room, greeting various children and patiently listening to childish stories of inconsequential nonsense.
Nick found an empty chair in the corner and went to claim it, needing a moment away from everyone else to compose himself. His surprising possessiveness over a lady who didn’t even like him had caught him off guard. It wasn’t like him to pine after a woman. If one didn’t want him, there were others who would willingly have him. Why concern himself with one who spurned him, when he could avail himself to all the rest?
Sleep and a good, hard fuck—that was what he needed. He’d achieve both tonight if it killed him, but for now he would make it through what was left of the afternoon without snapping Lewes’s neck.
When he reached the chair, he found a child huddled behind it, head buried against his knees.
“What’s this?” he murmured, pulling the chair out and crouching to get a closer look at the boy. “What are you doing hiding back here?”
A blue eye peered at Nick from beneath a tumble of sandy-brown hair, a fat tear slipping from one corner. The lad couldn’t be older than six, his rail-thin figure telling Nick he hadn’t had a good meal in his life prior to arriving at the home.
“I-I didn’t w-want them to see,” the boy managed between soft sobs. “They only t-tease me worse when I c-cry.”
He followed the boy’s gaze to the group of lads tossing a ball about between them. They might be the same age, or a bit older, but were clearly better fed and stronger than the little urchin cowering in the corner. Pity for the lad overwhelmed him, as he clearly recognized the signs of one who did not quite belong. Whether because he was new to the home, or because he wasn’t as tough as the others, he was alone, lonely, and afraid.
“No one will laugh at you with me here. I’ve decided we are friends, you and I. My name is Dominick, but you may call me Nick. What is your name?”
“Thomas.”
“That’s a good, strong name. Stand up, Tom.”
Nick rose and gave the lad space to come to his feet. While well dressed in clean clothes, the garments hung from his slender frame, calling attention to the protrusion of his shoulders. It would take months of hearty meals to put some fat on the boy’s bones.
Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved his deck of cards and held them up. “Do you know how to play vingt et un?”
Thomas wrinkled his nose and shook his head. His eyes widened as Nick flicked the cards from one hand to the other with a soft snap and rustle, then began to shuffle.
“No, m’lord.”
“Not m’lord,” Nick chided. “Nick, remember? And, I’ll teach you. Sit here.”
They went to the floor together, cross-legged and facing one another. Nick laid the deck between them, then reached back into his coat.
“Vingt et un is a gentleman’s game, one that requires mostly luck, but also a bit of skill. Do you know how to do sums?”
“Yes,” Thomas replied, eyes going wide as Nick produced a small pouch along with a handkerchief.
He opened the pouch to show the boy what was inside, before spreading the handkerchief and dumping five of the sweets inside onto the linen.
“Now, typically gentleman will bet money on this game, but today we will play for sweets.”
Longing blue eyes fixed on the caramels and peppermints Nick had revealed. Inside the pouch were more of them, plus lemon drops, chocolate truffles, and sugar plums.
“Let’s see how many sweets you can win, shall we?”
Nick dealt the lad his first card, then began to explain the rudiments of the game. The noise of the room faded away as he and Thomas became engrossed by the game. By the time the first five sweets had been bet—with the lad winning two for himself and losing three to Nick, two other children had wandered over. They seemed more interested in the sweets than the game, but Nick simply instructed them to sit and then dealt them in. Thomas’s tears seemed forgotten as the game progressed, and a group of others crowded around to watch.
Before he knew it, an hour had passed, and he’d nearly depleted his pouch of sweets. Thomas had taken over as dealer, commanding the attention of even the boys who had teased him—each of them wanting a turn at the game and the cluster of sweetmeats sitting on Nick’s handkerchief.