the soot and grim. He was a cute fellow and would be even more so when he was cleaned up. Beneath a dirty slouch-style cap was possible brown hair prone to curling, brown eyes, and the lad reminded him a bit of Henry when he was small. “Where do you stay at night?”

“Different places. Doorways. Bridges.” He shrugged and then began to gnaw at the apple core. “Hard to find warm spots, ‘specially when me belly’s empty.”

“Papa.” Henry tapped his shoulder. His eyes were haunted when Gabriel met his gaze. “Take him home.”

“What?” Shock moved through his body.

“Please. I can’t bear to hear more.” Henry gave a curt nod. “Take him home. Adopt him.” The pleading in Henry’s voice tugged at his heart as much as the boy’s story had.

“I already have a son. And now a daughter.” He watched the child, who darted his dark gaze between them as they chatted.

Henry snorted. “I am grown, but I know you have more love and caring to give.” With a grin, he peered at the boy. “Adopt him. Give him a new chance at life. And this time, you can enjoy being a father and raising a son as well.” He lowered his voice. “You tried like hell when I was small but circumstances worked against you. You now have the freedom to be a papa all over again with Cassandra and now him.”

Dear God , the wisdom this young man carried was amazing. Briefly, tears pricked the backs of his eyelids and he quickly blinked them away. “What of Mary? I’d need to ask her counsel. We are partners in everything.”

“Oh, Papa.” Henry’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “The boy can be your Christmastide secret. Keep him down in the kitchens, and if Mary gets curious, distract her.” He winked. “You are capable of that, aren’t you?”

Heat climbed the back of his neck. “Of course.” Then an idea took shape, and he rather liked it, but he would need to be careful. When he turned his gaze back on the boy, he asked, “What’s your name?”

A shrug lifted the slight shoulders. “Big Sam called me Charlie.”

Gabriel frowned. “What did your mother call you?”

“Charles. Is that the same?”

“Yes.” Gabriel grinned. “Would you like a home of your own, Charlie?”

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing. Be a good boy. You’ll have me as a father, and you’ll have a mother again. A roof over your head. Meals. A blanket. Clean clothes. Warmth.” He hooked a thumb at Henry. “He’s my son too. Has a good life.”

“That’s true.” Henry bestowed a grin of his own on the boy. “No more working in the chimneys. No more stealing. No more beatings. No more empty belly.”

“You’re joshing me.” But the hope in the boy’s eyes was heartbreaking. Additionally, there was a wariness to him that left the little body taut. “You’ll toss me in the river.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Why the devil would he think that? Bloody hell, had he seen that happen to a friend? “Tell you what. Stay with us through Christmas. If you don’t like it there, I’ll find another situation for you.” Though his chest tightened. He barely knew the boy, but he knew he didn’t want him anywhere else. Already, he felt responsible.

“What about Big Sam? He’ll come looking for me.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Then I shall tell him off. Once you come to my home, I’ll protect you. Without question. No matter what, and you won’t need to do anything in return.”

“Why?” He finished the apple, even the seeds.

“Why not?”

For the space of a few heartbeats, the boy watched his face, looking for God knows what. Finally, he nodded. “Can I have sumpin to eat? Me belly’s still empty.”

“Of course.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course you can.”

Henry took a step forward. “Look, Charlie. You can stay in the kitchens by the fire until Christmas. It’s only five days.” He trained his gaze on Gabriel. “Plenty of time to help him acclimate and get cleaned up. Mary will be thrilled.”

“It might work.” Gabriel stood and offered a hand to the boy, who didn’t even have a pair of gloves or mittens. “Are we in agreement?”

“I suppose. Be good to get out of the cold.”

“That it will.” Damn, but it would be a large amount of work to keep the boy a secret as well as make sure he didn’t run away. Would Mary appreciate the effort and the emotion that had prompted him to take the child in? And what would Cassandra think of them adopting another child eight months after they’d taken her into their family fold?

Perhaps it didn’t matter. Christmastide was a time for miracles, and why shouldn’t they share that love since they had an abundance of it?