by Ella Quinn
She gave him an innocent look. “In that event, you will not have any difficulties.”
“Minx.” The word was harsh, but the funning light in his eyes gave it a different meaning.
Adeline had the feeling she was entering into a different form of communication that she did not understand. “Is that good or bad?”
“Good.” He trailed one finger lightly along her jaw, then dropped his hand as if he’d been burnt. “I want you to feel free to say whatever you wish to me, even if it is something I don’t want to hear. Not,” he added hurriedly, “that I think you were criticizing me. I recognize teasing when I hear it.”
Yes, this was an entirely new form of discourse. One Adeline thought she would like.
* * *
After Frits had returned home that evening, he poured a brandy and reviewed his conversation with Adeline. He’d desperately wanted to touch her. But even the feel of her soft skin under his finger had his senses raging to go further. Take possession of her lovely mouth and plunder. Hold her so tightly that nothing could come between them.
He stared into the glass before taking a drink. Unfortunately, it was clear she wasn’t prepared to be rushed. The look of alarm she had worn when he’d said he wanted her with him when he left Town made him realize he had to take this slowly. He, not she, had spent weeks waiting to be able to declare himself. In fact, for her it was entirely the opposite. Although friendly to him, she had been doing her best not to want him. He thanked the deities that she had actually agreed to allow him to court her, but unlike their friends, that was exactly what it would be. His chance to show her how much he loved her. Frits had no doubt that was what it was. He’d never reacted to any other woman the way his mind, heart, and body responded to her. If only there was a way to get Adeline to his main estate. She could meet the animals he’d told her about, and speak with his tenants, and see the life he had to offer her. But how to do that in the middle of the Season when they weren’t even betrothed yet was the difficulty. He doubted even his mother could come up with a plan that would succeed.
Still, she had agreed that he could walk Maximus with her in the mornings. He would take her for carriage rides and to Gunter’s in the afternoons, and now he could dance with her twice at every ball. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be too many of them before she agreed to marry him. Perhaps their families could dine and attend other entertainments together as well. His mother would be happy to arrange that. Frits took a long drink, barely feeling the burn of the fine French brandy.
Courting might be harder than what had come before it.
* * *
The next morning, he was in the hall with Maximus before Humphries arrived.
The groom’s eyes widened. “I don’t think her ladyship is going to like you comin’ along.”
Frits didn’t know what it said about him that he couldn’t resist a smug smile. “Last night, Lady Adeline agreed to let me court her, and specifically gave me permission to walk the dog with her.”
“All right, then. If she said so.” The groom still walked to Upper Brook Street, and when Adeline strolled out the door, Humphries immediately said, “I told his lordship that if ye didn’t want him, he couldn’t stay.”
Adeline laughed as Frits rolled his eyes. “He has my permission to remain, Humphries. Thank you for being concerned.”
The man handed her the lead. As he took Adeline’s other arm, Humphries muttered, “It’s about time.”
Adeline blushed a very pretty rose, but it could only be because she was embarrassed. “I do not suppose you could keep your opinions to yourself?”
“Never have afore,” the groom said as he took up his position behind them.
Her color was still high, but her lips twitched, making Frits feel better. She stroked Maximus as he leaned against her. “I suppose it is that way with all longtime personal servants.”
He didn’t even have to look to know the groom was smirking. “It certainly appears to be with mine. Shall we?”
“Yes. Maximus, come.”
Frits led her down the shallow steps and onto the pavement. He was always impressed by how well-behaved the dog was with her. At one point, a squirrel darted out from a bush, and he was getting ready to grab the lead when Maximus looked at Adeline, who handed him a treat. “Good boy.”
She might even get the damned cat to listen. “That was impressive.”
“It is the treats. He is very happy to do as I ask as long as he receives a reward.”
He was not going to let her dwarf her accomplishment. “It is not a small achievement. I insist on giving you the credit you deserve.”
She blushed again. “Thank you.” They didn’t talk, but Frits did not think the silence between them was uncomfortable. When they reached the next crossing, she said, “Tell me about Littlewood.”
“It is the most beautiful of my estates. I would even go so far as to say it’s one of the most beautiful places in England. We have a river that flows through the property, an old wood, and meadows. The house is a comfortable walk from the market town of Littleton, but two villages are also included in the holdings, and several tenancies.”
They had entered the Park, and Humphries took Maximus. Frits and Adeline sat on a bench. “That sounds lovely. What does the house look like?”
“The oldest part of the house is the hall. It dates to the twelfth century. Fortunately, the rest of the house is much newer.” He glanced at her and grinned. “It is only three hundred years old.”
Her brow wrinkled as she looked at him. “Has it been modernized at all?”
He sent thanks to his father and grandfather. “Yes. We have all the modern conveniences. There is even a way to bring hot water through pipes to the floor where the family’s bedchambers are located.”
“My father considers himself very modern, but even we do not have that luxury.”
Frits hoped that meant she would learn to love his home as much as he did. “I think you will find it more than comfortable.” He bit the inside of his cheek. He should have said “would,” not “will.”
“It sounds like it.” She gazed across the open space. “I think Maximus has tired himself.”
He followed the direction in which she was looking and saw the dog lying down. “Would you like to ride with me this afternoon?”
“Yes.” Her eyes sparkled with enjoyment. “I would like that very much.”
Frits arrived at five o’clock to collect her. As they headed out of South Audley Street, he asked, “If you do not mind, I would like to stop at Hatchards.”
“I do not mind at all.” She smiled up at him, and his chest squeezed, making it hard to breathe. “I could go there every day.”
He envisioned them together sitting at Littlewood next to the stream on a warm summer’s day with his head on her lap, or the other way around, and one of them reading to the other.
He had just turned on to Piccadilly, when Adeline shouted, “Look!” She pointed to the side of the road.
What the devil did that cur think he was doing? Frits stopped the carriage. “Can you hold ’em?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Save him, please.”
He jumped down and grabbed the hand of a man who was once again getting ready to strike a small boy. The child cowered in the gutter.
“This ain’t none of your business,” the ruffian growled, his face mottled red.
Adeline held her breath. The bounder was a big brute. Almost as big as Frits, but brawnier. Frits wrenched the whip handle out of the man’s hand. Before the blackguard could retaliate, he drove his fist into the man’s jaw, and followed it up with two punches to the stomach. As the brute folded over and dropped to his knees, Frits lifted the child, placing him on the bench next to her. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him close and watched as Frits turned back to the man.
“I don’t know what you intended, but I will not stand by and watch a child abused.” He glanced at the glossy phaeton next to the man. It clearly did not belon
g to the man. “I shall expect to hear from your employer.” During the time he was talking, Frits had been gathering the whip. He raised one brow. “I’ll take this with me unless you wish to feel its sting.” The scoundrel remained on his knees, and Frits flung his card at the beast. “That is my direction.”
“You’ll hear from my master all right, but it won’t be what you want.” The scoundrel spit at Frits’s boots and missed.
Frits stepped toward the cur and the man slunk back. “I wouldn’t wager on that.”
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?”
“I don’t know.” Peter shrugged. “All I know is that Mr. Lettsome is going to be very angry, and his lordship said he’d protect me.”
Clearly, Frits’s promise held a lot of weight.
“Indeed I shall,” Frits confirmed. “As will Lord Wivenly and the ladies.”
“What do we do next?” Adeline asked her sister-in-law.
“We must find out exactly what the situation is. The mother might not know that the moment she stepped on shore, she was no longer a slave.” Eugénie glanced at Frits. “You said you gave the man your card.”
“Yes.” He pulled a face. “I suppose that means I had better go home. He might not waste any time calling.”
“That would be best.” She drained her cup and set it down. “Toutefois, I think it is better if Peter stays with us for a time.”
“What are we going to do if his mother still believes she is a slave?” Adeline prompted.
“Rescue her.” Will tugged the bellpull. “It won’t be the first time. After we have the whole story, we can make plans.”
Adeline supposed that was the only answer she would get until the child’s “owner” spoke with Frits. She glanced at him. “What will you do when he arrives?”
“I don’t know.” His black brows slanted down. “I suppose I’ll have to decide that based on what his story is.”
“If your mother is home, I could come with you.” The problem was that Frits would have to send a message to his house for the answer.
“Non.” Eugénie slowly shook her head. “We do not know these people. They are very sournois.” She frowned. “Devious. If they have brought the mother and son to England and have kept them captive. You are safer not meeting this man.” She focused on Frits. “And you must not believe what he says. You must only discover where he lives. Then we will save the mother.”
“Very well,” Frits agreed. “I shall follow your directions.”
Adeline walked him to the hall, where she took his hands. “Be careful. I cannot imagine what type of person wants to own other people, but he cannot be much better than his employee.”
“I have no doubt you are correct.” He raised her hands and placed a kiss on each palm before curling her fingers closed. “I will ensure my largest footmen are present when I meet with him.”
She was glad he’d be protected. “I shall see you this evening.”
His eyes caught hers, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her right here in her brother’s hall, but instead, he placed warm kisses on her knuckles.
“I look forward to it.”
* * *
Once Frits arrived back at his house, he didn’t have to wait long for Mr. Lettsome to present himself.
“My lord,” Creswell said stiffly, “I have placed the person for whom you have been waiting in the front parlor.”
Leave it to servants to know the quality of anyone coming to visit. “Should I arm myself?”
“Certainly not, my lord.” The butler’s chin rose. “I would not allow a ruffian in the house. However, the person is not a gentleman.”
“Interesting.” Frits rose. “We shall not require tea.”
“I did not think you would, my lord. Shall I announce you?”
His butler really was on his high ropes. “No. I need information from the man. It’s better not to appear too high in the instep.”
“Very good, my lord. I shall have two footmen standing outside the room.”
What Frits was to make of that, he didn’t know. Well, it couldn’t hurt, and he had told Adeline he’d have footmen at the ready. “As you will.”
He made his way up t
he corridor to the hall and entered a small parlor used only for people one did not wish to see for long. The man was fashionably dressed, but it was clear that neither Weston nor Hoby saw his custom. “Mr. Lettsome.” He turned, and Frits was a little startled by a gaudy ruby-and-diamond pin, as well as several fobs. “I am Littleton.” He motioned for Lettsome to take a seat. “I assume you are here about the child?”
“Of course I am.” The man’s belligerence took Frits aback. “You had no right to take my prop—the boy. His mother wants him returned immediately. She is extremely worried about him.”
That was a lie based partially in truth. The problem was that he didn’t know how much truth was involved. He could easily believe that Peter’s mother was frantic with worry. On the other hand, he didn’t think Lettsome cared about her feelings at all.
Lettsome continued to stand, as did Frits. He couldn’t get the blackguard out of his house fast enough. “Did your employee not tell you that he was about to whip the lad?”
That knowledge did not appear to affect Lettsome. It was as if he didn’t care. “It was merely a threat because he was misbehaving.”
“It did not look like a threat to me.” The man was just as much a scoundrel as his henchman. “I stopped him as he was about to turn a threat into a reality.”
“Nevertheless, his mother wants his return. I shall take him now.” Lettsome started toward the door, and Frits blocked his way.
Now he knew why Lady Wivenly had decided Peter should remain with her. If he had been here and heard the scoundrel, the mention of his mother would have made Peter want to go with Lettsome. “He is sleeping. If you give me your direction, I shall be happy to bring him to you.”
Lettsome glanced at the door, clearly considering searching for the child himself. Then he seemed to reconsider, and bowed. “I am at Fifteen Fenchurch Street in the City.”
Frits stepped to the door. “My butler will show you out.”
As he left the room, Creswell entered. “My lord?”
“Please show Mr. Lettsome out.” They might all require baths after having the slave owner in the house.
“Certainly, my lord.”
Frits took one of the footmen aside. “Tell Creswell to make sure all the doors and windows are secured and a few footmen are posted to guard the most likely places a person might try to break in.”
