Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(72)

She bent and kissed Christopher’s forehead before climbing into bed herself.

WINTER GAZED DOWN at Peach as she lay sleeping and wondered what would be best to do with the little Jewess. He didn’t have much knowledge about the Jews in London—other than that they were technically illegal and thus a very secretive society. He could convert the girl, he supposed, and raise her as a Christian, but something inside of him balked at the notion of changing her so fundamentally. Of teaching her to lie all of her life.

At least she looked better than when she’d first come to the home. Her cheeks were filled out and were a healthy rose color, and she even seemed to have grown taller, if that were possible in such a short amount of time. Dodo lay against her, protectively cradled in one of Peach’s arms. The little terrier eyed him warily, but at least she wasn’t growling.

Winter switched his gaze to the other human occupant of the narrow bed. “Joseph.”

Joseph Tinbox, who had been lying with one arm flung over his head and one leg hanging off the bed, opened his eyes groggily. “Wha—”

“What are you doing in Peach’s bed?” Winter asked mildly.

The boy sat up, his hair plastered to his skull in back and sticking straight out in front. “Peach had a nightmare.”

Winter cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “A nightmare.”

“Aye.” The boy was wide awake and using his most earnest expression now. “I couldn’t let her sleep alone after that.”

“And you heard this nightmare from down the hall in the boys’ dormitory?”

Joseph opened his mouth and then realized the problem: It was simply impossible to hear anything but a full-out scream from the dormitory at the opposite end of the hallway. He lowered his chin, peering at Winter from under his thicket of hair. “She’s been havin’ nightmares, she told me.”

Winter sighed. The protective streak in the boy was a good one, but…“You’ve reached an age, Joseph, when it will no longer do to sleep in the same bed as a female, no matter how noble the reason.”

He could see by Joseph’s confused look that the boy had no idea of what he spoke. Still, it was the sad state of the world that people judged others not by the best that they could be but by the worst thought in their own hearts.

“Come, Joseph. Peach is old enough to sleep by herself,” Winter said, holding out his hand. “She has Dodo to protect her, after all.”

Joseph Tinbox gave him a look full of ancient childhood wisdom. “Dodo is a dog, sir. She can’t answer back when Peach wants to talk about the things that happened to her.”

“I’m sorry, you’re quite correct,” Winter said. He cocked his head. “Is Peach telling you all about what happened to her?”

Joseph nodded, his lips pressed tight together.

“I see.” Winter glanced about the room, his brows knit. “Then perhaps a compromise is in order. What if you were to sleep in the cot next to Peach’s bed? That way you could still hear her should she wish to talk, but you would both get a better night’s sleep, I think.”

Joseph thought the matter over as solemnly as a judge before nodding decisively. “That’ll work, I ’spect.”

He climbed into the cot and gave a great yawn.

Winter picked up his candle and turned to go. It would be daybreak soon enough. But Joseph forestalled him with a question.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Where do you go at night?”

Winter paused and glanced over his shoulder. Joseph was watching him with perceptive eyes for one so young.

In that instant, Winter grew tired of lies. “I right wrongs.”

He expected more questions—Joseph was usually full of them and his answer was too obscure—but the boy merely nodded. “Will you teach me how sometime?”

Winter’s eyes widened. Teach him to…? His mind instantly balked at the thought of putting Joseph in danger. But were he ever to ask for an apprentice to his Ghost, he knew instinctively that he could find no one with more courage than the lad.

He hesitated before speaking. “I’ll think on the matter.”

The boy blinked sleepily. “Thank you for letting me stay with Peach, sir.”

Some sudden emotion swelled Winter’s chest.

“Thank you for caring for her, Joseph,” he whispered, then shut the door.

“WHERE ARE WE going?” Christopher asked eagerly the next afternoon.

“To a place with lots of children,” Isabel replied. “You might find one or two to play with.”

Christopher looked uncertain. “Will they like me?”

Isabel felt a pang. On impulse, she’d brought Christopher with her to visit the home. He’d been so happy this morning when he’d woken in her room and she hadn’t scolded him. She thought he might enjoy the company of other children his age, but what did she know about children, after all? Perhaps this had been a terrible mistake. Christopher looked so apprehensive! He’d had very little experience with other children, she realized. Louise took him away to visit her once in a while, but she had no family and her friends had no children. Christopher had been rather isolated all of his short life.

She wasn’t his mother, but Isabel felt guilty anyway. She should’ve noticed before now how lonely the little boy must be. And she realized suddenly that it was because of Winter that she was more aware. He’d opened something up deep inside her. Made her look at her life and world with new eyes. The thought made her uneasy. What they had was by necessity destined to be a short-lived thing. Someday—probably someday soon—she would have to walk away from Winter. Yet the more time she spent with him, the more she was seduced by his grave, dark eyes. Those eyes saw her true self like no one had before.