Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(101)

She looked about the room as if having scored an important point.

Amelia sighed and Isabel felt for her. No matter how harebrained Lady Penelope was, she still held the heaviest purse of any of the ladies. They would simply have to learn to put up with her.

“I think we shall have to make a law that Mr. Makepeace be the one and only manager of the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children,” Amelia said. “All those in favor, please raise your hand.”

Several hands shot up. Lady Penelope raised hers to shoulder-height, which, in Isabel’s opinion, still counted. Lady Margaret, however, simply stared at her lap—as she’d been doing since the meeting had begun.

“Megs?” Lady Hero whispered gently.

“What?” Lady Margaret looked up. “Oh, yes.” And she raised her hand as well, making the vote unanimous.

Isabel had the feeling that Lady Margaret had no idea on what she’d just voted.

Amelia nodded, satisfied, and began pouring a second cup of tea for all the ladies.

Isabel took the opportunity to lean toward Lady Hero, sitting next to her. “I’m so pleased you came to town, my lady.”

Lady Hero smiled. “We were ready to return from the country.”

“Then your husband accompanied you?” Isabel murmured.

“Oh, indeed. He has most urgent business in London.” Lady Hero glanced at Lady Margaret.

Isabel nodded, glad that things were being seen to. “I hope he proves successful.”

Lady Hero smiled rather sadly. “Lord Griffin is used to success—even in matters that seem to have no happy outcome.”

Which was, Isabel supposed, the most that could be hoped for.

The sitting room door opened.

Isabel turned to look and caught her breath. Winter stood there, his face quite stern. She’d been planning on cornering him after the meeting. He’d spent the last week avoiding her and she was quite tired of it.

But it appeared he’d changed his course.

His bow was short and he never glanced at any lady but herself. “Might I have a word with you?”

She gulped. “I… I’m sure when the meeting is—”

“Now, Isabel.”

Oh, dear. She felt the blush heat her cheeks as she hurriedly got up before he could say anything else damning. As it was, the other ladies were suspiciously quiet.

She went out into the hall. “What is it?”

He simply looked at her and she saw everything she meant to him on his face.

Her heart clutched. Now? He wanted to do this now?

Last-minute panic seized her. “I’ll never have children,” she hissed as quietly as she could, because it must be a free time, for the children were all flocking down the stairs. “I’m too old, too rich, too much above you in station, too—”

He silenced her by the simple expedient of kissing her. There, in the home’s hallway, in front of the entire Ladies’ Syndicate and what must be most of the children, soon to be all of the children, for whoever wasn’t there to witness the embrace was being urgently called by their brethren…

And she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms about him and kissed him back, fiercely, joyfully, this man she loved with all of her flawed being.

He pulled away, only far enough to whisper with smiling lips, “You’ve well and truly compromised me this time, Lady Beckinhall. I think you ought to save my poor reputation and marry me.”

She looked into his warm, strong, loving eyes and voiced her remaining doubt. “You’ll never have children if you marry me.”

And he did the strangest thing. Winter Makepeace, the man who never laughed, threw his head back and shouted with laughter.

He looked down at her and grinned, sweeping his arm toward the stairway, now crowded with children of every shape and size. “Oh, my precious Isabel, these are my children—the children of my heart, the children of my life’s work. I’m the father to dozens of children and plan to be the father to hundreds of children in the future. Come. Say yes, be my wife, and help me raise my brood.”

“Yes,” she whispered, and when some of the children leaned forward, unable to hear, she shouted the word: “Yes!”

Winter grinned and kissed her on the mouth, fierce and quick, and then turned to the waiting children of the home. “Children, it is my great honor to tell you that Lady Beckinhall has consented to marry me.”

For a moment there was awed silence and then a great roar went up: “HUZZAH!”

Winter laughed again and picked Isabel up by the waist, swinging her around, high above his head.

“HUZZAH!” the children cheered, half-maddened by delight.

“Nell!” Winter shouted to the maidservant standing among the children. “I think this calls for scones for everyone at tea.”

That prompted the biggest cheer of all and then a mad scramble as the children raced to find seats for tea. Nell beamed as she brought up the rear, and even Mistress Medina dabbed at her eyes with her apron as she hurried back to the kitchen.

“My dear, I hope you haven’t ruined a perfectly good orphanage manager,” Amelia said drily from the sitting room doorway. Her expression softened. “But I wish you all the happiness possible.”

“Thank you.” Isabel’s eyes grew misty and she received a congratulatory kiss from each of the ladies, even Lady Penelope, who looked quite bewildered.