Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
They were boys and she put them about six and ten. Both looked up at her with wariness in their expression. The eldest held the hand of the younger and was defiant.
“Hello,” she said softly.
“We dinna take anything of yours.”
The fire of the eldest was impressive. Her older siblings never did a thing for her. They sure as heck wouldn’t protect her.
“I know that. I have a place to take you that will get you out of the cold and give you some warmer clothing as well as food.”
“I cold, Jacob.” The smaller of the two glanced up to the elder boy.
He patted the one at his side on the shoulder but never looked away from Rosamunde. “What’s it going to cost us?”
Tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. They shouldn’t be so exposed to the harsh realities of life at such a tender age.
“Nothing. I know you don’t know me, but I have some friends who run a home that helps children like you without anywhere to go.” Friends wasn’t exactly the right word for it, but she’d made an almost-friend with someone who volunteered there. Keely St. Martin.
That has to count for something. Right?
“We won’t go to a workhouse.”
“It’s not one. How about you come with me to see it and if you have no wish to stay, we can come back here?”
The boy pulled out a knife and pointed it at her, keeping it hidden from the others on the street. Not that she thought anyone would interfere.
“You try to hurt me or my brother, lady, and I will make you bleed.”
“Fair enough.” Now all she needed to do was get a coach for them. She licked her lips and spun in a circle to see where she could hail one. Worrying her lower lip as she gazed around, she sighed when she saw one at the end of the street. “Come along.”
Head high, she struck off like she did this all the time. People watched her but no one said anything. She waved to the driver and he lifted his eyebrows but hopped down as she approached.
After giving him the address, she gestured for the boys to climb in first, then she followed, grateful when the door closed. The boys had taken the side she would normally be on—her stomach didn’t do so well when she rode backward—but she let it go. Right now, the important part was getting them to the shelter.
Outside the snow fell heavier and she shivered before stilling. She had no reason to complain. She had more clothing than the two boys with her. The youngest looked to be sleeping against his brother, who watched her with an eagle-sharp gaze.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because neither of you deserve to be on the street.”
“Not taking us to your house though. Trying to be good, but not willing to bring two urchins beneath your roof.”
“If I had my own place I would. As it is, I barely have the roof over my head that I do.”
He pursed chapped lips before shrugging as if her unexpected honesty didn’t mean anything to him.
The sky darkened and she wished she were home, warm and safe. A small snort escaped. She was neither in her childhood home.
The carriage slowed to a halt and the door opened. Accepting the hand of the man waiting, she stepped down and looked around. Fat flakes fell, chilling her with each touch to her skin.
Digging into her pocket once more, she pulled out money for the hack and paid him. With a tip of his hat, he got on his way, leaving her and the boys in front of the large building. The brick showed signs of wear and tear, four floors that she could see and numerous windows that currently had some coverings on them.
Smoke billowed from the chimneys on top of the roof. Part of her longed to reach for the boys’ hands to walk them in but knew that would be rebuffed. “Let’s head in.”
The false cheer she injected into her tone wasn’t missed by the boys, she knew, given how they watched her out of the corners of their eyes. Even so, they fell in behind her as she mounted the three steps leading to the heavy door.
She pounded on it and suppressed another shiver as the wind kicked up around them, swirling more snow and sleet into her exposed skin.
Rosamunde stepped back as the door was yanked open. A dour-faced woman stood there. The white bonnet on her head contained more starch in it than anything Rosamunde owned.
“Yes?”
“I’m Rosamunde Fletcher and I’m here to see Keely St. Martin.”
Blue eyes narrowed but the woman stepped back, waving them in. Making sure the two boys followed her out of the cold, she gave them as much of a reassuring smile as she could manage. They trailed the woman to a sitting room.