Where The Heart Leads Read Online Free PDF Page A

case.
    Leaning against the side of the house, he let his gaze range over the group. They came in all sizes and shapes, some pudgy, heavyset, and thuggish looking, others scrawny and thin. Most moved freely in their games, but a few limped, and one dragged one foot.
    Any similar group of tonnish children would have been more physically homogenous, with similar features, similar long limbs.
    The one element these children shared, with one another and with children from his sphere, was a certain carefreeness not normally found in pauper children. It was a reflection of confidence in their security—that they would have a roof over their heads and reasonable sustenance, not just today but tomorrow as well, and into the foreseeable future.
    These children were happy, far more than many of their peers would ever be.
    A tutor was seated on a bench on the opposite side of the playground, reading a book but glancing up every now and then at his charges.
    Eventually one of the boys—a wiry, ferret-faced lad of about ten—sidled up to Barnaby. He waited until Barnaby glanced down at him before asking, “Are you a new tutor, then?”
    “No.” When more was clearly expected, he added, “I’m helping Miss Ashford with something. I’m waiting for her.”
    Other boys edged closer as the first mouthed an “Oh.” He glanced at his friends, then felt emboldened enough to ask, “What are you, then?”
    The third son of an earl . Barnaby grinned, imagining how his interrogators would react to that. “I help people find things.”
    “What things?”
    Villains, generally. “Possessions or people they want to find.”
    One of the older boys frowned. “I thought bobbies did that. But you’re not one of them.”
    “Nah,” another boy cut in. “Bobbies are about stopping things getting nicked in the first place. Finding nicked stuff is another game.”
    Wisdom from the mouths of babes.
    “So…” His first questioner eyed him measuringly. “Tell us a story about something you’ve helped find.” His tone made the words a hopeful plea rather than a demand.
    Glancing at the circle of faces now surrounding him, perfectly aware that every boy had taken note of his clothes and their quality, Barnaby considered. A movement across the yard caught his eye. The tutor had noticed his charges’ interest; he raised a brow, wordlessly asking if Barnaby wished to be rescued.
    Sending the tutor a reassuring smile, Barnaby looked down at his audience. “The first object I helped restore to its owner was the Duchess of Derwent’s emerald collar. It went missing during a house party at the Derwents’ estate…”
    They peppered him with questions; he wasn’t surprised that it was the house party itself, the estate, and how “the nobs” entertained themselves that was the focus of their interest. Emeralds were something beyond their ken, but people fascinated them, just as people fascinated him. Listening to their reactions to his answers made him inwardly chuckle.
    Inside her office, Penelope noticed that Mrs. Keggs’s attention had drifted from her and fixed on some point beyond her left shoulder. “I think that should hold us for the next few weeks.”
    She laid down her pen and shut the inkpot lid with a clap; the noise jerked Mrs. Keggs’s attention back.
    “Ah…thank you, miss.” Mrs. Keggs took the signed order Penelope handed her. “I’ll take this around to Connelly’s and get it filled this afternoon.”
    Penelope smiled and nodded a dismissal. She watched as Mrs. Keggs rose, bobbed a curtsy, then, with one last glance out of the window at Penelope’s back, hurried out.
    Swiveling her chair, Penelope looked out of the window—and saw Adair held captive by a group of boys.
    She tensed to rise, but then realized she had it wrong; he was holding the boys captive—no mean feat—with some tale.
    Relaxing, she studied the scene, examining her surprise; despite allshe’d heard of him she hadn’t expected Adair to have