The girl glanced over and scratched her cheek. “I’m not sure I know the answer myself.”
Dotty moved behind Tom, reading the passage over his shoulder. It was an old book on farm management. “Sally, please do not take this the wrong way, but was there nothing else?”
The girl pulled a face. “No, miss. I can teach him letters from this, but . . .”
Dotty glanced at Mrs. Sorley. “Might there be something in the library?”
“No, miss. After his lordship’s father died, Lord Alasdair had all the children’s books thrown out.”
What ailed the man to do something like that? “You mean to tell me Lord Merton learned with books like this?” She picked up the offending tome.
Mrs. Sorley sucked in her cheeks, her disapproval evident. “Yes, miss.”
No wonder Matt disliked Lord Alasdair so much. She bit her lip. She was not yet Dom’s wife and had no right to criticize a member of his family. “Can a list be sent to a bookstore for more appropriate books?”
“If you make a list, miss, I’ll send a footman.” Mrs. Sorley had an almost defiant look in her eyes, her lips curved up enough for Dotty to know the woman agreed with her.
She sat at the small table, took out her notepad, and made a list of the types of books Tom should have.
“Miss?”
“Yes, Mrs. Sorley?”
“The boy’s awful good at drawing.”
Sally nodded and handed Dotty a piece of paper. “See here. He did that of me.”
The picture was an amazingly good representation of the maid, even catching the twinkle in her eyes. “Drawing materials as well.” She glanced at Tom who was occupied with another sketch. “Tom, how old are you?”
“Six.” Suddenly he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I’m not supposed to tell, ’cause I look younger.”
Dotty motioned for Mrs. Sorley and Sally to leave the room. After the door closed, Dotty picked him up and put him on her lap. “I know you were mistreated before coming to Merton House. But I promise no one will do so again. Do you believe me?”
Tom nodded. “His lordship said the same thing. But the men said . . .”
It was past time to slay dragons. She turned him so that she could look into his eyes. “Listen to me. Anyone wanting to get at you will have to go through both his lordship and me as well as Paken andallhis footmen.”
The child’s eyes grew wide. “Even Mr. Paken?”
Dom’s lofty and unflappable butler had made the impression she’d hoped for. “Do you think the people who had you could do that?”
Slowly, Tom shook his head.
“But in order for Paken to protect you to the best of his ability, you must help.”
“How can I do that?”
“By telling me as much as you know about who your parents are and where you lived before being cast out on to the streets.”
Tom stared at her for what seemed like a very long time before he sank back against her shoulder and began to recite. “My mama’s maiden name is Sophia Cummings. Her father is James Cummings, Esquire of Bude, Cornwall. My father is Robert Cavanaugh. His father is the Earl of Stratton. Papa is a major in the 95th Rifles on his way to Brazil.” Tom’s voice started to tremble. “My name is James Thomas Hubert Cavanaugh. I was born April 6, 1809. I live at Number 14 St. George Street.”
Dotty held him as sobs wracked his slender body. She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “Hush, now. It’s all right. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
When he’d calmed, Mrs. Sorley came back in the room with a cup she pressed into Tom’s hands. “Some warm milk might help.”
“Yes. Have Sally come stay with him. She should not leave his side. I’ll put him to bed.”
“Yes, miss. Shall I ask his lordship to come up here?”
