“It seems you’ve thought this through.”
Every night, alone in her bed, yearning to have Claybourne beside her, she’d made plans for all she’d do to protect his son, to give him a kinder life than his father had experienced. She had no doubt whatsoever that she was carrying a boy.
She’d learned a great deal that night in Claybourne’s library, included in the inner circle of scoundrels as they’d planned how to arrange Avendale’s death. She now knew who to go to if any papers needed to be forged. She had little doubt she could obtain a false certificate of marriage as well as one of death. She nodded. “Yes, I have given it considerable thought and I’ll not be dissuaded.”
“I could never have your courage.”
“Oh, Winnie, I’m not so certain that it’s courage as much as it is love.” Love for her child, and love for his father.
Luke hadn’t seen Frannie since the night they’d arranged to send Avendale on his merry way. It was strange how seldom during these many weeks he’d thought of Frannie, how often he’d thought of Catherine. Bill had assured him that Catherine was fine, but Luke was still haunted by what had happened. After all she’d been through, why would she swoon at the sight of her brother? His return seemed insignificant when compared with the times she’d been in danger of losing her life.
It perplexed him, occupied his thoughts as he waited near the orphanage, waited for Frannie’s arrival. The building was completed. She’d sent him a note and asked him to meet her there. She wanted to take him on a tour of it. He supposed this moment, today, would provide the perfect opportunity to ask her to marry him. A children’s home was the fulfillment of a dream for her, and marriage to her had always been his fondest dream. It seemed appropriate that he propose today, here.
He spotted the hansom, watched as it came to a halt near the building. The driver helped Frannie climb out. Reaching them, Luke paid the driver. Neither he nor Frannie spoke until the hansom was headed away.
“You look lovely,” Luke said. And she did. There was a happiness, a joy to her. Being under Catherine’s tutelage had given her confidence, confidence to become his wife.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “You don’t come to Dodger’s anymore.”
“I’ve been busy.”
She gave him a look that said she knew a lie when she heard one.
“Who are we to judge what any of us would do to protect ourselves?” she asked. “He knew if you knew the truth that he would lose your friendship, and your friendship meant more to him than anything. You can’t imagine how he suffers these days.”
“Do you love him, Frannie?”
She appeared taken aback. “I love all of Feagan’s lads.”
He didn’t doubt the truth of those words. She’d mothered them all, even though she was younger than most of them.
“You know what it is to live as we did, to have so little,” she said. “We all have our secrets, none of us are completely honest with the others.”
“Not even you?”
“Especially not me. But Jack—”
He was weary of discussing Jack, of having her defend him.
“Eventually, I will forgive him, Frannie. Just not yet.”
She nodded. “All right, then. Would you like to see the children’s home?”
“Very much.”
With her hand on his arm, she led him into the building. It opened into a large room with stairs leading up to other floors.
“The children will sleep in rooms up there. Three floors of rooms.” She squeezed his arm. “Can you imagine how many children we’ll be able to provide for?”
“Quite a number I suspect.”
There were classrooms, a dining hall, a reading room. All of the finest quality. Sturdy. Well-made. Unknown to her, he’d paid the builder a good deal more than she’d originally planned to invest in order to see that it was so.
She led him through the kitchen to the garden, a fence circling the large area. “Children will play here,” she said. “They’ll be safe.”
“When do you plan to start bringing children here?”
“Once I have the furniture.”
“Order what you want. I’ll pay for it.”
“You’ve done too much—”
“Frannie, please, just do it.”
“You’re too kind to me, Luke. You always give me everything.” Reaching up, she skimmed her fingers along his jaw. “You were always the best of us.”
“Not true. I was only very different. My parents taught me right from wrong. It was never a game.”
She feathered her fingers over his hair. “You were always special to me. From the beginning, I always knew you’d protect me. There was just something about you.”