Chapter Sixteen
Victoria rushed alongwith those leaving their daily work behind, only she was going, rather than coming from the shop. Brunswick had had to set her down a street away from Mr. Sustar’s shop because there were two carts overturned in the road, and an argument had drawn a large crowd.
“I apologize, miss,” Brunswick said with a frown. “We must go around on the parallel street, but I cannot guarantee there is not chaos there also. I dare not leave the gig unattended.”
“Nonsense,” Victoria announced. “I am capable of walking a short distance without an incident. You may remain on the seat and watch me turn into the close.”
The footman frowned. “His lordship will be most displeased.”
“I shan’t tell him,” Victoria assured. She squeezed the back of the man’s hand. “I shall see you in the morning, and I promise to practice caution.” Ignoring the man’s continued disapproval, she climbed down from the seat and with a small wave started off towards Sustar’s shop.
It had been two weeks since that day when she dined with three earls. Her mother would be beside herself if she knew of Victoria’s good fortune, but, upon second thought, when she had written to herparents, Victoria had purposely not spoken of Lord Thompson or his brothers. She had told her parents of the necessity of discovering a new place to live and of the boy’s existence, but she had provided few details beyond the child’s gender.
She was near the close when someone called her name. Victoria turned to watch Mrs. Taylor’s approach. “My goodness, I thought never to see you again,” the woman said as she embraced Victoria.
“I am still employed in Mr. Sustar’s shop,” Victoria said cautiously. Though she liked Mrs. Taylor, Victoria’s time with Lord Thompson had taught her to be wary.
“Has that sister of yours finally found her way home?” Mrs. Taylor asked. “Tell me you are not still tending to the child. Miss Cassandra should have him christened. Have you named him?”
“Not yet,” Victoria reluctantly admitted.
“It is too much to ask of you. Take the boy home and turn him over to his father.”
“No,” Victoria said with more emphasis than she wished. “The boy would be treated poorly by the baron and his son, as well as the neighborhood.”
“I thought your cousin meant to protect you. A landed gentleman and all,” the woman said with an unspoken question in her tone.
“His lordship has extended his protection, but I do not think a man I barely know should be required to take on the responsibility of both the boy and me,” Victoria countered.
“But he acts with your welfare in mind?” Mrs. Taylor asked. “It would worry me greatly if you and the child suffered.”
“His lordship has found us rooms, and he hired a wet nurse for the boy. Such is all I could ask of him. I shan’t be obliged for more. It would not be fair. Now, if you will pardon me, I should not keep Mr. Sustar waiting.” She again embraced the woman and rushed away.
Victoria did not view Mrs. Taylor’s retreat nor did she expect when she turned into the close to slam into a man in a long dark-colored coat, who bent beside her to pick up the items which had fallen from her bag when the collision caused her to lose hold of it. Parts of its contents peppered the dirty bricks with bits of color.
“Pardon, miss,” he said in gruff tones as he knelt beside her and scooped up thread and thimbles and the like to drop them into the bag. She sighed internally. It would take her hours to untangle the thread and rewind it onto the board, as well as reorganize the contents.
“I have it,” she had told him, not wishing to make a scene. She kept her eyes averted and swallowed her complaints.
“As you wish.”
As he stood and walked away, she did not view his face. Only his legs. Even so, Victoria caught at her chest, for she was unable to suppress the feeling that evil had walked across her grave. A shudder of dread ran down her spine as the man turned and disappeared along the street.
Someone shook hisshoulder, but Benjamin was sore to leave the image of Miss Whitchurch behind. The lady had been smiling up at him, and she was the most tempting woman he had ever encountered.
“My lord,” a familiar voice said, but Benjamin could still not quite place it, for Miss Whitchurch had risen on her toes to…
It took him a few extra seconds before the voice registered, and he opened his eyes to view Patterson standing by Benjamin’s bed. The butler was half-dressed and his hair was unkempt.
Benjamin bolted upright. “Has something happened to Miss Whitchurch or Duncan?” he demanded as he shoved the bed linens from the way.
“A message, sir, from Lord Graham. Nothing about Miss Whitchurch or his lordship, sir, but Lord Graham says you should come immediately.”
Benjamin snatched the note from his butler’s hands. “Bring the candle closer,” he instructed.
Thompson, there has been an incident near Sustar’s drapery shop. Some two streets removed. The watch says he viewed the victim at Sustar’s shop earlier, before the shop closed for the day, and the person spoke to Miss Whitchurch. It seems too convenient, if you know what I mean. We might require a few more ‘lords’ to prevent a bit of hysteria. In that manner, I have also sent for Duncan. Behind the Old Clock Shop. You might bring Brunswick along. Your man seems to have formed a connection to those in the area.
Graham
