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Page 20 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)

T he dreary morning had darkened to an even more gloomy afternoon by the time Fontaine had found a pawnbroker willing to give her a reasonable price for Rosemary’s necklace. James had carted her and Xavier—the boy had insisted on joining her—through the streets for hours, refusing payment after learning they intended to investigate the snatchers. She might have insisted that he accept some form of remuneration, but Rosemary had reminded her before she’d left not to give up a single coin that she didn’t have to.

“Just that?”

She looked up to find the pawnbroker, a short, heavy-set man with a wispy mustache and intense, brown eyes, staring at her expectantly.

“Yes,” she said.

He gestured for her to follow. She had to duck beneath several suits hanging from the rafters before they reached an L-shaped desk squeezed between several tall stacks of crates. Xavier remained beside her in silence, his head turning around as he took in all the sparkling items that surrounded them.

“Put it here and I’ll have a look,” the pawnbroker said, taking a seat.

She placed the necklace down and slid it forward.

He picked the item up and moved his fingers along the chain until he had inspected every inch. Then he placed the necklace on a rusted scale and fidgeted with the dials until the scale balanced.

“Ten,” he said.

It was more than she’d expected, but she had enough experience haggling that she was certain her surprise did not show on her face. “Thirty.”

The man scowled. “Fifteen.”

That he had gone up five dollars so quickly was a good sign.

“Twenty.”

The man grumbled but removed several bills from his pockets and slammed them on the table. As Fontaine gingerly picked them up, Xavier clutched her arm. She hadn’t intended to take the boy with her, but he’d seemed so despondent in the attic. He was so quiet, so much so that the other children rarely spoke to him or involved him in their play.

She guided him out of the shop before the owner changed his mind, then down the street. They were within feet of James’s carriage when a cart on the street broke, and the donkey leading it reared. She pressed herself to the outside of the nearest building, not wanting to be trampled, but Xavier darted into the chaos, so quick on his feet that he was gone before she could call him out to stop. When the dust settled, the boy had his arms around the neck of one of James’s horses. The animal danced on its hooves, froth dripping from its mouth. It pulled Xavier off the ground but could not dislodge him.

“Come away from there, boy,” James said. He tugged on his leads, but the wild horse continued to buck.

Xavier rubbed his face against the animal’s hide. It stamped one hoof, shook its head, then settled.

Fontaine peeled herself away from the building and touched Xavier’s shoulder. “That’s enough.” She didn’t want James yelling at him again.

Xavier shook his head, not releasing his hold.

“Got a way with animals, do you, son?” James said, jumping down from his seat.

The boy tightened his grip.

Fontaine reached into her pocket and fingered the bills. They felt like hot coals burning a hole in her pocket. James had proven reliable, trustworthy, and hardworking. The moment he’d saved them from the docks, the idea of asking him to take on Xavier had flickered to life in her mind, but she’d held back, unsure of how he would receive the idea.

Perhaps now was the time.

She crouched down to Xavier’s level. “Would you like to work with animals?”

He bobbed his head.

James grunted. “At least the boy is eager.”

She straightened and faced the driver. “Are you seeking a new apprentice?”

He looked at the boy and frowned. “What have you got to offer as an apprentice price?”

She peeled two of the bills from her pocket, half of what she had earned from the sale, and held them toward the man. “This comes with the condition that you allow Xavier to write weekly letters confirming he is doing well.”

It was the same condition she’d negotiated with Captain Charles regarding Winter. She would not make the mistake of handing off orphans to strangers without some manner of insurance again.

“A letter once a week.” He nodded and took the bills. “It’s a deal.”

Then it was over. A simple matter, but it filled her with a glowing warmth. She had changed the course of the boy’s life. In London, he might have been another limp body shoved into the gutter, then burned unceremoniously in a pit with hundreds of others. Now he might earn a living, perhaps raise children of his own.

This was why she couldn’t give up. To the ton , the children living on the street were beneath their concern. She had to make them see they were wrong, that restoring each soul to a shining beacon of hope was as easy as dropping a few bills onto a plate.

Filled with renewed purpose, she grinned the entire trip back to the attic.