Chapter Three

December 21, 1819

Gabriel hummed a merry tune as he made his way down to the kitchen that morning, for he’d managed to slip out of his bedchamber without waking Mary. Granted, they’d enjoyed a bout of quite vigorous carnal exercise last night, so that was probably why she hadn’t yet stirred for the morning.

That made him even more chipper to greet the day, for he absolutely adored his wife.

When he popped into the kitchen, the housekeeper was the first to greet him. “Good morning, Mrs. Pearson.” He flashed a grin at the matronly woman, the grin he knew had all the female members of the staff blushing. “How is our newest guest doing today?” As he spoke, Gabriel glanced at the boy who sat by the fire eating the bowl of porridge the cook had given him. He chuckled at the antics of the kitchen cat who played with the untied laces of one of his shoes.

“Well, he’s a bit of a handful. Likes to go exploring and such, poking into places he shouldn’t be, but he’s a small boy. It’s only natural.” Mrs. Pearson smiled as she rested her gaze on the boy as well. “My sons were much like that too when they were small.”

“I remember my own childhood. My brother and I were terrors for our nannies and governesses.” Yet he didn’t need Charlie going into places where he wasn’t allowed. “The boy will need decent clothing, a bath straightaway. One of those scrub everything baths that leaves nothing to chance. There are layers of filth on him.”

“I quite agree, Inspector, and I can’t believe someone had the care of him but let him go so badly.”

“Indeed. It was one of the reasons I brought him here.” As he glanced about, he caught the cook’s eye, who smiled and nodded. “Feel free to pass the boy any savory or sugary tidbits throughout the day, my good woman. He needs more meat on his bones, yes?”

“He does, Inspector, and I’ll do my best to help in that quarter.”

“Thank you, Cook. I appreciate it.” Then he returned his attention to Mrs. Pearson. “The boy will also require a haircut and shoes. The ones he’s got are two sizes too big.”

“He’s rather a hodge podge of sins, but I’ll take him in hand after his breakfast. You won’t be able to recognize him once the maids and I are done with him.”

“I can’t wait. And thank you for that compassion.” He winked, purely to see the blush in the older woman’s doughy cheeks. “And remember, not a word to Mrs. Bright. It’s to be a Christmastide secret.”

“Of course I won’t say anything. Mrs. Bright will be so happy.”

“That is the hope.”

She nodded. “You’re a good man, Inspector. Not many in this city would want to redeem a climbing boy let alone adopt one.” Then she frowned as she regarded the boy. “Why, he could burn the house down while you’re all asleep.”

“He could, of course, but I have a gut feeling about him.” As he spoke, he again glanced at the small, almost frail boy licking at the porridge clinging to his spoon. Occasionally, he would share the food with the kitchen cat, and Gabriel didn’t bid him nay. It would seem the boy had a good heart beneath all those layers of filth. “Still, don’t put him to bed with a burning candle close by.” It wasn’t fear that the boy would do something nefarious; it was merely good sense not to trust a child with a candle at bedtime.

“I promise to keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you. That relieves some of the worry from my mind.” Unfortunately, there were many other things that might cause him anxiety during this holiday season. “If it makes you feel better, give Charlie a job or a task. He might wish to feel useful. It will give you and me a chance to see how clever and intelligent the lad is.”

Though he’d had to be to survive this long on his own.

“I will. This time of year is quite busy. Perhaps I’ll have him press cloves into oranges. We’ll set them about the house, and they’ll look lovely on the dinner table.”

“That sounds like a sensible answer.” Gabriel nodded, and stepped aside as maids and footmen came into the crowded space, for the household was waking. “If anything goes wrong, please come and find me. But I have every faith in you.”

“I appreciate that, Inspector.” The housekeeper simpered as if she was a schoolgirl.

He couldn’t help his grin. “What is Mrs. Bright’s schedule today?”

“I believe she’s making deliveries in the Seven Dials this afternoon. And then she meets with her niece for tea and shopping. Did she not tell you?”

“She did not, but then, as you said, this is a busy time, and there are secrets everywhere.” And they’d had other things on their minds last night than discussing schedules.

“That must be it.” Mrs. Pearson chuckled. “Perhaps you should take Cassandra to the park. We’ll need evergreen boughs, in any event, to decorate the drawing room and other places within the house.”

At that, Charlie glanced up with confusion in his expression. “Tree branches in the house. What for?”

Gabriel frowned. “What do you mean?”

The boy shrugged, which served to call attention to how thin he was. “Why do you need forest stuff?”

“Oh.” The poor thing. “In most houses during Christmastide, people decorate for the holiday season by bringing such things inside to help set off candles and baubles and make the house smell lovely. Such decorating also makes one feel happy and content.”

Charlie stared at him. “I ain’t never done anything like that. Sam Potts said only nobs did that, and they were only good for stealing from.”

Ah, Sam Potts, who must also be Big Sam. At least there was a name. Gabriel’s frown deepened. “Did you steal from houses while you climbed chimneys?”

“Some.” The boy shrugged again. “I could find shiny things fast, and I was small and sneaky, so I was told to take anything I could carry.” He huffed. “’Cept Big Sam said he’d give us food for stealing. He lied.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but none of us here will ever lie to you.” Gabriel exchanged a look with the housekeeper before resting his attention back on the boy. “I won’t tolerate stealing here. Do you understand?”

“Why?”

“It’s wrong. Taking things that don’t belong to you is against the law.”

“You a constable?”

“No, but I worked for Bow Street, and now I’m an inspector in my own right.”

For long moments they stared at each other. “Is it true you’re keepin’ me?”

Dear God, the boy would require tutors and quickly. “Yes. I’m a man of my word, but first you’ll need a bath.”

The child’s eyes rounded with horror. “Wots wrong wif me now?”

“First off, you smell like rubbish and you look like smoke. Secondly, there is much to do to prepare for Christmas, so you’ll want to be presentable when you meet your mama and sister.”

The boy put his spoon into the bowl. “Why?”

Oh, he would be trouble, and much more trying than Cassandra ever was when she first came to stay with them. “Because they will be part of your family, and that’s the most important thing you can have in your life.”

“Big Sam was my family, and he didn’t never say he loved me.”

“That isn’t family.” Slowly, Gabriel shook his head. “That man beat you and starved you. Family doesn’t do that. Family gives you love and support. Family cares and wants the best for you.”

The boy huffed. “Ain’t that the same thing?”

“Hardly.” Again, Gabriel glanced at the housekeeper. She gave him a small smile in sympathy. “This is going to be tough.”

“We’ll see our way through, Inspector. One step at a time.” When Mrs. Pearson looked at the boy, he narrowed his eyes. “When you’re done with breakfast, young man, we’ll get started. Then you can help me out here in the kitchen with a few things to pass the time.”

“Can I have more food?”

Gabriel snorted and answered the question for the housekeeper. “At luncheon, of course, but only if you behave and don’t try to run away.”

For the first time since he’d come into contact with the boy, Charlie grinned, and it transformed him into a cute little lad despite the grime. “Why would I run? Gots a fire and a cat and food that ain’t half rotted.” He looked at Gabriel as if he’d grown two heads. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“That is good to know.” For a long time he watched the boy with speculation circulating through his gut as Charlie resumed eating the remainder of his porridge. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned to the housekeeper. “Good luck. Send for me if there is an emergency. I’m taking Cassandra and Henry to Hyde Park.”

“We shall be fine. Don’t worry. And Mrs. Bright will be in and out if there is something wrong, but I promise I will keep your secret.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Pearson. You are a good woman.” As the housekeeper blushed, he left the kitchen to chase some breakfast and coffee before readying himself for the outing.

“Dash it all, Henry, be careful!” he called to his son, who’d climbed one of the oak trees in Hyde Park on the hunt for mistletoe. The footman that had accompanied them offered to climb, but Henry said he could do it. “I don’t need you taking a spill and breaking a limb, and Mary will be beside herself with worry if you do.”

“Stop worrying, Papa. I won’t fall.” Amusement threaded through Henry’s voice as he scooted himself out onto a branch. “There’s some mistletoe just here. Then I’ll climb down.”

Beside Gabriel, Cassandra stood with her smart little half boots in the scant snow that covered the ground. Mary had given her a scarlet cloak, and that was what the girl wore over a wool long-sleeved dress in a navy color. Her platinum blonde hair was styled in two braids that wound about her head like a coronet and then hidden by a dear little straw bonnet adorned with evergreen sprigs and holly berries. She slipped her hand in his as she stared upward into the tree at Henry’s antics.

“Will he fall, Papa?” she asked with worry in her ice blue eyes.

Every time he heard the girl refer to him with such a moniker, his heart squeezed so hard he feared it might explode with gratitude and love. It had happened quite recently, and after he’d wed Mary, but perhaps the child had realized he and Mary weren’t going to ever leave her and that they were serious about being her parents.

Blinking back the tears before he glanced down at her, he shook his head. “I rather doubt it, poppet. Henry has been climbing trees since he was your age.” Then he grinned. “Is that something you might like to do?”

There was absolutely no humor or excitement in her eyes when she met his gaze. The girl didn’t have an adventurous bone in her body, not since she’d stopped living on the streets, and he supposed he didn’t blame her. “No.” She shook her head. “That looks dangerous, but may I see what Albert is doing?”

“You may.” Albert was the footman they’d brought with them. “He’s using his saw to cut evergreen branches, and I’ll wager he’d welcome the help.” After all, the staff adored the girl as much as they loved Mary… and him by extension.

As she walked solemnly toward the footman who was making a pile of evergreen branches on the snowy ground, Gabriel frowned. Cassandra was yet an eight-year-old, and there should be silliness and excitement in her life, but he was at a loss of how to encourage her to let herself loose.

“Here you go, Papa!” Above, Henry had finally managed to cut loose the mistletoe from the branch. “Make certain you don’t squish it. I had the devil’s own time in finding it and don’t see any more around.”

“I’ll be careful.” Once the plant fell to the snowy ground, Gabriel picked it up, carefully wrapped it in his handkerchief, and then put it into a pocket of his greatcoat. “Now come down from there else Mary will have my head.”

From above him in the tree branches with the winter-brown and nearly dead leaves still clinging to many of the branches, Henry chuckled. “She worries overly much.”

“Can you blame her? She loves you and Cassandra, and it’s what a mother does.” Again, his heart squeezed, for Mary had accepted his son with open arms, and honestly, she was completely besotted with Cassandra. He hoped she would come to love Charlie with the same enthusiasm. “I have a feeling her advice will prove timely if things with your young lady progress.”

That brought conflicting feelings for Gabriel, for Henry had half a year left in his schooling before he began his apprenticeship, and he had recently turned three and twenty, but he was old enough to know his own mind. If he chose to pay his addresses to a lady or even marry her shortly after that time, as his father he would support anything his son chose to do.

With the usual cautions, of course.

“Do hush, Papa. I have only been in her company a few times, and there were other people with us.” Eventually, his son clambered out of the tree and dusted dirt and snow from his person. “However, I will say that Priscilla, er, rather Miss Davenport, is a lovely woman, and if luck is with me, she might be receptive to building a future with me.”

Though he wasn’t one to follow the comings and goings of the beau monde , he had enough knowledge to realize the girl his son talked about was the youngest daughter of a viscount who usually kept to himself. “Well, you are a decent chap, and you take after your father, so of course the lady would fancy you.” When a flush rose up Henry’s neck, Gabriel chuckled. “Don’t fret about it. If she is the one, you’ll know it deep down.” Apparently wishing to play matchmaker—or devil’s advocate depending—he couldn’t help but add, “If you would like, send a missive ‘round to Miss Davenport and invite her as well as her parents to dinner at our home for some time during the Christmastide season.”

Henry eyed him askance, but a grin made its way through. “Isn’t that a bit daring?”

“Perhaps, but then shy men don’t ever gain what they want by standing on the sidelines.” He winked. “Just send the invitation and see what happens. Then you’ll know if she fancies you with a future in mind or if she only tolerates you for a distraction of the moment. It is truly that simple, my boy.”

Henry blew out a breath. “Very well. I’ll do it, but promise me you won’t talk about your more grisly cases while at the dinner table. Save that for afterward.”

“I promise.” But he grinned, for life just now was everything he’d ever hoped it might be. “Shall we teach Cassandra how to make snowballs and have a war?”

“No. She’s far too delicate and that might shake her trust in both of us.” Then Henry’s eyes lit with excitement. “Let us show her how to make snow angels.”

“Is there enough snow for all that?” It was something his son had enjoyed when he’d been a young boy.

Henry shrugged. “Perhaps in the open spaces where the snow might have drifted?”

“Or we can wait for a few days and encourage Mary to come with us. It might be nice to have a family of snow angels to show for it.”

“True, and Mary always is so excited for such outings.” Henry glanced in Cassandra’s direction. “If it snows later this week, we can take her sledding or even ice skating.” His breath clouded about his head. “Don’t rush things, Papa. We will all be together for a few weeks. There is no need to cram everything into one day.”

“Thank you for the reminder.” Gabriel nodded. “I suppose I’m too anxious to make Christmastide amazing for Cassandra.”

Henry nudged his shoulder. “You are doing that every day that goes by. There is not a more fortunate girl in London right now, and I’m a bit jealous because I know exactly what sort of years she has ahead of her. By the time she’s my age, she will absolutely adore her father.”

Unexpected tears stung the backs of Gabriel’s eyelids. “I appreciate that, but it’s not as if I’ll stop being your father for the years ahead.”

When Henry met his gaze, he nodded, and there was suspicious moisture in his eyes as well. “I know that. Cassandra will just be thrilled you’re in her life. You don’t need to spend every moment filled with activities.” He nudged Gabriel toward Cassandra and the footman. “For example, one of the things I enjoyed doing with you was watching you tie your cravat.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When I was young, even though you had a valet, you often wished to learn how to tie your own cravat. You used to tell me that it didn’t matter where a man came from, if he couldn’t manipulate his own neckwear, there was no hope for him in the future. Something about how a man should be able to control the basics of his life.”

“Right.” Gabriel nodded. “I remember.”

“So I watched every morning when you did your toilet before you headed out for Whitehall as you struggled with that length of cloth. I watched in the evenings before you went out to your club or to a case or an interview as you continued to work at mastering those damned knots.” Henry flashed a grin that brimmed with confidence and encouragement. “And do you know what I learned from that?”

“What?”

“That a man grew wise through the struggle of perseverance, a man can find himself. A man will show you what he’s made of, and eventually, that same man will win.” His son pressed his lips together and bobbed his head. “That was the first time I wanted to be like you, Papa, because in my eyes, you were the biggest man and the best, the sort of man who wouldn’t quit until good won against evil.”

“All through learning how to wrestle a cravat?”

“It was a labored metaphor. But you understand what I mean.” When Henry laughed, it was a watery affair. “Just know that you don’t need to do anything spectacular in order to make a lasting impression on your children; we will always know because of how you treat us.”

“I shall bear that in mind.” He clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go retrieve your sister as well as help Albert with the greenery. Perhaps I’ll put Cassandra on my shoulder for our trek back to the carriage.” His son used to enjoy that.

If luck was with him, Charlie would integrate into the family without many hiccups.