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Gregor and Percy both chuckled, and seeing that it was a jest, Toby quickly relaxed and smiled back at them. He then took a look around, his eyes roaming over the grandiose nature of the manor house, its surrounding outbuildings, and the expanse of land it all sat on.

“This is all yours, Your Grace?”

“It is,” Percy nodded.

“And I get to live here now?” Doubt tinged his voice.

“If you wish it,” Percy confirmed. “This is now your home. You are safe here, and you will never need to steal to survive ever again.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

To Percy’s surprise, Toby threw his arms around Percy’s waist in an exuberant hug. Percy and Gregor exchanged a smile.

“Here now, boy. You are messing His Grace’s fancy suit,” Gregor reprimanded in good humor.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Toby apologized. He stepped back quickly wiping tears from his eyes.

Percy smiled down at the boy, shaking his head. “No damage done.”

“Let us have a look at you, boy,” Gregor instructed, assessing his new stable hand with a pretend critical eye. “How old would you be?”

“Eight summers, sir.”

“That is young to be on your own,” Percy murmured in sympathy.

“I made do, Your Grace. I was six summers when my parents died in the fire.”

Percy and Gregor exchanged a look. Most orphans that age did not survive on the mean streets of London. The things that he must have done to survive were beyond imagination.

“You are a strong young man,” Percy informed him.

“No more than most, Your Grace.”

Gregor gave Percy an impressed look. “He will do,” he mouthed silently for Percy’s ears only. Turning to Toby, Gregor wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Let us find you a bath and some clean clothes.” Nodding to Percy, he led Toby towards the stables.

“Mr. Matthews,” Percy called after his newest hire.

“Your Grace,” Toby stopped and turned back towards Percy.

“Welcome to Greyhall. Welcome home.”

The boy’s face split into a wide grin, joy emanating from his eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he called back. “I will make you proud.”

“I know you will.”

Turning, the pick pocket turned stable hand followed Gregor into the stables and a much brighter future.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The following day, the gentlemen of the English ton and their families descended upon Greyhall Estate for the cricket match that Percy had agreed to host. All of the able-bodied men gathered together on the field of play that had been set up before their arrival. The field was arranged in an oval shape with the requisite two wickets consisting of three stumps and two bails each, along with the needed bats and balls. Each captain picked their teams. As the host, Percy captained one team while the Marquess of Newburgh captained the other.

Percy chose Cecil, Charles, and the Earl of Stonefield to be on his team, among others that he knew and trusted in their abilities on the field. Newburgh did the same, choosing men of his own acquaintance, Herbert Mowbray being one of them. Percy withdrew a coin from his pocket. “Call it,” he instructed the Marquess.

“Heads,” Newburgh stated his choice.

Percy flipped the coin up into the air and let it fall to the ground at their feet. “Tails,” Percy read the coin face. “My team is first up to bat.” The Marquess of Newburgh nodded in agreement. Each man took up their positions, eleven men on each team consisting of wicketkeepers, batters, bowlers, and all-rounders for each team. Percy and Cecil were the first batsmen to take their places in front of the two wickets.