“Have to talk to the sergeant and the vicar,” the constable said. “But seems like we can do that.” The other constable nodded, mug of tea at his lips.

“And then you’ll send us to a workhouse,” the boy said. “No thanks, guv.”

“You’re an impudent fellow,” Mr. Fielding said. “I believe we’ll get on. No workhouses, lad, I promise you this. You simply stay with me in my house with too many rooms—all of them small—until we decide what is to be done with you.”

None of the children looked optimistic, or elated, and I could not blame them.

But I also knew Mr. Fielding would look after them, in his own way. Feed them and give them a safe roof to lodge under, in any case. I did not think Mr. Fielding’s views on raising children would be recommended, but he understood what they’d suffered, and would make certain that these lads and lasses did not lose by it.

“Yes, go to Mr. Fielding,” I urged them. “He will not let you come to harm. And I’ll drop by and make you fine things to eat. I’m a cook.”

They eyed me dubiously, and again, I could not blame them. They’d learned to trust no one.

“Deliver them, Constable,” Mr. Fielding said. “I am depending on you.”

The constable stood straighter, recognizing a voice of authority. “Yes, sir.”

I gave the children a smile as we filed out, but none returned it. They had been subjected to terrible things by terrible people, and it would be a long time before they found comfort.

*   *   *

I managed to remain stoic until we reached the carriage, but there I slumped against the seat and let my tears come.

Daniel’s arms went around me. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”

“It isn’t me you should be sorry for.” I sank into Daniel’s warmth, too grateful for it to push him away. “I wish I had vast riches—I’d build an enormous house for those mites and give them everything they ever wanted.”

“I know. As would I.”

The trouble was, I knew no one with vast wealth. I had no idea how much money Daniel had, if any. Mr. Fielding was a vicar of a poor parish—he could keep the children awhile, but not forever. Lady Cynthia’s father was an earl, but he’d squandered most of the money, and sold off the lands not under the entail, Cynthia had told me. The Bywaters had a bit of money from Mr. Bywater’s job in the City, but they were a penny-pinching family. Lord Rankin, who owned the house in Mount Street, had riches, but he hadn’t been above demanding that his young maids entertain him. I’d nearly gotten the sack one night when I’d gone to stop him.