Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
D ear Edmund,
Do not chase all who run. Sometimes there are good reasons behind inexplicable actions, circumstances you can never imagine.
I, too, am looking for a match, someone who is calm, mellow and biddable. They will go about their life while I will go about mine, and we will both accomplish what is important to us, while fulfilling our duty.
I highly suggest you do the same.
Yours,
P
He was so close.
So very close to discovering who his informant was.
At last week’s ball, Lady Drummond could not remember who wrote the letter, but she was certain it would come to her. Now she was perusing past correspondence in the hopes of finding a match. Soon, she promised him, she would have an answer.
He had also commenced his own investigation into the handwriting. So far he hadn’t found a match, but he had every confidence. He would discover the truth.
For now, he was focusing on his other pursuit:
Lady Priscilla.
He stood outside her fashionable London townhouse, preparing for the likely confrontation. It was a beautiful day, the sky a flawless blue, the sun shining, a gentle breeze cooling the world. Lords and ladies strolled over perfectly manicured walkways while others rode in fancy open carriages. It was the perfect setting to discuss secrets, and the future, with Priscilla.
She had managed to avoid him all week. It was not an easy task, with the connections he possessed and her family’s fervent support of his suit. Yet she skipped balls she normally attended, came and left early to others. He saw her at several, yet she managed to fill her dance card each time, as well as arrange to sit far from him. Of course, he could have thwarted all these endeavors had he chosen, but he resisted the urge to take control, giving her the space that would ease how she felt towards him.
He’d been so close to discovering the truth! Blast Foxworth for ruining everything. He still didn’t know why the man hated him, a mystery that would remain since the new duke had temporarily returned to Scotland. While frustrating to have to wait for elucidation, at least it kept the untamed duke away from Sophia for a time.
He’d thought about his interaction with his sister again and again, each time with a little more remorse. He had been too harsh with her. He did not regret confronting Foxworth, of course, or demanding he stay away from her. Yet his threat of locking Sophia in her room was unnecessary. He had spoken with her and apologized. She asked if he had been clobbered in the head.
Yes. Not physically, but in every other way by the woman who would be his wife.
No longer would Priscilla avoid him. Without further hesitation, he ascended the steps and gave three brisk taps on the door. It opened within seconds, attesting to the efficiency of the well-run household.
He handed the servant his card. Yet before the footman could turn, the duchess came hurrying to the door.
He bowed. “Your Grace.”
She nodded and gestured to the footman, who quickly departed. “Hello, Bradenton. I assume you are here to see Lady Priscilla.”
“I am.”
“I’m afraid she is experiencing another megrim. They seem to come upon her with astounding regularity .” The duchess enunciated the last word, as if it contained some sort of message.
“I see. Please convey my deepest wishes for a rapid recovery.”
“I shall. Perhaps you would like to sit for a while. There is a lovely bench on the street behind ours, right under the lamp post.”
How intriguing. If he guessed correctly, the bench would directly face the back of the Sherring property. “I shall take your advice. It is a fine day, and I have much reflecting to do.”
“Excellent. Better hurry, though. And you’ll need this.” She disappeared into the house, returned with the latest news page and a garment. She handed him both. “Wouldn’t hurt to read the paper while you are waiting. Very closely I suggest. And you may get cold.”
Edmund frowned. The serviceable yet threadbare coat clearly belonged to a servant! If he didn’t know the duchess, he’d have thought her addled. “Thank you.”
She turned, stopped. “And so you don’t think me a poor mother, I usually have a servant follow at a distance. And when the thought occurs, as it undoubtedly will, of whether I am happy or comfortable with this, the answer is no. Yet she is her own woman, and I accept that. You need to decide whether you do.” With the final cryptic words, she pivoted and disappeared into the house.
There was no time to decipher the meaning behind the hidden message. He strode down the steps and around the block to the wrought iron bench, a sturdy seat with intricate swirls and a high back. Perching on the edge, he held up the paper, yet did not read. Instead he peeked at the back fence of the townhouse.
He did not have to wait long.
Priscilla.
He knew her by instinct alone, for she looked nothing like the prim duke’s daughter in the worn brown dress, the austere cap hiding her silky tresses. Yet she had the grace he knew so well, the elegant movements and sure steps of his lithe quarry. She carefully slipped through a broken board in the fence, stuffed her hands into her coat and started down the street, in the direction away from any fashionable area.
He rose, quick enough to follow yet casually enough not to be obvious, donning the coat in one fluid movement. It was rough and long, but it fit. He wouldn’t pass close scrutiny with his quality pants and shoes, but quick glances wouldn’t reveal his true station.
His mood darkened as he delved deeper and deeper into an unfortunate neighborhood. He fought every protective instinct urging him to spirit her away, to lift her up and whisk her to where danger could never touch her. Instead he continued on, staying near in case trouble beckoned. The duchess’ words returned with new meaning. This time he must make the right decision.
So he followed his instincts, and he followed Priscilla.
“Who can tell me how many apples I have if I have three in the basket and two in the crate?”
Priscilla smiled as a dozen tiny hands shot up at once. A few months ago such a query would have elicited blank stares. “Yes, Jane?”
“The answer is five. At least until I eat three. Then the answer is two.”
The other children giggled. In the back of the room, Jane’s mother beamed.
“Very good.” Priscilla put down the chalk and dusted off her hands. “There are additional problems on the board. I’d like the mothers to come forward and help the children finish.”
The little ones squealed in excitement. They were not accustomed to having their mothers so near. Young children of the poor were often sent to work, but not here, in the large townhome that housed more than three dozen families.
They were in the largest room of the home, which served as a playroom at times, a dining room at others and sewing studio at yet others. The paint may be peeling, the floors cracked and the rugs threadbare, but handmade tapestries and children’s artwork showed it was a true home, filled with love and hope.
Elizabeth Henley, proprietress of Miss Henley’s Sanctuary for Mothers and Children, came forward. She wore a plain blue day dress, yet it didn’t diminish the striking beauty of her heart shaped face, flaxen hair and sapphire eyes. She was as lovely as any diamond of the first water, both inside and out. Her kindness had changed dozens of lives.
She took Priscilla’s hand. “You are doing wonderful, my dear. I cannot thank you enough for teaching our children.”
Priscilla gave a genuine smile, tension seeping from her body. The moments she stole at the sanctuary soothed her like nothing else. “I only manage to sneak away once a week. You’re the one providing them with a safe home, honest work and the chance to be mothers.”
Right now the mothers were on a break to help the children, but most of the day they sewed. They earned far more than typical seamstresses, since Elizabeth took only what was necessary to run the home they shared. The women saved as they worked and could eventually accumulate enough to support themselves.
How Elizabeth purchased the home in the first place was a mystery, for even in a poor area, a place this large was costly. She already owned it when Priscilla met her, as they struck up a conversation at a local bookstore. Priscilla had been both impressed and moved by Elizabeth’s work and offered to help. She did not tell Elizabeth who she was, and the woman did not ask. Priscilla could not risk word getting out about her activities, thus she kept her true position a secret. Likewise, there was much about the proprietress she did not know, including how someone in her lower-class position spoke and acted as well as any lady.
Elizabeth’s smile wavered. She glanced around. “Unfortunately it is not enough. We had three new mothers arrive last week, and two came today. I’m afraid we’re going to run out of food.”
Priscilla frowned deeply. The ton gorged on five-course dinners every night, while poor children did not have enough to fill their tiny bellies. She gave them all she could from her pin money, but clearly it was not enough. “I’ll find a way to get more.”
“You’ve already done so much.” Elizabeth wrung her hands. “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t turn anyone out. I have to find a way to get more funds.”
“Miss Henley, we have a visitor.”
Elizabeth turned towards Miss Evans, the Sanctuary’s housekeeper, cook and all-around helper. She had grey hair, ruddy red cheeks and a serious demeanor. “He says he’s here to see Miss Priscilla.”
Priscilla swallowed. In her months trekking through bad areas, she often felt like someone was following her, yet she had never seen anyone and no one had ever confronted her. Today, the feeling was heightened a thousandfold. She’d assumed it was nerves taut with strain, but now…
“He says he’s a friend of hers. There’s something odd about him. He’s wearing quality clothing under a threadbare jacket, and he spoke like he was some sort of lord.”
It. Couldn’t. Be.
“Does he have black hair and blue eyes?”
Miss Evans nodded.
“Is he tall, muscular and handsome?”
Miss Evans nodded again.
“Do you have a vase?”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No, I’m–”
Edmund walked into the room.
Everyone froze.
Powerful, intense, gorgeous. The low-quality coat did nothing to hide Edmund’s authority as he marched into the room as if he ruled it, his sheer size and powerful build marking him as a man who commanded others. Everyone turned, silently watching, their expressions ranging from awe to admiration to wariness. They did not know him as the Duke of Bradenton, but it didn’t matter. The title did not make this man.
The man made the title.
“I apologize for arriving without notice.” His tone was deep and low, his stance tall with confidence.
He strode to Priscilla, taking in her working-class garments, the shabby attire she had borrowed from a servant, yet no surprise shone in his deep blue eyes. Clearly he already knew about her clandestine activities.
What else did he know?
“That is all right, Brad–”
“Mr. Jenkins.” Edmund nodded to the other people in the room. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
They all murmured welcomes, their eyes riveted to his form.
“Mr. Jenkins is…”
A duke. Her suitor. Her greatest temptation.
Yet she could admit none of those things. The people waited for her answer…
“My servant!”
“Your what?” Miss Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Your what?” the women exclaimed.
“Your what?” Edmund growled.
Priscilla smiled. Widely. “That’s right. Jenkins is my servant. Of course I am not of great means, so he is my only servant. Fortunately, he takes orders very well. He is also excellent at cleaning.” She leaned in, said in an extremely loud whisper. “Especially chamber pots.”
The ladies looked on in shock as the children giggled. Amusement danced in Edmund’s eyes, and a promise for retribution. “I’m afraid Priscilla is joking. I work for her, but not as a servant. Her family employs me to keep her safe. You could say I am in charge of her person.”
The heat started at her neck and traced its way down her entire body.
“I was wondering if I could talk to her for a moment.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth quickly replied. “You can use my office.” She hesitated, turned to Priscilla. “Do you need the vase now or after?”
Edmund’s lips twitched.
“I will let you know.”
She led Edmund to the office, stiffening when he touched her back. She quickened her pace to escape his grasp, yet he kept up easily. He followed her into the room, closed the door and locked it .
“I thought we could use privacy.”
She swallowed. The office was modest, but it seemed positively miniscule with the large man.
“I’ve missed you.” His voice softened, and unknown emotion shone in his eyes.
She bit back the same words. She’d tried to avoid thinking about him, failed in a tremendous fashion. For a moment, they just stared at each other, as she fought to ignore the kiss she couldn’t stop imagining. She could practically feel his hand tracing down her skin, as he’d done so many times before.
At least he hadn’t mentioned his informant. Surely he would have acted differently if he knew the truth. The realization brought scant relief. He was still investigating her, and by all appearances had enlisted others in his cause. Sooner or later he would discover the truth.
But hopefully not today. “Why are you here?”
“Do you realize how dangerous it is for a lady to walk alone in this part of town?”
She tensed at the quiet question. “If you plan to lock me in a tower, forget it. You have no say in what I do. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here. I’ll lead you out–”
“Stop.”
Her breath hitched at the firmly spoken word. She looked to the door, but he stepped in front of her.
“Let me out.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
Desire and apprehension mixed, yet one thing remained consistent. She wanted that kiss.
He leaned down. “You’re unusually nervous.”
“That’s not true.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Licking you.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring at my lips.”
Like ice cream.
“We’re never going to get anything settled until we take care of this.”
“Take care of wh–”
He swooped down.
His lips were pliant and firm, as they caressed her softness. Capturing her flush against him, he held her near for his administrations, coaxing her lips open and dipping his tongue to the pleasures that awaited. She moaned her surrender.
The kiss ignited fiery passion and unadulterated need. He tasted like pure temptation, like everything she wanted and couldn’t have. Sensations streaked throughout her body, pooling in her most tender spots. Throbbing, aching, so close to the heated source of power, she wanted so much more. She pushed closer to him, clutching taut muscle. He rewarded her by tightening his hold. The world melted away, leaving only the two of them, their bodies so close, so needy.
Suddenly he pulled away, leaving her to heave in deep breaths, fighting the sparks of passion threatening to burst into flames.
Collect yourself! She commanded, yet her body paid no heed. Flushed with fire, she fought for strength. “Now that that is settled, you can leave.”
He stood taller. “I think not, Lady Priscilla. You will hear what I have to say.”
She folded her arms across her chest. For a moment they stared at each other, each heaving in breaths, flushed twin shades of red. As the seconds ticked by, he made his stance clear:
He would not leave until she listened.
“Fine. I will listen, but I have no intention of going home.”
“I have no intention of demanding you go home.”
“How can you ask me to– wait, what?”
He stood taller, yet his expression eased. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Your work is a vital part of who you are. I have no intention of demanding you leave.”
Had she just entered an alternate world? “But… but you just complained about it being a bad part of town.”
“Precisely. It is completely unacceptable you planned to walk here alone. From now on, either I will accompany you or you will bring two footmen, who will remain directly next to you. If necessary, I will provide them. You only need tell me the days and times.”
“But–”
“That is non-negotiable. If you do not agree, I shall immediately start searching for a suitable tower.”
“And I shall start searching for a vase.”
“Come on, Priscilla.” He lowered his voice, stepped closer. “I know you want to be free, but you don’t want to get accosted. Even you can’t feel safe walking these streets.”
No, she didn’t. She’d accepted the risk for the all-important work, yet if there was a way she could avoid the danger… “You truly don’t mind me coming as long as someone accompanies me?”
“I can’t say I don’t mind…”
Here it comes.
“But I understand.”
She parted her lips. “Really?”
“Really.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m not the dictator you believe me to be. I’ll admit I was uncomfortable at first, but then I overheard you with the children. You are fantastic with them. As long as you keep safe, I will keep your secret.”
She parted her lips, both in shock and guilt. After all the secrets he did and did not know, he still sought to compromise.
“I also understand your reaction to my behavior toward my sister.” He paused. “I was truly afraid for her safety that night. I will always protect her, but I shouldn’t have threatened to lock her in her room. I never have, nor do I plan, to actually do so. I had a long talk with her and even apologized.”
Who was this man? The authoritarian was gone, replaced by a strong, yet reasonable leader. It pierced her anger, the only defense shielding her heart. “What have you done with the real Bradenton and where did you hide the vase?”
He softly touched her cheek. She leaned into him.
“I am Bradenton,” he murmured. “I am more than your assumptions. More than your fear. We all have hidden facets, a person the world does not see.”
If only he knew… Drowning in those blue eyes, the urge to share everything fired. But the words wouldn’t come. Just because he accepted her charity work didn’t mean he would condone her sneaking through homes, or lying to him all this time. She couldn’t take the chance.
Which meant he had to leave, because every minute risked her heart.
She stood back, ignoring the sharp pain piercing her heart. “Thank you for your honesty, Your Grace. It is most kind of you.” She turned to the door.
He hesitated briefly, but then moved aside and allowed her to unlock and open it.
She turned, swallowed. “I had best return to work. Thank you for stopping by.” And with that, she stepped into the hallway, away from Bradenton, away from her heart’s desire. Away from what she could never have.
The mothers and children were still working on the problems, but Elizabeth hurried over. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course.” Priscilla gave a strained smile. “I just had something to work out with Br– Mr. Jenkins. Everything is fine now, and he’s about to–”
“Help in any way I can.”
“What?” Priscilla and Elizabeth exclaimed together.
He looked back and forth between the two of them. “I assume you could use another volunteer.”
“That’s not a good idea!”
“It’s not necessary!”
Priscilla looked at Elizabeth. Usually the proprietress was desperate for volunteers, but now she looked distinctly ill at ease.
Edmund folded his arms across his chest. “I insist.”
Just when she decided he wasn’t an overbearing, authoritative bear. Perhaps there was another way to convince him to leave. “Since you’ve offered, we could use help. Little Wilbur is sorely in need of a bath. He can be a little precocious, though. I’m not sure you’re up for it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
“That will be fine,” Edmund replied. “Just give me a minute to jot down a quick note. Do you have someone who can deliver a message for me?”
With another worried look, Elizabeth led him to a small desk in the corner.
“Tell me about Mr. Jenkins.”
Priscilla bit back a groan as a beautiful redhead materialized behind her. Mary Atkins was bold, brazen and gorgeous, and drew attention from every eligible man in town. Priscilla made no judgement, but the thought of her adding Edmund to her list of conquests left a sharp discomfort.
But what could detract her?
“He talks to rocks.”
Mary’s perfect forehead creased slightly. “You can’t be serious.”
Priscilla fought to keep a straight face. “I’m afraid I am.”
“Well…” Mary bit her lip. “He’s very handsome.”
“He gives them names, too.”
“Names?”
“And tucks them into bed at night.”
“Come to think of it, there are many attractive men. I better go.”
Priscilla managed a sympathetic expression just as Edmund returned and handed Elizabeth the note.
He leaned down. “Not only am I your servant, but I talk to rocks, do I?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Anything else I should be aware of?”
“Depending on your behavior, word may get out that you also talk to plants and horses.”
“Then I suppose I will have to be an utmost gentleman.” He gazed at her speculatively. “Do you have more surprises for me?”
She choked back a laugh. “Would I do something so duplicitous?”
“Just remember, I will demand payback.”
She couldn’t wait.
A pig.
Wilbur was a pig.
Literally.
It explained that mischievous glint in Priscilla’s eyes, the grin she made no attempt to hide. The women smiled, and the children endlessly laughed, as he attempted to clean a squealing pink pig who obviously preferred being dirty. By the end, the pig was clean, the room was soaked and he looked like he had jumped in the River Thames.
He had never laughed more.
“Wilbur is clean,” he announced, accepting a towel from Miss Elizabeth, whose deep frown lines had changed to wry amusement. She also seemed vaguely familiar, yet he kept this to himself.
“Thank you.” She cleared her throat, a poor attempt at hiding her laughter. “I can’t imagine why we have difficulty finding volunteers.”
“A true mystery, indeed.”
Priscilla took a long look up and down his waterlogged form, then said in equal parts surprise and amusement, “You did well. I assume you wish to return home after the excitement.”
“On the contrary, my clothing will dry. I am happy to provide additional assistance.”
Priscilla’s pursed those plump lips. He resisted the urge to nip one.
“Do you have another pig for me to wash?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said regretfully.
“A lion then?”
“Not that either.” Her lips turned up. “But if you really want to stay, I have a job. Some of the older boys decided to see how many frogs they could catch and–”
“Consider it done.”
“I haven’t even told you what we need.”
He smiled. “You’re not going to get rid of me.”
She folded her arms. “We’ll see about that.”
Yet he held on, even after thirteen frogs, two mice and one very angry squirrel. Priscilla tried again and again to undermine him, yet he accepted it with good humor. Finally she gave up, and he aided with a variety of tasks. He never expected the satisfaction that came every time someone thanked him, the smiles when he changed someone’s life for the better. His work in Parliament was vital, but there was something special about seeing the results of his efforts firsthand.
Watching Priscilla was also a joy. She taught the children with patience and delight, her passion obvious, her dedication unparalleled. She wasn’t meant to be cloistered in a drawing room with embroidery in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She was meant to change the world.
The hours melted away. They were working with Elizabeth to prepare for the evening’s meal when brisk knocking sounded at the sanctuary’s door.
“Another visitor?” Elizabeth looked up from the dishes she was distributing. A sense of familiarity surfaced once more, although he still couldn’t place her.
“Do you want me to get it?” Priscilla asked.
“I’ll do it.” Elizabeth wiped her hands on her apron and walked out of the room.
The scream shook the entire house.
They rushed to Elizabeth. The proprietress stood in front of the open door, her hands on her cheeks, flushed pink.
It was a parade.
Dozens of sturdy footmen strode in, carrying baskets overstuffed with gifts piled three feet high. The first parcels were filled with food, a veritable feast of breads and cheeses and meats and desserts. There were fresh foods and colds ones, and staples that would last for weeks or more. After the food came essentials: blankets, clothing, shoes and household supplies, all new and of good quality. A supply of fat candles came last.
Drawn by the shout, women and children quickly filled the room, all staring at the men and their offerings. Shock gave way to broad smiles, then jumps of excitement and tears of joy.
Elizabeth looked like she was ready to faint. “I’ve never seen such a boon!” She put a hand on Mrs. Evans’ shoulder, whose cheeks were as ruddy as a brick wall. “Who is it from?”
“I have no idea,” Mrs. Evans breathed. “The men said our benefactor wanted to remain anonymous.”
Priscilla cast Edmund a long assessing look. He didn’t say a word.
“They said he expected nothing in return. They also claimed…” Mrs. Evans paused, her eyes becoming misty. “He said they would bring a new shipment every month.”
“Oh heavens.” Elizabeth shook her head. “This is a dream. To whoever did this, thank you.”
Edmund forced himself to stay stoic, even as something moved within him.
“We shall have a feast tonight!” Elizabeth clapped her hands. “Mrs. Evans–”
“Don’t worry. I already have plans!” Apparently recovered, Mrs. Evans eagerly beckoned the women into the kitchen.
Bradenton smiled. No doubt they would make good use of every item.
“I better assist them.” Elizabeth turned towards the kitchen just as the wails of crying sounded. “Oh dear.”
Priscilla looked to the backroom. “Do they need help in the nursery?”
Elizabeth wrung her hands. “Several of the mothers had to leave for work, and I promised I would help.”
“We’ll attend to the infants.” Priscilla gently guided Elizabeth towards the kitchen. “I’m sure Mr. Jenkins knows how to handle a baby.”
His experience handling babies: none.
“Of course.”
“Thank you so much.” Elizabeth rubbed her hands together. “There’s just so much to do!” Without another word, she spun and hurried towards the kitchen.
Edmund followed Priscilla down a narrow hallway. Concern replaced joy as the crying grew louder, as they neared a task far more daunting than thirteen frogs, two mice and one very angry squirrel. He cleared his throat. “You do realize the only experience I’ve had with infants was the baby mouse I just fished out of Mrs. Evans’ shoe.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“No really. I thought they were simply short adults.” He’d dealt with some of the most powerful men in England. Lords. Soldiers. Criminals.
The babies were more daunting.
They walked into a small room with pale walls and only a miniscule high window. There were eight babies in the tiny space, but only two flustered girls caring for them. The room was sparse but clean, with thin pallets, a few dolls and threadbare blankets.
Priscilla walked straight to a wailing infant. “Their mothers are working,” she said sadly, gently touching the baby’s stomach. Eyes clenched tightly, the baby turned desperately to the touch, his little lips pursed. “Elizabeth tries to get enough sewing for all of the women, but some seek additional employment in the hopes of gaining independence sooner. We assign several girls to watch the babies, but as you can see, it isn’t enough.”
No it wasn’t. It was bitter unjustness, evidenced by the smallest victims of society’s cruelty. He was working to change it, but it was never enough.
Maybe he could be enough here.
“They’re so little.”
A smile crooked the side of Priscilla’s mouth. “They’re new.”
She picked up the baby, softly shushed him. Immediately he quieted down and sucked his thumb. She gestured towards an infant wrapped in a thin blanket. “Why don’t you pick up little Lucy?”
The tiny thing was swaddled in white, but her face was bright red. She struggled, her little face scrunched up. “I don’t think she likes me.”
The side of Priscilla’s lips quirked up. “Don’t be silly. She doesn’t yet know how difficult you are.”
He approached the squirming infant. She was so tiny, so vulnerable. “I don’t know how to hold her.”
“Just make sure to support her head.” She gently bounced the baby.
“Hello, little one,” he rumbled. “I’m not sure either of us is ready, but here goes.” Carefully he placed his hands under the tiny bundle. She was no larger than his palm, and so light he could barely feel her weight. He carefully brought her against his chest.
She was so soft, so warm. “Am I doing it right?”
Priscilla stared at him, her lips parted. For a moment she didn’t say anything. “I… yes. That’s right.”
Lucy quieted, her cries softening as she burrowed into him.
She was perfection.
“I am Bradenton,” he whispered. “I am a powerful duke, and everyone must do as I say. I hereby order you to have a happy and joyful life.”
She made a little gurgling sound, and he chuckled.
The baby in his arms snuggled closer. And he wished for something he had never much considered before.
But he wasn’t who this baby truly needed. “She wants her mother?”
Sadness entered Priscilla’s gaze. “There is nothing that baby wants more than to be held by her mama.” Her gaze hardened. “But she has to work. She dashes back to feed the baby, but most of the time, Lucy is alone.”
It felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. The tiny thing snuggled so close to him, as if desperate for human interaction. For love. For her mama. “If they got more money, could she, and the other mothers with such small babies, be together?”
Priscilla hesitated. “If it was enough, I suppose they could.”
He would make arrangements the moment he returned home. He wouldn’t wait for next month’s delivery, but send a special courier with the funds. Soon, the tiny baby would be in her mother’s arms, where she belonged.
“Thank you.”
He looked up.
Priscilla’s eyes shone brightly. “I know you’re behind the delivery. You have no idea how much good it will do.”
He hesitated. Yet there was no use denying the truth she already knew. “Providing food and supplies is little work. I have an excellent steward, and he arranged everything when he received my message.”
“Before it came, they did not have enough food to last the month. It will change their lives.”
He was beginning to see that. He’d focused so long on the big votes, but small things made large differences. “I would say the same to you, Priscilla. Your teaching means so much to them. I have a feeling this is just a part of your charitable work.”
She colored slightly, looked down. “It’s nothing.”
He rocked the baby as he moved closer, until her sweet flowery scent enveloped him. “It isn’t nothing. I love that you do this. I love how much you help people. I love–” He stopped.
You.
The unspoken word could no longer be denied. Not hidden away, not ignored. The emotion had been there for so long, stronger and more powerful with every single day.
He loved her.