“Adventure? Do you plan to reenact the book you read?”
“Perhaps. Rest assured, it need not be one of my salacious pamphlets,” he said roguishly.
His kind offer pushed aside her frustration with his committee testimony, replacing it with a confusion that was becoming increasingly familiar. This man who navigated political waters with such calculated caution was the same one now offering to spend his evening with society’s most vulnerable. He must have misinterpreted her silence as doubt rather than wonderment, because he added, “You need to prepare tomorrow’s edition, the children need their lesson, and I find myself with an unexpectedly free evening. It seems a simple solution.”
She offered him a smile then, genuine and warm. “Thank you, Charles. Truly.”
Something flickered in his eyes at her sincere gratitude, a momentary vulnerability that vanished so quickly she might have imagined it. He offered his arm to escort her through the downpour to their waiting carriage. As they settled into the cushioned seats, Amelia found herself studying his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the contemplative set of his mouth.
Who was this man she had married? The calculating aristocratwho carefully maintained the status quo in committee rooms, or the man who distributed his profits to fallen women and volunteered to teach street children? Perhaps both were true, existing in a complicated harmony she had yet to fully comprehend. For the first time since their marriage began, Amelia felt a genuine curiosity about Charles Bartholomew Hereford that had nothing to do with their arrangement and everything to do with the enigma of his character.
“What are they reading?” he asked, apparently oblivious to her scrutiny.
“The beginners are working on simple primers. The advanced group is midway throughRobinson Crusoe.”
“Excellent choice,” he nodded. “A tale of survival against all odds. I imagine they relate to Crusoe’s ingenuity with limited resources.”
His immediate understanding of why that particular book might resonate with factory children impressed her. “Yes, precisely.”
“I happen to do a rather excellent Man Friday,” he added, his expression lightening. “A talent I’ve rarely had occasion to demonstrate in Society drawing rooms.”
Amelia found her lips twitching in response to his unexpected enthusiasm.
*
TheMetropolitan Review’sback offices had been transformed for the evening. Desks pushed against walls, makeshift benches arranged in rows, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with printer’s ink. As the children filed in—factory workers, chimney sweeps, scullery maids—they stared openly at the elegant gentleman who stood beside Miss Thornton’s desk.
Charles had discarded his formal committee attire for a simpler shirt and waistcoat. He watched the children settle onto benches, his expression betraying none of the discomfort Amelia had half-expected.Instead, he scanned their faces with genuine interest.
“Good evening,” he began, his voice carrying the easy authority of his station. “I understand you’re studying the adventures of Robinson Crusoe. A personal favorite of mine. Who can tell me where we left our hero last week?”
Silence greeted his question. The children exchanged uncertain glances, none willing to speak first to this elegant stranger. Charles waited, his posture relaxed, his expression open. Finally, a small girl in a frayed pinafore raised her hand.
“Please, sir. He’d just found the footprint on the beach.”
“Excellent!” Charles beamed at her. “And what did that footprint signify?”
As the discussion began, Amelia moved to the back of the room, supervising the preparation of the children’s meal while working on her editorial. From her office, she could hear Charles guiding the conversation with gentle questions, drawing out even the shyest children. When they reached a passage for reading aloud, he assigned parts, taking the role of the cannibals himself with such theatrical growls that the children dissolved into giggles.
When one boy struggled with a difficult passage, Charles didn’t correct him sharply or take over the reading as many tutors might. Instead, he broke the word into smaller pieces, guiding the child through it sound by sound until comprehension dawned on the young face.
“I’ve got it!” the boy exclaimed. “Pre-par-a-tions!”
“Brilliantly done, Master Frank,” Charles praised. “Now, what do you think those preparations entailed?”
As the lesson continued, Amelia found herself watching Charles more than supervising the meal preparation or finishing her work. He had loosened further as the evening progressed—his hair slightly mussed where he’d run his hand through it in animated explanation, his waistcoat unbuttoned in the warm room, his expression more openthan she’d ever seen it in ballrooms or dinner parties.
Here was yet another version of the man she’d married—neither the aristocrat navigating political waters nor the surprisingly patient fencing instructor. This Charles spoke to these children with genuine respect, treating their questions and observations with the same seriousness he might afford a peer of the realm.
When the reading concluded, the children surrounded him, peppering him with questions about shipwrecks and desert islands. He answered each one thoughtfully, never talking down to them or dismissing their curiosity.
“Have you ever been shipwrecked, m’lord?” Freddy asked, wide-eyed with wonder.
“Not shipwrecked, precisely,” Charles replied. “Though I was once stranded on a sandbar off the coast of Greece. Had to swim to shore with my valet clinging to my back, poor man. He never quite forgave me for ruining his best livery.”
The children laughed delightedly at this image. As Charles described the incident in more detail, Amelia noticed how he subtly corrected their grammar while never making them feel ignorant or lesser. He met them where they were, gently elevating rather than condescending.
When the time came for the children to leave, Charles helped distribute the small parcels of leftover bread and cheese Amelia always prepared for them to take home. She watched as he knelt before a tiny girl, carefully wrapping her parcel in an extra handkerchief “to keep it warm.”
