A Wedding In Springtime(48)

Marchford shook his head and went back to his newspaper. “You avoid a topic better than any man I know. Go see your Miss Talbot if you like.”

“By Jove, you’re right. Must get it back before the next storm hits.” With that dubious justification, Grant left Marchford in the club and took his phaeton to the Bremerton town house.

The Bremerton house was a fine one as houses go. Its placement, grandeur, and distinguished marks of age all heralded an established lineage. The Earl of Bremerton boasted the bluest blood in the neighborhood.

Mr. Grant, who came from his own long line of established gentry, accepted the trappings of wealth and prestige with equanimity. He was quite at home in these surroundings, everything in order, everything managed in adherence to a strict code of conduct. It was comfortable, predictable, maybe even mundane at times, but he did not fail to recognize he had a very comfortable life.

When Grant was admitted into the drawing room, raised voices were a clear sign that something in the ordered life of the respectable Bremerton household had gone seriously awry.

“Absolutely out of the question,” declared Lord Bremerton in a voice that defied response. He was an older gentleman of few words, so he expected people to heed those words once he troubled himself to utter them.

“But we cannot turn our backs on him. Why, he is only a child!” cried Miss Talbot.

Lord Bremerton was so unaccustomed to having anyone talk back to him, he opened and closed his mouth several times without saying a word.

“Yes, dear, I see that he is only a child, and these things are much too bad, but Lord Bremerton is right. We cannot allow such a creature to live in our house.” Lady Bremerton fluttered a handkerchief in front of her as if to ward away such a noxious thought.

The object of such consternation was a small, scrawny boy, with a thick crop of red hair that stuck out from his head at odd angles like a flashy porcupine. Far from being disconcerted by the conversation in which he appeared to be the primary subject, the child wandered toward the tea tray and made short work of the cakes and biscuits, eating with two hands at an alarming pace, as if he was trying to stuff as much as possible into his mouth before someone shooed him away from the food.

“This child is being used by an unscrupulous man to conduct crimes. Jem says if he cannot steal enough each day, he is beaten. Surely you cannot ask me to return this boy to such a situation,” said an impassioned Miss Talbot.

“If the boy is a thief, he should be locked in Newgate,” growled Lord Bremerton.

“But it is not his fault. Surely we must show this child Christian charity, as we are commanded in the Bible.”

At the mention of the Holy Book, Lady Bremerton put her handkerchief to her forehead and sank majestically to her couch. “Oh, Mr. Grant!” Lady Bremerton started with the sudden realization of his presence in the room. “I fear you catch us at an inopportune moment.”

“I do apologize for trespassing on your privacy, Lady Bremerton. I have come merely for the return of my coat which I neglectfully left here yesterday.”

“Mr. Grant!” Genie walked up to him flush and steady. If she were a prizefighter stepping into a mill, he would have laid his bets on her. “Do you not feel it is criminal to return a child to a life of unspeakable horror and misery?”

“Well, that does sound a trifle flat,” conceded Grant, only to be faced with a glowering Lord Bremerton.

“Flat? Why it would be unconscionable! This innocent child must be protected,” demanded Genie.

The innocent child in question was at that moment lifting the silver spoons from the tea tray and pocketing them.

“He does seem to have a tendency to steal, dear,” said Lady Bremerton with a wave of her handkerchief. “We cannot allow it in the house.”

“But only because he has never been instructed in the proper way. Now put those spoons back on the tea tray, Jemmy, there’s a good lad.” Genie beamed down at her grimy little protégé.

“He is fortunate we do not call the magistrate immediately,” said Lord Bremerton.

“Surely you would not do that,” gasped Genie.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance.” Grant stepped forward. He was the master of any difficult social situation, though this was a scene quite unknown to him. All eyes were now on him, but the only ones he saw were Genie’s bright blue ones, alive with fire and looking up at him like a hero of old.

“Perhaps I can take the lad home, find a suitable home for him.” No one was more surprised by this suggestion than Grant himself.