With each glide, and twist, and turn, her enjoyment grew, and Phoebe laughed. And how her heart tumbled inside her chest when his mouth curved and he, too, smiled.
He spun her away from him, and she twirled in two rotations before she was back in his arms, this time even scandalously closer. Oh God. Her body felt charged, vibrantly alive, her heart exquisitely tormented by the intense feelings burning through her for this man.
Phoebe could feel the curious stares of several people from society upon them, yet he only had eyes for her. Her heart thrilled even as a soft warming went through her. The dance ended, and he led her from the dance floor and out into the hallway. She felt a stare and glanced back to see Richard observing their departure. A footman rushed to deliver her wrap, and she thanked him and rewarded him a small coin. Hugh led her to a carriage that was still in the queue and helped her inside. The weather had changed since their dance, and it was now raining. The conveyance was large and elegant, one of the most luxurious she had ever seen.
He sat opposite her. “I am taking you to our townhouse.”
“And where is that?”
“Grosvenor Square.”
“I’ve missed Franny dreadfully.” It had only been a little over a week since she had been taken from her home, and each night since she had been restless and worried without her child.
The hard line around his flat, unsmiling mouth softened. “Franny is well. I am sure she misses you, too. We must return to her as soon as possible. Tomorrow.”
Her heart lifted. “Of course.”
An odd tension lingered in the air. She drew the curtain aside and watched the townhouses they rattled past. She frowned as they drove past a woman with a swaddled bundle pressed against her chest and a young boy of about three years with his hand clasped between her own. They were hurrying away from a townhouse, and to Phoebe’s shock, a footman dashed a pail of water toward them.
The lady hurried along, almost tripping in her haste.
“Stop the carriage,” Phoebe cried.
Hugh arched a brow and rapped the roof of the carriage.
“There is a lady outside with…with two children, and a servant threw water at them. It is already drizzling outside and so dreadfully cold. How terrible of him!”
Hugh made no reply, and Phoebe opened the window when it stopped at the woman’s feet, causing her to cast a wary and suspicious glance at the equipage.
“Hallo,” Phoebe greeted. “It is raining, and I daresay it will only fall harder. Might I offer to take you and the children to your lodgings?”
Shock blanketed the woman’s face, and she stared at Phoebe for several moments before saying, “I ain’t got no coin to pay.”
“I am not a public hackney, madam,” Phoebe said with some teasing. “Surely that is evident.”
The little boy swiped some of the water from his face, tugged at his mother’s hand, and peered up at her pleadingly.
“Thank you,” the lady said quietly.
The steps to the carriage were knocked down, and Hugh exited the equipage to assist the lady inside. That seemed to be a greater shock to her, and she wiped her hands in her skirt before accepting his gloved hand.
Phoebe offered her a reassuring smile. “Where can we take you?”
“I am letting a room in Covent Garden.”
Quick instructions were given to the coachman, and the carriage rumbled over the street, taking them away from Mayfair. The lady and the boy huddled closer, though there was ample room for them to sit comfortably. A gurgling sound emitted from the boy, and Phoebe realized it was his stomach.
“I witnessed that footman tossing the pail of water your way. I am deeply sorry you had to suffer that indignity.”
The lady did not seem to know what to make of Phoebe, and she nodded shyly. Upon looking closer, Phoebe could not help noting how young the girl was. “How old are you?”
The boy scooted closer to her, and she wrapped her arms around his thin shoulders. They shared a resemblance with their brown hair, the slant of their cheekbones and light eyes. He was a handsome lad, and the lady herself quite pretty despite her haggard appearance.
“I am one and twenty, milady.”
“And these two children are yours?”
Her throat worked on a swallow before she nodded.
“And your husband?”
Something flashed in the lady’s light gray eyes, a curl of shame and fright, before she lifted her chin. “Dead,” she said, though the word trembled.
Phoebe suspected then she’d had the children out of wedlock. “Were you coming from the home of their father just now?” she said quietly.
The lady’s chest rose on a harsh breath, and the little girl in her hand stirred awake.
“Mamma,” she said sleepily, pushing the blanket from her head and looking around the carriage. “Hungry.” This last bit was said with a whimper, and the boy’s stomach rumbled again.
The girl was maybe two years of age and quite thin. Sorrow clutched at Phoebe’s throat. If not for her circumstances of birth and the kindness of her husband, this might have been her plight. Alone and adrift with a child to take care of, with little option or opportunities to live. How many women found themselves with a child out of wedlock and the gentleman who had helped to create that life indifferent to their sorry state?
Phoebe reached up and removed her earbobs. The lady watched her the entire time while she shushed the fretful child in her arms. Phoebe held them out to her. “These are worth at least fifty quid. You should pawn them tomorrow. Do not accept less than forty pounds.”
With trembling hands, the lady reached out then at the last minute snatched back her hand and stared at the earbobs with a desperation that made Phoebe’s throat ache.
“I am the Marchioness of Albury,” she said softly.
Hugh tensed subtly beside her at the use of her title.
“As unlikely as it might seem, a few months ago I was very desperate and afraid, but God sent me to my destiny, and since then I have not been afraid. I can see the fear in your eyes and the hunger in your children. Please take them.”
The lady snatched the earbobs from her hands, silent tears rolling down her eyes. “Thank you, your ladyship. I…somehow I will repay you.”
“It will not be necessary,” she said kindly. “They were simply an ornament, but I dare hope the money will be able to keep you fed and warm for a few months.” How she wished she could do something more.
Hugh stirred, and his fingers moved. Phoebe almost threw herself at him and hugged him fiercely as she read his words. She turned back to the lady. “What is your name?”