Undone By His Kiss. Anabelle Bryant

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      For security’s sake, he checked the secondary door which led to the stairwell shared with Miss Shaw, his attention alerted when it swung open with ease.

      Had she left it unlocked? Foolish endeavor, indeed.

      Or had she returned?

      Perhaps he wasn’t the only person revisiting the building this evening. Stepping into the vestibule, he fumbled in the dark and cursed the fact he’d ventured out without a hand candle. If he returned to fetch one, he might not resolve the troubling noise. Best he continued upstairs and determine the main door remained locked. He’d taken only a step when a similar jangle and discordant feline yowl met his ears. Something brushed against his trousers and skittered down the stairs narrowly slinking through the door as it eased shut behind him.

      A cat? A league of women and a cat? Animals did not belong in a place of business. Circumstances couldn’t become worse for the upper flat. Satisfied with his discovery, he turned to ascend and leave for the night when a spark of curiosity urged he continue upstairs and try the door handle. Could Miss Shaw be there? He waited not another minute.

      Surprised for the second time this evening, Jasper discovered the upper door also unlocked. He entered, unthinking to consider why he was doing so or how he would explain if he walked in and found Miss Shaw inside.

      The office stood dark, although the clouds shifted and moonlight flooded the window, allowing him a dusky blue-black view of the room. Sparse furniture included a rug at the center of the worn wooden floor and a few mismatched chairs in a grouping. A desk was the only other addition.

      Jasper peered at the contents littering the blotter. A sealed packet with the landlord’s name in the corner was left beside a receipt for the yearly lease, paid in full. It would appear Miss Shaw had money to burn, or at least, an indulgent father or gentleman friend who was anxious to keep her in silk gowns and smiles.

      He jiggled the brass handle on the single long drawer; firmly locked, unlike the two doors.

      Amused by his antics and questioning his overactive curiosity this evening, Jasper made to leave, turning the latch to ensure the door stayed closed for the night.

Chapter 5

      Sunlight sliced through the cloud cover as Emily exited her carriage and thanked the driver. Wednesday mornings brought her to the Foundling Hospital on Great Ormond Street. Aside from her desire to better others and eliminate suffering, she enjoyed putting her father’s funds to charitable use. Money couldn’t repair broken hearts or dreams, but it could fill stomachs and keep children in shoes and clean beds.

      Hefting a basket of treats to her side, for her desire to give outweighed her diminutive stature; she approached the wrought-iron gate with a genuine smile. The orphans had grown accustomed to her weekly visits and each grin of delight caused her heart to sing with joy. No child should want for affection, the kind camaraderie of a sibling or loving approval of a parent.

      Stepping along the slates, she paused to adjust the basket handle and glanced toward the brick facade, stoic and strong, protecting the lost children inside. An odd twist of emotion caused her heart to beat heavily. One didn’t have to live at the Foundling Hospital to feel loneliness or know the isolation of a fatherless upbringing. Sometimes, amidst the most normal situation, one discovers circumstances aren’t always as they appear. Sometimes, the grim truth makes one an orphan, the decisions and choices of others at fault.

      Several years prior, when she discovered the truth and understood her father’s history, then witnessed her mother’s misery, Emily labeled herself unlovable, unworthy. Yet intelligence and determination won out, convincing on some peripheral level that while men were basically dangerous to one’s heart and the affections they evoked powerful enough to destroy all happiness, she could overcome, unwilling to turn into her mother, broken, a shadow of her potential. Emily would accomplish independence, reliant on no one other than herself, and then, only then, allow emotion and perhaps, a future including marriage. Men had all the advantages. It was time women secured equality. Equality offered choice and with choice came power; each link in the chain dependent upon the success and strength of the one before.

      Today, each step echoed the core of her purpose and ever-present vows. Mothers…so many despairing mothers for decades, had sought this place, unable to care for their newborn babes, unwilling to confront the rogue who’d gotten them in the family way and then deserted them. Emily had visited the hospital for over three years and never once had she encountered a gentleman in search of his child, a man interested in the betterment of the abandoned youth kept there, aside from doctors or humanitarians.

      Nodding a greeting to the gatekeeper, she entered the imposing stone building and walked to the front desk intending to chat with one of the nurses before visiting, but the hall stood empty. Undeterred, for circumstances often caused a depleted staff or unexpected emergency, Emily placed the wicker basket at her feet and moved to wait by a window overlooking the center courtyard. This side of the hospital was partitioned by the north wing adjacent to the chapel. A grassy knoll bordered by a bright flower garden, littered with daisies and buttercups, lay parallel to the walk where a corpulent ginger cat had found respite in a comfortable patch of sunlight. Content absorbing the day’s warmth, its tail twitched lazily until the feline turned in her direction and looked straight through the window where she watched.

      The cat held her gaze for several beats of her heart until a scuffle near the front door drew her attention away and she spun to see a gentleman enter, his face a mask of tolerant anger, his fist gripped tight on the collar of a young boy, no more than seven or eight years of age, his feet bare and clothing torn. The child, disguised by filth, didn’t struggle though Emily could see in his wounded expression she hadn’t witnessed the worst of the conflict. Two nurses entered, their conversation fading as they discovered the scene in the vestibule.

      Emily stepped aside to offer the nurses privacy as the gentlemen explained, but with unforeseen happenstance, the child wriggled from the gentleman’s grasp and slinked to stand at her side, the touch of his cold tiny fingers pressed into her palm as if he reached for any scrap of salvation she reserved in her soul. Her heart blossomed with his trust. She offered his hand a firm squeeze of comfort and leaned into the basket to withdraw a gingerbread biscuit. He glanced at her outstretched palm, eyes wide, then snatched the treat, devouring it with hardly a breath between bites.

      “Jenny, please gather the necessary paperwork.” The lead nurse motioned to the other to do her bidding, but it was of no use. The gentleman departed with nary a glance backward. “Find Dr. Alastar and tell him we’ll need his assistance as soon as possible.”

      Emily eyed the young boy, who darted glances toward the exit, likely considering escape as soon as he believed his flight successful. He looked wild at first glimpse, his hair overgrown and stringy, his clothes ill fit, but she knew beneath the grime of the city, a child’s innocence lived in his chest. She could see it in his woeful expression.

      “What’s happening here?” The doctor entered, his commanding presence enough to spur the lad to seek refuge near her skirts where he grasped the cloth as if to anchor in safety.

      “A gentleman came by with this scallywag in hand. Another mudlark, no doubt. He didn’t know what to do with him as his wife begged him to help, but he appeared uncomfortable with the act of charity and left directly after.”

      Mudlarks were comprised of misfits and runaways who lived an independent life along the Thames, pilfering whatever could be found and sold from the shallow waters. Scavenging СКАЧАТЬ