No sooner had Nate looked back around than Mrs. Perriman came running toward him with the woman and child in tow. “We need to go. Now!”
He dashed to the door and jerked it open, then picked up the child and got it inside the coach. The woman, actually more of a girl, dove in, and Mrs. Perriman followed. Nate barely had the door shut when something thumped the back of the vehicle and a man started swearing loudly.
“Ye won’t get far. I’ll find ye and make ye sorry ye ever lived. Ye’ve cost me ten quid, ye have.”
The only color in the young woman’s pale face was bruising around her eyes and on her left cheek. If it hadn’t been so important to get her away, he’d go back and show the blackguard how it felt to be beaten by someone stronger.
Fear widened her bright-blue eyes. “Meebe I should go back.”
“Don’t you even think about it.” Mrs. Perriman put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “You and your child will be safe from now on. We’ll make sure of it.”
It wasn’t until then that he took a good look at the child as she sucked her thumb. She had her mother’s big blue eyes, and blond curls surrounding her chubby face. She was a beautiful little girl and couldn’t be more than three or four years old. Nate’s spine felt as if cold fingers were pressing down on it. He did not wish to know what was being sold for ten pounds.
Hank drove the coach east for several streets before heading north and back toward the west. It was probably a good idea not to go directly to Phoenix Society. He pulled up on a side street near the Phoenix Society, and Mrs. Perriman opened the coach door. “Mr. Meadows, you may retrieve your horse. I am going to take these two to safety.”
“If you’re certain you do not need my assistance any longer.” He really did not like to abandon them.
“I am sure. We are going out of London. Please tell Toby I will be back tomorrow.”
Not able to do anything else, Nate bowed. “As you wish.”
He closed the door and strode down what looked like an old mews until he found Toby with Darragh. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.” Nate removed the hat and coat, placing them on a chair, then handed the boy a shilling.
A broad smile appeared on the boy’s face. “I woulda done it for noth’en. Thank you.”
He ruffled Toby’s hair. This was one child who was safe from harm. “But it’s worth it to me, and you did a good job.” Nate swung onto his horse. “Mrs. Perriman said she’ll be back tomorrow.” He didn’t like leaving the lad by himself. “You could come to my house until she returns.”
“No, thank ye. Tim will be back soon. I’ll tell him what Mrs. Perriman said.” Toby ran off toward a gate, opened it, and slipped through. Once the gate closed, Nate could hear a lock slide shut.
He had forgotten about the older boy. He wanted to take his time riding home, but the lamplighters were already at work, and he’d have to bathe and change before dinner. The many church bells of the London area rang the time, and he urged his horse into a trot. The rescue had gone quickly, but it was later than he’d thought. It wasn’t until he reached home that he had the opportunity to consider what Miss Stern had thought of him going off to assist the Phoenix Society. She had to have known Toby. Nate might not be skilled at small talk anymore, but he hoped she would think what he’d done more important.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The following day Nate joined Exeter and Turley for lunch at Brooks’s. A bill in which Nate was interested was coming up for a vote the following day, and he planned to be present for it. Tomorrow would be the first time he’d set foot in the Lords in four long years.
Later that afternoon he accompanied Mama to Lady Thornhill’s salon. And he was once again struck by how his mother had changed in the past few years. Lord and Lady Thornhill were famously liberal, and eccentric, and not at all the type of people Mama had counted as her friends in the past. Nate remembered being alarmed that Merton had visited the salon; now Nate was strolling up the steps with his mother about to enter what he had once termed a “den of subversives.” He grinned to himself. Finally, he would be able to see what all the fuss was about.
A very proper butler answered the door and guided them to a large drawing room where a tall lady—dressed in what appeared to be long pieces of embroidered silk wrapped around her—stood chatting to new arrivals.
He bent his head so his mother would be the only one who could hear him. “What is she wearing?”
“I believe it is called a sari. It is from India.” Mama smiled and held out her hands to Lady Thornhill. “What a pleasure to see you in Town so early.”
Her ladyship returned the smile. “We did not go abroad this year. Both my daughters and one of my daughters-in-law decided to add to their families. Because of that, we have traveled the length and breadth of England.” She briefly closed her eyes as she shook her head, then smiled broadly. “However, they all did an excellent job of it. I have two new grandsons and an adorable new granddaughter. Of course, they are all endearing at that age, but we have been waiting for a girl.”
“Excellent.” His mother drew him forward. “I would like to make my son known to you.”
Lady Thornhill lifted a quizzing glass that hung on a chain around her neck and focused it on Nate. “I must say I approve.” She dropped the quizzer. “I’m glad you have finally decided to come to Town.”
Nate bowed. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady, and to attend one of your salons.”
She waved her arm in a sweeping motion to indicate the rest of her guests, who were gathered in groups. “No matter your interests, I’m sure you will find those whose conversation you will find stimulating.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He backed away as her ladyship turned to his mother and started talking.
He surveyed the room, and didn’t recognize anyone present. Therefore, the only way to find conversation that interested him was to go from group to group. Footmen circulated with drinks and food. Nate supposed that was Lady Thornhill’s way of encouraging her guests to continue talking. He approached several men who were heatedly discussing something and listened.
“I tell you, his painting of the shipwreck has been accepted by the Paris Salon.” The speaker, a man with a heavy French accent, tossed off a glass of wine.
“I don’t believe it.” A second man sneered. “Géricault has studied with no one important.”
“Nevertheless,” the third member of the circle was clearly part of the gentry, “it is a fact. I received a letter about it just the other day. I plan to travel back to Paris for the Salon.”
Nate ambled past the men. Although he enjoyed viewing good art, he was neither an artist nor a connoisseur, and he had no idea who the artist in question was. A few steps away five gentlemen and four ladies were discussing philosophy. He heard Wollstonecraft’s name mentioned and listened for a few minutes as one of the ladies argued that the property of a female should rightfully belong to her even after marriage. Considering the gathering, he was surprised at the vociferous argument made against the idea. Nate took a pastry from one footman and a glass of claret from another as he listened. He almost missed the one lady’s sharp retort when he bit into the pastry and found it was filled with meat instead of being a sweet. It was like a pasty, but with puff pastry instead of a piecrust.