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Page 22 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)

R osemary watched from her vantage point in the alley as rail-thin creatures crept out of the poorhouse. Many were so emaciated that she could have knocked them over with a single finger, and all looked as poor as Quinn had been when they’d rescued him. For that reason, she was glad she had insisted Fontaine remain at the boarding house. She already felt such obvious guilt for her part in sending children to Halifax. She didn’t need to see what had happened to them.

Rosemary grabbed the basket of cut dandelions that were part of her disguise as a flower seller and meandered out of the alley. With her dirt-smudged cheeks and bedraggled hair, no one gave her a second look. This was a necessity, as Jane the street urchin had insisted that the poorhouse had posted lookouts who would call an alarm if anyone who did not seem to belong to the neighborhood approached. Rosemary hadn’t understood why until Fontaine and Annie had gently explained that it was often well-dressed strangers who came seeking what no one inside wanted to give up—especially the girls.

There was so much Rosemary didn’t know about what it was like for street children. Every fact she learned further revealed a disturbing picture that she had avoided thinking about for most of her life. Her parents had taught her that the poor were nothing more than lazy, entitled scavengers, undeserving of help unless they showed proper gratitude and virtue, as well as a desire to better themselves through hard work. Even the children.

Standing in the alley dressed in rags, she had never felt the cruelty and injustice of that viewpoint more acutely. She had heard stories, of course, of sobbing mothers offering babies up for sale, but such stories were always exaggerated to elicit sympathy from potential donors, were they not?

For the first time, she looked around and saw not just the people walking along the streets, but the women and children sitting on the ground. The unfortunates whom she had always ignored, assuming that their condition had been of their own making.

When she returned to London, she would set aside as much of her monthly income as she could afford to go to charity. Saffron had been right all along. The poor of London deserved help as much as Annie and the other children.

She carefully checked the watch she’d tucked into her sleeve. According to their plan, Annie should’ve exited the poorhouse ten minutes ago. Fontaine had insisted the girl keep her head down and not act in any way that might draw attention. She was only to listen and watch, then report back after the allotted time had passed, even if she had learned nothing of value.

Finally, Annie darted out of the building, her face streaked with grease. She crossed the street and arrived at Rosemary’s side.

“They’re in there,” Annie said, her face grim. “I saw Sam and Billy Smith, who used to hang around Barmy Park.”

“How are they?” Rosemary asked, although a part of her didn’t want to know. If the children exiting St. Mary’s were any sign, many who had been sent from London had likely already perished. Fontaine would be devastated when she learned.

Annie dropped her gaze to her toes. “I won’t lie. It’s bad. ‘Home children,’ as they call them, aren’t treated right. If any of them act up, a man comes and takes them to the Big House.” She sniffed. “I tried to find out more, but they were all too scared to talk.”

Rosemary wrapped an arm around her. “You did well.”

As they turned out of the alleyway, a grungy-looking man in overalls stepped into their path. “Where would you be going, then?”

Rosemary drew herself upright. “Do not accost us, sir.”

The man curled his lip. “This is none of your business, wench.”

The insult was a slap across the face. She gaped at the man, her temper boiling inside her, until she remembered what she was wearing. Of course he didn’t accord her any respect; he thought she was a flower seller.

The man grabbed Annie by the arm and dragged her, kicking and shrieking, out of the alley. Rosemary picked up a rock from the ground and rushed after them, prepared to do whatever it took to get Annie back, even if it meant bashing the man over the head. But when she met Annie’s gaze, the girl shook her head back and forth rapidly, mouthing the word ‘No.’

Rosemary stumbled and lost her grasp on the rock. It fell to the ground with a loud thump. Then the man and Annie were gone. Presumably he was returning her to the poorhouse, but Rosemary couldn’t be sure. He could even be taking her to a brothel.

No.

She clasped her head in her hands. Annie had looked scared, but not terrified. She must have had some reason for stopping Rosemary from rescuing her. The right thing to do was return to Fontaine and tell her what had happened.

She stumbled out of the alley and dodged between men and women in fancy clothing until, at last, she was standing in front of the door to the attic. Fontaine opened the door at her knock.

“How did it go?” she asked, her hands clasped at her waist. Then she frowned. “Where is Annie?”

Guilt clotted in Rosemary’s throat and made it difficult for her to speak. “Jane was right about St. Mary’s.” She quickly laid out what had happened to Annie. “They must have taken her back into the poorhouse.”

Fontaine’s face paled. “No. You’re wrong.”

A shiver went up Rosemary’s arms. “What do you mean? Where else would they take her?”

“If it’s anything like London, the poorhouse is where children who have no other uses are sent.” Fontaine wrapped her arms around herself. “She’s had more than a week of proper food, rest, and training. They’ll see that and realize she’d be better off in service.”

She had not considered that. If Fontaine was right and they sent Annie to become a maid, she might be in any house in the city. How were they going to find her? They didn’t have time to wait for her to escape and find her way back.

Fontaine threaded her hands in her hair. “Annie said something to you about a house?”

“The Big House,” a voice said.

Rosemary jumped. Jane stood in the doorway, having crept inside quietly.

“You lot want to help, right?” she asked.

Fontaine stared at her feet, blinking rapidly.

“Yes,” Rosemary said. “Do you know where they took Annie?”

“I’ll take you there,” Jane said. “But you won’t be let in looking like that.” She grimaced. “The Big House is where the snatchers take their catches.”

“So, they are connected,” Fontaine whispered. Her expression hardened. “I’ll go. I have a feeling I know what they’re doing.”

Rosemary wanted to ask what she meant, but the sharp edge to Fontaine’s words and the way she clutched her arms around herself suggested she was in a fragile state. A determined, angry Fontaine was far preferable to a despondent one.

She took Fontaine’s hand and looked at Jane.

“Take us there.”