From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen

Fifteen

“The orphanage didn’tseem so bad, did it?” Jenny asked as they climbed back into the carriage several hours later.

Harley made a non-committal sound and Aidan blew out a breath. Jenny had never seen him with the men he’d fought with during the war, and she’d found that watching him with Wraxall and FitzRoy showed her a different side of him—a side that wasn’t the pauper boy or the money-hungry businessman. She’d seen a man who was a friend—someone who could be counted on and trusted. Those men had trusted each other with their lives. They’d seen horrors she did not want to imagine, and they’d come home with the scars on their souls, if not their bodies. Clearly, even though Aidan had left her in the rookeries, he hadn’t gone to live in luxury. He’d been a soldier and fought in a war.

“Do you know what I think?” Aidan said. Jenny looked at him as did Harley. “I think we need to go shopping for new clothes.”

“For ‘er?” Harley asked.

“For you,” Aidan said.

“I don’t need no clothes,” Harley said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just be stolen anyway.”

Jenny watched Aidan’s jaw tense as he resisted pointing out that if she were living in the orphanage, nothing would be stolen.

“I want to buy you clothing,” Aidan said. “Indulge me.”

“When do I get me ten quid?” Harley asked. “I went to the orphanage. I want me blunt.”

With another sigh, Aidan reached into his pocket, withdrew a note, and handed it to Harley.

“You can let me off ‘ere,” Harley said. “No use for dresses and the like.”

“What’s your hurry to get back to living on the streets?” Aidan asked. “You had a clean, dry bed last night, and a full belly.

“Too good to last,” Harley said. “I like to get out before things go sour.”

Aidan exchanged a look with Jenny. She knew they could both understand that thinking. And she knew Aidan needed help.

“Ye can always sell the dresses,” Jenny said. Aidan scowled at her. Apparently, that wasn’t the help he wanted. “If things go sour and ye need to go.”

She seemed to be considering when he straightened suddenly as though with inspiration. “If you come with us, I’ll buy you ices at Gunter’s Tea Shop afterward. Have you ever had ices?”

Harley’s eyes had widened slightly before she quickly masked her expression. “I could try them.”

“Good. Then we’ll start on Bond Street.” He tapped the roof with his walking stick and gave his coachman the instruction.

Jenny cleared her throat. “I’m afraid ye’ll ‘ave to go without me. I need to speak with Viscount Chamberlayne.”

“You’re leaving me to shop for dresses alone?”

She smiled. “I think ye’ll do just fine.”

But Aidan looked terrified when he finally stepped out of the coach and took Harley’s hand. The gesture was so sweet that she pulled the curtains aside and watched them walk away as the coach started for Roland’s town house. Her heart ached a bit when she saw Harley look up to ask Aidan something and he leaned down to give her his full attention. No parent had ever held her hand or given her anything more than a smack. Aidan was a good man, and he’d apologized for leaving her. It was time to let go of her anger about the past.

Time to let go of her anger about the present as well, she thought as she neared Roland’s home. She wished she had been able to marry Roland and keep Oscar and him close. She wished things could have gone on as they always had, and it rankled that they had to bend to fit into Society’s strictures. But Roland and Oscar would be safer abroad, and Roland was leaving because he wanted the best for her. She did love Aidan, as much as she tried to stop herself. And she could never really be with Aidan if she were Roland’s wife. A scandalous affair between the richest man in England and the Viscountess Chamberlayne would not do Roland any favors.

And so she stepped down from the carriage and entered Roland’s house, moving aside as two servants carried a vase from one room to another. Indeed, all the servants were hastening about, and Jenny swallowed when she saw the crates, the straw, and the piles of burlap and linen used to cushion belongings that would travel with them and cover the furnishings that would stay behind.

She heard Roland’s voice in the drawing room, and climbed the steps, pausing outside to watch as he directed a footman to carefully pack a painting that had been hanging on the wall.

“Yer not taking that, are ye?” she asked from the doorway.

Roland swung around. “Jenny.” He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you. We leave tonight, and none of my notes or birds reached you.”

“One did,” she said.

“Ah. The one I sent to Sterling’s house?”

“That’s the one.”

He threw the Holland cover partially off a couch and sat, patting the cushion next to him. She sat beside him, looking about the half-empty room. “I’ll miss ye,” she said.

“We’ll be back.”

“I don’t even know where yer going. Italy, I assume.” Oscar always talked about wanting to travel to Italy.

“We thought we’d start in Venice. I’ve always loved Venice, and Oscar has never been.”

Jenny wrinkled her nose, and Roland laughed. “I know you’ve never liked Venice.”

“It stinks in the summer.”

“So does London.” He took her hand. “Listen, dear girl, my house is always open to you. I haven’t touched the parlor where you like to work, and if you need funds, my solicitor—”

“I don’t need yer blunt.”

“Yes, but if you do, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Jenny nodded and felt her eyes sting with tears. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She hadn’t cried when Aidan left her, hadn’t cried when her mother beat her, she wasn’t going to cry now. Roland would be back. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have believed that. But she trusted Roland. He’d come back, and if he didn’t, she’d go to visit him.

“You must come down and say good-bye to Oscar.”

She followed Roland downstairs and found Oscar in the dining room packing china. Oscar was not shy about weeping, and he burst into tears and Jenny found herself comforting him. When he’d recovered, Roland held out a folder tied closed with twine.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“My notes on the Sterling find,” he said.

She didn’t take the offered folder. “But I thought you’d want to write it up and present the paper.”

“You do it,” he said.

“Me?

“Why not?”

“I don’t ‘ave—have the qualifications.”

“Rubbish. I taught you everything I know. You can present this as well as anyone.”

“But I’m no writer.”

“Then make Sterling spend some of his riches and hire you an editor. With a bit of help, you’ll publish a fine paper. Just don’t forget to put my name on it.”

She laughed. “Determined to ‘ave yer credit.”

“That’s right. Now, if you have a bit of time, would you mind seeing if there is anything in the parlor we might pack? I didn’t want to touch it, but since you are here—”

“Of course.” Jenny and Roland stepped into the parlor where they’d worked for a decade for perhaps the last time.

***

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Sterling’s carriage came for her. There were more tearful good-byes from Oscar, but Roland just took her hand, kissed it, and said, “I’m proud of you, Miss Tate.”

She looked as though she might cry then, but his brave girl lifted her chin, took a breath, and squeezed his hand. She walked to the carriage, back straight and head held high.

He watched the coach drive away then went back inside. The packing was far along now, and the foyer echoed and seemed empty. “Not to pat myself on the back,” he said to Oscar, who was still sniffling, “but I did a good job with her.”

“She’s a true lady now,” Oscar agreed.

“It’s a shame we’ll miss the wedding.”

Oscar gave him a look. “Jumping ahead as usual.”

Roland shrugged. “She loves him, and if I know my Jenny, she won’t let anything she loves elude her ever again.”

“Advice to live by,” Oscar said, putting his arms around Roland from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder.

Roland looked about the room. “I think we’re just about done here.”

“You still haven’t told me what you plan to do with the pigeons. I don’t like to trust them to the servants.”

“Oh, the pigeons will be fine,” Roland said with a smile. “I expect they’ll have a new home soon, and it will be even better than this.” He turned his head, kissed Oscar. “Now, you and I have our own adventure.”

“Italy!” Oscar practically shook with excitement. “It’s a dream!”

“Yes,” Roland agreed, smiling at Oscar. It was a dream, and it was coming true.

***

“ ‘OW DID YE CONVINCE‘er to stay?” Jenny asked while the maids took Harley up for a bath and to change into her nightclothes.

Aidan lifted his wine glass and propped his feet on the footrest in the drawing room. He rarely used this room, but he thought he should do so more. Perhaps he would have the music room furnished as well. “I bribed her with another trip to Gunter’s tomorrow. She wants to try all the flavors. As long as Gunter keeps changing flavors, I can persuade her.”

“I’m sure the five-course dinner ‘elped too.”

Aidan studied Jenny. She stood by the window, looking out.

“You didn’t eat much.”

“I don’t feel ‘ungry.”

“Has the ship sailed yet, do you think?” he asked. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, and hold her. He knew her thoughts were on Roland, knew the man was the only family she’d ever had. Aidan wanted to be her family now, but she wasn’t quite ready for that. And she would not welcome his sympathy or his embrace right now. He could see that by the stiffness in her shoulders.

“Yes. They’re gone.” She sounded so forlorn that Aidan had to rise and go to her. But she moved before he could reach her and lifted a folder from a side table, holding it out between them. “He gave me this.”

“What is it?” Aidan tugged at the twine, let it fall, and opened the folder.

“Notes about his findings.”

Aidan flipped through the pages. “Have you looked at them?”

“Roland believes the items are from before the Great Fire.”

“Really? Do you agree?”

“Based on wot I read in the journals, yes. But the most important discovery is a journal with observations about the Great Fire. First-‘and accounts are valuable. Ye could sell it for a tidy sum.”

“I could. Or I could keep it.”

“I didn’t think ye were sentimental.”

“I never was before.” He continued looking through the notes then pulled out the last sheet. “What’s this?”

Jenny came to stand beside him and peered down at the sketch. “Oh, no,” she said.

“It looks like some sort of structure,” he said.

“It is. It’s for the pigeons.”

“The pigeons?” He noted the street and number on the drawing. It was his house. This was a structure to be constructed on his roof. “He left me the pigeons?”

“ ‘E still thinks we’ll marry.”

“I’d ask you again if I thought you’d say yes.”

“Save yer breath.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Miss Tate!” The high voice seemed to echo through the house.

“How does a child that small manage to make so much noise?” Aidan asked.

“Miss Tate!”

“I think that’s my cue to tuck ‘er in.”

Aidan followed her, partly because he thought he knew more about tucking children in than Jenny but also because he didn’t really want this day to end.

Harley didn’t seem to mind that he’d come, and she allowed him to tuck her in and even to read her a chapter from one of the books they’d bought this afternoon. He was almost to the end of the chapter when Jenny put her hand on his and said quietly, “I think she’s asleep.”

Aidan looked up. “I think you’re right.”

“Not asleep,” Harley said, her voice thick.

“Sweet dreams.” Aidan gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sleep well, Harley.”

“Name’s not ‘Arley,” she said, voice still slow as syrup.

Aidan looked up at Jenny.

“Wot is yer name then?”

Aidan held his breath as time seemed to slow and stretch and become infinite. Finally, she answered. “Rosaleen. Call me Rosaleen.”

“Good night, Rosaleen,” Jenny said.

“Sleep well, sweet Rosaleen,” Aidan said. He went to the door. “The night is still young,” he said to Jenny.

“Then I ‘ope ye ‘ave a book to keep ye company.”

He had work, Aidan thought, as he went down to his library. He’d neglected it the entire day. Pryce had brought him ledgers and invoices just before dinner, and Aidan had sent it all to his library. Now he sat at his desk but didn’t bother to touch it.

He’d most likely lost money today, but he didn’t care. The money only mattered if he could use it to buy Harley—Rosaleen—pretty dresses and books and toys. Jenny didn’t need him for that. All he could offer her was himself. And as the hours ticked by, it was clear, she would not come to him. If last night truly was the last time they were together, he would have to accept it, but he hadn’t gotten as far as he had in this world without having a few cards up his sleeve. Aidan never cheated exactly, but he definitely liked the odds in his favor. And now he made a plan to tip them that way. It was his last chance.