Surrender to the Devil (29 page)

“No, and I don’t expect I shall. He’s gone to the country. You know how it is with the nobility. They don’t like London in winter.”

“Don’t think much of it myself.”

She laughed.

“I haven’t heard that sound in a while.” Jim said.

“Then you should come to the orphanage. I laugh quite often there. The children are a delight.”

Once they arrived at the orphanage, the footman handed her down and she began to walk toward the building. As she got nearer, she quickened her pace. It was always good to be home.

The Earl and Countess of Claybourne

Cordially invite you to enjoy a reading

By Mr. Charles Dickens

December 15, 1851

Reception and ball to follow

Your donation of a toy to be taken

To Feagan’s Children’s Home

On Christmas morning is appreciated

The Little Season occurred in December, when the lords returned to London for a quick session in Parliament. Sterling was amused to see that Catherine, with a small nudge from Frannie no doubt, was planning to take advantage of the opportunity to do a bit of good work. He didn’t know whether to view the invitation he’d received as a gift or a punishment.

He’d recovered rather nicely from his wound and had gone to the country estate as soon as he was strong enough. He thought being away from London would make it much easier to forget Frannie, but as he walked over his estate each day until near exhaustion, thoughts of her journeyed along beside him.

He’d contacted Charles Beckwith, the family solicitor, and had him draw up papers for Catherine to sign, giving Sterling permission to send her monthly stipend to the children’s home as she’d requested. His own donations were made anonymously, except for the shoes provided by the cobbler. He promptly paid the man’s statement of accounts owed whenever it arrived. With winter upon them, he hoped the children’s feet would stay warm.

In London, when Sterling slept in his bed, it seemed unlikely, yet he swore he could still smell the scent of Frannie adorning his pillow. It was another gift in his life for which he didn’t know if he should be grateful because it made him miss her all the more.

As for the invitation that he’d read and contemplated a dozen times since receiving…

As Sterling tugged on his white gloves in the foyer while his servants carried out the hundred sets of water colors that he’d purchased, he knew he couldn’t possibly not go. After all, what sort of message would that send? Catherine was his sister and one simply didn’t ignore an invitation from one’s sister. Besides, when a man carried a title as revered as Sterling’s was, it was important that he support charitable events. It made a statement that the good works were worthy of his time, gave them credence. And since he and Claybourne had been drafting legislation protecting children, it was really imperative that he let it be known he believed in the work he and Claybourne were doing. What better way than attending this function?

All and all it would work out quite nicely. He wouldn’t stay long. Simply make a quick appearance, see that Frannie was doing well, ask after Peter, and then be on his way. He could certainly manage that.

In the foyer, along with Catherine, Frannie greeted the guests as they arrived in their finery. As for herself, she wore a deep purple gown that she’d had made just for the occasion because she wanted to do the children’s home proud. Her stomach was all in knots but it had very little to do with the fact that so many of the nobility were here. She feared that if Sterling came, she’d be unable to look at him and not give away how very much she missed having him in her life.

Devoted sister that Catherine was, she had informed Frannie that Sterling was doing well in the country. But the information she shared was all superficial. Frannie didn’t know how he truly fared. If he had met someone. If he was happy. She wanted him to be happy above all else.

As people arrived, footmen took the toys to the parlor while Frannie directed the guests to the drawing room, where chairs had been set up in rows and a lectern had been placed at its far end.

She spotted a face in the crowd coming in through the door and smiled. “Mr. Dickens. It’s so good to see you, sir.”

“Miss Darling, you’re as lovely as ever.”

“You’re too kind. Here, allow me to take your hat and coat.” She led him away from the crush of people and had the butler take his outer garments.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming this evening. We have quite a crowd,” she told Mr. Dickens.

“I’m delighted to help your cause.” Looking just past her shoulder, Mr. Dickens grinned broadly. “Why, Mr. Dodger, I expected you to be transported by now.”

With his wife and five-year-old stepson, Henry, at his side, Jack laughed. “Ah, Mr. Dickens, you always underestimated my ability to get out of a tight spot. Please, Lady Olivia, allow me to introduce Mr. Charles Dickens.”

“I’m honored, sir,” Livy said.

“And my stepson,” Jack said, “the Duke of Lovingdon. Mr. Charles Dickens.”

Mr. Dickens bowed. “Your Grace.”

“I know children weren’t invited, but Henry is quite taken with your work, and I begged Catherine to make an exception,” Jack said.

“So you like my stories, do you, young man?”

Henry nodded. “May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

He pointed at Jack. “Is he the Artful Dodger?”

Mr. Dickens bent low. “I write fiction, Your Grace. The characters in my books do not really exist, but if they did”—he winked—“I do believe he would be the Artful Dodger.”

“I knew it!”

“And do you see that gentleman over there?”

“Lord Claybourne?”

Dickens nodded. “He would be Oliver.”

“And what about Miss Frannie?”

“She is every sweet girl who appears in the story.”

Henry laughed joyfully, and Frannie hoped a day would come when all the children in her orphanage laughed in the same manner, with such abandon.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Catherine said, “but we should probably get started.”

Frannie squeezed Mr. Dickens’s hand. “I’m going to introduce you.”

“Lovely.”

Frannie walked beside Catherine to the drawing room. “Did your brother—”

“No, I’m sorry. I’d hoped—”

“He’s probably very busy.”

“He may have returned to the country already.”

“Of course.” It was where he obviously preferred to reside.

They walked to the front of the drawing room. Catherine clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“I want to thank you all for coming. I hope you enjoy the evening as much my husband and I enjoy having you. We are avid supporters of Feagan’s Children’s Home. We will be taking the toys you brought this evening to the children on Christmas morning. For many of them, it will be the first time they’ve ever received a gift on Christmas morning. I would like to now introduce you to Miss Frannie Darling, who is the owner and overseer of the home.”

People clapped politely and Frannie wished they hadn’t. It made her terribly nervous to suddenly have all this attention on herself. She wanted to do the children proud.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding like a frog. She cleared her throat—

And then she saw him standing at the back of the room, just inside the doorway, looking so incredibly handsome, and she thought all her nerves would go away if she spoke only to him…

“I grew up on the streets of London. An orphan who never knew who her parents were. Feagan was the kidsman who gave me a home in exchange for which I was to pick pockets and steal and lie to people so they would give me their coins. I suppose it seems strange to name a children’s home after a criminal, but he wasn’t a criminal to me, because I didn’t know any better. He was the one who fed me and clothed me and gave me a place to sleep. When I was twelve, the previous Earl of Claybourne took me in, and that’s when I learned it was wrong to steal. The present Earl of Claybourne doesn’t know this, but I recently bought some land where I shall build another children’s home, and this one I shall name in honor of his grandfather.”

People applauded, and Luke, who had already grabbed a flute of champagne, was standing at the back of the room. With a bowing of his head he raised his flute to her in salute, and she knew her words had pleased him.

“The children on the streets are not only poor in possessions, but they are often poor in spirit. It is my hope that these homes shall give them what every child deserves: a loving place. So along with the Countess of Claybourne, I thank you for the toys you have brought and for the joy they will bring. And now for your enjoyment, I present to you Mr. Charles Dickens.”

Again everyone applauded. As Dickens neared, he kissed Frannie on the cheek. She’d heard once that he was as uncomfortable with the nobility as she. It meant a great deal to her that he’d come. When they’d met, she’d been a girl and he’d been a young man scouring the rookeries for stories.

Keeping to the wall, she walked past the row of chairs, heading for the back of the room. When she reached Luke, he drew her close and hugged her.

“My grandfather would have liked that,” he said, his voice low so as not to disturb the reading of A Christmas Carol that Dickens had begun.

Nodding, Frannie glanced past Luke, then searched the room.

“He’s left already,” Luke said.

She gave him a smile that she hoped hid her disappointment. “I’m going to check on the ballroom. Make certain it’s ready.”

But once she was in the foyer, she didn’t take the hallway that would lead to the large ballroom. She took the one that led to the library. She hesitated at the door because of the memories that rested beyond it, especially the memory of her encounter with Sterling on that gray, rainy day so long ago. But she wanted to remember it, to remember him.

She opened the door, walked in, and quietly closed it behind her. Several lamps were lit as well as the gas lamps in the garden. The curtains were drawn back and at the window stood Sterling, gazing out, his hands behind his back. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he bestowed a half smile.

Her heart was thundering so hard that she feared he’d hear it. As sedately as she could, she walked over to stand beside him. He turned his attention back to the garden, where large snowflakes were slowly drifting down.

“It started snowing. We stopped to assist someone who was having trouble with his carriage. That’s the reason I was late.”

“I’m glad you came. I was nervous standing up there until I saw you.”

“I can’t believe you have Charles Dickens here to give a reading. I suppose you met him through the Earl of Claybourne.”

“No, actually, Feagan introduced us. Mr. Dickens was researching life in the rookeries, so he interviewed some of us. To hear him tell it, he put us in his stories, but I don’t see the similarities.”

“I’ve not read the tale. Perhaps I’ll hire someone to read it to me.”

“Reading still causes your head to ache?”

“Worse than ever. So how is Peter? Did you find a family for him?”

“No, actually, I’ve decided that he shall stay with me. I promised Nancy I’d take care of him. I’m going to keep that promise. He and I live in the orphanage presently, but I’m going to have a small cottage built on the land and we’ll reside there. He’ll be the son I shall never have.”

“Surely, Swindler will give you children.”

“I’m not going to marry Jim.”

“Has he not yet asked?”

“He’s not going to. He knows what the answer will be. I don’t love him in that manner. It would be very unfair to him.” She desperately wanted to reach out and hug him, hold him close. Instead she took a deep breath. “So how have you been?”

Finally he faced her, and she was able to gaze into those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted her dreams these many weeks.

“I was just standing here thinking about the morning of Catherine’s wedding and how easily you lifted my timepiece,” he said far too quietly.

“Oh, dear God, please don’t remember that. I don’t know why I did it. I’m so embarrassed—”

He touched his finger to her lips, silencing her plea that his memories of her be far more pleasant.

“You managed to do the same with my heart, didn’t you, Frannie? You stole it, and I didn’t even feel it happening.”

Tears burned her eyes and her chest ached with the raw emotion she saw reflected in his eyes. Her heart leaped with the possibility that something real and true could exist—did exist—between them. “Oh, Sterling, I—”

Before she could profess her love for him, he was again pressing his finger to her lips. “I thought if I kept my distance that somehow my heart would return to me.”

She shook her head. “As long as I have it, I’ll not give it back.”

“You must.”

He returned his gaze to the garden, and she thought she would shatter with the thought of losing him. Since he’d gone to the country, she’d never known such loneliness. Her dreams of helping orphans paled when compared with the dream of once again having him in her life. She wanted to be able to talk with him at any hour of the day or night. She wanted to envision new dreams and share them with him. She wanted to look across a room and see him watching her. She wanted to wake up next to him and fall asleep beside him.

“Sterling—”

“I’m going blind, Frannie.”

Frannie felt her heart stutter, her chest tighten into a painful knot.

“Right now, I can’t see you,” he said quietly. “Are you looking at the garden?”

“No, I’m looking at you.”

“Look at the garden.”

Only she didn’t want to. She wanted to look at him, but she did as he asked.

“Can you see me?” he asked.

“Out of the corner of my eye, yes.” She turned back to him, and discovered his gaze on her.

“I can see you now,” he said, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “But unlike you I can’t see out of the corner of my eye, or even much to the side for that matter. And when the shadows move in, I lose a great deal more than that.”

“What happened? Was it because of your encounter with Sykes?” She was horrified to think—

“No. This has been coming for some time. Do you remember my drawings of the willow tree?”