Page 25 of Dubious about the Duke (Second Sons of London 5)

Chapter Nine

They were unruly.Uncontrollable. Incorrigible.

What the bloody hell was Win going to do with these boys?

He had brought them to Essex, first stopping in the nearby village in order for the local tailor to measure them. The man refused, citing the boys’ overall filth.

“Sorry, Your Grace, but you must get them cleaned up before I’ll touch them.” The tailor had frowned. “Might I suggest that you check them for lice?”

Win hadn’t even thought of that. Much less the idea of his fancy carriage being infested with parasites.

He had ordered his driver to head for Woodbridge and turned the boys over to his butler and housekeeper, the Farmwells. Larson, his valet, was also pressed into service. He had told them to scrub Freddie and Charlie until every bit of grime was gone.

It had taken all three servants, along with three footmen, to hold them down.

Larson had been sent into the attics to scour trunks for any clothing that might fit the pair, while Win had visited with his steward. Kepler had told him of a childless couple in their early thirties who had always longed for children. Win immediately went to see the Birdwells, telling them he wished to place two boys into their care and guaranteeing them he would award them the monies to help clothe, house, and feed Freddie and Charlie. He mentioned seeing to their education and possible apprenticeship at some craft if the two weren’t interested in farming. The Birdwells blubbered like babes, thanking Win for this opportunity to finally become parents.

He did not disclose his relationship with the boys. Win didn’t know if he ever would. Though he felt an obligation to rectify Terrance’s mistakes, he didn’t really view his brother’s bastards as relations of his. They were strangers, caught up in a long-ago scandal, and really had little to do with him. He would do his ducal duty and see they were placed in a good home and given opportunities they wouldn’t have had access to. He saw no need to ever disclose they were related.

Freddie and Charlie had looked presentable by the time he returned to the house. He saw little of Terrance in them and figured both favored their mothers in looks—and hopefully their dispositions, as well. Larson had found old clothes of his and Terrance’s which fit them. The quality of the material was good and men’s fashions rarely changed. He did not think a return trip to the village tailor was needed at this time.

Win explained to Freddie and Charlie how they were going to live with the Birdwells now that their mama had passed. He would check on them periodically. At least he would have Larson or Kepler do so. Feeling his duty to his brother’s by-blows would soon be fulfilled, he personally escorted the boys to the Birdwells’ cottage and left them.

Two days passed, busy ones for Win, and when Larson told him he was going to deliver a few more sets of clothing to the cottage, Win decided he would complete the task himself. It wouldn’t hurt to see the boys with their new guardians and observe how the Birdwells were treating them.

When he arrived, he found Mrs. Birdwell in tears. Win had never been able to handle tears and since he couldn’t understand a word the woman said as she blubbered, he turned to her husband.

Birdwell broke the news. “We can’t do it anymore, Your Grace.”

“Can’t do what?” he asked, puzzled by the statement.

“Care for them little devils,” the farmer whispered, looking around the cottage as if someone might overhear him.

“I don’t understand.”

“They... are... well, Your Grace, there’s no polite way to put this. I wouldn’t wish that pair on anyone. Sorry, Your Grace. You’re going to have to take them back.”

“Take them... back?” The notion hadn’t occurred to him. “That’s simply not possible.”

Birdwell nodded. “We don’t want them. They’re evil little bastards. I won’t go into what they have done but you must take them off our hands now else Mrs. Birdwell might suffer a breakdown.”

Win stiffened and then realized Birdwell used the term generically. The farmer had no idea Freddie and Charliewerebastards—of the former Duke of Woodmont.

Frowning, he asked, “Do you know who else might take them on?”

Birdwell vehemently shook his head. “No one at Woodbridge, Your Grace. I wouldn’t wish them on anyone here. I would warn others against it. They’re evil little buggers.” Then looking sheepish, he had added, “Sorry, Your Grace.”

When he pressed the farmer further, Birdwell—and his wife—clammed up. They wouldn’t give Win any specific example of what had occurred during the past two days. They merely demanded that he take the boys back.

Realizing he had no choice, especially since he didn’t want to alienate such good tenants, he agreed to take charge of Freddie and Charlie.

Finding them, however, was another matter. Win and his coachman searched for the better part of the day until they returned to the cottage, hoping the boys would do so, as well.

Sure enough, they were sitting outside the door, cross-legged, drawing with sticks in the dirt. They leaped to their feet when they spied him.

“Your Grace!” they cried in unison.

“You came to save us!” Freddie added. “Them Birdwells didn’t want us, Your Grace. Made us wait out here for you.”

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