For as long as he could remember, Harrison Trent wanted to captain his own ship and enjoy adventures on the high seas. Now a merchant captain of his own ship, the adventures are sadly few. Upon his return to London, he finds himself at a crossroads and not certain what he wants, when the cry of a child brings him face to face with the most delightful woman he has ever met.
Miss Perdita Valentine is happy with her lot in life. She’d been raised in a loving family and now she was in London working in a foundling home where she is able to care for children who had been orphaned just as she. She could not imagine her life being any different until a handsome captain delivers a child to their doorstep. However, after a threat to her life, Perdita soon learns that not all is what it seems. Not even her past.
Unfortunately, the only person she can trust is a confirmed bachelor who has stolen her heart but he might be forced to abandon her to face a dragon of a duchess alone.
Chapter 1
London England ~ May, 1817
Captain Harrison Trent stepped out of the shipping offices owned by Mr. Jonathan Bridges and glanced around as he tried to decide what to do next.
Not with regard to the day, but his future.
As a lad, all Harrison had ever wanted to do was work on a ship and eventually captain his own, which was a goal he had accomplished. He had longed for the adventure of sailing the high seas and discovering the world. In truth, he never sailed as far as Australia, or even India, and he no longer wished to. He wanted to be on land longer than he was at sea, but he wasn’t quite ready to stop sailing either.
Harrison turned away from the offices and began walking to a main thoroughfare where he planned to hail a hackney while he considered a third option that he had discussed with his Chief Mate, Patterson. Harrison would keep his ship because the merchant business was a profitable enterprise and he truly did not want to give that up. In turn, Patterson would take over captaining the vessel. Then, if Harrison found that he had the desire to sail again, he’d simply take over for those trips. Except, it would be unfair to Patterson, to be demoted each time Harrison wanted to sail. Could he go on voyages just as a passenger?
While Harrison was in no hurry to return to the sea, he wasn’t certain what he would do on land. He had become rich enough from smuggling and then captaining a merchant ship that he never needed to work again, but how soon would he become bored?
He pushed his fingers through his hair. No decision needed to be made today. He still needed to sail one more time in June, and for Bridges. But first, and more pressing, was the damage to his ship. They had run into a storm as they neared port and repairs needed to be completed before he set sail again.
He could see to repairs tomorrow. Today, he wanted to get settled into his set of rooms and then maybe visit White’s to find out what news there might be and what he had missed during his last voyage.
However, those thoughts and concerns were disrupted as he crossed before an alley and the cries of a child echoed off the brick walls. They weren’t simple cries but distressed. Even more unsettling was that there was no sound of anyone trying to soothe the child.
Harrison carefully made his way down the dimly lit alley, cluttered with refuse, as he pulled a handkerchief to hold over his nose. Midway down the broken and jagged cobblestone walk he finally found the child, face red and wet with tears. Beside him lay a woman, blood pooling around her, eyes wide. Her nonblinking stare was turned to the stone wall and her mouth was agape as if she died in the middle of a scream.
His heart sank as Harrison bent to pick the child up and tried to soothe him by patting his back. His only experience with children was the two months that he spent with his nieces and nephews a few years ago, and they had been older than this.
He studied the body and came to the realization, or at least the belief, that she could not be the child’s mother. The woman was dressed in little more than rags, her face dirty, and hair scraggly as if it had not been washed in days, whereas the child was fairly clean, and his clothing and shoes were of a fine quality. He even smelled of soap.
It was not possible that the woman was the child’s mother, nor did he believe she was a servant because even a nurserymaid would be dressed far better and certainly have boots that did not have a hole in the bottom.
They were an odd couple, this woman and the child, though perhaps the two being together was a coincidence. Except, if that were the case, why was a child of quality in a dark alley along the docks in London without family or servants nearby?
Holding the child, he walked back to the street and glanced about. When a lad rushed by, Harrison stopped him. “Find a Bow Street Runner, Constable or Thames River Police.”
The lad started to shake his head and move on.
Harrison pulled a half-sovereign from his purse.
The boy’s eyes grew wide. “This will be yours when you return with them.”
“Before,” the lad argued.
“After. I do not trust that you will not run off without doing what you were paid for.”
He seemed to eye the half-sovereign, which was much more than he probably saw at any one time, then gave a nod. “I will find one and return straight away.”
“Tell them Captain Harrison Trent has found a body.”
The lad gulped and then ran off.
Harrison tried to comfort the child the best he could. One discomfort could be that his nappy was soiled and Harrison only assumed that was an issue because he could feel the moisture seeping through the sleeve of his suitcoat. It was likely the child was also hungry and who knew how long he'd been sitting by that body. Hopefully when the authorities arrived, they would find some type of identification on the woman so that the child could be delivered to a parent or guardian.
Uncertain what to do and uncomfortable trying to console the lad, Harrison paced in front of the alley and rubbed the lad’s back. The child eventually calmed to a whimper before he thrust two dirty fingers into his mouth and rested his head against Harrison’s shoulder. He assumed exhaustion had finally overcome the child when he grew limp and heavy in his arms.
When Harrison turned again, he saw the lad run toward him. Following at a more casual pace was a man Harrison presumed was the authority he had requested.
“I brought the Thames River Police,” the boy announced and stuck out his hand. Harrison placed the half-sovereign into his palm and the boy dashed away.
“I am Benedick Valentine. I have been told you found a body?”
“In there.” He nodded to the alley.
Valentine nodded then followed the same path as Harrison had, though he was not gone long before he turned. “Did you disturb anything?”
“I only took the child,” Harrison answered.
Valentine frowned. “That child?”
“Yes. His cries are what drew me. When I went down to see why he was in distress, I found him sitting on the ground next to the woman. That is when I sent for you.”
Valentine nodded. “If you do not mind staying here for a moment, I will return with a few of my colleagues.”
Harrison did not want to remain here. He wanted to give the child to a parent or a guardian and be on his way. But he also knew that Valentine could not deal with the situation if he also had to care for a child. “I will remain.”
“I will not be long.”
As he waited, Harrison looked around for anyone who may be able to help the child since he was starting to fuss again. However, the only people on the street were shipyard workers, vagrants, and lightskirts making their way toward a few pubs that would soon overflow with customers. That is when he spied the lad that he had paid to find Valentine. He lingered just up the street watching as other boys gathered around him. Harrison nodded and called him over. The boy rushed forward, eager for more pay.
The boy held out his hand.
“I will pay you when you return. You have the funds to purchase what you need and those will be reimbursed.” The boy turned and rushed off. Harrison had no doubt the lad was quite resourceful, especially if it made him plump in the pocket.
The boy was back far quicker than Harrison anticipated and in his hand was a clean, but stained nappy. Behind him was a haggard woman, with her hair pulled away from her face, but still a mess, her mouth downturned and with tired eyes.
“This is me mum,” the boy announced.
“What is it you need? Tim said a nappy and food for a babe.”
“This child needs to be changed and he has not eaten.” The woman eyed the child and then Harrison.
“The lad’s mum is dead in the alley,” Tim whispered.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Yer wife?”
“No. I found them,” he answered.
“I will return with porridge and Tim will change him.” Then the woman turned and stomped off.
“Is that really your mother?” Just because the lad said she was, did not mean it was the truth.
“Yes.”
“Did you give her the half-sovereign?”
“I was the one who earned it. You gave it to me.”
“She feeds and clothes you.” Tim’s clothing barely fit him, and they had been repaired and patched in several places. The mother’s dress was no better with stains and tears. She could use the money far more than her son.
“How do you know how to change a nappy?” Harrison asked.
“I got four younger brothers and sisters.”
Harrison handed the child off to Tim and it took him no time at all before the child had the soiled nappy off and had the new one on and then handed him back to Harrison.
“Is that all?” Tim asked.
“No,” Harrison answered. “You will remain here until your mother returns.” The boy kicked a rock out of the way but stayed near Harrison likely because of the promise of more money.
By the time the woman returned with a bowl of porridge and a spoon, Valentine also joined him with two other men from the Thames River Police. He handed the child off to the lad. “Feed him.”
The mother fisted her hands on her hips and stared at Harrison, probably not happy with the way he was ordering Tim around, which was why he withdrew his purse again and handed her a half-sovereign. “Thank you for the nappy and porridge.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an “O”.
“That was to be mine for fetching the nappy,” Tim argued.
“You took one from your home, thus it belonged to your mother,” Harrison told the lad. “I trust your mother to see that the funds are put to good use and I already gave you one for fetching the authorities.”
The woman fisted one hand on her hip then held out another to Tim.
He grumbled then gave the coin to his mother.
“If it is not too much of an inconvenience, I would like Tim to remain with the child and feed him, until I can return from speaking to the Thames River Police.” He nodded toward the alley.
“He will stay here until you send him away.” She looked at her son. “Do as he says.”
Tim gulped and then nodded before his mother marched off.
He did feel rather bad that the lad had lost the funds given to him, even though his mother clearly needed it more than he did, so Harrison found himself looking into his purse again and handed over two sixpences to the lad for his assistance.
“Be here when I return,” Harrison said to Tim before he followed Valentine and the others down the alley.
Two of the men searched the area while Valentine knelt by the body, studying her face, neck and where her clothing was stained with blood before he rolled her onto her side, looked over the body again, and then let her rest on her back once again.
“She was stabbed, which is likely what caused her death given the amount of blood.”
“Who is she?”
Valentine stood. “We do not know. There is nothing here that would tell us who she is.”
“Has no one reported her missing?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Valentine answered. “But we will ask around and check with Bow Street.”
“What do I do with the child?”
“Take him to Westbrook House. Tell them I will be by later.”
“The foundling home?” He knew of the place, not that he had been there.
“Yes.” Valentine then gave him the address. “It is odd. The child appears to be quality but the woman poor and likely destitute.”
That had been Harrison’s assessment as well.
“Does this happen often?” Harrison asked.
“Death along the docks is not unusual. However, a circumstance such as this happened only once before, to my recollection, and it was long ago.” Valentine turned away. “Nobody knew who that woman was either or to whom the child belonged. Very perplexing.”
***
Miss Perdita Valentine could not be happier. It had been a month and a half since she’d been hired by Lady Xavier and Lady Victoria and she could not imagine doing anything else. Her duties varied from day to day, depending on what was needed. Sometimes she taught the younger residents of Westbrook House. Sometimes she assisted in the kitchen, helped mend clothing or tended to correspondence and updated records for one of her employers. She assisted where needed and was quite happy to do so.
There were also times that she supervised the children when they were outside enjoying free time from chores and studies. Today she was settled on a bench while the children engaged in a very active game of Blind Man’s Bluff. She truly did not need to worry about any of them running off. First, they preferred to live here than the rookeries where most of them had come from, and she didn’t have to watch too closely since they played in a square, surrounded by buildings except for the one drive off the street. Still, the older students stood near the drive so that the child with the blindfold didn’t step into the street. If they were touched, it did not count since their job was to steer the child away from danger.
Lady Xavier, formerly Lady Olivia Westbrook, is the twin to Lady Victoria Westbrook and the two of them established Westbrook House. It was when Lord Xavier Sinclair, who preferred the title of Dr. Sinclair, was called to Westbrook House to assist Dr. Valentine that Dr. Sinclair and Lady Olivia fell in love and married just last year.
A hand touched her arm and Perdita glanced down.
“You are it,” he said removing the blindfold.
“I am not playing,” Perdita reminded. “I am supervising so nobody gets hurt.”
“That is no fun,” one of the children cried.
“Play.” “You are it.” And other cries of encouragement were called out from the nearly two dozen children who had been playing.
“Are you too afraid?” one of them taunted.
“Maybe she is too old to catch one of us.”
“Old and afraid,” she returned. “I think not.” She had been taunted in such a way by her older siblings when she’d been a child. “Hand me the blindfold.”
She took it from the boy and then walked to the center of the square behind Westbrook House and tied the scrap of material around her head.
“Ready?” she called.
“Yes,” one of the boys yelled from a distance, but there was giggling much closer.
Even though she could not see, Perdita still closed her eyes and steadied her breath and listened. None of the children were as quiet as they believed, and neither had Perdita’s own siblings been. Soon she would hear someone close enough to touch because a few would not be able to resist drawing near when Perdita did not move and search for one of them.
To the right was the scuff of a boot, but still not close enough. To the left a child sneezed, but also too far away.
The giggles grew closer and she waited, but then there was silence.
Perdita frowned, these children were never quiet, but if Perdita didn’t know better, she would think that she was all alone.
Then she heard it. A whimper, which gave her concern, but it was also very near so she reached quickly but instead of a child, her hand connected with fine material and a very firm chest or abdomen.
Her face heated and she yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned and pulled the blindfold off before she looked up to find the most handsome man she had ever seen standing in front of her. In his arms was a child of approximately two years of age.
“Does that mean I am it?”
The low rumble of his tone warmed her in the most enticing manner.
“I…um…”
Since when had she ever been robbed of speech?
“I used to do the same thing,” he quietly confessed. “Why chase when children cannot resist seeing how close they can get without being caught?”
There was warm humor in his green eyes, which immediately put her at ease. Except, she shouldn’t be so foolish as to assume there was nothing to fear because he was still a stranger—a male stranger. How often had she been told that she was far too trusting—seeing and believing in the good in people when they were unworthy of her faith in them?
Further, men were uncommon visitors to Westbrook House and mainly for protection of the women inside who had fled less than ideal relationships.
A quick glance behind assured her that one of the older children was quietly slipping toward the door. No doubt they intended to go inside and alert one of the many women who worked at Westbrook House. All Perdita needed to do was keep the strange man occupied until he could be questioned further.
“Where did you come from?”
At her voice, the child in his arms turned and immediately reached for Perdita. It was an automatic reaction to take him though she was surprised that he would so quickly seek the comfort of a stranger.
“My carriage is parked just outside, at the edge of the drive,” he answered. “I was told to come to the back door when making a delivery, but the front door for a visit.”
There was an air of authority about him, and he seemed to relax, somewhat, once the child was out of his arms. Perhaps he was not used to children.
“This is your delivery?” she asked, not fully trusting in his purpose, even though everything in her being told her that he was not a threat.
“I found him earlier along the docks. Valentine, with the Thames River Police, told me to bring the child here.”
At the name of her brother, Perdita grew less concerned. “Who might you be?”
“Captain Harrison Trent.”
“Army?”
“I captain a merchant vessel.”
From the corner of her eye, Perdita saw the back door open and Lady Victoria, one of her employers, step outside.
“Captain Trent?”
He turned and his shoulders relaxed as if he was relieved to see her. “Lady Victoria.”
All the tension that Perdita had been holding fled when Lady Victoria appeared more surprised and not at all alarmed.
“What brings you here?” She glanced at the child and frowned. “I am most curious.”
Was the child his?
“I…um…” he glanced around. “Is there somewhere that we might speak privately?”
At his grave tone, Perdita addressed the children. “Wash your hands and face then attend to your studies or read quietly until supper.”
There were a few grumbles but not overly much as the older children assisted the younger ones.
“Please, come inside. Join us for tea and you can explain why you have brought a child to us,” Lady Victoria insisted. “At least, I assume you intend to leave him with us.”
“Yes.”
Perdita, with the child, and Captain Trent were the last to enter and they stopped in the kitchen. “Is Corliss about?” Lady Victoria asked Edith, one of the women who worked and lived at Westbrook House.
“She is above stairs,” Edith answered.
“We have a new delivery.”
“Which one?” Edith asked with a chuckle while looking Captain Trent over from his light brown hair to his sturdy and worn boots.
“I believe I am too old for a foundling home,” Captain Trent answered.
“I am certain we could find a place for you if you were in need.”
Perdita’s face heated at Edith’s flirtation though she should be quite used to the woman by now.
“I will keep that in mind.” His deep chuckle warmed Perdita’s insides even though she should be scandalized to witness Captain Trent flirt with Edith. They were strangers, were they not?
“Please have someone tell Corliss of our new arrival and bring tea to the parlor,” Lady Victoria instructed before she left the kitchen, followed by Captain Trent and herself, and made their way to the front parlor. When they reached the entry, Perdita hesitated. It was not unusual for her to join Lady Victoria for tea. She was the only employee who did and likely because she came here under different circumstances. Not only did her brother sometimes serve as their doctor, but she had not come here to escape an unpleasant circumstance but for work. Still, that did not answer the question of whether she should join Lady Victoria and Captain Trent or take the child above-stairs. Except, she really wanted to know what brought Captain Trent here with a child of no more than two.
“Perdita, please join us,” Lady Victoria insisted.
“Thank you,” she returned and crossed before settling onto the settee.
The child looked up at her with wide blue eyes as his pudgy hand touched her cheek and he frowned.
“What is your name?” Many children that age did not speak but she hoped this one would.
“Ovver.”
It took her a moment and then she realized that it was an L that he had struggled to say. “Oliver?” she questioned, and the lad sighed before he rested his head on her shoulder.
“Well, Oliver, I am Perdita and I predict that we will get along quite well.”
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