stall. “Get whatever this buys,” he said, “and keep one for yourself.”
“Thankee, sir!” Will cried. He hopped off the equipage and ran to the stall.
Frannie continued to look around, bright-eyed, and suddenly gasped. “Oh, there’s the chestnut man!” Smiling, she added, “We roasted our own at home many a time; there’s nothing like a hot chestnut in winter, is there, sir?”
Sebastian surveyed his young charge benignly. Her innocent chocolate eyes sparkled with light when she smiled. Her cheeks and nose were tipped with rose-red from the cold, and altogether she made an appealingly pretty sight. Her artlessness surprised him. He could scarcely imagine another young woman in society who would exclaim innocently upon the delights of roasted chestnuts. Too, he could little explain why this young woman should delight him with such raptures. He felt an uncustomary sensation of protectiveness, as though he was with a younger sister.
When Will returned, he was sent immediately to the chestnut man. After that, they acquired apples from an apple cart, a needle from a needle maker (for Sebastian’s mama, he was assured, had broken a needle just the previous evening), and hot buns from another baker’s cart. Frannie held the paper-wrapped parcels upon her lap gingerly, guarding the treasures. The aroma of hot bread and chestnuts was unmistakable. At another traffic impasse, Sebastian looked over and sniffed. “A shame those buns will turn cold before we are back to the house.”
Frannie looked at him with a question in her eyes. She looked down at the small bundle. “Indeed.” Her fingers were itching to unwrap the buns—just one taste would be heavenly. But well-bred people did not eat on the street. She peeked at him again, and he nodded toward the buns. “Letʼs just have a taste, shall we?” He grinned mischievously.
She almost gaped in surprise. Smiling, she removed her gloves and undid the paper enough to extract one bun. It was still warm in her hands. Taking a furtive glance around, she broke off a piece and offered it to him. He held reins in both hands, however, and so opened his mouth, to her surprise. She popped it in, but blushed. She broke off another piece for herself. While chewing quietly, both their lips were turned up in smiles. Frannie felt absurdly delighted that he had allowed her to feed him by hand. It felt like an intimate gesture, a privilege. And on the street!
Edward was wrong, utterly, in calling his elder brother a starched shirt. While she reminded herself that the action could hold no meaning to Sebastian, he said, “You were quite right. Excellent texture, and just the right hint of sweetness.” He turned to her with a little smile. “Thank you. We must have Spence send a man for these buns in future.” Frannie nodded, very pleased.
Just before leaving that crowded thoroughfare, as they waited in line behind a farmer’s dray, Frannie’s hand grasped Sebastian’s arm. “Oh, the unfortunate creature!” Before he could reply or inquire, she scurried from her seat to a child at the kerb, a youngster who could be no more than seven or eight years old. She held out her hands to the ragged street urchin. “God bless you!” she said to the large, hopeful eyes upturned from soot-covered features, eyes holding a world of pain it seemed to Frannie. They glanced from Frannie’s face to her hands, and then the buns and paper sleeve of roasted chestnuts were torn from her palms. With a last wondering look at her, the imp turned and ran off as though a demon was at her heels.
Frannie returned to the curricle and Will assisted her up. With rosy cheeks, she realized she hadn’t thought to inquire whether Mr. Arundell would approve of her feeding his newly bought nourishment to a vagabond child. But in truth she had scarcely thought at all. The sight of the large-eyed imp, gaunt cheeks and clothes coated in soot, had thoroughly silenced her brain to any thought except to aid that poor soul.
As they rounded the bend of a corner, she turned to Sebastian. “I—I hope you don’t mind,” she said awkwardly. “I apologize for not asking your permission.”
He gave her a mild look. “What I bought for you is entirely at your disposal, Miss Fanshawe.”
“Thank you,” she said meekly. She could not tell whether he approved of her action, but he was at least not cross about it.
After a circuitous route, they turned onto the bustling Cheapside. As they pulled up, the