Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(20)
“Of course, my lady.” Mrs. Hollingbrook jumped up. “If you’ll step this way, the children have been practicing all week for you.”
Mrs. Hollingbrook led the way into the dark little hallway and up a rickety set of stairs. They passed a first floor, given over, as Hero knew from previous visits, to dormitory rooms for the orphans. On the second floor there was a room for the toddlers and infants and a little room used as a classroom. Mrs. Hollingbrook led her here and opened the door with a flourish. Within, a dozen of the older children stood in two rows, faces scrubbed, and hair still slick from water.
As she entered, they spoke in unison. “Good afternoon, Lady Hero!”
She permitted herself a small smile. “Good afternoon, children.”
Her reply elicited a smothered giggle from one of the boys. A sharp glance from Nell Jones silenced the giggle. Mrs. Hollingbrook gave a discreet nod, and the children burst into ragged song—a hymn, no doubt, though Hero couldn’t quite place either the tune or the words. She kept her smile firmly in place even as the most enthusiastic girl went flat on a low note and one of the boys elbowed another in the ribs, making the second squeak.
The song ended on a rather screeching high note, and Hero fought not to wince. She clapped enthusiastically, and the little boy who had assaulted his neighbor grinned at her, revealing two missing upper-front teeth.
“Splendid, children,” Hero said. “Thank you for your song. And thank you to your teachers as well.”
Mrs. Hollingbrook blushed prettily even as she escorted Hero back down the stairs.
“Thank you for coming, my lady,” she said as they made the front door. “The children look forward so to your visits.”
Hero knew that Mrs. Hollingbrook was bound to flatter her because she was the home’s patroness, but as she took the other lady’s hand, it seemed that the manageress truly meant her words.
“I enjoy my visits as well,” Hero said.
She wished she could say more. Could promise that the children would be out of this wretched temporary home soon. Could tell Mrs. Hollingbrook that the children would have new beds, a new schoolroom, and a huge garden to run in come spring. Instead she smiled one last time and made her good-byes.
She picked her way back up the street with a heavy heart. She had a feeling her next visit of the day wasn’t going to be nearly as pleasant.
“Please take me to Maiden Lane,” she instructed the coachman before climbing in the carriage.
She sat and glanced idly out the window as the coach rolled forward. The home depended on her. Now that—
“Oy!” a male voice—a familiar male voice—shouted very near.
The carriage shuddered to a halt.
Hero leaned forward. Surely it couldn’t be—
The carriage door opened and a tall masculine form climbed in the carriage and settled himself against the red squabs across from her as if he owned the vehicle.
The carriage started as Hero gaped at him.
“We meet again, Lady Perfect,” Lord Griffin drawled.
Chapter Four
Inevitably there came a time when Queen Ravenhair decided she should remarry. A queen must have a king and a kingdom an heir, after all. So the queen consulted with her advisors and ministers and men of letters to decide who would be the perfect highborn man to marry. But here she found a dilemma. Her advisors thought Prince Westmoon the perfect match for the queen, while the ministers scorned Westmoon and instead preferred Prince Eastsun. What was worse, the men of letters hated both Westmoon and Eastsun and considered only Prince Northwind the perfect consort for the queen….
—from Queen Ravenhair
Griffin hadn’t believed his eyes when he’d seen Lady Hero step into a carriage in the worst part of St. Giles. He’d hailed the carriage, told the coachman who he was, and hastily tied Rambler to the back before jumping in.
Now Griffin watched as Lady Hero narrowed her lovely gray eyes at him. “Lord Reading. What a delight to see you again.”
He cocked his head as he smiled at her. “Do I detect a wee bit of sarcasm in your words, my lady?”
Her gaze dropped demurely. “A lady never engages in sarcasm with a gentleman.”
“Never?” He leaned forward as the carriage tilted around a corner. “Even when she’s been sorely provoked by a gentleman who isn’t very, er, gentlemanly?”
“Especially then.” She pursed her lips. “A lady always maintains her composure, always chooses her words carefully, and always takes care to use them with circumspection. She’d never mock a gentleman no matter how provoked.”
She recited her rules as if by rote, her manner so grave that he nearly missed the gentle wryness in her tone. But it was there. Oh, yes, it was there. He had no doubt that she observed these rules with Thomas, but not with him. That was interesting.