Devall's Angel Read Online Free

afternoon. A vendor was beating him for stealing an apple.”
    “Poor boy,” he murmured under his breath. “Where is he?”
    “In the kitchen. I can have Paynes fetch him.”
    “No. He will be more at ease if we go to him. What do you know about him?” He followed her downstairs and through the door leading down to the servants’ hall.
    “Nothing, except that the bystanders claimed he is an orphan who moved into the neighborhood about a month ago. His name is Jimmy. Beyond that, he refuses to talk. I would estimate his age at around five, and it is obvious that he has not had enough food for some time.”
    Hart shook his head. “It couldn’t be,” he murmured, but gasped when they entered the kitchen.
    Jimmy sat at the table, still eating, his thin body so frail it was a wonder he was alive. Even heavy grime had not muted his blazing red hair, but washing now revealed a blanket of freckles covering nose and cheeks. His growing bruises revived Angela’s anger.
    “Jimmy,” she murmured soothingly. “This is Lord Hartleigh. He has a house full of boys where you can stay.”
    Fear coursed through the blue eyes.
    Hart dropped onto a low stool, bringing his eyes to Jimmy’s level. “It’s not a flash house,” he assured the lad, pausing to examine his face more closely. “Is your name McFarrell?”
    Angela gasped.
    Jimmy finally nodded.
    “I thought so.” Relief threaded the words. “Your brother Harry has been frantic about you.”
    “You know ’Arry?” Tears sprang to his eyes.
    “Yes, I know him.” Hart rested his large hand atop Jimmy’s small one. “A month ago I rescued him from a beating. He was unconscious for nearly a day, but his first words on awakening were to ask where you were. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
    “I was scared when ’Arry didn’t come ’ome,” he sobbed. “Then I ’eard ’bout a body nosin’ ’round, askin’ questions, so I ran.”
    Hart pulled the boy into his arms, letting him cry out his fear and loneliness against the superfine wool of his jacket. “It’s all right, Jimmy. You needn’t ever live on the streets again. Harry is waiting for you at a house in the country. As soon as you recover your strength, I will see that you both go to school.”
    “I can’t believe you know him,” said Angela, shaking her head. “Who is he?”
    “The McFarrells were a poor but respectable family that fell on hard times,” he answered, still patting Jimmy’s back. “The father was a dock worker, but seven years ago – shortly after Jimmy’s birth – he suffered an injury that left him incapable of lifting heavy loads. Without employment, they had to move into two rooms on a mean street. He did odd jobs until he died two years later. The mother found work with a seamstress, though they had to give up one of their rooms. But her eyes steadily weakened until she was no longer able to sew. Ten-year-old Harry tried to provide for the family, but soon fell into the clutches of one of the more reprehensible thief-masters, and the pittance he was paid barely kept the family in food. Mrs. McFarrell died three months ago. Harry kept things going for a time, but his master was dissatisfied with the goods he brought in and set on him as an example to the other boys. That was when I found him. If only he had been conscious, I might have recovered Jimmy then. This month must have been brutal for him.”
    “From his looks, he is near starvation.”
    Hart nodded. “Come, Jimmy.” He swept the boy into his arms. “Let’s go home. You can sleep in a soft bed, and we’ll find you some clothes. Then tomorrow, I will take you to Harry.”
    “Thank you, Hart.” She smiled damply.
    Returning to the drawing room, Angela stared at the uninspired furnishings. Thief-masters and Almack’s patronesses. London contrasts were even starker than she had imagined.
    The city had seemed magical when she had first spotted it in the distance, its skyline dotted with church spires