Chapter 1
“Catch her!”
Edith’s teacup paused halfway to her lips when she heard the commotion.
Before the sudden chaos, she had been engrossed in a delightful conversation about some of the art on display. Hyde Park, which had been blissfully warm in spring and filled with the polite conversations of the ton’s art enthusiasts, was suddenly chaotic.
A flash of gray sped past a small group of ladies who screeched in surprise. Seconds later, a man barreled past them, startling them once more.
Edith stood up, leaving her tea behind, and followed the commotion.
“She went that way!” the man shouted as they ran past paintings in gilded frames.
Edith’s silk shoes left a trail of small indents on the ground as she followed the shouting. She clutched the skirt of her dress when she saw the entrance to the statue exhibit.
The gray flash they had been chasing collided with one of the statues. Guests gasped as it tottered precariously. For a moment, it looked as if it might be safe. But then, gravity played a cruel joke, pulling the statue toward the ground.
A loud crash echoed through the park as the sculpture shattered on impact.
Guests gasped and cried out. A handful of matrons clutched their pearls. Gentlemen stood in front of ladies to protect them. Ladies fanned themselves to keep from fainting.
White shards scattered across the ground and came to a crumbling stop at the feet of Lord Harrington, the event’s host, who froze in his deep yellow waistcoat as he surveyed the damage. His thin lips twisted into a snarl, and he stormed forward with his hands clenched into fists.
“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted as nearby gentlemen captured the cause of the bedlam.
“M-My Lord, it is a child,” one man stuttered.
“And look at the ruin she’s made of this sculpture!”
Edith’s gaze landed on the little girl the men had in their grasp. She appeared young, perhaps five, with chestnut hair that refused to stay in its braids and wide, frightened brown eyes. Her tiny face was smudged with dirt and grime, and there was a small bruise on her temple.
What struck Edith most was how small she looked, even for her age. Her clothes, although they might have more accurately been called rags, hung loosely on her body.
The little girl struggled to break free from her captors. She looked up at Edith, desperation etched on her face, mutely reaching out to her for help.
Edith shivered at the sight.
She looks so much like the children I try to help at the orphanages.
A wave of dread hit her. The ton was not kind to such children, whom they saw as inferior. She had experienced their naked scorn when her parents died and then once again when her husband passed away.
I cannot let the same fate befall this little girl.
“Let me go!” the girl cried out as she wriggled, trying to free herself from the grip of the two gentlemen who held her fast.
“Do you know how much that statue was worth?” Lord Harrington barked.
“If you don’t let me go—”
“We are so sorry, My Lord,” a man panted as he came upon the scene.
“This little guttersnipe has been causing us no end of problems,” another man spat.
Edith frowned at the derogatory term.
The first man had dark, greasy hair, made worse by the sweat from running. His clothes, designed to evoke authority, were ill-fitting and wrinkled. The second man was a tall, reedy thing, with cruel gray eyes and a baton at his side.
Had that baton caused the bruise on the girl’s temple, or had it been his fist?
“Are you both responsible for her?” Lord Harrington snapped, glaring at the men.
“Yes, My Lord. I am Mr. Talbot. I own the St. Teresa Workhouse. This is Mr. Brackett, the bailiff of our parish. This girl ran from us today,” the breathless man explained.
“She’s a thief!” the bailiff shouted, eliciting a series of gasps from the surrounding crowd. “And an arsonist! She set fire to the dormitory and ran out here to avoid punishment!”
“I did not!” the young girl sobbed. “I was only trying to help! It’s not my fault!”
“We need to take her back to the workhouse. We will see to it that she’s punished, My Lord,” Mr. Talbot promised.
“No!” the girl sobbed.
Edith could hear the ladies around her gasping and murmuring amongst themselves. Others took a step back, not wanting to be associated with the moment.
“How did a child such as this get into our midst?”
“What if she steals something?”
“She could have any number of diseases.”
“What a feral child!”
The men holding the girl glanced questioningly at each other, as though trying to determine what course of action to take.
“Release her!” Edith called out.
All eyes turned at the sound of her voice.
“She’s a child. A frightened child. She doesn’t know any better.”
“With due respect, madam,” Mr. Talbot said. “She is my charge by law. I am the one who decides what happens to her.”
Edith held her ground and glared at him.
She had met enough men like Mr. Talbot to last her a lifetime.
Men who cared for a child only to keep up appearances, or to serve their own convenience, rather than out of genuine concern.
Such men did the bare minimum required by their position, as anything more would cost them money.
“That’s right!” Mr. Brackett agreed. “The law is clear. She belongs to the workhouse, and she will be returned until she can prove herself innocent!”
Edith turned the force of her ire on the girl’s captors. “She’s already bruising from your grip! She can be spoken to without being treated so roughly!”
They hesitated, then lowered the girl to the ground.
The murmurs around the scene became louder.
“What a cruel way to handle her.”
“It’s the only way to deal with these street urchins.”
“But she’s just a child.”
“Is it really all right for them to handle her like that?”
Ladies glanced at each other worriedly, uncomfortable with the scene but not wishing to intervene. Some rolled their eyes with disgust, displaying scant patience for disruptions to their gatherings.
Edith shook her head and walked over to the girl, crouching down to meet her eyes. “What is your name, sweetheart?” she asked gently.
“T-Tilly,” the girl whimpered.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Tilly. Could you explain to me why you were running?” Edith asked softly.
Lord Harrington scoffed, but Edith ignored him.
“M-Mr. Talbot g-got very cross, a-and I was scared,” Tilly stammered through her tears.
“Do you know why he became cross?” Edith pressed gently.
“A-A fire broke out in the dormitories. He th-thought I did it on p-purpose. But I didn’t! I really didn’t, I promise! They began chasing me like I had done something wrong!” Tilly cried.
“And you ran into the park?” Edith asked.
“I know m-my way through the park. I didn’t know something was happening. I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Mr. Talbot sneered, reaching for Tilly.
“Don’t touch her,” Edith snapped, blocking his hand.
“Mr. Talbot has every right to handle his charge in whatever way he sees fit. Please, My Lady, I must insist that we approach this matter in line with the rule and law of the country,” Mr. Brackett said beseechingly.
“The rule and law have their place, but this child needs compassion and a listening ear,” Edith retorted. “Besides, it is not the rule or law to have her punished in public for a private offense.”
“The breaking of that statue was a very public offense!” Lord Harrington growled.
Edith shot him a glare. “Still, they shouldn’t be using that as justification to harm her for the fire—”
“I care not about the blasted fire! I demand compensation for the damage this impudent child has caused!” Lord Harrington interrupted.
Mr. Talbot and Mr. Brackett shared a look.
Mr. Talbot’s mouth curled into a frustrated sneer. “Of course, My Lord,” he gritted out. “I will make sure the debt is paid,” he said before looking back at Tilly. “In fact, I can cut the amount from the girl’s wages.”
“What?” Edith gasped.
“She can scrub and sew until every penny is repaid,” Mr. Talbot added, glaring at Tilly.
Edith looked down at the little girl, whose face had fallen. Her lip quivered, and her small shoulders shook as her eyes shimmered with tears.
A fierce protectiveness surged through Edith; she would not let the child suffer. She took Tilly’s hand, squeezing it gently, then stood and faced Lord Harrington.
“What is the cost of the statue?” she asked.
The crowd around them inhaled sharply, all eyes on her.
Lord Harrington’s eyebrows shot up, and he took a half step back. “Why ever do you ask, Lady Nealton?”
“I refuse to let any more harm come to this child. It would take her years to repay any sum greater than a few pennies, would it not?”
People in the crowd shared looks. Even if they knew she was right, none of them would dare to ask such pointed questions.
“Even so,” Lord Harrington scoffed, straightening the lapels of his coat. “She is the one who damaged my property, and she is under the care of Mr. Talbot, so he should decide her punishment. And my compensation.”
“I asked you a question, Lord Harrington. Will you deny me the answer?” Edith pressed.
Lord Harrington’s jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath. “One hundred and eighty pounds.”
Edith’s lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyebrows knitted together. Her charity work brought independence, but it did nothing for her coffers. She often had to be conservative with her spending, and paying for a broken statue wouldn’t help her situation.
Still, she wouldn’t let Tilly take the fall.
“I will cover the cost,” she declared.
Lord Harrington’s eyes widened. “The girl should pay the cost to learn a lesson! And Mr. Talbot agrees.”
“Even so, if I pay, you will have your recompense. Besides, shouldn’t Mr. Talbot be glad to have this expense taken off his hands?” Edith reasoned, turning to the workhouse master.
A frown creased Mr. Talbot’s face, his gaze hard for a heartbeat. Then, as if rehearsed, he smoothed his expression into a courteous smile.