The boy looked up at him with wide eyes. Whatever sort of gang of ruffians he was part of, he did not look old enough or streetwise enough to manage it. Matthew presumed being able to run without falling down was a rudimentary requirement for such activities.
“Where do you live?” Matthew said.
“Nowhere,” the boy squeaked out.
“Where are your parents?”
“I don’t got none,” the boy sobbed.
Matthew was not certain if the boy was lying or not. He suspected not. Or, if he was, his parents certainly did not keep very good track of him.
The dog, a small creature of undetermined parentage with a light and matted coat and an alarmingly pronounced underbite, shook himself and wagged his tail.
“I never did throw one stone!” the boy cried. He pointed at the dog and said, “He knows it! I only pretended for the others!”
Matthew’s feeling that this particular boy was not up to a life of criminal activity was further confirmed.
“Oh Papa,” Beatrice said from the carriage, “it seems he is an orphan. We ought to take him on.”
Matthew turned toward the carriage, still holding the boy by the collar. “You cannot take in every crying boy you encounter, there is the dog too, and you’ve just installed another boy and a pile of cats into the house.”
“Now that is true, Beatrice,” the earl said.
“We cannot leave them alone on these streets to starve,” Beatrice said.
“What you cannot do is save everybody,” Matthew said.
“Perhaps not,” Beatrice said, “but fate has put these two in our way and we cannot abandon them.”
Matthew sighed. The boy looked up at him, hopeful. The dog wagged its tail.
“I’ll take them,” he said.
“You’ll take them?” Beatrice said, the surprise in her voice evident. “Really?”
“Really,” he said.
“But what shall you do with them, Lord Van Doren?” Miss Mayton asked.
The question of the hour. “I have no idea,” he said.
He picked up the boy and put him in the saddle. Then, he approached the dog. “If you bite me, it will only be the cap-off to an all-round ridiculous evening.”
Matthew scooped up the dog, who did not bite him but rather attempted to lick his face. “You,” he said to the boy, “carry the dog.”
“What if he bitesme,” the boy whispered.
“He would have every right and you’ll say nothing about it,” Matthew said, depositing the dog into the boy’s stiff arms.
Then, he grabbed the horse’s reins and led him down the street. If there were one firm opinion he could leave this cursed night with, it was he would never again attend a masque.
He had insulted a duke, discovered that Darden’s friends had been enacting a ruse to make Conbatten feel pressed over having competition, understood that Beatrice was considering that gentleman seriously, been scolded by her, hunted by Lady Mary and Lady Clara, and ended it all by adding a street urchin and flea-ridden dog to his household.
Evenings like this did not happen in the countryside. The countryside would never dare try it.
*
Beatrice found allof her sisters asleep in her bedchamber. They had certainly meant to wait up but had drifted off one by one.
