Trey followed Graham into the office of the director of the Presbyterian Orphans Home. The stone building sat in a cluster of buildings near a church and a cemetery, at the edge of town on the Fountainbridge Road. Trey thought it a depressing setting to raise children.

Graham’s sister was a tall, handsome woman who looked more like she could be the wife of an influential businessman. Her brown hair was gathered into a loose knot at the back of her head and under her prim gray and white hat, he could see traces of silver hair mixed in with her brown waves.

Her smile was much like her brother’s, wide and genuine, and the glint in her intelligent brown eyes almost identical. One knew immediately upon seeing the two together that they were siblings.

“Well, Malcolm,” the woman said, “this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you until Roddy’s birthday next month.”

“If I have an opportunity to see my siblings, I will see my siblings,” Graham said, just before kissing his sister’s cheek in greeting. “I spent the past two nights with Niall because of the nasty weather. He’s glad to see me heading out this morning.”

“I’d wager so.” She looked over at Trey, and greeted him.

“Mrs. Lenore Donalson,” Graham said, “I would like to introduce to you a good friend of mine from the war, Captain Reginald Wilson.”

The woman extended her hand and Trey shook it. “How do you do, Captain Wilson? How may I be of service to you?”

Graham met his gaze and Trey nodded. “Captain Wilson would like to hear from you about the process of adopting children.”

And for the next hour, Mrs. Donalson asked Trey about his life, his wife, his business, what type of home they had, and whether they had tried to have children naturally.

“Well, of course, but it will never— I cannot—” Trey collected himself and said in as detached and straightforward a tone as possible, “I will never be able to sire children because of an injury sustained during the war.”

“I’m sure it is very difficult to answer, Captain, and rest assured no one will ever learn from us, as that is not written in the notes I’ve been taking.”

“May I ask then why you need to know something so… personal?”

“Because I want to make sure when I send a child to your home, he or she will be loved the same should a natural child be born later, because that sometimes happens.” Mrs. Donalson set her quill in the inkwell and leaned back in her chair and gave him a pointed stare. “I have had children returned to me after a few years for just that reason. I have had one come back on her own when she could escape because she was being relegated to servant status upon the birth of a natural child to the couple.

“As I have no children of my own, each of these children are dear to me. While I am not their mother, nor can I ever be their mother, my love for each child is immeasurable. So if I seem a wee bit… invasive in my questioning, it’s for the good of the child.”

“I understand,” Trey replied. And he did. Would he do any differently if he were in this delicate position? Likely not.

A commotion from above echoed through the old, but well-maintained building. Then the sound of a herd of horses charging down the stairs, and children yelling and crying out, grew incrementally louder as they neared. It was like a cavalry charge, except with children’s voices… a regiment of underaged Huns doing their best to terrify their enemy with their cries… And somewhere in the cacophony was a small child’s wail. He remembered the sound, because it was one his nieces and nephews used to make when they were tired and in want of sleep. From the shrieking and calling out various names, it sounded like there were a dozen or more in their brigade.

Trey looked behind him just in time to see the door crash open. Three girls crowded through, with three others behind them. One of the older two hitched a smaller child higher on her hip. These six little girls, and the youngest of indeterminate sex and age, produced a shockingly phenomenal amount of noise. Immediately upon entering the room, the oldest of the girls—or the tallest of them anyway—stepped forward and bobbed a curtsey to Trey and Graham, then shot an angry stare at Mrs. Donalson.

“Ma’am,” she said, “you promised! You promised us that we would never be separated.”

“Yes,” another girl said, this one smaller with reddish-blond pigtails and a splash of freckles across her cheeks and nose, “we heard, you promised!”

“You said!” shouted three other girls.

“Ewe thaid.” That one didn’t appear to be the youngest of the group, as she was both mobile and had speech, but she wasn’t much older than the one in the arms of the older girl.

It sounded as if all six girls were speaking at the same time, and looked as if the youngest struggled against the sibling that held it, trying to get onto the floor. That child appeared to be about two years old. When it realized it was not making it out of the arms that held it, it resumed the ear-piercing wail he’d heard as they barreled down the steps.

Graham stared at the ceiling in the large office. Trey could see he was having a hard time keeping the smile from spreading across his face. Trey remembered similar incidents from his childhood at home as he was growing up. It was one of the many things he’d adored about having so many siblings. The smile soon spread across his face as well. Graham turned his face away from the girls so they wouldn’t see his amusement and think the men were laughing at them, and then Trey did the same as he attempted to control his growing mirth.

Mrs. Donalson rose from her seat behind the desk, and addressed the eldest girl in a voice that was soft, yet firm. “Rose, please take your sisters to the nursery, and wait for me there. I will be with you in ten minutes.”

“Ma’am, I will not let you separate us.” The girl appeared around twelve or thirteen years old. “My mother’s dying wish was that we remain together as a family. And you will go back on your promise to her if you separate us. My sisters need me.”

The girl’s spunk reminded him of several of his sisters. There was something about growing up as one of many that Caroline didn’t quite understand. She only knew a childhood of loneliness and that Trey couldn’t fathom doing to a child of theirs. Caroline had always said she wanted many children. “As many as the Lord would see fit to give me.”

“Rose, I said go upstairs and wait for me. I’m in a meeting right now.” Mrs. Donalson spoke in tone reminiscent of his sister’s tutors or governesses.

One of the other girls took Rose’s hand and tugged at her to leave with the rest of them. But Rose stood firm, reluctant to leave.

“Mrs. Donalson, ma’am,” said another, “We’re sorry we barged in like this, but Letty Miller is going around saying that Rose is going to be shipped off to a work house next week—”

“—On her birfday,” finished yet another child.

Suddenly it made sense to him, and he realized that the girls were incredibly brave to come in like this. Then he knew, Mrs. Donalson might be stern on the surface, but she was sweet butter on a warm crust of bread—trying to make the best out of a serious situation. She loved these children. It was obvious.

“Girls, I’m going to count to three, and if you aren’t on your way back to the nursery, there will be no dessert after dinner.”

The smallest girls were already out the door and stomping up the steps. Rose and one other were tugged on by the last two sisters.

Mrs. Donalson stepped around the desk and closed the door.

“Did that not remind you of Lizzie and Winnie when we were young?” Graham said, the smile on his face one of familiarity with chaotic family situations.

“Rose feels an enormous responsibility to keep their family together. She, ah… swore to her mother… It was a promise she made to their mother when the woman was on her deathbed.” Mrs. Donalson took a deep breath, then wiped her eyes before returning to her chair behind her neatly organized desk. “And I did promise them I would try to find one home for them—to keep them together.”

Graham’s sister was obviously bothered by the confrontation. He thought it likely she would discipline the children somehow, though he didn’t think she was the type who might be harsh in her punishment. Trey knew she loved them, it was very obvious. But, as she’d said earlier, she couldn’t keep every child that came through the doors of the children’s home.

“Mrs. Donalson, may I inquire as to the status of those children? I’m assuming that with the same red-blonde hair, they are sisters—or is the youngest a male?” Trey genuinely wanted to know, because if the girls were about to be split up, he might be able to help.

She took a moment and caught several deep breaths. “It’s a sad tale,” she began, blinking back tears. “The girls have been with me for nearly two years. Their mother died shortly after giving birth to the youngest, Violet, you saw just now on Lily’s hip.” She paused again to collect herself.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked,” Trey said. “I’m sorry if it upsets you.”

“No, no… You can ask. There are seven girls, all are named after flowers. There is Rose, Lily, Daisy, Heather, Iris, Poppy, and Violet. Their father left after burying his wife. He said he couldn’t remain here in Scotland and struggle to put food on the table for his family. He brought them here and left, saying he was going to Virginia.” Mrs. Donalson looked as though she was deep in thought.

“He said he would write when he arrived and found a place to live. He wanted to establish himself, then send for his daughters. It’s been two years and nothing. Not a word. After one year, I began to send letters to every Presbyterian church I could find in Virginia. One elder replied to me saying he found the man’s name on a manifest of a group of people headed to a place called Kentucky. That’s where the trail ended. There is no record of him being among those who arrived with that party in Frank something… Frank Fort, or Fort Frank.”

“Frankfort, is that state’s capital city, I believe.” Graham gave him a nod, then turned back to his sister. “When you’re in the business of making whisky, you know others in the industry. We have a contact in that state if you wish me to send him a letter.”

“I should probably take you up on that,” Mrs. Donalson said. “But my best guess is that he died, and no one knew whom to contact.”

“Why haven’t you adopted the girls out before now?” Trey asked. “And do they wait for their father?” Before he allowed himself to hope that he and Caroline might be parents to these special young ladies, he wanted to be certain that there wasn’t expectation that their real father would come for them.

Mrs. Donalson sighed. She gave the impression she’d been asked this question before. “Because I was holding out hope that I would hear something from him. Anything. And the older girls have dealt with their father’s repeated abandonment of their family, and his return on the occasion when he needed money, a place to sleep, or—” The woman blushed. “—to obviously share his wife’s bed.”

“Is it true the oldest child going to be sent away?”

She nodded. “Because we cannot keep every child who comes through these doors, there are just too many and we do not have enough beds. As it is, I have broken rules to keep them together. I refused a home for the two younger girls to keep them all together. The new deacon was unhappy with me. Our father,” she motioned to Graham, “indulged me and allowed me to run this home in my own way. The new deacon is not… not as indulgent.”

“The younger children will be easy to place in new homes. Older ones,” the woman took a shaky breath, then shrugged, “are not so easy to find homes for. At the age of 14, most of the girls here are sent to work houses, and most of the young men are sent to work on the docks, or in the coal mines. Sometimes we are fortunate and can find placement as servants in private households.

“For those particular siblings… Well, it’s virtually impossible to find a home that will accept all seven girls. Rose turns fourteen years old next week. She’s a special young lady. She’s intelligent and can read. She helps the staff care for the younger girls in the nursery. I’m positive I can find placement in a household with children as a child’s nurse. I hadn’t planned on sending her out to visit the workhouses.”

As she spoke of them, Trey got a feeling in his gut about this. Something just felt right—like an opportunity handed to them from the heavens. He and Caroline could keep all the sisters together. She loved children, and he had experience growing up with many siblings. And just maybe this would be something to keep his sweet Caroline occupied and not craving a child of her own.

Together, they could provide a good home for these flower-named little girls. And living with him and Caroline was much better than the potentially bleak outcome they had coming if they remained here. The only situation he could see that might be upsetting, was if Caroline became attached and the girls decided to leave if their father ever came for them. That would break his wife’s heart. Could he do that to her?

“They are seven girls, all headstrong and opinionated, but they are not mean or bad girls.” She wiped the corners of her eyes. “I care about them a great deal, especially little Violet, She came to me as a newborn, and I have waited two years to hear from their father.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and gave he and Graham a glum look and slight shrug. “But the parish has rules. We cannot keep any child over the age of fourteen. The father knew this.”

He wanted to speak up, to tell her that he and Caroline would love to take in all seven girls, but he’d have to discuss this with his wife. As well, he’d hate to get the little ones’ hopes up without first knowing for certain his wife would be accepting.

“I should like to have a few weeks to return home and talk with my wife.” Trey’s heart suddenly felt lighter than it had for the past three days, since learning of his inability to sire his own offspring. Perhaps this was how he became a father. Perhaps this was their maker’s way of righting the wrong done to him. “I can’t promise this, but I do believe she will be very amenable to taking in all seven girls and raising them as our own.”

Mrs. Donalson’s eyes lit with hope, and her whole face beamed. “Do you really think so? I would be glad to bring them to you in Lincolnshire, sir, if you send me a letter saying she agrees to at least meet them. I’m sure she’ll fall in love with them all, just as I did.”

“I will take you up on that Mrs. Donalson,” Trey assured her. “And if my wife agrees, I will send up our traveling coaches to make sure you are all comfortable for the trip.”

“The older three girls have been brave, yet I can see they are pained by the fact their father has never come for them, or even written to them. It would not be kind to get their hopes up if… if it wasn’t to be.”

Trey nodded. This was going to be an interesting return trip home. He’d remembered that Saint Valentine’s Day was in two weeks, and he had a letter to write to his wife. This would be how he told her. He had to tell her the truth of his condition. And after he did, he would immediately offer her this option, this other way of becoming a mother and hope she forgave him.

“Mr. Wilson.” The smile on her face waned. “May I ask, sir, what you will do should their father write to them or show up to claim them?”

Trey thought about his reply a moment. He knew it would be beyond cruel to the older girls who remembered their father to keep them from him. But he also would not allow a ne’er-do-well to upset his daughters if the girls were happily adjusted with him and Caroline. “Mrs. Donalson, I would like to cross that bridge if ever we come upon it.”

“That sounds like a fair answer, Mr. Wilson.”

After the meeting with Graham’s sister, Trey stood in the warming, but still chilly wind and bid his friend adieu, with a promise to be in touch very soon. “You and your wife have an open invitation to visit us at any time, in Lincolnshire or London,” Trey said. “And bring the children, because they will be spoiled.”

Minutes later found him in his heavy traveling coach, with his coachman attempting to navigate the treacherous roads as best he could. Reports from some of the other guests at his hotel said the further south he got, the better the roads would be.

Because the thawing ice made the roads a muddy quagmire, the return trip home took him nearly twice as long as he expected. During the twelve days it took to get back to Lincolnshire, Trey thought about Caroline, and her reaction to the truth in his letter. And he imagined what her reaction would be to the little girls at Mrs. Donalson’s orphanage. He couldn’t forget the children’s spunk, nor the fact that they were all alone in the world except for each other. And they were soon to be separated from their oldest sister if he and Caroline didn’t step in and help them.

But Caroline… God, if she didn’t leave him in anger for not being completely honest with her, then he would be the most thankful man in all England. He hated himself for all the times she’d said she couldn’t wait to carry his child, or worse, the times she might have thought she was pregnant only to have her monthly course come a little later than usual. He’d held her when she cried, and said they would surely have better luck the next month. But he knew better.

He had lied to her, the most intimate lie a husband could tell a wife. And all he could pray for was her forgiveness.

Every slow, trudging mile had made Trey more and more anxious. He wavered back and forth, going back again and again to the idea of continuing to keep the secret—taking the coward’s way out of a mess of his own machination. But he kept coming back to his original decision, that it was time for the truth.

If he was lucky, he’d make it home in time for Saint Valentine’s day. He’d picked up several sheets of a fine quality paper while in Edinburgh, because he planned to work on the letter for his wife while he was rested at the various inns on the nights ahead. Then by the time he got home he would have a letter written.

How did one tell one’s wife that one was an ass? He thought he could say that he wanted nothing more than her forgiveness, along with telling her he loved her more than he cared for his own soul, and prayed she’d find in her heart to forgive him. In the end he decided to leave his actions—and the groveling—out of the letter. Oh, he’d write about loving her, loving their life together, and expressing hope for their future. But the revelation of his deception and the subsequent begging for forgiveness should not be done in a letter.

No. He had to find the courage to do that face to face. And live with the pain he knew it was going to cause her.

* * *

Two days before the feast of St. Valentine, Caroline woke yet again to incredible nausea. She hadn’t even left her bed, nor had she had anything to eat or drink, and the roiling in her belly was making her feel as though she just wanted to die. The door to her room opened and her maid entered silently.

“Nelly, please tell me you brought the tea with herbs,” she moaned.

“Aye,” the maid replied, sounding a bit too cheery for Caroline’s liking. “Got it right here, milady.”

She sat upright, and Nelly placed a napkin over Caroline’s lap before handing her the cup. “That’s so you don’t burn yourself again. Careful now, it’s still good and hot.”

“The temperature doesn’t make it taste any better,” Caroline said. “It’s still a foul combination.” She took the first sip to take the temperature of the tea. Since she thought it cool enough, she downed the rest of the mixture in two fast gulps, then pushed the cup away.

Once she’d taken a breath, she settled back into her pile of pillows. “My husband will be home any day now. I don’t want him to see me like this. How can I take this with him in here with me?”

“You cannot,” Nelly said. “Maybe if ye can get out of bed and go to the dressing room, I can meet you there with it, but you’re so sick before ye even get out of the bed… It’ll be impossible for sure.”

Caroline didn’t want to agree with her maid, but had to concede the fact that she was ill even before waking in the morning. And she wasn’t sure exactly why that happened. It just did. Thank heaven it would only last for another month, according to the midwife.

“Well, if he arrives today, I will let him think I’m coming down with something. It would just be for one day, since I want to surprise him with this news on the day after tomorrow. It’ll be my Saint Valentine’s Day gift to him.”

“Jack says the roads are gettin’ better now that things are dryin’ out. So it could be any day now.” Nelly chattered. It had never bothered Caroline. Until now. All Caroline wanted was to go back to sleep now that her stomach was settling somewhat.

“I bet you’ll be happy to have the captain back home.”

Caroline gave her a grunt of agreement as she closed her eyes. When she woke again, it was to her maid telling her that her mother was coming up the stairs, intent on seeing her.

“No! We cannot let my mother know anything,” Caroline sat up a moment while Nelly plumped up her pillows. “You have to go along with my ‘sickness’ being a tummy upset. If she gets wind of the real reason I’m not feeling well, she will be over-joyed, and we both know she could never keep it to herself, then the entire county will know before my own husband.

“How do I look? Please tell me I look wan and pale… And warm this room up, stoke the fire…”

Her mother at least knocked before she entered Caroline’s room, even though she did not wait for Caroline to invite her in.

“Thank goodness my husband isn’t here, mama.” When was her mother going to realize she didn’t need to continue hovering, protecting, and babying her? She was a grown woman—a married one at that! Caroline had been successful in getting her mother to stop ordering her gowns, hats, and shoes. It appeared she needed to have another talk with her.

But it would have to be later. Right now she wasn’t feeling quite the thing.

“I would know if he was home, and I wouldn’t need to come here to see for myself how sick you are, because your husband would keep me informed. Unlike you,” Her mother ordered the curtains opened, then shrieked. “Goodness, Caroline! You really are sick! My poor baby. Has anyone called for the doctor?”

Her mother was nearly to her beside.

“No, Mama.” She held up her hand to stop her mother from touching her brow, because then she would know she wasn’t running a fever, which is what she’d told her in the note she wrote. “It’s just a stomach upset, and I will be over it very soon. But right now I don’t think you should be in here. You might get papa sick, and he’s doing so much better.”

Her mother recognized the wisdom in Caroline’s words, and thankfully stayed back, refraining from touching her. “How long have you been like this, and what are your symptoms?”

“Just… the usual nausea, chills, then sweats. Sometimes I feel I’m getting better, only to rush to the chamber pot.”

“Nelly,” her mother said, “have Mrs. Greaves bring up some hot broth and crusty bread.” Her mother went on with instructions, making Caroline want to scream. No. Throw up.

“Caroline, you need to eat something. You’re coloring is horrid and you cannot afford to lose weight.” Her mother paused a moment as she thought of something, then her eyes widened with shock. “Are you? Caroline? Are you… carrying?” This last bit was said in a tone Caroline had rarely heard from her mother. It was a combination of awe, incredulity, and a hit of something else… and it sounded like compassion. God… She wanted to tell her. Wanted to share with her mother her joyous news. But she owed it to her husband first. Only he has known the the struggle and disappointment she has gone through each month.

“No! Mama!” Caroline felt her heart sink like a rock into her already upset belly. “No. I am not.”

She rushed to change her mother’s thoughts. “I went to visit Mrs. Locke, because she was feeling ill. I brought her some of Mrs. Greaves’ soup and bread.” Caroline did do this earlier that very week. Providence was in the fact that she could use this as an excuse to dissuade her mother from thinking she was actually pregnant. “I think I got whatever it was that she had.”

“You must stop visiting the sick. You could harm your chances of getting with child. Or if you did, you might have the same thing happen as happened to me. Please be careful, Caroline.”

“I will mama.”

Her mother took another step back toward the door, and only after Caroline promised to call her immediately if she should feel worse, did she leave.

After the door shut, she realized that was too close a call. If Trey didn’t come home soon so she could tell him and the entire world, her wonderful news, Caroline was afraid that her mother would come back with the physician. She’d never be able to keep the secret then.

Later that evening, as Caroline prepared for bed, she thought she heard horses, no coach, and her husband would be arriving with his driver and valet in their large traveling coach. Whoever it was, Mansell will take care of them, and send the person on their way. Likely someone is lost and needed directions. She walked into her dressing room. Her maid began to work the laces on the back of her dress when she heard the familiar gait of her husband’s boot steps crossing her bedroom. The squeal of excitement she let loose startled her maid.

“He’s back!” Caroline cried out.

“I will help my wife undress, Nelly. Thank you.” At his first words, Caroline turned on her seat and leapt toward his arms. She began to kiss his face, his lips, his neck.

“What took you so long?” she asked while she held him tight.

“I just walked in the door, not two minutes ago, and left my cloak with Mansell, and climbed the stairs. You are the second person to see me, your maid the third.”

“They must all be getting ready for bed,” she said.

“As are we.” Her husband leaned down and kissed the top of her head, sending shivers running throughout her body.

“I heard a rider, not a coach. Where are Richards and Travers? How was your trip?” She was rattling off questions, she knew, but all Caroline really wanted was to be naked in his arms under the covers of their bed, whether they made love or not. She wanted him to hold her, and reassure her their future would be secure. Especially now.

Now that she knew without a doubt she carried their child.