“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?” He sat straighter, sending Lionel one last look before focusing on the boy. “What’s your name and where are you from?”
“Mick Lang,” the ginger boy said. “And I’m from Poplar.”
“Alright, Mick.” David nodded, charmed by the scamp. “Who are your parents and where can we find them?”
“My dad’s Prime Minister Gladstone and mum’s the washerwoman,” Mick said, then burst into laughter. The two other boys laughed raucously with him.
David smirked, figuring Mick was just as much of an orphan as every other child in the room, but one with a wicked sense of humor. “Well then, Mr. Gladstone,” he laughed. “We’ll see what we can do about getting you settled.”
He leaned in, ready to ask more questions, but a commotion in the doorway snagged everyone’s attention. As Jack Craig, Lord Clerkenwell, Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard, strode into the orphanage’s dining room, every adult who knew who he was rose in respect, David along with them. The urge to prove himself to someone he admired flared so potently in David that he almost laughed at himself. Lionel stood as well, passing the book he’d been reading to one of the girls and stepping away from his table.
“Excuse me, lads,” David murmured, doing the same.
By the time David reached the dining room doorway, Stephen and Max had also left their work with the orphans to converge on Lord Clerkenwell, along with Lionel.
“It’s an honor to welcome you to our establishment, my lord,” Stephen greeted the man with a firm handshake.
“Mr. Siddel.” Lord Clerkenwell nodded and smiled as he shook Stephen’s hand, then moved on to Max, and then David. “Gentlemen. I’ve come to see how much progress you’ve made in settling the children.”
When Lord Clerkenwell reached for Lionel’s hand, rather than offering his, Lionel bowed. “They are perfect darlings, as you can see,” Lionel said with a smile over his shoulder for the girls, who continued to beam at him and giggle.
Lord Clerkenwell chuckled, then turned to Stephen. “I take it the ones who remain are in need of new homes?”
“Correct, my lord.” Stephen nodded. “But we’re doing our best to accommodate them.”
“Good,” Lord Clerkenwell said. “And in the meantime, we can move on to the more pressing matter of tracking down the men responsible for their sad state and bringing them to justice.”
“As I mentioned the other day, my lord, Lionel and I are at your disposal and would relish the chance to hunt the men down,” David said, bristling with the energy to show Lord Clerkenwell what he could accomplish.
Lionel glared sideways at him. “You’re speaking for me now, are you?” he asked in an undertone, perhaps intending for only David to hear, as Lord Clerkenwell continued to speak to Stephen and Max.
David flinched, gut filling with indignation. “I’m speaking on behalf of Dandie & Wirth,” he muttered in return.
“Oh, of course.” Lionel rolled his eyes dramatically. “Because you always speak on behalf of Dandie & Wirth.”
David turned more fully toward him, crossing his arms. “What in blazes is that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you seem to have elected yourself spokesman for the both of us without consulting me first.” Lionel’s back was ramrod straight, and his usual aura of calm power crackled with irritation.
David gaped at him. “What has gotten into you these last few weeks?” he asked, trying to keep thing between them but too startled by the bitterness of Lionel’s attitude to contain himself.
“Nothing,” Lionel said in a hoarse and haunted voice. “Nothing has gotten into me in quite some time, as you well know.”
David snapped his lips shut, clenching his jaw, no idea whether Lionel was trying to make a joke about his self-imposed celibacy or drive home the point that they were not lovers, in spite of knowing how David felt about the possibility. Beyond that, the feeling that Lionel was holding something back from him twisted David’s gut. He’d never kept secrets before. As badly as David wanted to prove to Lord Clerkenwell that he was competent, he wanted to prove to Lionel that he adored him and could be trusted with his heart even more.
Lord Clerkenwell cleared his throat, glancing between David and Lionel in a way that proved he, and everyone else, was listening, then on to Stephen and Max. “Regardless,” he began warily, “time is of the essence when it comes to hunting down Chisolm, Castleford, and Eastleigh.” He sent a cautious glance in Max’s direction.