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“We’d love it,” Helen said, happy to move on from the little corridor with peculiar smells.

The woman led them through the main room, where several women sat on makeshift beds, their faces drawn and gaunt.

“This is where the women sleep,” Maggie said, gesturing to the beds. “We do what we can to keep them warm and fed, but it’s a constant struggle.”

“How do women get here?” Victoria asked.

Maggie shrugged. “We spread pamphlets and whispers around. Women who’ve been to our shelter whisper it in the ears of others in need.”

“Yes, but what brings them here?”

“Oh, that.” Maggie paused in the middle of the room, looking at the women sitting on the beds. A few of them turned away, hiding their faces from the unwelcome guests. A baby cried in the corner, and her mother stood, shaking it, trying unsuccessfully to soothe the poor child. “Some were tricked into a bigamous marriage and then left out in the cold as their babies were born. Some escaped vicious husbands with their lives barely intact. Some are harlots.” Maggie raised her head defiantly as if waiting for recriminations and the blame to fall upon her like a guillotine.

None followed. Victoria continued asking questions, while Helen walked up to the struggling mother with the babe in her arms.

“Pardon me,” Helen said softly.

The young woman turned toward her, her eyes wet from tears, her cheeks red in frustration. She was very young, not older than seventeen, and very thin. A gust of wind could probably knock her down. There was soot on her face, and her clothing was yet to be cleaned.

The other women in the shelter were drably clothed, too, but they were all neat and clean. Which prompted Helen to suspect that this young woman had just arrived at the shelter, with no time to bathe.

“Do you mind if I hold her for a moment?” Helen nodded toward the babe.

The woman took a step back like a frightened hare, clutching her baby tighter to her chest.

“Only for a moment,” Helen reassured. “You just look like you could use a little support. You probably haven’t slept in a while.”

“It’s a boy,” the woman said, her voice hoarse. “Gavin.”

“Gavin.” Helen smiled. “And what is your name?”

She shrugged. “Abbey.”

“Abbey, if you turn your torso this way and that while holding Gavin close to your heart, that should calm him faster than shaking. Would you mind if I showed you?”

The babe gave a loud wail, and Abbey hesitantly handed him to Helen. She hovered close by, peeking at the red, angry face of her crying babe.

“Here, little baby,” Helen crooned, as she held the babe close to her and moved her torso from side to side, swaying a little like a boat at sea. The babe gurgled but stopped his loud protests.

Helen held him a bit longer, savoring the precious weight in her arms, and inhaling the sweet baby smell. She looked up to find Lord McAllistair watching her under hooded eyes. One side of his mouth kicked up in a smile, producing an adorable dimple on his cheek, as he saw her notice him. Helen hid her gaze, not certain how to react to the enigmatic man. Was he flirting with her? Was that what was happening?

She hadn’t been flirted with for so long, she wasn’t certain she remembered.

Helen slowly handed the sweet bundle in her arms to his mother and watched Abbey rock the babe to sleep.

She was a quick study.

“Let me show you the rest of the shelter,” Maggie called.

Helen gave a slight nod toward Abbey and followed the housekeeper out of the room.

Lord McAllistair slowed his steps until Helen caught up with him. “Seems like you have a knack for calming children.”

Helen gave him a timid glance. “I have a daughter. She is one and a half years old, but it seems like it was yesterday that she was as little as baby Gavin.”

“Baby Gavin?” There was a note of amusement in his voice.

Helen smiled. “Yes, the babe I just got acquainted with.”