Page 15 of The Virgin and the Viscount

“Can you even imagine being caught in such a situation?” Justine asked. “I simply can’t. How horrifying to have your own mother walk in on such a thing.”

Justine was sharing bits of gossip, and Tilly didn’t care about any of it. Instead, she’d been watching the people around them, searching for the small signs of the thieves working in the area. She suspected there were several operating along this stretch of Bond Street but had not yet caught any in the act.

That’s when Tilly saw him. A painfully thin boy with a dirt-smudged face and a crooked cap partially hiding his eyes. He was small and quick, but he wasn’t watching Tilly, which enabled her to snag him by the arm. She pulled him away from the crowd so they were over by the brick wall of the corner shop. Justine followed behind.

“Let go, lady,” the boy said.

Tilly bent slightly to better see his face. His big brown eyes tugged at her heart. “Do you need money for food?” she asked him.

He scowled at her. “No.”

“Who are you stealing for then?” She held firm to his arm though he continued to tug to try to free himself. She’d gotten the idea when reading Sullivan’s copy of Oliver Twist. These kids she’d found stealing had to be working for someone else. A real-life Fagin. If Tilly could find that person, she could put a stop to his usage of children.

“I wasn’t stealing,” the boy insisted.

Tilly raised a brow. “If I were to check your pockets, I’m certain I’d find items that don’t belong to you.”

His cheeks flushed pink beneath the smudges of dirt. Her heart twisted. She wanted to bring him home, clean him up, and give him warm bread and butter and a soft bed. She sighed.

She reached into her reticule dangling from her wrist and pulled out a few coins. “Promise me you’ll buy something to eat.”

His eyes widened. “Yes, I will, lady. Thank you.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Harry.”

“Well then, Harry, I hope the next time I see you your fingers won’t be slipping into anyone else’s pockets.” She narrowed her eyes to let him know she was serious.

He nodded fervently, and then she released his arm. He stood for a moment looking at her before he ran the other way.

“You’re not supposed to be working,” Justine hissed.

“It’s been only a few times and always children. I think there’s someone training them and forcing them to steal. It isn’t right.” Tilly’s stomach was in knots and frustration ate at her. Certainly she could figure out a way to help these children. She wasn’t interested in shopping any longer so she and Justine hailed a hackney to take them home. Tilly’s family townhome was closer to where they were so she was dropped off first.

Perhaps she needed to go to Lady Somersby to seek out her counsel. Tilly was so lost in her thoughts she nearly missed her mother standing in the middle of the corridor.

“Please join us a moment in the front parlor,” her mother said.

It was the nicest room in the house and one that her mother reserved for special guests. Tilly herself had been in the room only a handful of times before. Curiosity ran thick and bubbly through her belly. They must have very important visitors.

The door sat partially open, but she pushed her way inside, her mother on her heels. The smile on her face died when she saw both her father as well as Sullivan and his mother. Her mother stepped around her to sit on the settee.

“Come in, Matilda,” her father said, his voice terse.

Sullivan stood as she walked in the room and nodded to her as she walked past him.

Normally, she’d greet everyone before sitting, but today she decided to wait to speak until first spoken to. The curiosity had turned acidic and now burned with unwanted caution. Something was amiss. Sweat made her palms feel clammy and prickly chills had started at the base of her neck.

“It has come to our attention that Glenbrook here assisted you and your broken-down carriage a few nights ago on your way back from London, is this correct?” her father asked.

Tilly gingerly lowered herself into a thin wooden chair adjacent to the rest of the people. If she was to be accused of something, she might as well sit in an appropriate position for such questioning. She nearly rolled her eyes at her own sense of the melodrama. A quick glance to her mother showed the woman nearly tearing her handkerchief into pieces her fingers worried the fabric so.

Tilly’s already distressed insides roiled even more. “Yes, that is what happened. The wheel broke on the carriage, the driver left me to go and find help, and Lord Glenbrook happened by,” Tilly said.

“Later we shall discuss your harebrained decision to return to London alone,” her mother said through her teeth. She always did that, as if she thought no one else could hear her when she spoke that way except the person she was specifically addressing—whom more often than not was Tilly. It was irritating to say the least. Not to mention embarrassing to be chastised in front of Sullivan and his mother.

“It would seem that someone saw the two of you exiting a room at an inn. Together. From the same room,” her father said.

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