Page 36 of Making of a Scandal
When he reached the chair, he found a child huddled behind it, head buried against his knees.
“What’s this?” he murmured, pulling the chair out and crouching to get a closer look at the boy. “What are you doing hiding back here?”
A blue eye peered at Nick from beneath a tumble of sandy-brown hair, a fat tear slipping from one corner. The lad couldn’t be older than six, his rail-thin figure telling Nick he hadn’t had a good meal in his life prior to arriving at the home.
“I-I didn’t w-want them to see,” the boy managed between soft sobs. “They only t-tease me worse when I c-cry.”
He followed the boy’s gaze to the group of lads tossing a ball about between them. They might be the same age, or a bit older, but were clearly better fed and stronger than the little urchin cowering in the corner. Pity for the lad overwhelmed him, as he clearly recognized the signs of one who did not quite belong. Whether because he was new to the home, or because he wasn’t as tough as the others, he was alone, lonely, and afraid.
“No one will laugh at you with me here. I’ve decided we are friends, you and I. My name is Dominick, but you may call me Nick. What is your name?”
“Thomas.”
“That’s a good, strong name. Stand up, Tom.”
Nick rose and gave the lad space to come to his feet. While well dressed in clean clothes, the garments hung from his slender frame, calling attention to the protrusion of his shoulders. It would take months of hearty meals to put some fat on the boy’s bones.
Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved his deck of cards and held them up. “Do you know how to playvingt et un?”
Thomas wrinkled his nose and shook his head. His eyes widened as Nick flicked the cards from one hand to the other with a soft snap and rustle, then began to shuffle.
“No, m’lord.”
“Not m’lord,” Nick chided. “Nick, remember? And, I’ll teach you. Sit here.”
They went to the floor together, cross-legged and facing one another. Nick laid the deck between them, then reached back into his coat.
“Vingt et unis a gentleman’s game, one that requires mostly luck, but also a bit of skill. Do you know how to do sums?”
“Yes,” Thomas replied, eyes going wide as Nick produced a small pouch along with a handkerchief.
He opened the pouch to show the boy what was inside, before spreading the handkerchief and dumping five of the sweets inside onto the linen.
“Now, typically gentleman will bet money on this game, but today we will play for sweets.”
Longing blue eyes fixed on the caramels and peppermints Nick had revealed. Inside the pouch were more of them, plus lemon drops, chocolate truffles, and sugar plums.
“Let’s see how many sweets you can win, shall we?”
Nick dealt the lad his first card, then began to explain the rudiments of the game. The noise of the room faded away as he and Thomas became engrossed by the game. By the time the first five sweets had been bet—with the lad winning two for himself and losing three to Nick, two other children had wandered over. They seemed more interested in the sweets than the game, but Nick simply instructed them to sit and then dealt them in. Thomas’s tears seemed forgotten as the game progressed, and a group of others crowded around to watch.
Before he knew it, an hour had passed, and he’d nearly depleted his pouch of sweets. Thomas had taken over as dealer, commanding the attention of even the boys who had teased him—each of them wanting a turn at the game and the cluster of sweetmeats sitting on Nick’s handkerchief.
Nibbling a sugarplum, he glanced up to find that several members of the committee had gathered on the edge of the group of children, curious as to what had captured their attention. Among them was Calliope, who seemed surprised at what she was witnessing, her curious gaze wandering from the children and the cards spread out on the floor, then settling on Nick.
He couldn’t read her expression, so he wondered if it was disapproval he saw in those dark eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might not be a good idea to introduce children to gambling, but had thought it innocent enough. Hopefully, she wouldn’t come to him later with word that Thomas had begun a secret gaming club in his dormitory. A smirk made his lips twitch at the amusing thought, and he supposed it was all well and good if it helped the lad get along better with the other boys.
Deciding the children no longer needed his assistance with the game, he wandered away from them, but was frustrated to find that Lewes had once again commanded Calliope’s attention. The two had moved toward a window for what looked to be quite an intimate conversation. His gaze was so intently fixed on her that Nick was seized with the desire to pluck the man’s eyes out.
It seemed his services might not be needed for much longer—a prospect that settled a block of ice in his chest for reasons he did not understand.
Calliope toreher gaze away from Dominick’s retreating back with a sigh. It annoyed her to no end that he commanded so much of her attention, when the man she ought to give her all to stood right before her.
This time, Dominick had proved a distraction for reasons entirely different than the previous offenses. It was bad enough that he always loomed nearby looking so devilishly handsome, as decadent and sinful as the sweets he’d carried in his pocket. Did he have to add insult to injury by proving to be a natural when handling children? They’d flocked to him as if they couldn’t help themselves—as if, just like any red-blooded woman in any ballroom, they were drawn by his charm and exuberant grin. He’d been patient, tilting his head to listen to this child or that one, while simultaneously dealing cards and handing out sweets. Her heart had done a little flip in her chest at the realization that he’d brought them along for this express purpose. While coming into the London Home, he had gone out of his way to show kindness to the foundlings, treating them as if they were in no way beneath him. The orphans would remember him for his cards and sweets far more readily than they would the patronesses for the donations of their funds.
Giving her head a little shake, she turned back to the man who had steered her toward a window on the far side of the room, intent on having a word with her. He had been following Dominick’s progress across the room with pursed lips, and now turned back to her with a probing stare.
“I think, perhaps, I gave you the wrong impression earlier,” he said with an apologetic grimace.
