Page 53 of Tempting the Scoundrel
Fi bounced next to Lottie. “Tell us one about Mr. Thorne!”
“Ohhhh,” Lottie said. She twirled her hair around her finger and said, “Tell us aboutyouand Mr. Thorne. Is it ever so romantic? I wanna know.”
Alex’s smile disappeared.
Sofia understood her discomfort immediately. “Perhaps a different tale,” the manager gently suggested. “Shall I tell you about the diamond and the loadstone? Or—”
“Pleaaaaaaase, Mrs. Thorne?” Lottie cried.
“Lottie, my love.” Sofia’s voice was stern now. “Don’t harangue our guest.”
“No, it’s all right,” Alex said, straightening. Uncertainty flashed in her features, but she squared her shoulders and found her courage. “Mr. Thorne and I—”
“No, you gots to start of off right-like,” Fiona said, picking at her just-tied bootlaces. “Like in them fairytales.”
“Of course,” Alex murmured, her expression pained. After all, their marriage was no ideal to inspire young children. Thorne knew that if this were a fairytale, he’d be the villain. “Once upon a time, there was a young woman. She had two loving brothers, but a cruel father who used every opportunity to remind her that he considered her a burden. A mistake. You might think of her as a princess, for she attended balls. But she never danced.”
Fi gasped. “Ohh but why not? Didn’t she wanna?”
“Yes, yes, she wanted to very much. But this girl didn’t fit in with many of her peers. She was expected to make herself smaller, to not take up so much space.” At their confused expressions, Alex clarified softly, “To pretend to be someone she wasn’t. When she refused, her father demanded she stay in the country as punishment. One day—when she was very lonely—she met a man.”
“Oh my goodness,” Lottie sighed. “Did she kiss him?”
“Not right away. But she did like him a great deal. He was the first person who understood her. They spent almost every day together—going to the lake for a swim, or sitting beneath the forest trees, talking for hours. He was . . .”
Alex paused, and the knife twisted in Thorne’s chest. All those memories . . . so many sunny days. So much laughter. Her smiles then came so easily. Thorne longed to stop her now, for he didn’t wish to hear the end of her story. He knew how it ended.
He still remembered her getting into the carriage and leaving him on Roseburn’s gravel drive.
Four years was a long time.
Alex shook her head as if to clear it. “The man was kind to her. That was what she fell in love with: his kindness. But her father told her that he considered this man to be beneath her, so he forbid her to see him.”
“No!” Fi cried.
“How awful,” Lottie added. “Did she run away with him?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” Thorne heard the sadness in Alex’s voice. “They eloped, and she married him.” Alexandra looked towards the door, then, as if sensing him. Their eyes met across the room. Thorne held his breath, waiting for what she’d say. How she’d tell the children that he wasn’t a kind man at all, but a liar hired by her father to deceive her to that altar. But she only smiled at the rapt children and said, “And that is the story of Mr. Thorne and I.”
Happy sighs from the children. The room filled with the applause of a dozen small hands clapping.
Sofia, who had been listening with a soft expression, stood and addressed her charges. “Time to leave our guest and head to school. Lottie, please help Miss Margaret with the little ones.”
Lottie and the maid wrangled the other children into an orderly queue, and they trotted single-file out the kitchen door. The noise went with them, leaving the orphanage bereft of laughter.
Alex approached Thorne, her expression serious once more. “Good morning,” she said.
Sofia noticed Thorne in the doorway. “Oh, hello, Mr. Thorne,” she said pleasantly. “I didn’t see you there. Have you come to inspect the inventory?”
“I suspect he’s here to accompany me,” Alexandra said. “As Mr. O’Sullivan seems to have disappeared.”
Her countenance was wary, uncertain. He thought of last night, that moment in her room after he returned to the Brimstone. He would have sold his soul to the devil to kiss her. But in the end, he’d retreated to his room and had sleep filled with nightmares.
“O’Sullivan had work at the club.” Thorne turned to address Sofia. “I’ll be leaving one of my men to watch the premises. The children may have to keep inside after school for the time being. Do whatever you can to make sure Lottie can’t pick the locks.”
Sofia froze, her small hands twisting at her skirts. Something in her past had her terrified, that much was clear. “Of course. I’ve . . . I’ve heard gossip of a few murders nearby—”
“Nothing for you to worry over.” He gentled his expression. “O’Sullivan and I promised you safety, and we take our vows seriously.”
