“Mine as well, Miss,” Graham said with his usual amiability.
Benjamin looked to Patterson. “Two more plates for my family.”
“Yes, my lord.” Patterson rushed away to inform the kitchen of the additional portions.
Meanwhile, Benjamin gestured to the seat beside Miss Whitchurch and the one on his right. “Please join us.”
Beaufort held Miss Whitchurch’s chair for her, and Benjamin wanted to swat his brother’s hand away.
Once Graham was settled, he asked of the babe asleep in the basket. “And the child?”
“Miss Whitchurch’s nephew,” Benjamin explained in a tone indicating he would tolerate no disparagements, though, in reality, Benjamin knew neither Beaufort nor Graham would be cruel to the lady nor turn their backs on an abandoned child.
“Oh, grand,” Beaufort declared. “So, you located your sister, after all.”
The child stirred, and Benjamin laid a firm hand on the boy’s chest. “No need to worry, Boy.”
“He seems to like you,” Beaufort remarked as the child quickly settled again.
“His lordship has a calming effect on my nephew,” Miss Whitchurch assured.
Graham remarked, “Thompson has a soft touch, but a firm outcome in mind. I have seen him assist thusly in surgeries and alwayswith very ill patients. What he did for Lord Duncan, none of us will ever forget. He saved our father.”
“Mr. Rheem removed the bullet,” Benjamin protested.
“But it was you who had Duncan already under the laudanum and had cleaned the wound before Rheem arrived. You were prepared to do what was necessary if Orson could not locate the surgeon. Moreover, it was you who watched over Duncan night and day for a week, tending to his fever. Never leaving his side,” Graham countered.
Miss Whitchurch said softly, “You must not convince me of Lord Thompson’s goodness, my lord. The child and I would have been living on the streets if not for his lordship’s rescue.”
Benjamin did not wish to share what had occurred between the lady and him, but he could not keep secrets from these men, who had privately pledged their loyalty by sitting at his table and not pressing for an explanation.
“A few weeks back, I was searching the grounds of the Lyon’s Den for the missing button from the coat. If you recall, Beaufort, when you previously took Miss Whitchurch’s acquaintance, she was hoping to learn news of her missing sister. The Den’s patroness had suggested that Miss Cassandra Whitchurch had met a woman who offered her a position in a great house in one of London’s more influential neighborhoods.
“Some time after we parted ways, Miss Cassandra Whitchurch gave birth. The young lady left the child in Miss Whitchurch’s care. A letter said Miss Cassandra had been dismissed from the great house because of her condition and that a man had told her of a cook’s position at an inn near the docks. Clues in the letter had Miss Whitchurch believing that man was Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s Titan. Miss Whitchurch returned to the Den where we encountered each other again.”
“I see,” Beaufort remarked with a lift of his brows.
“No, you do not,” Miss Whitchurch declared. “Nothing untowardhas happened. I have been working twelve hours overnight for Mr. Sustar. He has developed a large patronage thanks to some special work I performed for Lady Cunningham.”
“Lady Cunningham?” Beaufort asked. “The Scottish countess?”
“Do you know the lady?” Miss Whitchurch asked.
“Only by reputation,” Beaufort assured. “Lord Cunningham is not a fan of our Graham, both being Scottish and all.”
Graham, always stoically truthful, said, “Cunningham believes my half-brother should have the family title, not me, and his lordship often speaks his preferences in my presence.”
Miss Whitchurch’s hand caressed the sleeping child’s head as she said, “We should not think we know a person’s worth from his title or lack thereof. Because of my sister’s foolish choices, this child will forever suffer ridicule.”
“Not if Thompson has a say,” Beaufort assured. “I do not know the entire story, but I can say with all honesty that if Thompson means to protect you and the boy, you are in the best of hands. That being said, you have also earned the protection of all of Thompson’s brothers, as well as Lord Duncan. Few in the United Kingdom would dare to threaten you.”
“Mr. Jonas Betts is the boy’s father,” Benjamin explained diplomatically. “Lord Betts has relieved Mr. Whitchurch of his vicarage.”
“No further explanation is required,” Graham assured. “Lord Betts should take his son in hand. Could either of you imagine what Duncan would do to us if we were so… so…? Well, you know my thoughts on Betts. He aligns himself with Lord Cunningham in the Lords.”
“Miss Whitchurch and the child, along with a wet nurse, are staying in the other half of this house until we are able to locate her sister,” Benjamin explained. “The kitchen in that half of the house is still in disrepair, and so we dine together, but, even if the kitchen was in shape, I would insist upon Miss Whitchurch’s presence at my table. I am concerned for her safety and thus that of the child.”
Graham placed a hand on Benjamin’s arm. “We are brothers, Thompson. We might tease you if you were foolish enough to wear a Beau Brummell-style cravat, but never speak ill of your choice to serve others. As few do, we know your heart. We will defend and protect Miss Whitchurch and the child, as we would you. Name it, and we are your servants.”
