Page 27 of A Sham Engagement

Jack grinned at her, a small feeling of triumph sizzling through him as well, but for a different reason. Another child saved, or she would be saved by the time Mrs. Sharpe and her two daughters had finished with her. Much as he had saved them, once. “I said I would and I never break my promise.” He sat down opposite the two girls. “I see Lucy is setting about teaching you to read and write already. Very useful skills, so you should work hard at learning them. If you can master those, then you should never be without work when you’re grown up.”

Josie held out her slate with pride. “I writ me name.”

Jack took the slate and surveyed her embryonic autograph. “I think you are in need of a second name. Do you by chance recall what it is?”

She shook her shorn head. “Nope. I don’t fink I ever had one. Lucy asked me, but I dunno.”

Mrs. Sharpe, who’d been pouring tea from a huge kettle on the stove, brought some cups over and sat down beside Jack. “Like a lot of the girls here. They was never called by their surnames, milord, nor even their proper Christian names. Mostly they just got shouted at and called ‘girl’ or ‘you,’ I dare say. They don’t know their real names. I think this one’ll have to be another little Sharpe.”

This would not be the first time she’d increased the size of her Sharpe brood.

Josie nodded with vigor. “I’d like to be Josie Sharpe, if’n you doesn’t mind.” She shot a shy smile sideways at Lucy, who put a motherly arm around her new sister’s narrow shoulders.

She gave the child an affectionate cuddle. “And I should like to have you as another of my sisters. There’s always room here for another little Sharpe.”

Jack took a sip of his tea—hot and strong just the way he liked it.

Mrs. Sharpe nodded to Lucy. “Josie’s done some good work this morning. Enough for her first day. Why don’t you take her next door into number 24 and find her a storybook you can read to her.”

“A story?” Josie’s doubtful eyes swiveled from Mrs. Sharpe to Jack and finally to Lucy, who’d already got to her feet.

Lucy beamed at her protégée. “We have some wonderful storybooks Milord Jack’s got for us. You come along with me, and we’ll find a really good one and tuck ourselves in front of the fire next door, and I’ll read it to you.”

Once they’d gone, Jack turned to Mrs. Sharpe. “Any signs of mistreatment?”

She pulled a face. “A few nasty bruises. Undernourished, of course. Infested with lice and fleas. I burned her old clothes. She’ll do. A bright little thing, if I’m not mistaken.”

What a contrast to the life Edward led in Portland Place. It had been the way he’d become a father that had driven Jack out into the streets wanting to help the orphans of the slums. Only, despite his best endeavors, he’d so far been able to help so few. But at least he was doing something.

“I’m sorry I had to surprise you with her yesterday, but I couldn’t have left her out in the cold like that. It’s winter. You saw the way she was dressed. I had to bring her to you.”

Mrs. Sharpe set her empty teacup down on the old oak table. How she could drink it so hot, Jack would never know. “You know I’ll always find room for another waif if it’s at all possible. I’ve got them all sleeping two to a bed as it is. You might be needing to take another house if you go on like this.” But her chuckle proved she wasn’t put out.

He drained his cup. “I could purchase you a bigger house somewhere else. Not rent any longer. Something more up to the task in hand. More bedrooms. Better than two houses knocked into one.”

She smiled. “It’s not so bad here. I know the neighbors, and they don’t mind my girls. If we went somewhere else, there’s some that might not like the idea of a lot of orphans from the slums in their midst. And I’ve at least three of the older girls ready to go into service—one of them’s bright enough to be a shop girl. Real good at her reckoning. And another one’s secured a job as a nursery nurse. Starts next week. That’ll free up some space.”

She poured some more tea. “We can manage here.”

Jack picked up his cup again. “I don’t want you to just ‘manage.’ I want you to have the resources to succeed and succeed well. That’s why I installed you here. That and other reasons.”

Mrs. Sharpe nodded. “And I’m eternally grateful to you for that, milord, I can tell you. I b’lieve he’d’ve killed me by now if you hadn’t stepped in.”

As this had seemed perfectly possible at the time, Jack didn’t argue.

“’Twas the best day of my life when you stepped into our tavern and ordered yourself a pint of ale.”

Jack stayed silent, but the image of that night, as dark and foggy as the ones that seemed frequent at the moment, leapt into his head. Mrs. Sharpe had been behind the bar, her husband drinking with his cronies. He’d noticed her black eye immediately, even though she’d combed her hair forward in an effort to hide it. The first evidence that she was married to a wife beater.

She cleared her throat and changed the subject. Perhaps she too was remembering that night and how close she’d come to death just a few days afterwards. “And how’s your little lad doing?”

This brought a smile to Jack’s face. “He’s growing fast and is doing well at his studies, so Miss Douglas assures me. He’s very fond of Meg as well. She’s a wonderful nursery nurse. A credit to you. What matters most to me though, is that he’s happy, and I do believe he is.” He paused. “Just as I want all the children here to be happy.” A lump rose in his throat. “To no longer fear going hungry and homeless and cold.” How close had Edward come to that? If Mary had had her way… No, he wouldn’t think about that. It was too painful.

Instead, he rose to his feet, talking fast to cover his discomfort. “I’m afraid this is but a fleeting visit, but if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to contact me. You can send Benjamin round to Portland Place whenever you want, never forget that.” Benjamin was Mrs. Sharpe’s oldest child and only son, who no longer lived in Betterton Street, but still called in several times a week to do odd jobs for his mother.

Jack held out his hand to his hostess and she took it in her own doughy one. “I should also inform you, I think, for you might well hear the gossip, that I am engaged to be married.”

Mrs. Sharpe’s eyes widened. No doubt, like everyone else, she’d never thought to see the day this happened. Jack was finding it quite pleasurable to surprise people in this way, even if the engagement was a sham. Shocking people was turning out to be more fun than he’d expected.