A Winter Scandal by Candace Camp

his gown, someone might steal it without taking the baby. At least if it was beneath his clothes, whoever found it would have been kind enough to take care of him.”
    “That would make sense. I wonder if she meant it for payment for the baby’s needs—or did she hope someone would identify the child and bring him to me?”
    “I’m not sure it would be obvious that the brooch was yours. I assumed it only because I noticed your ring the other night.”
    “A note would be more certain,” he agreed. “Damn it, why wouldn’t she have left some word?”
    “My lord! You’re in a church!”
    “What? Oh. Yes. Sorry.” He said the words absently, turning away and looking around him. He took the candle from Thea’s hands and squatted down, searching the floor around the manger. “I had hoped there might be footprints.”
    “We keep the church clean. There’s no dust. And it’s been too dry recently for anyone to muddy their shoes walking in.”
    He straightened and set the candlestick down on the small table by the door. “You said ‘she.’”
    “What?”
    “You referred to whoever left the baby as ‘she.’ Did you see her? Maybe a glimpse? Something that made you think it was a woman?”
    “No.” Thea shook her head. “I didn’t see anyone. I just assumed that the person who left him was his mother. I don’t know who it was at all. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more.”
    Gabriel sighed and leaned back against the wall, rubbing one hand across his forehead. “No doubt this all seems most peculiar.”
    Thea shrugged. “There is no need to explain.”
    He cast a sardonic look at her. “After having a baby thrust on you? After being dragged over here to show me where you found him? Surely you must want an explanation.”
    “Well, yes, of course I do.
    But it would be rude to pry.”
    His mouth quirked up appealingly on one side. “Since we have established that I am a man without decency, I think there’s little need to avoid rudeness, don’t you?”
    He straightened up and began to pace the length of the vestibule, his hands shoved into his pockets. “My sister, Jocelyn, is eleven years younger than I. My father remarried after my mother died, and Jocelyn is their child. I wasn’t raised with her, really, since I was off to school when she was only two or three years old. So we were not close in that way, but I loved her. Our father died when she was only sixteen, so I was her guardian as well. I tried to look after her and protect her; I wanted what was best for her. I was glad when she became engaged to a good friend of mine. I thought she would have a happy marriage. But then, suddenly, Jocelyn ran away.” He stopped and turned to face Thea. “She left a note saying that she could not marry Lord Rawdon. She said she was going to a ‘better life’ and that we should not try to follow her.”
    “And did you … not follow her, I mean?”
    He shook his head. “Of course not. She was only nineteen. She had never lived on her own. It was absurd. I went to all her friends, our relatives. But she had not run to any of them. I checked at all the inns to see if she had hired a post chaise. I even inquired about the mail coaches, though I could not imagine Jocelyn taking one. So I brought in a Bow Street Runner, but he had no better luck. I searched everywhere I could think of, but there was nothing. Nothing! That was over a year ago. In all this time, this”—he held up the brooch—”is the first sign I’ve found of her.”
    “But what does Matthew have to do with your sister? Is the baby hers, do you think?” Thea stopped abruptly, realizing the implications of what she had said. “I’m sorry. I should not ask such a thing.”
    He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. ’Tis the obvious question. The truth is, I have no idea. Why would her brooch be on the child if he were not hers? But if he is hers, why did she not come to me for help? Did she think I would turn her away? That I