The Duke Heist (The Wild Wynchesters #1) - Erica Ridley Page 0,103

You should see the darling little scrunched-up faces he makes. His father is absolutely in love.” She turned to Lawrence. “When do you intend to start your family, Your Grace?”

He cleared his throat. “That is actually why I’ve summoned you all to this meeting. I would like to ask for Chloe Wynchester’s hand in marriage.”

Dinah blinked. “Shouldn’t you be saying this to Miss Wynchester?”

Lawrence met each of their eyes. “She has no dowry.” The words tumbled from his lips like lead weights. “If we wed, I will not be able to afford this town house. I don’t know how long I will be able to afford to pay you. Perhaps only a month or two. I will of course be writing effusive letters of recommendation.” He paused. “Or…I can resume my hunt for an heiress.”

Hastings reared back in surprise. “Give up Miss Wynchester, Your Grace?”

“And your chance at love?” Mrs. Root echoed, appalled. “Didn’t you hear anything I’ve been saying about the meaning of family?”

“Mrs. Root and I have watched over you for decades,” Hastings said, “waiting for the moment you would finally find happiness.”

Mrs. Elkins’s eyes were kind. “There are thousands of kitchens, Your Grace. But there is only one Miss Wynchester. Finding a new position will be well worth it, if it means you’re finally happy and loved.”

Peggy and Dinah nodded.

“What are you still doing here?” Jackson said gruffly. “Don’t you have a lady’s heart to win?”

“Thank you.” Lawrence’s throat was so thick, the words were barely intelligible. “I’ll…I’ll do whatever it takes to keep all of you close for as long as I can.”

Swiftly, he strode to his study. At his escritoire he withdrew ink, parchment, wax. He would not force himself back into Chloe’s life, but he would do his best to show her how much he needed her in his.

His plume scratched across the foolscap in fits and starts as he contemplated each word and phrase. If it took a hundred crumpled drafts to get there, so be it. He had one chance to get this right. To prove how much she meant to him, without a shadow of a doubt.

If she accepted his plea to accompany him to the opera, others would see her presence as a public proposal.

Chloe would know it was so much more than that. His private box was a window into his soul. An invitation was a declaration of love. Lawrence would be welcoming her into his world, just as she had done for him.

And if she did not accept…

Lawrence would have only himself to blame for a life without love.

36

The sun was setting when Chloe stopped her driver in front of St. Giles’s church, at the same post where she’d first met Bean. It seemed fitting.

The woman in charge of the Women’s Employment Charity rushed out to greet her.

“Thank you so much, Miss Wynchester.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Your donation will aid countless parishioners to obtain posts and receive wages. This will change so many lives.”

Chloe was happy to help. She’d kept a few of her plainest clothes for the future adventures of Jane Brown, but the majority were inside the trunks several volunteers were now hauling into the church.

Trunks delivered, she turned back toward her carriage.

A little boy of perhaps six years of age stood awestruck in front of it, staring upward, eyes wide.

His shoes were too small for his feet. The tips had been cut away to allow his toes to protrude. His threadbare shirt and trousers hung large on his narrow frame, as though he was meant to grow into them. She doubted the tattered material would last until summer.

Chloe bent to one knee before him, mindless of the grime now seeping through her skirt. She could afford new clothes. This boy could not.

She reached into an inner pocket and handed him a simple drawstring bag.

He shook his head. “Wot do I want wiv a girl’s purse?”

Ah. He wasn’t a pickpocket, like her. Not yet, anyway.

“There’s a gold sovereign inside.” The one Bean had given her here, at this very spot. “And warm red mittens.”

The latter proved the more convincing. He snatched the bag from her hand as if afraid she would change her mind, and raced into one of the many dilapidated homes without a backward glance.

Chloe pushed to her feet and swiped the dirt from her knee. The mittens now had a new home, with an owner who would appreciate them.

As to the coin…who knew? Perhaps it would purchase a new