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Mrs. Wilmark nodded compassionately, so Amelia continued. “And given that I have no other family on English soil, at least none currently available to lend me any sort of help, I thought it would be best to find my family abroad instead.”

A frown replaced the matron’s earlier look.

She reached out a hand as if to take Amelia’s before withdrawing.

Nurturing a child seemed like second nature to her, while it had always appeared to be more of a unpleasant duty to Mother.

Even Amelia’s two younger brothers were never cooed over, merely managed.

“Your predicament is concerning, of course,” said Mrs. Wilmark, frown still in place, “and while the way you think is entirely understandable, it may not necessarily be the wisest course of action.”

“But where else?—”

“Is there no one else whose assistance you can seek without leaving Town? London is the capital of the entire kingdom and wholly filled with resources.”

It was Amelia’s turn to frown. She could have turned to her cousins, she supposed, but with their plan to live together having gone the way of yesterday’s tea, it was not exactly a promising course to pursue.

Besides, her noble relatives would be the first people Mother suspected once Amelia’s absence was noticed.

“I have no one else to help me,” Amelia blurted.

She regretted the admission almost instantly, given Mrs. Wilmark’s concerned look.

She chanced a glance at Mr. Hawthorne, whose expression at least carried more understanding than pity.

Amelia swallowed. She could only hope that the information she was about to divulge wouldn’t become her undoing.

“I was born in China, although brought to England before I could remember any of it. And while my relatives here have always been nice enough, there was always something different about me. And it is not that I am ungrateful for my upbringing. But I doubt anyone in my family could ever truly understand my predicament.”

“And so you wish to uncover your origins—to piece together who you are.”

“Yes.” It was impressive, truly, how readily the kind woman could express the very things Amelia had always felt yet never quite knew how to say. “I—I have other reasons to avoid home at the moment, but all of that could just as easily be resolved if I were to find my mother’s family.”

“And you know of their address in China?” It was Mr. Hawthorne’s turn to ask.

Amelia hung her head. “Only the name of a city.”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. Tears pricked at her eyes, but Amelia tried her best to blink them away. How silly she must look to Jem and Thea now! But she couldn’t risk returning, not when Papa could not be expected to oppose Mother’s marital maneuvers.

“It may seem a silly notion,” said Amelia, her guard lowering by the second. “But I rather thought that if I could find my mother’s family—that perhaps they could explain so many things to me. And then maybe even if I were different, then I at least might have a reason to be.”

She lifted her eyes to find Mr. Hawthorne’ s knowing blue ones meet hers.

A moment passed, a moment of kinship that didn’t need to be explained.

Somehow, Amelia knew, that the man seated beside her knew her better than her own family ever did.

It was inexplicable and perhaps in some part the result of a poor night’s sleep, but it felt entirely real to her then and there.

And as if proving that he felt it too, Mr. Hawthorne touched her gently on the arm and said, “Then we will find that person for you—whether he or she lives near or far.”

Gratitude welled within her.

“Although I do selfishly hope,” he added, “that whoever we come up with at least has a London address.”

She smiled for the first time in days.

“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

Jacob didn’t bother suppressing the small half-grin that crept onto his face at Mrs. Wilmark’s comment.

It hadn’t taken long for Miss Waters—if that was indeed her name, although Jacob was fairly sure it wasn’t—to soften under Mrs. Wilmark’s motherly attentions.

The girl had likely been exhausted, and probably hungry, given how eagerly and gratefully she’d accepted Mrs. Wilmark’s cakes, and how quickly she’d dozed off in the chair by the fire soon after.

Jacob might not know much about the mysterious Miss Waters, but he remembered being in her shoes once—of looking forward to his lessons with Mr. Terrance if only to be the recipient of a modicum of motherly love from Mrs. Wilmark as she kept house for her brother.

And once more, that overwhelming sense of kinship that had bonded them in the old storeroom washed over Jacob.

One didn’t have to know someone for more than two hours to know that a kindred spirit resided within.

“She is,” Jacob answered Mrs. Wilmark in a low voice, trying his best to avoid disturbing Miss Waters.

“And where did you happen to find such an exotic little creature?”

Jacob chuckled. It didn’t matter that Mrs. Wilmark did not have any of her children in her home nowadays.

The woman still managed to be perfectly gentle and perfectly concerned and perfectly prying all at once.

Years of having her husband and sons away at sea meant that Jacob, and a handful of Mr. Terrance’s other students, had the benefit of receiving most of her care over the years.

Other young people might bristle at such interference from their elders, but Jacob rather relished it.

God knew his father never cared enough to wonder about his son’s friends, habits, or interests—never asked a single question about anything other than Jacob’s ability to be an asset to the ever-growing Hawthorne empire.

“I found her by the docks,” Jacob answered quietly, his eyes still trained on Miss Waters’ curled-up form. “Standing her ground against a greedy hackney driver.”

“Did she, now?” Mrs. Wilmark smiled. “I suppose one discovers jewels in the most unexpected places.”

“Your mind makes quite a jump, ma’am. I agreed that Miss Waters is pretty—that is hardly the same as discovering a diamond.”

Mrs. Wilmark chuckled and shook her head. “I’ve never seen your head turned this way, Jacob, and I’ve known you since you were shorter than this table.”

Jacob glanced down at the well-loved tea table. “I was never this short.”

“We all were, at one point or another.”

“I am almost certain I was much taller.”

“Certainly acted like it—precocious child that you were.”

The indulgent way she said it had Jacob smiling. “I was always your favorite, wasn’t I? Among your brother’s pupils.”

“Don’t tell the others that.”

“Do they still visit you?”

“Not once they no longer need his tutelage.”

“So I remain the undisputed favorite.” Jacob grinned.

“Of course, you rascal.”

They shared another round of soft, familial laughter. Mrs. Wilmark moved to pack away the few dishes they’d used.

“No, no!” Miss Waters cried out. Jacob turned quickly, eager to rush to her aid, only to see her curling more into herself in the Wilmarks’ chair, whimpering with her eyes still shut. “No, Papa, you can’t mean that.”

Jacob’s heart clenched. He didn’t know what drove Miss Waters away from her home. But whatever it was, he was growing increasingly determined to protect her from it.

A few seconds later, the creases eased away from her brow, and Miss Waters resumed her even breathing. Jacob frowned, not as quick to move on from her distress as she herself seemed able to be.

“You will help her then,” said Mrs. Wilmark behind him.

Jacob sighed. “As much as I can. I don’t think it advisable for her to attempt a trip to China, not with all the detours such a trip requires, and the rough company it inevitably comes with.”

“I can lend her a maid. Betsy is always eager to join an adventure or two.”

“Betsy—” Jacob recalled the maid who’d served them earlier. “She’ll be chasing after sailors sooner than she’ll be of any help to Miss Waters.”

Mrs. Wilmark laughed. It was nice to hear her laugh—comforting, assuring. “I suppose you’re not wrong, although she is the one I am most able to spare. I need the others’ strength and talents in the kitchen.”

“Mr. Terrance is the most well-fed bachelor in all of London. It is no wonder your husband looks forward so eagerly to his days on shore.”

Mrs. Wilmark laughed again, a glint of sentimentality in her gaze. “You always knew how to give compliments, my boy.”

Jacob grinned. “It helps to make friends.”

“Like you did with Miss Waters?”

Jacob’s eyes drifted back to the delicate face pressed against the Wilmarks’ upholstery, porcelain features framed by the folds of Miss Waters’ crimson cloak.

Somehow, whatever it was he felt for her—the instant protectiveness and enchantment—seemed to extend beyond friendship, but he was not about to admit such a foolish thing to Mrs. Wilmark.

He was already unduly sentimental for a man born to a tyrant like Alastor Hawthorne.

“Can I leave her in your care?” Jacob asked.

“I’ll spend the day asking around, although I doubt the feasibility of establishing contact with people in China when one hardly has a name to go by.

Waters is hardly an oriental name, and she didn’t seem as if she knew anything about Canton, not even a proper address. ”

“One feels ties to one’s birthplace.”

“Yes, but sentiments do not determine reality—and one cannot always realistically examine those sentiments without a knowledgeable person to shed some light on the way.”

“And you cannot help her secure a journey otherwise?”

“I have other—obligations keeping me here.” Jacob frowned. He didn’t particularly want to go to China, but he very much disliked how this marriage was already tying him down before it had even happened. “But I’ll help her in whatever way I can, within the confines of London.”

Mrs. Wilmark nodded. She sent another soft, motherly look at their unexpected new friend. “I hope, for both your sakes, that it can all be unraveled more easily than that.”