“Mother would do anything for her precious Honoria,” he sneered. Out with no chaperone. That’s a new peccadillo, even for my hoity-toity niece. He scrutinized the man’s face. Recognition sent an icy chill down his spine. Lord Colin Shefford! Instantly, Whitton withdrew further into the bush, considering his next move. I cannot let him see me.
Fiend seize it! This complicated everything. His mind unchanged about the task ahead, he studied the landscape, seeking opportunity. A dark movement behind the pale-colored stone building pulled his attention from his niece and her escort. Lawks! That had to be him. There’s been no movement back there for almost thirty minutes. Still not confident enough, he thought the best option was to wait for Shefford to return to his carriage. Each minute chafed him, and he grew tired of waiting. Most likely he would get no credit for helping, anyway. And he had already spent enough time here. If I duck behind the carriage quickly, the bushes at the side of the building will cover me. He looked around and took the chance, moving as quickly as he could until he got to the back corner of the property. At once, he saw him.
His fears confirmed, he knew his niece and her orphanage would suffer if he did not do something—and Mother would blame him. If Shefford is here, I am certain my dear mother knows about my little deception. It sent a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach. He had been naught but a disappointment to her, although his parents had never said a word.
“No, instead she and Father kept the family money from me, leaving me in damned low water. I should not lift a finger to help,” he complained to himself. Still, he loved his sister, and he would not see her hurt through Nora, even if his niece’s contemptuous attitude galled him.
It had injured his pride when his sister and brother-in-law had refused the opportunity to live at his estate. Truthfully, he had hoped they would maintain it for him. He never seemed to have enough funds and had seen this as an answer to his own need. His mother would credit him for maintaining the estate properly, he had conjectured. His plan had failed.
A tall gruffly bearded man, wearing a filthy brown coat and fingerless gloves, stood from a crouched position at the right front corner of the orphanage and sprinted to the back of the building, apparently still unseen by Shefford’s coachman. The coach appeared drawn up for a while, leaving Whitton little choice. He had to take his chances. Checking the door and the coach and seeing no movement, he dashed across the street and stole down the side of the pink brick orphanage. He went quickly and quietly, hoping to catch up with Tom Sneed, although he was not exactly sure what he would do if he caught him. After having stabbed Shefford, Whitton knew he needed to stay away from Shefford’s notice. If they caught him, would they believe him?
Whitton reached the back of the building in time to see Sneed leave a spot under an open, second-floor window, before slipping through a second loose panel of the back fence and escaping. Whitton glanced up at the window, and he could hear the sounds of children’s voices. He wished he could walk away, yet he had to do something. He had to warn somebody.
Where are the watchmen? His mother would not have placed Nora here without reassurance in her well-being. He had hoped to leave a note for one of them and keep his involvement simple. So, there it is… plan two, he thought, vexed. Certain he could reach the loose plank Sneed had inadvertently shown him, Whitton reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper-covered stone. Securing his hood, he surveyed the area. No one. Quickly he hurled the stone through a window and sprinted towards the back fence, sliding the loose plank aside and slipping through the gap. As far as Whitton cared, he had fulfilled his responsibility. I warned them—my conscience is clear.
* * *
“Welcome home, Miss Mason.” Woods opened the door and collected her pelisse. “You have a message, miss,” he said, handing her a folded note.
A whiff of rosewater met her nose. She flipped the missive over. Grandmama’s lavender wax and rose medallion was as distinct as her scented paper.
“It is from Grandmama. I should look at it in case it is something important. Would you mind?”
“Absolutely not. Please do.” Shefford gently nudged her hand.
Grandmama’s note said simply that she planned to visit around late afternoon. She could be here at any moment, Nora realized. She looked up and fixed her gaze on Colin.
“May I offer tea before you leave?”
“I would like that,” he said, taking off his hat and cape and handing them to the footman.
“Miss Mason, I will ask Mrs. Simpkins to send in the tea. My lord.” The footman acknowledged Shefford with a polite nod before heading down the hall to the back of the house.
“I still have much to discuss with my grandmother. Her note said she will be here later this afternoon. I should expect her.” Nora’s head swam with thoughts of the day. She had discovered her betrothed to be a man who cared about the feelings of others, something she would never have expected. The afternoon had been more than she had imagined. More than she had ever hoped
