"Oh, no, Miss. Not anymore. Annie made me 'er special tea, and I 'aven't 'ad nary a problem since."
"I'm glad to hear it. Have you chosen a name yet?"
"I was thinkin' maybe Jack, if it's a boy. I thought I might call 'er Lee if it's a girl." She glanced up, a little embarrassed. "That is, if ye wouldn't mind."
"I wouldn't mind at all," Lee said softly, touched by the gesture. "I'd be extremely pleased."
Mary flushed and turned away and all of the women busied themselves with their work. Lee paid the rent, but the women took care of the rest of the expenses. They took in sewing and word of their skill had spread. Lee thought that perhaps in time, they wouldn't need her help at all, which meant she would probably not see them as often. Considering how fond she had grown of the children, it was a notion she found oddly depressing.
A courtesan used every trick she knew not to become enceinte, but Lee had always thought it would be wonderful to have a child of her own. At least if it happened, she thought, she wouldn't need a man's financial support. But what about the child?
Secretly, she had always yearned for a father. Wouldn't a child, even one born out of wedlock as she had been, benefit from some sort of relationship with its sire?
Lee pondered the question a little while later as she and Jeannie left the house and made their way out to the carriage. What if by accident—and the women she had just left proved how easily it could occur—she were to find herself with child?
Mondale might be handsome, but he wasn't the sort to be bothered with children. Wingate would rarely be around. Lord Nash, widowed and childless, would undoubtedly be a solid, responsible father to any offspring he might sire.
As she settled herself on the seat of the phaeton and picked up the reins, a memory flashed of Caleb Tanner, kneeling in the straw next to the kittens. She thought of his gentleness with the foal.
Very firmly, she slapped the reins, setting the carriage into motion and pushing the unwelcome images away.
Caleb watched the smart little phaeton disappear down the street and simply shook his head. Of all the scenarios he had envisioned as he had followed Vermillion to London, traveling to the city to visit a home for unwed mothers was scarcely among them.
In truth, even though today she wasn't dressed in the garb of an expensive courtesan, he had imagined she might be meeting a secret lover, perhaps the man who transported information she or her aunt garnered from one of their numerous beaux. On her arrival at the house in Buford Street, determined to find out who that man might be, Caleb had made his way down the alley to the rear of the house. Checking the windows, he found one of them unlocked and quietly slipped inside.
From a downstairs bedchamber, he could see along the hall into a parlor that was—to his utter dismay—filled with women and babies. It didn't take a master of deduction to realize Vermillion wasn't there to meet a lover. Caleb had listened to a portion of the women's conversation, just to be sure, then returned outside and waited until she left.
As soon as her carriage rolled out of sight, he knocked on the kitchen door and the woman called Annie pulled it open.
"I hope you can help me. I must have made a wrong turn somewhere. I'm looking for Langston Street in Covent Garden. Can you point me in that direction?"
Annie smiled. She was a big, rough-edged woman, and there was a look of weariness in her eyes that spoke of the hard life she had lived. Annie was cordial and accommodating, giving him directions, even a crust of bread and a hunk of cheese to take with him. She seemed a little lonely and he took advantage of her need for conversation, letting her tell him about her friends.
When he mentioned the young woman he had seen leaving the house, Annie told him her name was Lee Durant and she was their guardian angel, the one who paid their quarterly rent.
"I'd think such a pretty little thing would have a gentleman escort," he said.
"Oh, no, not Miss Lee. She comes just with her maid. That way she can spend more time with the babies."
Caleb bade Annie farewell and returned to where he had left his horse. As he mounted the gelding and started the journey back to Parklands, he couldn't help thinking about the women, wondering at Vermillion's motives. None of the mothers appeared to be French. And only the girl named Mary had come from Parklands.
Perhaps, as she had with the cat and its kittens, Lee was simply the sort who took in strays.
Caleb wished it weren't so easy to believe.
6
« ^ »
From the window of her bedchamber, Lee looked out across the rolling green fields. She could see the racecourse her aunt had constructed three years ago when Lee had convinced her—with the help of Lord Claymont—they should not only breed Thoroughbreds, but race them as well.
The track wasn't large, but it was sufficient for flat-race training and Caleb Tanner was there, working with Noir. She couldn't be certain, but she caught a glimpse of bright red hair and thought Jimmy Murphy must be riding him. Jimmy had started as a stable boy, doing the most menial tasks, but Tanner had recognized a talent that had thus far been overlooked.
At sixteen, Jimmy was small for his age, and with older brothers who were also small, there was every chance he wasn't going to get a whole lot larger. From the upstairs window, Lee watched horse and rider pounding around the course east of the stable. Most of the morning was already gone, but there was still time to get in a ride if she hurried.
In concession to the lateness of the hour and the fact that the household was awake, she dressed in her forest green riding habit and made her way out to the stable. Coeur poked his head over the stall and nickered softly. She led him out and brushed his coat, hoping one of the grooms would appear to help her with the cumbersome sidesaddle. Instead, old Arlie creaked toward her.
" 'Ere, Miss, let me saddle 'im fer ye."
The sidesaddle was heavy. There was no way Arlie could lift it. Together they might manage, but she didn't want to hurt the old man's feelings.
"It's all right, Arlie. I think Billy is around here somewhere. Why don't we let him take care of it?"
"Don't be daft, gel. How many 'orses 'ave I saddled fer ye over the years?" Before she could stop him, Arlie hefted the heavy saddle off the wall. For a moment, he teetered backward, then he swayed forward, his thin legs wobbling with the effort of holding the heavy saddle against his bony chest.
"Arlie!" Lee cried as he teetered backward again. Racing forward, she reached up to help him hold the saddle. An instant later, Lee, Arlie, and the heavy sidesaddle with its padded tapestry seat all went crashing to the ground.
For several seconds, Lee just lay there beneath the saddle, on top of Artie, the breath knocked out of her lungs, terrified she had killed her ancient groom.
Then the sidesaddle lifted away. A grinning Caleb Tanner stood above her, the saddle hoisted up on one of his wide shoulders. "Need some help?"
Reaching down, he took her hand and hauled her to her feet. Embarrassed, wishing she could wipe the grin off his handsome face, she turned her attention to Arlie, still sprawled on the floor of the barn, blinking owlishly up at her as if he had no idea where he was.
"Arlie! Are you all right?"
He reached for the hand Caleb offered him and struggled back to his feet. "Just fine, Miss. Right as rain. Fit as a fiddle. Got a mite off balance, is all."
"Yes, I could see that." She turned, saw that Caleb was fighting another grin. "What are you staring at, Mr. Tanner? Since you don't seem to have any trouble hoisting that saddle, why don't you rig out Grand Coeur?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Caleb turned to his task while Lee brushed straw and dirt off her habit, and a few minutes later, the tall dappled stallion was saddled and ready to go.