A Talent for Trouble (24 page)

Grayson blew out a breath. “I wasn't insulting you, Felicia. I find your formidable nature delightful, but you must know that many gentlemen aren't comfortable associating with an opinionated lady.” He smiled. “You don't terrify me in the least, and for that reason alone, I really believe you should consider marrying me, especially since I'm sure you're right that word about our engagement will spread quickly.”

Felicia opened her mouth and discovered that, once again, she
was completely at a loss for words. Disappointment cascaded over her, and she found she was no longer willing to ignore the reason behind it. She'd allowed Grayson—unwisely, it now seemed—to burrow into her heart over the past few weeks. In fact, if she were honest with herself, the thought of marriage to him had flickered through her mind more than once. She'd tried to push her feelings aside, especially after he'd disclosed the nastiness of his past, but she'd come to realize that his past did not define the man he was today.

He wasn't a comfortable gentleman by any stretch of the imagination. He was impetuous, surly, and downright grumpy at times, but he was also chivalrous and kind and seemed to make a habit of coming to her defense.

If only he'd declared himself to be a bit in love with her, she would have been the happiest woman alive, because somehow, even knowing his past, she'd fallen a touch in love with him.

That was the reason behind her disappointment.

She wanted him to love her, but it was becoming perfectly clear he did not.

Oh, he cared for her—she realized that—but . . . it wasn't enough.

A knot formed in her stomach, caused when another uncomfortable truth sprang to mind.

She'd never truly loved Reverend Fraser, because her heart had never felt this heavy even when that gentleman had done the unthinkable and married someone else.

What she felt for Grayson was completely different. It was unruly, messy, and frustrating. Her eyes welled with tears. Even though she wanted more than anything to accept his offer, she knew she was going to have to refuse.

She couldn't marry the man simply because he felt obligated to right the situation he'd created.

She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, turning
her head ever so slightly to blink away the tears without him detecting them.

She didn't want his pity.

She blinked again when she noticed a slight shifting in the shadows on the far side of the balcony. She turned to Grayson, took a step closer to him, and lowered her voice. “Someone's watching us.”

“What?”

“Over there. Go see.”

Grayson ignored her request, taking her arm instead and pulling her toward the door. “You need to get inside.”

She shook out of his hold.

“Get inside,” Grayson said.

“Mr. Sumner, wait up. It's just me—Sam.”

Grayson dropped his hold on her and spun around, as did Felicia. To her surprise, she discovered a ragged-looking boy standing on the balcony, shifting on his feet and smiling at Grayson.

“You know this boy?” she asked, moving forward until she was right in front of the lad.

Grayson joined her. “Felicia, this is Sam. Sam, this is Miss Murdock.” He nodded to Felicia. “He's the young man who helped me get my horse after that debacle in the pub.” He ruffled Sam's hair. “I've been waiting for Eliza to tell me you've gone to see her. I thought we had an understanding.”

Sam scuffed his shoe against the stone floor. “My sisters didn't want to go to the orphanage.”

Felicia frowned. “You live on the streets?”

Sam nodded.

She rounded on Grayson. “You knew this and didn't do anything?”

“I did, and before you begin giving me another lecture, I've tried to locate him numerous times, taking quite a few rides on
my horse through the slums, but Sam's a tricky little guy, and I never met with any success.”

Grayson would have been entirely more unlovable if he'd simply turned his back on the boy instead of trying to find him.

Sam tugged on the skirt of her gown, drawing her attention. “You shouldn't be mad at Mr. Sumner, Miss Murdock. He gave me money. It was my choice to stay on the streets, mostly because of my sisters. For now, we're fine.”

“Why don't your sisters want to go to an orphanage?” Grayson asked.

“They've heard too many stories.” Sam shrugged. “Even though I told them Mrs. Beckett's orphanage is different, I think they're afraid we'll get separated. But that's not why I'm here. Something strange is going on with the opium dens.”

“You've been snooping around the opium dens?”

“No one notices me, Mr. Sumner, so I hear things. It wasn't hard for me to snoop, and you did help me out with that money. I owed you, and I knew you were somehow involved with those Chinese, since you had me scoot around to avoid them on the streets that day.”

“You owe me nothing, Sam. You did me a huge favor, and I don't like the idea of you mingling with those men. You have no idea what they're capable of, and I would hate to see you hurt. I can only hope you haven't drawn their attention.”

“No, they haven't seen me,” Sam said. “I'm very good at going undetected.” He looked at Felicia. “Except for tonight, that is.”

Felicia grinned. “I have three brothers, Sam. Like you, I'm very good at going undetected when I spy, so that's probably why I saw you. But in all honesty, I only saw your shadow.”

“Mr. Sumner hasn't seen me at all since I've been following him.”

“You've been following me?”

Sam nodded. “Because you gave me all that money, I didn't
have to scrounge for food, so I had some time. I figured I'd keep an eye on you. I thought you might be the type of fellow to get into trouble.”

“Which I'm perfectly capable of handling on my own, but I do thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Grayson tilted his head. “Were you watching me when I arrived here tonight?”

“I followed your carriage. I was hoping to catch you at your house, but there was an awful lot of screaming coming out of it all day, so I just bided my time. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, your carriage was trundling past me. A nice bloke offered me a ride on the back of his horse and dropped me off right as you got out of your carriage.”

Felicia bent down. “But how in the world did you get on the balcony? It's two stories above ground.”

“Oh, that was easy. There are vines on the side of the house, and I used them to help me climb.” He smiled. “I was trying to figure out how to sneak into the ball, or at least get a message to Mr. Sumner, but then, well, both of you came out here and . . . I didn't want to interrupt.”

“How much did you overhear?” Felicia asked.

“Um, not much,” Sam said as he scuffed his toe against the stones once again.

Felicia began to tap her toe against the same stones Sam was scuffing.

Sam stilled and blew out a huff. “I don't want you to be offended, Miss Murdock, but if I was you, I'd take him up on his offer. You're not getting any younger, and you might not get another chance.”

The night just kept getting better and better. Grayson had turned away from her, and his shoulders were shaking suspiciously, but before she could come up with a suitable response to Sam's statement without hurting the child's feelings, the door burst open and her mother, followed by Gloria and Cora, rushed out.

“My dears, I've just heard the exciting news,” Ruth exclaimed as she came to a stop in front of Felicia and beamed. “I had high hopes this would happen, but I never imagined it would occur so quickly.” She turned to Grayson and swatted him on the arm. “You gave me no indication at all that you were truly considering a proposal.”

“Ahh . . . I . . . ”

Felicia lifted her chin. “He didn't really propose.”

Gloria shook her head. “Oh no, not again.”

“It's Eliza and Hamilton all over,” Cora added.

“Or Arabella and Theodore,” Gloria added. “We mustn't forget that disastrous proposal.” She looked to Grayson. “What, pray tell, did you do?”

“Ahh . . .”

Sam stepped forward and coughed, attracting everyone's attention. “That reverend fellow insulted Miss Murdock, and Mr. Sumner didn't care for that, so he suddenly announced they were engaged, which got rid of the reverend, but then . . . Miss Murdock got mad at Mr. Sumner because she didn't think he really meant it, and I can see her point, seeing as how he was a bit dodgy about the whole thing, and so, I'm not sure they're getting married.”

Ruth tilted her head. “Who are you?”

“This is Sam, Mother,” Felicia said. “He's a friend of Grayson's.”

“And is what he said true?” Ruth pressed.

Felicia shrugged. “More or less.”

Ruth looked from Felicia to Grayson, back to Felicia again. “I cannot believe how the two of you turn every simple little matter into a fiasco.” She turned to Grayson. “If you were uncertain how to go about a proposal, you should have just said so when we spoke earlier.”

Felicia moved closer to Grayson, ignoring the wariness now
residing in his eyes. “Did you, besides speaking with Piper, speak to my mother regarding marriage?”

“Well, not exactly, I mean, it was a rather vague conversation.”

“Vague in regard to what?”

Ruth blew out a breath. “Darling, I was just concerned that perhaps you might—just might—form an unrealistic attachment to Reverend Bannes. He is a man of the cloth, after all. It seemed to me that you'd made a decision you were meant to marry one of them, and I'm not certain you've abandoned that decision quite yet.”

Hurt and anger warred inside her. She took a deep breath and was pleased when the tears she longed to shed did not appear. “I know everyone believes I've been a bit of an idiot regarding my belief that God had a specific plan for me, but I understand now what His true intentions were. It's just taken me a while to understand. I'm not meant to specifically marry a minister—I'm meant to marry a man who can love and accept me for who I am, even with my many faults.”

She squared her shoulders and forced herself to meet Grayson's gaze. “Since you don't seem to possess that emotion toward me, we have nothing further to say to each other.” She sent a nod to her mother. “And you need to have more faith in me instead of thinking I would jump at the chance to marry a complete stranger simply because he's a man committed to spreading God's word.”

Feeling a single tear leak out of her eye, Felicia spun on her heel and with her head held high set her sights on the ballroom, determined to keep what little dignity she had remaining. She heard Grayson call to her but didn't pause as she entered the house, marched through the throngs of guests and down the stairs, and stalked through the front door, not surprised in the least to find Mr. Blackheart waiting for her with the carriage.

She paused for a just a moment. “How will my mother and brothers get home?”

“No need to worry about that, Miss Murdock. I'll send the coachman back after we get you settled.”

She swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat. “Thank you,” she managed to get out as Mr. Blackheart helped her into the carriage.

He waited until she settled down against the seat, and then he leaned forward, surprising her when he gave her arm a gentle pat. “You're a special lady, Miss Murdock—annoying, but special. Never forget that, and never forget that you deserve love.”

With that, Mr. Blackheart closed the door and said something to the coachman. Felicia felt the carriage sway, leaving her to believe Mr. Blackheart had once again resumed his position of guard. The carriage rumbled into motion a moment later, and as she watched the Beckett house disappear from view, she felt tears begin to fall. Not bothering to wipe them away, she allowed herself the luxury of crying all the way home, wondering why, if she was so special, Grayson couldn't love her.

G
rayson was rapidly coming to the conclusion that his life was unraveling right before his eyes. Felicia was no longing speaking to him, Ming's behavior had not improved—if anything, it had gotten worse—and . . . he'd somehow managed to obtain three additional children, all of whom were counting on him to find them a permanent home, one where they could live together. But until that time,
he
was responsible for their welfare.

Grayson pulled his attention away from the carriage window and glanced at Sam, then Beatrice, and then Harriet, all of whom were wearing new clothing and sporting remarkably clean faces in preparation for the Fourth of July picnic.

The very idea that he was now responsible for them was a little daunting, given his abysmal performance thus far as Ming's father.

Ming wasn't exactly happy with this new circumstance. In fact, she'd spent a lot of her time during the past week tormenting Beatrice and Harriet. When she'd taken to trying to divest
the two little girls of any new clothing Grayson bought them, he'd saddled up his horse, rode to B. Altman's, and placed a large order for matching dresses for all three girls. That decision had create a small amount of peace in his household and explained why all three girls were currently dressed in identical pink dresses, white shoes with bows on them, and matching pink ribbons in their hair.

To top matters off, matchmaking mothers and their eligible daughters had descended on his house in droves, apparently believing he was distraught over Felicia turning down his proposal.

She'd been right about rumors starting regarding that, and in order to spare her the pity she'd been loath to garner, he'd let it be known that she was the one who'd rejected his suit.

“Do you think Miss Murdock will be at the celebration?”

Grayson looked to the left and smiled at Sam, who was looking dapper in his pristine white shirt, trousers, and a straw hat Sam had proclaimed made him feel like a gentleman. “I'm certain she will be, Sam, but I'm also certain she'll do her best to avoid me.”

“Like she did when you and I went to try to speak to her the day after the ball?”

“
Tried
being the operative word,” he muttered.

Sam grinned. “It sure was funny when, after Miss Murdock refused to see you, we went to find her and she dove out that window to get away from you. She must've really not wanted to talk to you, especially since she was on the third floor of her house at the time.”

“She about gave me a heart attack.”

“Good thing that tree was right outside the window, although . . .” Sam paused and then shuddered. “I don't think that Mr. Blackheart was too happy he had to scale up the tree and rescue Miss Murdock when she got stuck.”

No, Mr. Blackheart had definitely not been happy. He'd told
Grayson in no uncertain terms that he was, from that moment forward, to leave Felicia alone, and if he didn't, there were going to be severe consequences.

Felicia, to his annoyance, had been standing by Mr. Blackheart's side when the man had issued that statement, her arms slightly scratched from her encounter with the tree and her expression decidedly stubborn. Instead of even bothering to give him the courtesy of any type of response, she'd stuck her nose in the air, thanked Mr. Blackheart for rescuing her, and marched back into the house without another word.

He'd contemplated going after her, but Mr. Blackheart had pulled out his pistol, and even though Grayson was fairly sure, having the advantage of the skills he'd learned in China, he'd win in a hand-to-hand fight with the man, he was no match for a bullet. Plus, he would hardly have been setting a good example for Sam if he'd allowed himself to get shot because he couldn't abide a straightforward request.

“I bet if you told Miss Murdock you love her and long to marry her, she'd start talking to you.”

Grayson frowned. “How old are you again?”

“I'm eleven, Beatrice is nine, and Harriet is six. Ming's three, if you've forgotten.”

“I know how old Ming is.”

“Just checking, Mr. Sumner.” Sam smiled. “So what do you think about my idea?”

“I'm not certain I'm quite ready to proclaim myself in love with Felicia.”

“You don't love her?”

“I'm not sure.”

Sam tilted his head. “Do you feel all mushy inside when you're around her?”

“I normally just feel irritated, but . . . sometimes there might be a slight feeling of mushiness.”

“Do you think she's pretty?”

“I think she's beautiful.”

“Does she make you laugh?”

“She does.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Then you love her, but don't wait too long to tell her. I heard that Reverend Bannes is still in town, and I think he's only remaining here so he can try to convince Miss Murdock to marry him.”

“Where in the world did you hear that?”

“I have my sources.”

Grayson arched a brow.

Sam blew out a breath. “I've spent a lot of my time down in the kitchen. A person can learn a lot down there. Servants are the best sources when it comes to what's happening in the city.”

“Perhaps when you're older, we should consider setting you up with Theodore Wilder. I have a feeling you'd make a fine investigator.”

“I don't think you and I will still know each other by then, Mr. Sumner. It was kind of you to take me and my sisters into your home and all, but you and I agreed that it wasn't forever, just until your sister can find us a real home.”

A thread of something uncomfortable settled over him. After Felicia had left the ball, he'd noticed Sam trying to make his way back to the edge of the balcony and realized the boy was about to disappear again. He couldn't abide the thought of Sam and his sisters remaining on the street and called him back, insisting that the boy return home with him after they picked up his sisters. But Sam, apparently realizing Grayson wasn't exactly father material, had struck a deal—one where he and his sisters would stay with Grayson only until other arrangements could be made, as long as those arrangements didn't consist of any orphanages.

Grayson had met with Eliza the day after the ball and sought
out her advice as to how he should proceed. She'd offered to begin the search for a family who'd be willing to take in three children but had told him that it would be difficult. Grayson knew it wouldn't be fair to ask her to take the children, especially since she'd just opened up an orphanage on the outskirts of the city. If the children from that orphanage learned she'd invited other orphans to live with her, feelings would definitely get hurt.

Grayson summoned a smile when he realized Sam was watching him oddly. “How about we think of something for you and your sisters to call me besides Mr. Sumner?”

Sam frowned. “I wouldn't feel right calling you Grayson, sir. My parents expected us to mind our manners.”

“They did,” Beatrice said, shaking her head up and down, which sent her red curls bouncing.

Harriet didn't speak a word, but she also gave a nod, just one, but it was a small nod and didn't make her brown curls bounce at all.

His heart gave an unexpected lurch. These children had suffered so much loss, and yet they were still concerned about their manners. He summoned up a smile. “I think you should call me
Uncle Grayson
.”

“But you're not our uncle,” Beatrice said slowly. “We don't have any uncles 'cause we're orphans.”

“True, but I think
Uncle Grayson
has a nice ring to it, and I would consider it a great honor if you three would agree to call me that.”

It was clear in that moment that the three children were truly siblings. They spoke not a word but seemed to communicate with their eyes. Beatrice gave another nod, Harriet bit her lip, and Sam turned back to Grayson. “We think that would be nice, Uncle Grayson.”

“Me too,” Ming suddenly said.

“I'm your father, Ming, not your uncle.”

“Nope.”

Not particularly caring to arrive in Central Park with Ming screaming, Grayson decided against arguing that ridiculous point. She was only three, after all, and hopefully, she'd soon forget about calling him Uncle Grayson.

The carriage began to slow, and then it stopped, causing anticipation to immediately flow through him.

Felicia would be in attendance, and he was determined to speak with her. Because the park was such a public place, and because quite a few members of society would be at the celebration, given that they'd come back to the city for the ball, he doubted Felicia would make a scene and refuse to talk to him.

A footman opened the door, and he got out first, followed by Sam, who helped Beatrice out and then Harriet, then stepped aside so Grayson could get Ming.

“Want Sam.”

“Honestly, Ming, you're being exceedingly difficult, and . . .”

“I'll just get her, Uncle Grayson,” Sam said. “And just so you know, I don't think a three-year-old knows what
exceedingly
means. In fact, I don't know what it means.”

Hmm . . . maybe that had been part of the problem. Maybe Ming hadn't been able to understand a lot of the things he'd said to her.

“Thank you, Sam. That's some excellent advice.”

“You're welcome.” Sam got Ming out of the carriage, set her on the ground and took her hand, then reached out and snagged Harriet's hand. He nodded to Beatrice. “Are you all right not having a hand to hold?”

“She may hold mine.”

Grayson lifted his head and found Agatha, accompanied by Zayne, standing a few feet away. Agatha walked over to Beatrice and smiled. “You must be Sam's sister, and I'm guessing you're Beatrice.”

Beatrice's eyes were huge. “I am Beatrice.”

“I'm Miss Agatha Watson, but you may call me Agatha. And you”—she looked at Harriet—“are Harriet.”

Harriet nodded, her eyes huge but her expression solemn.

“She's a little shy, Miss Watson.”

Agatha looked at Sam. “You're Sam. I've heard a lot about you from Felicia.”

Grayson's ears perked up. “You've spoken with Felicia?”

“Of course. She's not put out with
me
.”

“What has she said?”

Agatha gave a sniff. “I'm not divulging secrets, Grayson. You'll have to ask her what she's been saying.”

“She's avoiding me.”

“Of course she is, and I can't say that I blame her. You made an utter mess of things the night of the ball.”

Zayne stepped forward and grinned. “That's why we hurried up to meet you when we saw you get out of the carriage. Agatha and I are going to help you set matters to rights.” His grin widened. “We're well equipped to offer you some steadfast advice on how to go about winning Felicia back.”

Oddly enough, he found himself interested in hearing what Agatha and Zayne had to say, even though they were completely
ill equipped
to give out relationship advice.

It was a clear mark of how desperate he'd become.

“If the two of you can figure out how to get her to talk to me, I'd be most appreciative.”

Agatha shifted a basket Grayson just then noticed she was holding from one hand to another. Then she turned to Zayne and thrust it at him. “Here, make yourself useful. It's getting heavy.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now, where were we?”

“Felicia . . . talking to me . . . your advice.”

“Ah, yes, exactly right. Well, we'll have to arrange it so that the two of you can have some time alone, but . . . that
might be difficult since you now have so many children to look after.”

Grayson gestured toward a phaeton just pulling up that was driven by one of his coachmen and filled with three of his nannies. They appeared to be a little squished.

“Three nannies?” Zayne asked somewhat weakly. “Isn't that a bit much?”

“Ming's tricky,” Grayson admitted. “And not only do I have an abundance of nannies, I have a good many guards as well. But they'll be more difficult to pick out, considering they're paid to be stealthy.”

“You're still in danger?” Agatha asked.

“Perhaps, but I don't really care to discuss that today, especially not in front of . . .” He glanced to the children, all of whom were watching the interaction closely—except for Ming, who was squatting down, poking at what looked to be an anthill. He moved over to her, scooped her up into his arms, and to his surprise, instead of screaming, she sent him a beautiful smile.

He couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever understand anyone under the age of five.

“I'm surprised you had your nannies driven here in your phaeton, knowing Felicia will be here,” Agatha said, stepping forward to take Beatrice's hand, the little girl looking completely delighted by the action. “I wouldn't put it past her to agree to talk to you, but only if you'll let her drive your phaeton again.”