Page 10 of Starlight Night (The St. Clairs 5.50)

The little girl’s face tightened. “I don’t have one anymore. The street is my home.”

He strained to keep the shock of her words from registering on his face. It was one thing to suspect it and another to hear his suspicions confirmed. “Do your parents live on the streets with you?” he asked carefully.

“No. Mama died after the baby was born. He died, too.” Her bottom lip quivered. She hugged the book tightly to her.

“And your papa?”

Lucy shrugged.

“You can tell us,” Caroline said, slipping her hand around the girl’s tiny one.

“Papa sold me. He didn’t want me anymore. I saw him in an alley later. He was dead.”

Luke’s gut tightened in anger, knowing what that meant. Anger surged within him, thinking of grown men taking a piece of this child’s innocence from her over and over.

“My new papa, Driskell, taught me to work the streets.” She glanced up at him. “Do you know what a pickpocket is?”

“I do,” he assured her, comprehending that this child had been utilized as a thief and not one used by vile men for other purposes.

She smiled at him sadly, placing the book on the table. “I know stealing’s wrong but my new papa said I had to help Jem do the work. So I would cry and act lost and people would stop to help me. That’s when Jem would pick the mark’s pocket.”

“How long have you and Jem worked for your new papa?” Caroline asked.

“I came last Christmas. Jem... Jem’s dead now. He got run over yesterday.” Tears began streaming down Lucy’s face. “I couldn’t do it anymore. With Jem gone, I didn’t want to go work upstairs. Jem said bad things happen to the girls upstairs. I think that’s where Driskell wanted to take me. I didn’t want to go there.”

Lucy began sobbing violently. Luke scooped her up and placed her on his lap, his arms enfolding her. He wanted to protect her from all she’d witnessed. Caroline stood and stroked the girl’s hair, murmuring soothing words. He slipped his hand around Lucy’s and she eventually cried herself out.

“Do you have anywhere left to go, Lucy? Any family at all?” he asked.

When she looked up at him, she shook her head. “No.” The whispered word hung in the air.

Caroline’s hand squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

“Then you’ll come home with us,” he told the orphan.

An array of emotions crossed the young’s girl’s face. Fear. Excitement. Frustration.

And hope.

“I can help in the kitchen,” she said eagerly. “I’m strong. I can carry things. I learn fast. Driskell said so. Maybe I could learn to be a maid when I’m bigger. Or help—”

Luke cradled the girl’s face. “We don’t want you to come as our servant, Lucy.”

Her face fell. She wriggled away, sliding from his lap. Once again, a mask slipped over her features, making her appear far older than her years. She picked up the book and handed it back to him.

“I can’t take this.”

Lucy turned and began walking away on shaky legs.

“Wait,” Caroline called out.

Luke held his breath as the girl turned, eyeing them with suspicion.

“We don’t want you as a servant, Lucy,” Luke gently explained. “We want you as our daughter.”

Shock rippled through the child, visibly jarring her. She began quivering from head to toe. Caroline closed the gap between them, dropping to her knees and wrapping Lucy in her arms.

“I know it’s hard to trust, Lucy, but I’m asking you to trust us,” his wife said.

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