Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,56

see ya,” he shouted. “Been comin’ by for six days now. Six dayyyys.” And so he’d sneaked in. “They told me Oi didn’t get a meeting wit’ the marquess an’ that beggars only go ’round back for ’andouts.” The small boy turned back on the semicircle of servants behind them and cast a glare at the group. “Oi ain’t no beggar. Ya ’ear me? Oi do ’onest work.” Whipping out a small knife, he brandished the blade.

Several of the maids screamed and squealed.

A young woman hit the ground hard. A footman rushed over to scoop her up.

Swiping a hand over his face, Dare let his arm fall to his side.

Temperance spoke quietly to the child and managed the seemingly impossible—she calmed the volatile little boy. “What is your name?” she asked in the same quiet, calming tones Dare had heard her use countless times when her brother had been near in age to the child.

More cries went up as another pair of servants appeared, dragging someone else over.

“What now?” the butler bemoaned in aggrieved tones.

“I’ve goooot him!” a footman cried, shoving someone toward the gathering.

Dare squinted. What in hell . . . ?

Temperance’s eyes widened. “Chaance?”

Shouldered between a pair of burly servants, the young man—taller but slimmer by several stone—allowed himself to be dragged along.

A gasp went up.

Gwynn, the sweetheart, cried out and went running. “Release him,” she hissed, and like a feral cat, she launched her curled fingers at the men holding him.

Rocking back on her heels, Temperance looked openmouthed in Dare’s direction.

“Release him this instant,” Dare barked, and the servants immediately complied, but hovered close anyway.

“Mr. Chance sent me, ’e did. He told me to come ’ere for the ’elp Oi need. Told me to just give moi name and explain that he’d sent me and that would be enough.”

From beyond Temperance’s shoulder, Gwynn clasped her hands close to her breast.

“I wanted to see that Lionel made it inside this time,” Chance said sheepishly.

Temperance’s friend sighed. “There is no one like you, my love.”

Chance Swift winked.

“Your friends?” Kinsley drawled, her lip curled up in disgust.

“My family,” Dare corrected in cool tones to rival his sister’s. “The people of the Rookeries are more family than anyone sharing my blood.”

Lady Kinsley flinched, and for a moment he thought that statement had hit some mark . . . but it was impossible. A trick of the candlelight. She pursed her mouth. “Either way, they are intruders. Both of them.”

“Well, technically, I am his brother-in-law,” Chance ventured. “So perhaps it isn’t a crime?”

Kinsley shook her head and looked around the gathering before focusing on Chance. “Who is this?”

“My brother,” Temperance murmured.

“I found another!” a maid cried.

“Three of them,” Kinsley muttered. “Is there anyone else here?” she cried out sarcastically as she tossed her arms up.

As one, everyone looked in the direction of the young maid who rushed forward. The girl’s arms were filled with a small child. Slightly out of breath, she stopped amidst the gathering. “She was toddling around the hallways.”

Silence met that revelation. When no one spoke, moved, or blinked, the servant held the small, dirt-stained girl out.

“Oh . . . my,” Lady Kinsley whispered.

Dare’s focus, however, wasn’t on his sister but on Temperance.

Temperance, who stared with stricken eyes at the child. No more than two or three, and covered in dirt and grime, the babe squirmed, resisting that hold.

And then the child began to cry.

Kinsley was the first to find her voice. “Wh-what is th-this?”

And for the first time, the biting young lady possessed sobering tones.

“A choild. Oi take it ya ain’t ever seen one before?” Lionel asked smartly.

Temperance seemed to break free of whatever fog had held her frozen. Stalking over, she reached for the wild-curled babe and drew the child into her arms. The child instantly stopped crying.

Dare pointed to his butler. “Going forward, I’m to be informed of whomever is requesting an appointment with me. I’ll determine who does and does not receive an audience. Is that clear?”

The young butler nodded wildly. “As you wish, my lord.” Giving his hands two quick claps, Spencer managed to clear the gaggle of servants. “Is there anything else you’ll require?”

“See that refreshments are brought to my office for me and my guests.”

Lionel jutted his chest out. “Did ya ’ear that, Spencer?”

Dare would hand it to Spencer—the other man gave no outward reaction to that insolence from Dare’s unconventional guest.

“And milk,” Temperance quietly put in. “The babe will require milk.”

Dare nodded. “And milk. Temperance? Will you accompany Lionel and me?”