“If it’s all right with you, Your Grace,” Burns said. “Puck and I will wait out here and keep watch.”
“Thank you,” Weston said as he was the last to enter the cabin.
“Please sit, and I’ll pour the brandy,” Hennie said, looking pleased to have friendly visitors. Then it hit Phoebe—she would be leaving. Leaving Hennie behind. After all she had done for her mother, then for her, it hardly seemed right to leave her tolive out the rest of her days in this old hunting cabin all alone. Perhaps she could convince her to come with them.
Not long after, Oliver said, “Before darkness settles in, we need to get back to the carriage and on the road home.” He bowed to Hennie and handed her a pouch. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of Miss Windham and her mother before her.”
Hennie took the pouch and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I would care for them in a heartbeat again if I needed to. No finer ladies in England, you ask me.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon chimed in, “Lady Emma packed you a bag. I’ll help you change.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe said as she and Mrs. Dove-Lyon entered the bedroom, and she closed the curtain. They quickly changed her out of her dirty clothes. It felt good to be in Emma’s hand-me-down clothes and a sturdy pair of half boots. She opened the curtain and said, “We’re ready.”
Phoebe went into Hennie’s open arms and they sobbed on each other. “You will come with us? You’re my family now.”
Hennie stepped back. “No. Perhaps after your wedding. You know how to reach me. Mail Coach 53. Mr. Sullivan will see that I get your letter. Now be off—I’ve got things to do.”
She appreciated Hennie making it easier for them to leave. She hugged her quickly one last time and headed out of the cabin. They stepped onto the narrow walking path. She followed Mr. Burns, whom she found out was a Bow Street Runner, with Oliver right behind her, then Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and Puck at the end.
It felt like forever until they reached the horses and carriage. Oliver helped her into the coach and covered her lap with a blanket. “Rest during the ride. You must be exhausted.”
“I am,” Phoebe said as her eyes felt heavy.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat beside her with her own blanket. “Lean on me if you want, Miss Windham. I make a soft sleeping pillow.”
“Hmm, thank you.” And she did indeed rest her head on the Black Widow of Whitehall’s shoulder.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Phoebe slowly woke up. The moving carriage made her want to stay asleep, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon was talking to her. “My dear, we are almost to your destination.”
Rubbing her eyes and sitting up straight, she moved the window curtain aside and looked out at a dark London. “What time do you think it is?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon leaned forward, moved her curtain, and looked out the door window as she sat closest to the door. “Perhaps midnight. There are quite a few carriages and people milling about.”
The carriage stopped, and Phoebe strained to see outside the door window. Confused, she said, “Why are we at Hudson Hall?”
“Your Grace thought it was best that you didn’t return to Greenwich House. You will be staying here as Lady Julia Harris’s guest.”
“But...” The rest of her words were caught in her throat along with a surge of unshed tears. Perhaps her sudden emotions were due to exhaustion from her ordeal? Still, she sensed that Mrs. Dove-Lyon wasn’t revealing everything.
“The duke will explain everything to you.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon patted her hand.
Speaking of the duke, he opened the carriage door, leaned in, and extended his hand to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “See to Miss Windham, Your Grace. I will be going to the Lyon’s Den now.”
Phoebe took Oliver’s hand and stepped down from the coach. When they both reached the sidewalk, Oliver nodded and said, “Thank you for coming and attending to Miss Windham.”
“Just looking out for my girl,” she replied.
“Thank you,” Phoebe said as tears rolled down her cheeks. “For everything.”
“Just doing what I was hired to do.” They stood and watched the carriage until it turned a corner. She couldn’t see her face because of the black veil, but Phoebe would swear the lady was crying.
A cough drew their attention to the Runner on horseback. “I will leave you now, Weston and Miss Windham. A pleasure.”
“Thank you, Burns. I could never have found Miss Windham without you,” Oliver said as he inclined his head.
“Thank you, Mr. Burns,” Phoebe said. The lump of tears in her throat felt worse than before.
