Page 18 of The Twelve Days of Love

“Did you know Lucy became our daughter three Christmases ago?”

Boy nodded. “I saw when she went with you. After Jem got killed.”

It didn’t surprise him that Boy had seen that moment.

“You have always watched out for her, haven’t you?” he prodded gently. “When you were at the Driskells—and even now.”

Shock filled the boy’s face. “You know about the Driskells? And you still took her in?”

“Of course, we did. Lucy shared her past with us—including her relationship with you—but my wife and I would never have judged her by the actions of others. She could not help that her father sold her off. She had no control from keeping Driskell from making you play The Rule of Three.”

Boy’s eyes widened. “You know about the marks?”

“We do. You, Lucy, and Jem were forced into circumstances. Fortunately, you and Lucy escaped being under Driskell’s thumb.”

Tears filled Boy’s eyes. “And you don’t mind that Lucy’s was a pickpocket? That she was a thief?”

“Not a bit. I don’t mind that you were, either,” Luke said matter-of-factly.

Boy grimaced. “I’ve had to do worse than pick pockets these past three years,” he admitted. “It’s part of the reason I never spoke to Lucy. I watched for when you and Lady Mayfield would come to town. I saw Lucy with the other children.”

It broke Luke’s heart that this lonely boy with no name had watched from afar.

“You said you were leaving. Where are you going?”

“Dunno,” Boy said sullenly. “I might join the navy.”

Luke made his decision, one he knew had already been made for him the moment he had learned of Boy. It had taken until this moment, though, for him to right the wrongs suffered by this orphan.

“I hope you never leave here, Boy.”

Boy frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“We want to make you a part of our family.”

A loud snort came from the lad. “What a crock of shite. A bleedin’ earl and countess taking me in.”

He gazed steadily at Boy. “I mean it. I have had a Bow Street Runner looking for you. So that you could join Lucy and our other children and become a St. Clair. You didn’t show up for our meeting. It is what I wanted to ask you about. If you would come and live with us.”

Confusion—and yearning—filled Boy’s eyes. “You want me to live with you? And your wife and children?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I want.”

“Lady Mayfield won’t want that. You already have enough children.”

Luke placed a hand on Boy’s thin shoulder. “We have enough love in our hearts to add to our family. Caroline and I would be proud to call you our son.”

Boy burst out into sobs. He leaped from the fence and collapsed upon the ground, burying his face in the dirt. Luke joined him, his hand rubbing up and down the boy’s back, worried at how gaunt Boy was and how he was so small for his age.

When the tears subsided, Boy lifted a tearstained face. “You really think I could fit into your world?”

With resolve, Luke said, “I know you would fit into our family. The rest would follow. I am not saying it would be easy, Boy. You will need to learn to do a great many things. From reading to assuming your responsibilities.”

“What responsibilities?” he asked, almost hostile.

“Lucy tells me you are three years her senior. That would make you the oldest of the St. Clair children. It would mean you would be responsible for your younger brothers and sisters. You would learn to look out for them. And hopefully, you will learn to love them. And your parents.

“What do you say, Boy? Will you come home with me now? Be a part of our family?”

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