Chapter 3

Caleb watched Lady Grattling as she made her way back into the manor house. She walked with her back straight, her head held high, and with the grace and poise of a lady who’d been brought up to represent the finest of Society.

It was the same world into which his best friends had been born, and he’d never felt out of place with them. So it was surprising to Caleb that he felt such a difference in their stations as he did now.

He followed her through a side entrance, then down a narrow hallway with doors on either side. A footman stood outside the room where they’d sat earlier, and when they approached, he opened the door to allow his mistress to enter.

“Will you be needing anything, my lady?” the butler who had admitted Caleb earlier asked from the open doorway.

“No, Carruthers,” she answered, then stopped. “On second thought, yes, I shall take tea. Would you send someone in with a tray?”

“Yes, my lady,” the butler answered.

“And tell Lottie that we have a new boy. He’ll need a room. She can put him in with—” She stopped to look at Caleb. “Do you know how old Robby is?”

“No, my lady. Not for certain.”

“He appears to be three or four. She can put him in with Charlie, Benny, and Jimmy.”

Caleb’s admiration mounted. She cared for over fifty children, and she knew the bunking arrangements for each of them without consulting a document of any kind. But then, he’d known the tent assignments of half his regiment. Still, it seemed an admirable trait in a countess. This was clearly no idle pastime for her.

“Yes, my lady. Is there anything else?”

“No, Carruthers. That will be all.”

When the door closed behind the butler, Lady Grattling walked to the desk at the end of the room. “Please, Captain Parker. Have a seat.”

She pointed to one of the two chairs located before her desk. Caleb waited until she was seated, then he sat, too.

“I don’t exactly know how to describe the position I’m offering you, Captain.”

“You want someone to act as a bodyguard for both you and the children,” Caleb answered for her.

She cocked an eyebrow and stared at him. “How did you know?”

“That wasn’t hard to figure out. From what I just witnessed, you’re not safe, and neither are the children.”

Lady Grattling’s expression turned more serious. “Conditions are getting worse.”

“Explain what you mean.” Caleb watched furrows deepen across her delicate forehead. She was truly a beautiful woman. He didn’t want to think of her being in danger.

“I started taking in children at Southern Oaks seven years ago. I’d recently been widowed and didn’t want to return to Society.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Something similar happened to me as happened to you. The carriage in which I was riding nearly struck a small child. That child’s name was Willie. He wasn’t more than six or seven at the time. I stepped out of my carriage to make sure he wasn’t hurt. I was going to take him home and tell his mother that I’d nearly run her child down, then found out he didn’t have a mother. Or a father. He was living on the streets. He’d been running away from a street vendor from whom he’d stolen three apples. One for himself and one each for his younger brother and sister.”

Lady Eleanor rose from her chair and walked to the window. “Poverty is a real problem in many areas of London, and it became evident to me that something needed to be done. That’s when I realized how many children there are living on the streets and back alleys and places that, frankly, I shudder to think about. I began to understand just how many orphans there are with no one to care for them. With no one to love them.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “With no one to protect them from men like Virgil Blackboot.”

She returned to her chair and sat. “I couldn’t let Willie and his siblings continue to live on the streets, so I brought them here to live.” She smiled. “It was just going to be the three of them, until they told me about another little girl who was living in the alley behind a tavern. She had no one to take care of her, either.

“I took Willie back to where I’d found him, and we located the little girl he was talking about. Her name was Corrine, and had we not gone for her when we did, she would be dead. She was . . .” Lady Eleanor paused as if she needed time to continue. “Starving.”

“How does this Blackboot fit into it?” Caleb could see how upset it made Lady Eleanor to speak about the homeless children.

“He’s an evil man,” she answered. “He preys on the helpless. He kidnaps the children from the street and sells them. There are many places that need child labor. Young girls are especially valuable. There are men who will pay an exorbitant price for young virgins.”

Caleb couldn’t take his eyes from her.

“Have I shocked you, Captain?”

“No. I’ve seen enough of the world that I doubt I can be shocked.”

“I was shocked when I first found out. I didn’t think men could be so depraved.”

“So now you’ve made it your mission to rescue every child you can from Blackboot’s grasp.”

“Yes.”

There was a knock on the door, and Carruthers entered with a tea tray. Lady Eleanor poured, then handed Caleb a cup. She continued when they were alone again.

“I’ve discovered men like Blackboot have territories they work.”

“And you’ve depleted the number of children available to him.”

“Yes.” Lady Eleanor took a sip of her tea. “The first threat arrived as a note stuck to the manor house door with a knife. It said to stop stealing the children.”

Lady Eleanor’s eyes flashed with fury. “Can you imagine? He accused me of stealing the children. I wasn’t stealing them. I was rescuing them.”

She took another sip of her tea. “Then, one of his men paid me a visit. He didn’t hurt me, but he pinned me against the wall and told me to be careful or I might be hurt. You witnessed the third visit.”

Caleb rose from his chair and paced the room. He wasn’t sure Lady Eleanor realized how much danger she was in.

He stopped and looked at her. “How do you continue to get the children you bring here?”

“Over the years I’ve developed acquaintances with certain women who keep watch for homeless children. I used to make a regular visit every Monday afternoon to rescue the children. Now I go after midnight, when there’s less chance of being seen.”

“Do you take guards with you?”

“Yes, Carruthers accompanies me. And so does Willie. He’s fourteen now, and he knows his way around Saint Giles.”

Caleb turned to glare at her. “You go to Saint Giles with an elderly butler and a boy?”

“It’s where the children are, Captain. I know better than to think London’s homeless reside in Hyde Park. Or on Bond Street.”

“No insult intended, my lady, but you’re lucky you’re still alive.”

Caleb regretted his words the second they left his mouth. “Now it’s my turn to apologize,” he said. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Nor did I mean to frighten you any more than you already are.”

Caleb returned to his chair. “Today is Monday. Did you think to make a trip to Saint Giles tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will go with you.”

Lady Eleanor stood and placed her teacup on the cart before pacing around it, hands folded in thought.

“Thank you, Captain Parker. I think not. Not tonight, at any rate. I need to inform my lady providers that there will be a new face. Perhaps new times, as well. But does this mean you accept my offer to guard the children?”

Caleb looked into Lady Eleanor’s dark eyes and shook his head.

“No, you won’t be going alone, and no, I won’t be here guarding the children.” Now he rose and struck a pose that would have told any other human being that he was in charge. “It’s you who needs to be guarded, Lady Grattling. You’re in far more danger than the children are.”

“I do appreciate your concern, Captain, but there are things of which you are not aware.”

“Then you’ll make me aware. Either now or in the carriage on our way in to Saint Giles.”

A blush turned her complexion a deep shade of red, and he lifted his chin to punctuate whatever it was he had done to evoke such a blush. The sooner she deferred to him, the better.

He watched her withdraw into herself, clearly seeming to accept his judgment. And why should she not? He was, after all, the military man. She was merely a duchess. No, a countess. So he was ill prepared to face her when the Countess of Grattling whirled on him with a smile.

“Thank you, Captain Parker. I shall take your opinion under advisement and we shall discuss this further in the morning. For now, let us establish your presence here at Seven Oaks.” She swept toward the door, then stopped suddenly. “That is, if you are still willing to stay?”

Caleb resisted the urge to smile. She was beautiful. More so in the last seconds than when he’d first set eyes on her. She played her regal station to the hilt.

And she was in for a rude awakening. He would stay alright. And she’d damn well get used to him calling the shots where her safety was concerned.

“Lead on, duchess.”

He watched her shoulders stiffen, her brows rise, and her lips set in disapproval. He may be adequately acquitted with the manners of a well-bred fellow, but once in a while he’d have to be sure and put on a bit of the stevedore. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d liked it. And that fact did not make the Countess of Grattling happy.

. . .

Caleb met Lady Eleanor in the stable an hour before midnight. She was already seated in a waiting carriage, an old Clarence that had seen its better days. But it was perfect. There were thousands just like it on London streets any hour of the day or night. The four-wheeled carriage would be ideal for carrying a couple of adults and a handful of children. A lad had just finished harnessing the horses.

“Nicely done, my lady. Shabby, outmoded. Nothing here that will attract the interest of Blackboot’s men.”

Lady Eleanor looked down at her worn gown and cape, and raised a hand to check her hair.

“I meant the carriage, my lady.”

“Oh!”

There was that blush again.

The stable lad came up beside him and cleared his throat. A slight jerk of his head indicated he wanted Caleb to step away from the carriage with him.

“You must be Captain Parker,” the boy said a bit more loudly than necessary as he drew Caleb out of Lady Eleanor’s line of sight. “Will you be going with us tonight?” the lad asked with a wink when Caleb came near. Unbeknownst to Lady Grattling, Caleb and Willie had met earlier and agreed on their strategy for the night’s orphan raid in Saint Giles. He’d been quite satisfied with the boy’s good instincts.

“I am. Captain Caleb Parker at your service, lad. Although I won’t actually be going with you tonight.” Caleb added his own exaggerated wink, much to the lad’s delight, and put a bit of a growl into his tone, just to remind the countess how much he disapproved of her decision. “And you must be Willie.”

“I am. I look after the horses for Lady Eleanor. She saved me and my sisters.” He lowered his voice. “I intend to do the same for her.”

“That’s very honorable, Willie. We’ll work well together, then, as I intend to do the same.”

“Her ladyship is ready to go as soon as you leave. Carruthers and me will ride atop.”

“Do you have a weapon?” Caleb asked.

Willie patted his jacket, then whispered, “Don’t tell Lady Eleanor, though. She wouldn’t like it that we’re armed.”

Caleb nodded, then walked back to the carriage. The duchess leaned forward to hear as he bade her a safe journey. She was dressed in black. With her dark hair, black bonnet, and black dress and cloak, she would be easy to miss in the meager lighting of the back lanes of Saint Giles.

“Willie seems a good lad. Alert. Steady. You’re in good hands, I believe.”

At last he’d said something that drew a smile from the lady.

“He is quite competent, Captain. And I am much less unsettled about leaving the children now that I know you’re here to watch over them.”

With not much more than a child watching over you, he thought. She didn’t even realize how badly she’d rattled a lion’s cage this afternoon. And now she was going to try and slip past the lion in his own den. If Caleb hadn’t already laid his own counter-measures he’d be working double-time to make her see the danger she’d set herself up for.

He lifted a hand in casual salute and stepped back. The carriage rocked as Willie and Carruthers, both dressed like stablehands, climbed atop. A moment later, the horses pulled the Clarence out of the barn and down the path that would take them to London. Caleb watched for a moment, then stepped into a dark stall and swapped his light-colored linen shirt for a black shirt and coat. He checked his weapons, settled his hat well on his head, and mounted Apollo.

With a satisfied grin he turned his horse onto the carriage path and followed his duchess into London.

. . .

Lady Eleanor felt her pulse quicken as it always did when they approached the narrow lane to Mary Warren’s small cottage. A candle in the window would mean Mary had rescued another child.

She leaned forward as the carriage slowed, ready for the turn. But just as memory told her it was time to turn into the lane, she heard Carruthers urge the horses to pick up the pace. Now she was fully on guard.

“What is it, Willie?”

“Bein’ followed, ma’am. Best not to stop.”

Eleanor whipped her head around to peer out the small opening in the back wall of the carriage. She couldn’t see a thing, so she shifted around until she was practically sitting on her knees.

And there it was. A rather disreputable hackney. And two outriders quite obviously—though unsuccessfully—trying to conceal their presence by riding behind the hackney. They looked like just the sort of ruffian who would do Blackboot’s bidding.

In the blink of an eye Eleanor’s senses responded. The thin, misty fog that crept along the ground seemed to keep pace with them, bringing with it the sordid smells it collected from the gutter. Willie’s urgent whispers audibly amplified inside her head as he reported the status of their unwelcome followers to Carruthers.

“Somethin’s happening, sir.”

Eleanor heard the alarm in Willie’s voice and whipped her head around in time to see him slip off the bench to crouch with his back to Carruthers so he had a clear view across the top of the carriage.

“Ma’am, you’d best—”

A shot rang out, silencing his warning.

“Willie!”

The boy dropped low behind the driver’s bench, checking his cheek where a thin scar of blood was beginning to ooze.

“Willie, are you—”

“Yes’m, I—”

The wheels growled as the old Clarence leaped forward. But above the noise she heard a sound more ominous. Their pursuers were closing in.

“Carruthers! They’re coming! Hurry!”

“Right, ma’am! I’ll take the old Limehouse Cut…straightaway along the canal. No room for them to come alongside.”

“And hurry!”

As she called out, the carriage lurched, pulled sideways by a man jumping from his horse to cling to the old-fashioned running board affixed to the backside of the barouche. She swung her arms hard to fend off the hand that thrust through the small opening. His arm flailed about, searching for her, and just as his fingers grabbed hold of her hair, the carriage made the wide swing into Limehouse Cut. He dragged her with him as gravity swung him sideways.

She shrieked, the pain of it nearly more than she could bear.

The man righted himself, but not in time, and with one last excruciating pull on her hair, he tumbled away and rolled beneath the feet of the horses who pulled the hackney in close pursuit.

“Faster, Carruthers! They’re gaining!”

“The team, ma’am. They’re nearly spent!”

Both carriages thundered along the canal road now, the second one gaining on the first as Eleanor dared to take another look. She shrank from the window, horrified as another of Blackboot’s men charged his horse alongside her carriage, sending rocks skittering from beneath his horse's hooves and into the canal. Willie pulled a gun from somewhere and took a wild shot. But the man came on.

He jumped from his horse onto the lead horse of Eleanor’s team, seemingly oblivious to the beating he was taking from Carruthers’ whip.

They were going to be stopped. Here in the black emptiness of the canal with no help in sight.

Shouts from the pursuing carriage rang sharply in her ear, then two more shots were heard.

Instantly the pursuing carriage fell back.

Next to Carruthers, Willie worked feverishly to reload his old pistol. Once, twice, three times he lost his grip on the wadding, unable to reload as the Clarence careened along the dark, narrow road.

The man who’d leaped onto their lead carriage horse was standing on the traces now, and with a great heaving jump he landed between Willie and Carruthers. With one elbow he shoved Willie off to go tumbling down the canal embankment. His left elbow did the same to Carruthers, sending him into the hard stone wall that ran the length of Limehouse Cut.

Eleanor was unable to stop a scream that split the night. It was up to her now. If she stayed in the carriage she’d be driven right into the very arms of Blackboot himself. What he would do to her she had no idea. But it would be horrific. The tales her children told assured her of that.

She flung the door open hoping she’d find the courage to jump.

. . .

Caleb urged his horse faster. He’d been seriously waylaid by three of Blackboot’s men, but not before he’d seen the old barouche a half-mile ahead careening into Limehouse Cut. Then Willie and Carruthers came stumbling out of the black, having been pitched off Eleanor’s carriage by one of the blackguard’s ruffians. He reeled Apollo in a prancing circle as he shouted for the two to find their way to Southern Oaks if he wasn’t back to get them in ten minutes.

And then he flew into the night, chasing down a racing carriage that bore a helpless noblewoman into the bowels of Saint Giles. And into the lair of a man he knew would never again let her see the light of day.