A short, portly man appeared behind her, and Henrietta’s heart sank. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
The maid clutched a cloth bag and stared with wide eyes. The girl’s fear roused Henrietta’s protective instincts. Nancy might be her age, but what a world of difference in their stations. What a difference in what they could expect of life.
“I expect her back tonight, and you won’t make a hash of the business.”
His lordship had the flaccid, calculating face of a man who set his own pleasures above all, no matter the cost to others. The look he flicked over Henrietta’s faded habit and unadorned bonnet held utter scorn.
His eyes narrowed as he took in the carriage. Henrietta guessed he identified its occupant despite the lowered hood and the fog. “And you’ll keep quiet about it, too,” he said.
Henrietta bit back a retort. Here was another man who thought of the women around him as objects provided for his comfort, convenience, and use. His property. But more tastes ran toward sweet than tart, her great-aunt Davinia always said, so Henrietta forced a brittle smile.
“I presume you’ve furnished Nancy with funds?”
The maid sucked in her breath. Henrietta would have laid odds that after this man had assailed his servant and left herwith child, he expected her to pay to be rid of it. Most men of his station would turn the girl off without a character, setting her and her babe-to-be in the street. That he was here meant she could negotiate. She extended her hand, hoping that, in the dim light, he wouldn’t see her trembling.
His lordship glared and fiddled beneath his coat, then thrust a small purse in Henrietta’s direction. “Now be a good girl, Nan, and no fussing.” His oily smile dripped with warning. “I’m the one taking care of you. Remember that.”
Henrietta hefted the slight weight of the purse. It could hold only a few shillings. “Come now, milord!” she chided, mouth dry at her own audacity. “If you want her taken proper care of, you’ll have to do better.”
Nancy shrank as her master growled. Henrietta held in a sigh of relief as his lordship withdrew a handful of guineas and smacked them into her palm.
“There, and be gone with you,” he snarled. “I’d best not see you again, you conniving wench.”
“That you won’t, sir!”
She should have made some attempt at disguise, Henrietta realized. Next time, she would. Euphoric and shaking, she led Nancy to the waiting phaeton, where Lady Bess pulled down the folding seat in welcome.
James watched with slitted eyes as his lordship slammed the blue door shut. “Best bite the gold, Miss Hetty, and make sure ’e ’asn’t shaved the silver. Don’t trust a flash cove with the gelt, I don’t.”
Henrietta hauled herself up the high step, kicking aside the heavy skirts of her habit. “Away, James, before he decides I’ve robbed him.”
“Well done, Hetty.” Lady Bess bestowed a kind smile on their guest, who looked as sick with fear and deliverance as Henrietta felt. “Now, my dear Nancy, where shall we take you?”
“His lordship said…” Nancy trailed off, her gaze falling.
“But he is not here to command us, is he?” Lady Bess tilted her chin. Her eyes shone beneath the brim of her hat as James urged the horses down the mews and back to fashionable Clifford Street.
Henrietta smiled as Nancy’s mouth fell open. “Milady, you can’t mean— His lordship thinks?—”
“Oh, I know what he thinks,” Lady Bess said. “I told him what he wanted to hear. But you may decide your own fate now. Are you acquainted with the Benevolence Hospital? The matron is prepared to take you.”
The Benevolence Hospital for the Support of Orphans and Women in Distressed Circumstances, one of several philanthropic causes upheld by the Minerva Society, was currently full to the rafters with souls in need. But part of her test, Henrietta was sure, entailed not countering Lady Bess, much as argumentation might run in her nature.
Nancy shifted. “I-I’d like to go to me sister, mum. She’s a widow now, and if I say I’m one too, we can set up together and no one’ll talk.” She placed a hand on her middle. “And me boy’ll have cousins to play with.”
Lady Bess nodded. “Do you wish me to tell him where you’ve gone?”
“Oh, no, mum. I don’t want ’im to have a thing to do wit’ us.” Nancy’s eyes flickered to Henrietta. “I know it’s wrong, as e’s got in a sinful way, but?—”
“You did nothing wrong, Nancy,” Henrietta said with firm conviction.
“I love ’im already,” the girl whispered. “And I never ’ad a thing o’ my own to love. Not really.”
Henrietta’s last hesitations whisked away with the parting fog. She had both feet in the pudding now, as her great-aunt Davinia would say, and she regretted nothing. This was hercause, and the Minerva Society her people. She had found them through the grace of her sainted mother, and she would do whatever it took to be accepted within those ranks.
They set Nancy and her bag down at the coaching inn that would convey her to her sister’s. Henrietta slipped a few guineas of her own into his lordship’s purse, and Lady Bess added to the weight. They accepted Nancy’s tearful thanks and waved her off with good wishes.
Henrietta’s sense of victory wobbled as James turned the carriage toward Lady Bess’s townhome. That line was in stone, and there was no crossing back.
