Page 88 of A Relentless Rake

Olivia interjected, “So why don’t you stay and have yourself a good meal for your trouble?”

The boy eyed Olivia warily, then decided she was trustworthy enough and tugged again at his forelock. This time in proper deference. “I’d like that, miss.”

She smiled. “Then help yourself to as much as you want to eat, Phillip.”

He looked at her as if she’d gone daft. “Me name’sFilth, ma’am.”

Ignoring that, she nodded past his shoulder at the housekeeper, who still lingered at the door. “Mrs. Adams, while Phillip is eating breakfast, would you see if there are any sticky buns left over from the girls’ tea yesterday? You can wrap some up for Phillip to take with him.”

The housekeeper nodded, although it was clear from the expression on the woman’s face that she also wanted to grab the boy by his ears and dunk him repeatedly in a soapy tub. “Yes, Miss Everett. I’ll show Mr. Phillip to the kitchen.”

The promise of sticky buns got the boy’s attention enough to not care that Olivia had given him a proper name. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“And if you come back tomorrow, Phillip, there might be work for you outside in the service yard in exchange for a hot dinner.” Olivia narrowed her blue eyes as she studied him and tapped her finger against her chin with mock thoughtfulness. “Of course, if you’re going to work for the Everett School, you’ll have to wear the new jacket we’ll give you. And boots. That’s a requirement of the job, I’m afraid. We mustn’t let anyone think we don’t take care of our employees, you understand, so you’re just going to have to wear new work clothes, whether you like it or not.”

The grin that blossomed on the boy’s face stretched nearly from ear to ear.

“Go on, then, Phillip, and follow Mrs. Adams. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“This way, Phillip,” Mrs. Adams repeated the boy’s new name as she pointed down the hall.

He paused in the doorway and turned back in afterthought. “M’ friend Grunt’s a good worker, miss. Won’t cause no problems. You think you might got any work fer ’im too?” He held out the coins on his grubby palm. “I can pay fer ’is work clothes, if’n that’s a trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Olivia smiled. “Bring Grant with you tomorrow. There’s more than enough work.”

The boy beamed, transformed. The moment he obediently followed Mrs. Adams from the room, the boy became Phillip. No longer a chimney sweep who would be lucky to live past the age of twenty but now a school employee—although a dubious one—with a real chance at a decent future.

Olivia remained on her knees a moment longer as she watched the boy disappear down the hall. A poignant mixture of hope and sadness shone on her face.

Alec couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. He’d never seen a woman so selfless as to invite an abused boy into her home and give him food, clothing, and employment. More, in changing his name, she’d changed his identity and increased his self-worth. The goodness in her stole his breath away.

That she was the same woman who challenged him intellectually, who thrilled him physically—the same hellcat who darted fearlessly down dark alleys, then melted when he held her in his arms—the entirety of her made him tremble.

She looked up at him, and he feared she could read his feelings for her on his face. So he warningly teased, “I think you just started a workhouse for runaway chimney sweeps.”

She smiled. “I’m perfectly fine with that.”

Then she surprised him again by sitting right down on the floor. She quickly unrolled the sheaf of papers and spread them out across the carpet to examine them. Her smile faded.

“More building plans,” she told him, not looking up from the large pages.

“They’re planning another attack,” he murmured as he came forward and looked over her shoulder. “Just as before.”

Her face paled as she swept her hands over the plans to find any distinguishing marks. “But where? Three stories, central staircase, flat-front façade, no windows in the side walls…no architect’s notations that I can recognize.” She sat back on her heels in defeat. “This could be almost any building in London.”

“There’s no way to tell who created those plans or when?”

She shook her head. “But I do know why they sent them to me.” She raised her glistening eyes from the plans to meet his. “Henry can’t do these calculations, not for something as complicated as this. He must have told them that, must have admitted that it was me who did his work and refused to help them, and they—they kidnapped him to force me into working them.” She pressed her hand to her mouth and whispered starkly through her fingers, “He’s being held hostage because of me.”

“You arenotresponsible.” Alec dropped to the floor beside her and cupped her face in his hands. With every ounce of resolve he possessed, he willed her to believe him. “This is all Scepter’s doing, and you’ve been swept up into it because you love your brother. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Itismy fault,” she argued gravely. “But I can save him.” She took on a sudden look of grim determination as she pointed at the plans. “I can work these, deliver them, and free Henry.”

“No, you won’t,” he assured her quietly. “You have too much goodness in you to harm others.”

Tears of frustration gathered on her lashes. “But if I don’t do as they demand, then Henry will…” Unable to finish the sentence, she clutched the plans to her breast, as if they were as dear to her as a child.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that most likely her brother was already dead. Scepter would treat her no differently from the messenger boy, who was promised a reward he would never receive when he finished the job.