The coachman gave his horses the office and the carriage rumbled forward at the steady pace suitable for negotiating the London traffic. Colin suddenly felt his throat go dry. While it would be rude to drink lemonade at this moment, he was glad he had asked Mrs. Simpkins to prepare a flask of the drink. He might surely need it—soon. Despite their obvious attraction to each other, his conversations with Nora were awkward. He replayed his proposal several times in his head. He felt no regret for their betrothal. She was unlike any other woman he had known. She challenged him to see things from a fresh perspective—her perspective. And he delighted in finding out new things about Nora—and made it his mission to learn everything about her. His head filled with curious thoughts—concerns for children he had never considered existed. He had known of the base-born children littering London’s streets, of course. His father had repeatedly schooled him on the cruelty and irresponsibility of spreading his seed in such a manner. Father had brooked no indifference, having no patience for that sort of thing, and had even fought in Parliament to force more attention on the matter.
Sadly, Father had been in the minority. Society knew, but ignored, that the children fulfilled a need, working where small hands and bodies were de rigueur, and Colin had himself grown comfortable with that knowledge. However, there were faces now attached to these outrages. He could no longer ignore them. He also had the means to help.
“Did you enjoy the children’s lesson in drawing?” Nora’s voice interrupted his musings.
“I must confess, I learned much about these children I had never given thought to before.” Colin pictured Benjamin cleaning a chimney and swallowed past the small lump that had formed in his already dry throat. “It was… revealing,” he managed.
“I noticed you had struck up a friendliness with Benjamin. A woman left him on the front steps a few weeks ago, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a note. An unsigned note, curiously. The child has no family, as far as we are aware. He claims to be eight, but I doubt he knows. Benjamin seems small for his age. However, he communicates rather well.” She folded her hands in her lap. “He is enjoyable to be with and makes me think,” she said. “I suspect it is his gift.” She paused. “We all have one, according to my grandmother. Benjamin tells me things and I want to laugh at his presentation of those events, yet at the same time, what he says nearly brings me to tears. Does that make sense to you?” she asked, her gaze holding his.
“He indeed possesses a gift; and what you say makes a great deal of sense. His drawing created a painful reminder of the abuse these children have faced. He climbed into chimneys,” he began.
“I had not realized he had been a sweep’s apprentice until some days after he arrived. He has a cough,” she added, her face drawn. “I am concerned, although there are plenty of negligible reasons for a persistent cough.”
“I heard it, too. It could be nothing more than a cold. However, I think it warrants a visit from a doctor. I wonder if you would object to a friend of mine—Dr. Perth—visiting? He moved his practice to London about two years ago from Kent.”
“I have heard of Dr. Perth. My grandmother recommends him. She describes his manner as straightforward and comforting.” Nora’s face colored, and she turned away slightly.
Colin ignored her discomfort, not knowing what he could say to change it. Perth would have found the description amusing.
“Good. It is settled, then. I shall have him come to see all the children—unless, of course, you have already done this?” He regarded her, suddenly unsure of where he was heading with this train of thought. Her bright, chocolate brown eyes seemed to smile on their own as she took in the surrounding scenery. Gerard had driven them beyond Mayfair towards Kensington Gardens, an older section of Hyde Park. He had earlier asked his coachman to take a long route through the park, feeling the need to gain clarity with this woman. The more time he had, the better.
“Becca’s drawing upset me,” Nora interjected. “I could see it troubled you too. Could the man, Mr. Sneed, have been Sneed, do you think?”
“I noticed that. Her picture resembled the description that Aunt Gemma had given of him, and the man that Mrs. Simpkins told us of. “I plan to put a Runner on it. I have already sent word and intend to meet with the man who is in charge of one of the patrols. I am concerned about the dealings, if he was the one, that he might have had with Becca’s aunt.” The woman turned up dead. What was his involvement with Becca? “Her drawing concerned me.” He considered his next words. “I will meet with a Runner later today, as I mentioned. I initially planned to have him locate your uncle, but now I feel Sneed needs be found.” He had wondered whether to mention that Sneed could be very dangerous and seemed to be a common thread with several of the children, but concluded they could defer the subject for now. There were other, more important matters to discuss. Until he knew more, he saw little advantage to worrying her.
“His involvement in so many children’s lives concerns me,”
