“Yes, it was.” Dotty placed the letter back on the desk. “I must say, I am looking forward to meeting this Mr. Meadows. He sounds like an excellent man.”
Henrietta wanted to test her hypothesis. “I believe that the money came from him as well. What do you think?”
“It very possibly could have.” Dotty’s brows drew together. “It makes sense.” She paused for a moment, making the neat pile of bills even straighter. “He must be quite well off to give such a large bestowment.”
That was something Henrietta had not considered. He had not showed off his wealth in the way she had seen other gentlemen do. In fact, even with the new garments he had acquired, he dressed rather simply. Henrietta wondered what her sister would do when she discovered Mr. Meadows was Lord Fotherby, and that Henrietta had known who he was. Well, that was a bridge she would cross when she came to it. In any event, Merton was bound to be the first member of the family to “discover” who Mr. Meadows was. From what she had heard, they had known each other since Eton, when Lord Fotherby would have been Mr. Meadows.
Dotty took out a key and unlocked one of the three drawers along the upper part of her desk. Once open, she placed the money and letter into the drawer, locked it again, and tugged the bell-pull. “I must have Merton’s secretary take this to the bank.”
Parkin arrived. “Please tell Mr. Hanwell I have an errand for him in the morning.”
“As you wish, my lady.” The butler bowed and left the parlor.
When he’d left she smiled at Henrietta. “I apologize for being so preoccupied. How did your day go?”
“Well. Very well.” Thinking back on today, she was amazed at how much had occurred. “After tea at Exeter House Dorie, Georgie, and I went for a ride in Dorie’s new barouche. Exeter and Turley accompanied us. I met two gentlemen I had not known before, Lord St. Albans and Lord Bolingbroke. Lord St. Albans asked me to ride in the Park with him tomorrow, and Lord Bolingbroke asked if he could call on me. I agreed to both propositions.” Henrietta grinned to herself. “They also would like to be invited to any entertainments my friends host.”
Her sister’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Did someone tell them that not much would go on between now and Easter?”
“Yes, but that did not seem to deter them at all. In fact, that was when they asked to be invited to our events.” Her sister nodded thoughtfully. “There should really be more to do before the Season begins. I do not think a ball would be appropriate, but there would be nothing wrong in having an informal dancing evening.”
Henrietta would like to know both Lord St. Albans and Lord Bolingbrook better. As much as she was drawn to Fotherby, she was afraid her family would never accept him. What a pickle this was.
* * *
It wasn’t long before Nate and the boy were threading their way toward Covent Garden and Phoenix Street. “Tell me what’s happened, and it would be helpful if I knew your name.”
“Name’s Toby. Mrs. Perriman and Tim had a rescue today, and then he went off to send a letter about placing the babe. The new man Gregory went with the other lady that started working with us to place a young girl with a family and they aren’t back yet. After Tim left, another note came about another child, and Mrs. Perriman can’t go by herself. Even now it ain’t . . . isn’t safe.”
“I understand.” The Phoenix Society was having a busy time. Nate urged Darragh to a quick trot. A few minutes later he was in front of the charity’s building, where a shabby-looking town coach stood. It reminded him of any of the numerous hackney coaches he’d seen around London.
“I can take your horse around back,” Toby said as he slid off the side of the horse. “We have a small stable. I’ll look after him good.”
“Thank you.” He threw the reins to the lad. “Darragh, go with Toby. I’ll be back soon.”
The big chestnut nodded his head, as if he understood. Well, he did in a way. He knew that Nate wanted him to go with the boy, otherwise the horse wouldn’t have gone. He took the four shallow steps by twos and knocked on the door.
“I cannot tell you how glad I am you came.” Mrs. Perriman stuck two hat-pins in a shabby bonnet that went along with the rest of her garments. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was from Seven Dials. She glanced at Nate and frowned. “It’s a shame we don’t have anything to fit you. Ah, but I do have an old coat that will hide your garments.” She left him for a few minutes. When she returned she was carrying a large, well-worn caped coat and a battered hat. “Do you have a pistol?”
“Er, no. I wasn’t at home when Toby found me.”
“Let me get you one. I do not expect trouble, but it is better to be prepared.” She went through what had probably been the green baize door to the kitchens at one time, and returned a few moments later, handing him a coaching gun. “I loaded it.”
“Thank you.” Nate slipped the weapon into the greatcoat pocket. He now knew why she had been chosen to run the charity. Although the weather was nice, it wasn’t warm enough to make the coat uncomfortably hot. “Where are we going?”
“To the edge of Seven Dials.” She made the statement like another lady would have said Piccadilly or some other safe environment.
“I take it the coachman will be armed as well?” The man had damn well better be.
“Yes. I only wish we had a third person with us. Even if we do not go far into the area, it can be dangerous.”
And it would be dark soon. He held his arm out to Mrs. Perriman. “Let’s be off.”
She blushed as she took it, but disregarded his assistance into the carriage. No sooner had he closed the door than the coach lurched forward. He’d expected the springs to be as old as the vehicle looked, but their ride was amazingly smooth. It was also clear that what he’d taken as job horses were actually quite sprightly. The disguise was well done. Only someone with very sharp eyes would recognize the carriage or the horses. Even the coachman looked like any other hackney driver.
Before he knew it, the carriage slowed and shadows seemed to block what was left of the sun. The vehicle stopped.
“We’re here.” Mrs. Perriman motioned for him to open the door. “Do not worry about helping me down. We do not want to cause anymore notice than need be. Keep your back to the carriage.”
Nate nodded his agreement. In this he was an absolute novice.
“Hank”—Mrs. Perriman’s tone was so soft only the coachman and he could hear her—“do you see anyone who looks like they are waiting to meet us?”
“Just down the street and under a baker’s sign a young woman is holding a small ’un’s hand. She’s looking around her like she’s waiting for someone.”
“That must be her.” She glanced at Nate. “I will go first. You try to keep your back to Hank. He’ll watch to make sure no one comes in behind you. I will approach the woman.”
“I understand.” He did as he was told, moving slowly, as if he was merely ambling around and always with his back to the coach. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the coachman slowly turning the carriage so that it pointed toward the way out. Then Hank positioned himself on top of the vehicle to keep watch.