Lady Baldwin had sworn that he was enamored of her. “He is yours,” she had predicted. “He wants you.”
Sarah had agreed. “He is hooked, you lucky girl. A marriage to him will give you security for the rest of your life.”
“Did your marriage give you security?” Char had countered.
“There is no comparison between Roland Pettijohn and Baynton.” Sarah rarely mentioned her husband by name.
“But did you marry him for security or love?” Char had wanted to know.
“Both... and I was sorely disappointed,” Sarah had answered. “I wasn’t even sad when he left and the day I received word he had died, I danced on a table. The duke may be a bit starchy but he seems an honest and good man. You must admit he is easy on the eyes.”
However, Char wasn’t about to count on a marriage to the duke, not after she’d seen Whitridge on the step. It was a mystery to her why he hadn’t immediately charged into the house and denounced her. She’d spent all of last evening and a good portion of this day waiting to be exposed. Every time there had been a knock on the door, she’d expected it to be the Watch to take her away.
Instead, it had been one invitation after another to social occasions from people she had never heard of.
Lady Baldwin had, though, and she had exclaimed over the names on every card Char opened. “Why, these are all the finest families. Charlene, we will be socializing with the very best. My daughter will eat herself up with envy. I can’t wait to tell her where I shall be tomorrow evening.” She had held up an invite and waved it in the air.
Sarah had been busy penning acceptances while fretting how they would be able to afford dresses for the affairs. She’d left early for the theater, hoping for help from the Haymarket’s wardrobe mistress.
The last thing Char had anticipated was a summons from Leo.
“This isn’t a convenient time,” Charlene had informed Danny.
“You owe the Seven money.”
“I know, and I am trying to pay you back as quickly I can. However, I shouldn’t leave the house at this moment.”
She would have shut the door but Danny had blocked her action with his arm. “Now, or there will be others who will come.”
That had sounded ominous.
After all, any of the Seven could see her to prison as easily as Whitridge and everyone knew there was no honor among thieves.
Of which she was one.
The thought no longer thrilled her.
“I need to change into my disguise,” Char had said. Heaven forbid she be recognized with the likes of the Seven.
“Good idea” had been Danny’s answer.
Checking on Lady Baldwin, who slept on the settee with her feet on the floor, her chin on her chest, Char had debated leaving a note but had decided against it. Anticipating the possibility of a call from the duke, Sarah had let them set a fire in the grate, a luxury for them on a chilly afternoon. Char had lifted the lady’s feet upon a footstool, covered her with a lap blanket, and then left to change.
She had quickly pulled on her breeches and shirt, and had used pins to put up her hair. She had then plopped her hat over her head and shrugged on her coat. She hadn’t bothered with a neck cloth. Grubby boys didn’t always pay attention to them.
Char had gone out in the garden, put her hands in some dirt, and then rubbed it on her face. Danny had been waiting for her at the gate. He had not been alone. Another one of the Seven, a boy around Danny’s age named Hal, had joined them.
Together they had set off to see Leo. Char prayed the interview would not take long.
“So, what is going on?” she asked Danny as they walked. She noticed that another of the Seven had fallen into step behind her. Simon was his name. He was one of the younger boys.
He, too, was solemn and he followed with intent ceremony.
Char reminded herself that they were, after all, just boys, but they were serious, grim. Almost dangerous.
And they were not interested in answering any of her questions.
She did wonder what they would do if she refused to take a step farther or ran back to Mulberry Street, and then feared the answer.
