Page 11 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
A shout rang out in the street.
Charity jerked her head up and peered out.
He moved closer and gently tugged her back, hoping she was not in any danger. At any rate, it was better she not be seen at this hour in this part of London. They had strayed to the very edge of some seedy neighborhoods. “Let us both look,” he joked, hoping he ignite her defenses against being told what to do.
A group of children ran through the streets.
“Are they playing? It’s so late.” She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
They watched, and the children ran to what looked like a pile of rubbish on the corner.
“No.” She shook her head.
They dug through it. The eldest held up the end of a loaf of bread. “There’s more!”
The other children dove into the mess, rolling over each other to get to the bread.
“Oh dear no.”
Andrew was so moved, he almost forgot about Charity. His hand went out to hers—and not a moment too soon, as she attempted to open the door.
“No.”
She turned to him in defiance. But he shook his head, inwardly pleading with her to see reason.
With no small amount of hesitation, she turned back to the scene which Andrew was equally entranced and saddened by. He hoped they would hurry past, but the coachman had slowed because the children seemed to dart here and there, and Andrew was equally glad he was being careful not to run over one.
A young girl approached the first boy, holding out her hand.
But he turned from her.
“What? No. That is too much.” She reached for the door again.
Then the others started taunting her. “Oh, does Ronda want some bread?” They dangled their bits of rubbish in her face, and she began to cry.
Charity searched their carriage.
“What? What are you looking for?”
“Food. Any biscuits? Bit of something? She’s starving. Our scraps would feed her.”
He thought helplessly for something, anything, and then shook his head.
“We have to do something.”
While he was distracted, she leapt down out of the carriage.
“Charity!” He leapt out after her, at a run.
She stepped over to the boys. “You stop that.”
But Andrew arrived at her side before she could get too much farther. “Please. Get back in the carriage.” His eyes travelled down the nearby alleyway. Men gathered on several corners. And one unsavory lot across the street were starting to take steps toward them. “We can come back. We have nothing. Let’s come back when we can do something.”
She shook her head.
