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library. How had Merrick failed to notice that? There was another crash upstairs that made his skin crawl. Ah yes—he’d been distracted.
    “At once, sir.” Mountjoy nodded. He moved to the mechanical sweeper in the corner of the room and cleaned up the china shards while Merrick carried the candy-coated book over to his desk to assess the damage. Having a houseful of children had been every bit as distressing as he’d imagined. Perhaps he could move into his club until his aunt and the staff got the little buggers under control. That shouldn’t take longer than a year. Ten at the outside. He could live in rooms for that long, he was sure of it.
    A high-pitched scream echoed through the corridors of Merrick’s townhouse, followed by the sharp crash of porcelain splintering on the marble floor. The whoop of elation shifted into a howl of pain.
    “Oh, hell, somebody’s crying.” Merrick shoved past the wide-eyed butler as he dashed out into the hallway. While he didn’t particularly enjoy having the urchins in his home, he certainly didn’t want them hurt. Poor little blighters had been through enough of that already in their short lifetimes.
    Merrick reached the foyer in seconds to find Piers and Jamie, the two youngest boys, kneeling at the base of the grand staircase amid the shattered remains of Chinese porcelain and several broken umbrellas. Seamus McCann, a fair-haired, nine-year-old pickpocket better known as Jamie, clasped his left arm up against his chest and made a manly attempt to contain his sniffles. Ten-year-old Piers Jenkins picked a shard of pottery from his friend’s knee and wrapped his handkerchief around the other boy’s leg. Piers’s pale thin face was tight with concern, his hazel eyes wide, and for once, he was missing the clockwork monkey that normally sat on his shoulder.
    After sweeping aside the broken china with his boot, Merrick knelt and nudged Piers aside, his glance quickly taking in the rapid swelling of Jamie’s wrist. The odd-shaped lump undoubtedly indicated a broken bone.
    “Mountjoy, summon the surgeon,” he called. “And fetch some ice.” He searched Jamie’s gray eyes carefully for signs of shock. “Is the arm the worst of it, lad?”
    Jamie nodded. “I’m s-s-sorry ab-bout the s-stand, s-sir.” He cringed back from Merrick as he spoke.
    Piers added, “Please, sir, it was an accident. We’re ever so sorry.” His use of proper English was dead perfect. Did he think that would influence Merrick’s behavior?
    Probably. Both boys leaned back from Merrick as if certain they were about to be beaten within an inch of their lives, and the idea made him even angrier than he already was. “We’ll discuss the damage to the house later,” Merrick growled. “Jamie, can you move your feet and toes?”
    Jamie obediently did. As his shoes and stockings—the brand new ones Merrick had just purchased according to the receipts Dorothy had left piled on his desk—had gone missing somewhere along the way, it was clear to see all ten toes were in proper working order.
    “Very well.” Merrick carefully lifted the child and carried him into the library where he laid the boy down on a sturdy sofa. “Any other bits of china sticking in you anywhere?”
    “I-I d-don’t think s-so.”
    “All right. Let’s look at that knee while we wait for the surgeon to set your arm.” By this time, Merrick was conscious of the other children having gathered in the room behind him. Slowly, he untied the knotted handkerchief, keeping his eyes fixed on Jamie, even as he spoke over his shoulder. “Tommy, would you remind the others that this is why it’s not a good idea to slide down the banister?”
    “Yes, sir,” Tommy said. “Is Jamie all right?”
    Merrick studied the inch-long cut on Jamie’s knee and decided it probably wouldn’t require stitching. Healing powers were not part of a Knight’s repertoire, but he’d seen enough battle wounds to be a fair diagnostician. “I think