He climbed back into the curricle, and Adeline hugged the boy. “What is your name?”
“Peter.” His brownish-green eyes were huge with fear when he glanced at Frits. “Please, mister, I better go with him.”
“No.” She’d never heard such a commanding tone from Frits before. The whole time he had been dealing with the ruffian, he’d used a bored drawl.
“His lordship is correct. You must not go with that man. He could have killed you.” When the lad began to shake, she held him even closer. His hair brushed her chin, and that was when she knew for certain. He was a mulatto. His hair had the same texture as Eugénie’s housekeeper’s granddaughter. But what had happened to this boy? It wasn’t that there were no Negroes or mulattos in England, or in London for that matter. Many of her sister-in-law’s servants were former slaves. And Uncle Nathan, Eugénie’s stepfather, had brought his servants from St. Thomas when he moved back to England. Some Negroes were even wealthy businessmen. What shocked Adeline was that this poor child was being treated just as she had been told many slaves were in the West Indies. “We need to go to my brother’s house straightaway.”
Frits looked at her and inclined his head. “As you wish.”
She prayed Will and Eugénie were at home, but, in the meantime, Adeline needed to calm the little boy. “Everything will be fine. My sister-in-law is from St. Thomas. Do you know where that is?”
He nodded. “It’s not too far from Tortola.”
Adeline kept her tone calm. “Is that where you are from?”
The child nodded. “My mama and me.”
Frits pulled up in front of the house on North Audley Street, and a footman ran to the horses’ heads.
“Are my brother and sister-in-law at home?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady.” The man nodded and smiled. “Both of them.”
Peter stared at the servant, who was a shade or two darker than he was. “Is he a slave too?”
“No.” Littleton lifted the child from her arms, then held out his arm to her. “There are no slaves in England. It is not allowed.”
“That’s right,” the footman said, then turned to Adeline. “I take it there’s a problem?”
“Yes.” She struggled not to let the fury she’d been repressing take hold. That would not help the little boy. “Some man was trying to whip him.”
“Her ladyship will help you get it sorted out.” He lifted his chin to where Maximus sat. “Do you want him to come with you?”
The Great Dane was very well behaved. There was no reason he should not come inside. “Yes. Frits, if you let down the steps, I shall take Maximus.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The door opened and Will’s butler, Bates, a tall mulatto, opened the door and bowed. “My lady.”
He looked at Frits.
“Good afternoon, Bates. This is Lord Littleton.” She glanced at the child. “This is Peter. We need to speak with her ladyship.”
“Follow me, my lady, my lord. They are in the morning room.” He opened the door and stood back. “I shall bring a tea tray.”
“Oui, merci.” Eugénie came forward to greet them.
“This is Peter.” Adeline leaned forward and kissed her sister-in-law’s cheeks. “We rescued him from a scoundrel who was whipping him.”
“Alors.” Eugénie’s eyes hardened. “We cannot have that. Come and have a seat while we wait for tea.”
That was not a long wait at all. Bates had brought Peter a cup of milk, several biscuits, and a jam tart.
After Adeline told them what had occurred, she turned to Peter. “You said your mother was from Tortola as well, and she is here?”
The little boy nodded. “Miss Lettsome needed her to do her hair for her come out.”
Eugénie’s lips pressed together. “Did Miss Lettsome ask that you come as well?”
