“We do not discriminate; anyone can use our houses. Yesterday a boy arrived, distressed and injured. He told me that he and his sister had just arrived from Sudan.”
“As slaves?” Gabe asked.
“That’s my understanding. We know it still happens no matter that a law has been passed abolishing it,” the marquess said.
His fellow man sickened him sometimes, Forrest thought.
“The boy and his sister were then separated from the others who were on the ship they arrived on and taken to a warehouse by two men who promised to look after them. But sacks were thrown over their heads and their hands and feet were bound. Then they were dumped into wagons and taken somewhere.”
Forrest looked at his cousins. Could this be connected to what they’d just learned?
“The boy managed to get his hands free and waited for an opportunity to escape. When he did, and was able to remove the sack, there was no sign of his sister. He then managed to find his way back to London and once there, found our house. I have notified the authorities but hold out little hope anything will be done.”
“And his sister. What age is she?” Gabe asked.
“Not a child from what I could ascertain, as she cared for the boy. He said she was a great beauty, but then we often think that of our sisters,” the marquess said.
The Merchant loves women of beauty.Forrest recalled Geraint’s words.
The Duke of Rossetter caught Forrest’s eye. He knew that he was now part of Alexius. How he knew that, Forrest didn’t know, but that look confirmed it.
“Here are your pies, my lovelies.”
They ate, and they talked, and Forrest thought about those young women who had been taken and how terrified they must be. They had to find them. He felt it then, the need that likely gripped his cousins when they were on the trail of some injustice.
When they left the Speckled Hen, Forrest found himself beside the duke.
“Veritas scutumtibi erit, Howarth.”
“Veritas scutumtibi erit, Duke.”
“Should you need us, you need only look around. We are many.”
“To you also.” Forrest bowed.
He watched the men walk away from them with a feeling that his life was now changed completely, and that going forward it had more purpose than just raising his daughter.
CHAPTEREIGHT
His cousins were busy men; therefore Forrest had not burdened them with everything that had happened in his life before coming to England. He also did not tell them about the building he visited once a week to teach English to those who wished it, how to read and write.
He’d been in London approximately one year when he met Mr. and Mrs. Stack while studying a notice tacked to the side of a building. They’d been asking for help to teach those less fortunate. Forrest had felt it was something he’d wanted, and indeed, needed to do.
Once a week, since then, he had taught a class.
Walking was something he enjoyed, so leaving his daughter in the care of her nanny—Miss Knight had already left for the day—he set out. The walk would take him forty minutes, and he would pass shops and places of business.
“Good day to you, Mr. Howarth.”
“Mr. Leonard.” He acknowledged the man he’d been purchasing a baked apple from and discussing the latest views on the state of the nation with for months. Extremely tall and thin, he always had a scarf wrapped around his neck, no matter the season.
“You mark my words, Mr. Howarth, making a child work for twelve hours a day is not good for anyone.”
“I happen to agree with you there, Mr. Leonard.”
He spent twenty minutes with the man debating politics and eating his apple. He then moved on and made his way past shops, examining the interiors through windows, until he reached the building that was his destination. A school for those who could not attend a more traditional one. Well, a room that he rented.
Entering, he made his way to the second floor. Knocked once, and then entered.
