that several members of the committee had gathered on the edge of the group of children, curious as to what had captured their attention. Among them was Calliope, who seemed surprised at what she was witnessing, her curious gaze wandering from the children and the cards spread out on the floor, then settling on Nick.
He couldn’t read her expression, so he wondered if it was disapproval he saw in those dark eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might not be a good idea to introduce children to gambling, but had thought it innocent enough. Hopefully, she wouldn’t come to him later with word that Thomas had begun a secret gaming club in his dormitory. A smirk made his lips twitch at the amusing thought, and he supposed it was all well and good if it helped the lad get along better with the other boys.
Deciding the children no longer needed his assistance with the game, he wandered away from them, but was frustrated to find that Lewes had once again commanded Calliope’s attention. The two had moved toward a window for what looked to be quite an intimate conversation. His gaze was so intently fixed on her that Nick was seized with the desire to pluck the man’s eyes out.
It seemed his services might not be needed for much longer—a prospect that settled a block of ice in his chest for reasons he did not understand.
Calliope tore her gaze away from Dominick’s retreating back with a sigh. It annoyed her to no end that he commanded so much of her attention, when the man she ought to give her all to stood right before her.
This time, Dominick had proved a distraction for reasons entirely different than the previous offenses. It was bad enough that he always loomed nearby looking so devilishly handsome, as decadent and sinful as the sweets he’d carried in his pocket. Did he have to add insult to injury by proving to be a natural when handling children? They’d flocked to him as if they couldn’t help themselves—as if, just like any red-blooded woman in any ballroom, they were drawn by his charm and exuberant grin. He’d been patient, tilting his head to listen to this child or that one, while simultaneously dealing cards and handing out sweets. Her heart had done a little flip in her chest at the realization that he’d brought them along for this express purpose. While coming into the London Home, he had gone out of his way to show kindness to the foundlings, treating them as if they were in no way beneath him. The orphans would remember him for his cards and sweets far more readily than they would the patronesses for the donations of their funds.
Giving her head a little shake, she turned back to the man who had steered her toward a window on the far side of the room, intent on having a word with her. He had been following Dominick’s progress across the room with pursed lips, and now turned back to her with a probing stare.
“I think, perhaps, I gave you the wrong impression earlier,” he said with an apologetic grimace.
“How so?”
He inclined his head toward Diana, who stood near the doors bidding a few of the lady patronesses a good day. They’d made their rounds and were now content to depart having done their duty by the home.
“My surprise that your sister would continue her active patronage after marrying Hastings must have come across as disapproval.”
Calliope bit her lip, reluctant to make him feel guiltier than he clearly already did.
“I will admit, I was taken aback by it, but should not have been. I suppose most men expect ladies to put aside their maidenly pursuits once they have wed. While charity is certainly encouraged, we’ve lost a few patronesses over the years—those who choose not to take so active a role following their weddings. But, as you can see, we have quite a few married patronesses, many of whom have convinced their husbands of the importance of our cause.”
“And I admire them for it,” Mr. Lewes said quickly. “I admire you, as well. Surely you must know that. Watching you work today was quite inspiring. It is clear that you are very passionate about your efforts.”
“Very much so. Doesn’t it bother you that an empire as powerful and wealthy as Britain does such a poor job of caring for the unfortunate? Here we stand, just beyond Westminster Palace, surrounded by children abandoned