bit the words back for fear of further rancor. Peter stuffed the eggs into his mouth and washed them down with two cups of coffee.
“Did they feed you well at Newhall?” Alice asked.
Peter lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Even confined in prison, he’d grown a good two inches over the past nine months, but he was far thinner than she remembered. He used to be big and muscular. Now he was a tall, awkward boy who didn’t look as if he fit into his lanky frame.
“Would you like to come with me to Oxford Street?” she asked. “We can stop at the union offices en route.”
Peter shook his head.
“What do you plan to do today, then?” She tensed as she awaited his response.
“Not look for work at a tailor’s or print shop,” he muttered.
“Peter, it’s very important that you find suitable work,” Alice said carefully, “and attend school at Brick Street.”
“I ain’t going back to school.”
Irritation crawled down her spine. “Peter, Papa agreed to let you come back home if you either—”
“I didn’t ask to come home, did I?” Peter shoved his plate away so hard it bumped against his cup and spilled the coffee.
Alice jumped up to grab a napkin. “Where else would you have gone?”
“Wherever I bloody well please,” he retorted.
“Peter…”
“I didn’t strike any bargain with him,” Peter snapped. “Bastard’s always been ashamed of me, right?”
Shocked, Alice stared at him. “Peter, do not speak of our father that way!”
“It’s the truth, ain’t it?” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll never be as good as him, and everyone knows it.”
“That is not true.”
“It is true. The only reason he’s letting me stay now is because of you, right? He wouldn’t set foot in Newhall the whole time I was there.”
“Can you blame him?” Alice asked, anger filling her throat. “Papa has always tried to give you everything you could possibly want, especially after Mother died. You repaid him by becoming a vagrant, picking pockets, and thieving. You got arrested, sentenced to prison, and now you won’t consider your future. What is Papa supposed to think?”
“What he’s always thought,” Peter retorted. “That he should have disowned me years ago.”
“Why, Peter?” Alice hurried after him as he stomped to the foyer. “Why are you doing this? If you don’t want to go to Brick Street, perhaps we can talk to Papa about going to stay with Uncle Benjamin in Surrey. He’s got a farm, you know, and…”
“I ain’t going to live on a damned farm.” Peter pushed his arms into the sleeves of his coat.
“Where are you going to go, then?” Alice’s heart clenched like a fist as she thought of him back among the denizens of London’s slums. He didn’t belong there. He never had. And she hated the thought that her brother believed that he did .
Thank heavens for Lady Talia Hall, at least. She’d come to Alice after Peter was arrested, offering her assistance. She’d explained about her work with the ragged schools and the founding of the Brick Street reformatory school, which sounded to Alice like a much better place for Peter than Newhall prison, no matter what crime he had committed.
Unfortunately, the judge hadn’t agreed. Lady Talia had been a blessing, though, calling upon Alice regularly, arranging for letters to be delivered to Newhall by courier, keeping Alice informed of the progress of Brick Street and the possibility of Peter attending upon his release.
“Peter helped me,” Lady Talia had told Alice. “I’d like to do the same for him and you.”
Alice had even begun to consider the other woman a friend, even if she was the daughter of an earl. And it was comforting to have someone to talk to about Peter’s situation, especially since Papa wanted so little to do with it.
“Peter, please.” Alice tried to grab her brother’s sleeve, but he evaded her grasp.
Peter smashed his hat onto his head and stalked out the door. Alice knew nothing she
“Did they feed you well at Newhall?” Alice asked.
Peter lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Even confined in prison, he’d grown a good two inches over the past nine months, but he was far thinner than she remembered. He used to be big and muscular. Now he was a tall, awkward boy who didn’t look as if he fit into his lanky frame.
“Would you like to come with me to Oxford Street?” she asked. “We can stop at the union offices en route.”
Peter shook his head.
“What do you plan to do today, then?” She tensed as she awaited his response.
“Not look for work at a tailor’s or print shop,” he muttered.
“Peter, it’s very important that you find suitable work,” Alice said carefully, “and attend school at Brick Street.”
“I ain’t going back to school.”
Irritation crawled down her spine. “Peter, Papa agreed to let you come back home if you either—”
“I didn’t ask to come home, did I?” Peter shoved his plate away so hard it bumped against his cup and spilled the coffee.
Alice jumped up to grab a napkin. “Where else would you have gone?”
“Wherever I bloody well please,” he retorted.
“Peter…”
“I didn’t strike any bargain with him,” Peter snapped. “Bastard’s always been ashamed of me, right?”
Shocked, Alice stared at him. “Peter, do not speak of our father that way!”
“It’s the truth, ain’t it?” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll never be as good as him, and everyone knows it.”
“That is not true.”
“It is true. The only reason he’s letting me stay now is because of you, right? He wouldn’t set foot in Newhall the whole time I was there.”
“Can you blame him?” Alice asked, anger filling her throat. “Papa has always tried to give you everything you could possibly want, especially after Mother died. You repaid him by becoming a vagrant, picking pockets, and thieving. You got arrested, sentenced to prison, and now you won’t consider your future. What is Papa supposed to think?”
“What he’s always thought,” Peter retorted. “That he should have disowned me years ago.”
“Why, Peter?” Alice hurried after him as he stomped to the foyer. “Why are you doing this? If you don’t want to go to Brick Street, perhaps we can talk to Papa about going to stay with Uncle Benjamin in Surrey. He’s got a farm, you know, and…”
“I ain’t going to live on a damned farm.” Peter pushed his arms into the sleeves of his coat.
“Where are you going to go, then?” Alice’s heart clenched like a fist as she thought of him back among the denizens of London’s slums. He didn’t belong there. He never had. And she hated the thought that her brother believed that he did .
Thank heavens for Lady Talia Hall, at least. She’d come to Alice after Peter was arrested, offering her assistance. She’d explained about her work with the ragged schools and the founding of the Brick Street reformatory school, which sounded to Alice like a much better place for Peter than Newhall prison, no matter what crime he had committed.
Unfortunately, the judge hadn’t agreed. Lady Talia had been a blessing, though, calling upon Alice regularly, arranging for letters to be delivered to Newhall by courier, keeping Alice informed of the progress of Brick Street and the possibility of Peter attending upon his release.
“Peter helped me,” Lady Talia had told Alice. “I’d like to do the same for him and you.”
Alice had even begun to consider the other woman a friend, even if she was the daughter of an earl. And it was comforting to have someone to talk to about Peter’s situation, especially since Papa wanted so little to do with it.
“Peter, please.” Alice tried to grab her brother’s sleeve, but he evaded her grasp.
Peter smashed his hat onto his head and stalked out the door. Alice knew nothing she
Similar Books
