Page 66 of Saving Miss Pratt

“I must ask, Miss Pratt, should you be wandering the East End? Is that how you came upon Master Fingers?”

She shook herself from the wave of dizziness. “We were in the park as planned for our stroll. The boy, umm . . .” She caught the child’s wide-eyed look of terror, no doubt preparing to be carted off by the constable. “He retrieved my reticule when I dropped it.”

Timothy began binding the injured ankle. Although he didn’t remove his gaze from his task, a smile ghosted his lips.

“As for my abigail, she is outside. She declined to enter.”

“She would be safer inside than out, I’m afraid. Perhaps you should fetch her.”

Priscilla nodded and quickly made her way back to the front of the clinic. Worry clamped against her chest that Timothy might dig the truth from the boy before she returned. She had no wish to send the child to gaol. He’d probably snatched her reticule hoping to find a few coins to purchase a bit of much-needed food.

When Priscilla exited the examination room, Nancy had already sought safety within the walls of the clinic. The woman was pacing the floor of the waiting area, wringing her hands, her eyes as big as saucers. “Oh, there you are, miss.” Her gaze jerked around to the few remaining patients. Lifting a handkerchief to her mouth, in sotto voce, she said, “Who knows what manner of illness these people have.”

Priscilla wanted to roll her eyes. One advantage to being married would be ridding herself of the nuisance of a chaperone. “For heaven’s sake, Nancy. It’s no worse than being in a crowded room at Almack’s.”

“Hear, hear,” a portly man said, lifting an imaginary glass of something—most likely ale or whisky, judging from his red nose—in toast.

“If it makes you more comfortable, return with me to the examination room.”

“Is there . . . blood?”

Priscilla succumbed to the eye roll. “Of course not. The child twisted an ankle. He didn’t cut off an arm.”

The portly toaster guffawed, then belched. Yes, definitely a connoisseur of alcohol.

Priscilla quickened her pace as Timothy’s stern words drifted into the hallway. “Tell me the truth, boy. Did you abscond with Miss Pratt’s reticule?”

She stepped into the room, drawing upon her courage. “Dr. Marbry, may I have a word outside?”

Timothy spun on his heel to face her, then, after giving the boy a reprimanding look, nodded.

“I see you’ve located your abigail,” he said, jerking his chin toward Nancy.

Priscilla waved it off. Her chaperone was the least of her concerns. “I forbid you to interrogate that child.”

Timothy’s green eyes sparkled, his lips tipping up at the corners. “You forbid me, do you? Have you joined the ranks of His Grace and the Somersbys and decided to adopt street rats?”

“No . . . I mean . . . yes, I forbid you, but no, I am not adopting the boy. But look at him, Dr. Marbry. He’s probably hungry and only wanted to buy something to eat. Besides, my reticule has been returned, and no harm has been done . . . except to him. Please don’t call the constable. I’ve already had to sneak away from Mr. Ugbrooke, who demanded it.”

Footsteps sounded behind them, and she turned to once again find the duke watching them intently. “If you’re planning on calling the constable, I’m afraid you’re too late. The lad just hobbled off behind you while you two were in your heated discussion.”

With a jerk, Timothy swiveled around and peered into the examination room. “Blast. He’s gone.”

“Oh, dear. I wanted to give him some money before he left.”

The duke’s eyebrows rose as he continued to stare at her as if she had two heads.

Timothy explained, “Miss Pratt thinks he’s hungry, and that’s why he tried to nick her reticule.”

“Indeed? And since when have you been concerned with those less fortunate, Miss Pratt?” Surprise tinged the duke’s accusation.

She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “A person can change, Your Grace.”

The question remaining was, had she changed enough?

* * *

With the child gone,Priscilla and her maid left the clinic, leaving Timothy with much to think about. As he washed his hands in the chlorinated lime again, he sensed eyes on him, and he peered over his shoulder.

---