It went without saying that no servant answered, but instead Mrs. Watkins herself. A young girl accompanied her, grasping her skirt.
“Milady. What brings you here? Did that shop man claim I did not take him the books? If so, he is lying so as to rob you. I did, most certainly, and—”
“There has been no complaint, Mrs. Watkins. I came to bring you this.” She handed over the sack of coins.
The girl heard the sound and her eyes widened. Mrs. Watkins flushed. “My apologies. I was just surprised to see you here on my doorstep.” She looked behind her. “Won’t you come in?”
Clara could see the chamber and the makings of a dinner being prepared. A cot hugged one wall. Mrs. Watkins and her family appeared to occupy only this one room and not the entire house.
“I do not want to intrude, and I have more errands to attend to,” she said, to spare the woman the difficulty of trying to host a visitor. “I just wanted to bring that to you and tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
Mrs. Watkins beamed. “My pleasure, milady. I’m glad to do it anytime.”
Clara returned to the carriage. Mr. Brady could not get her in it fast enough.
“Bedford Square?” he asked through the window.
“I am afraid not. We next go to St. Giles.”
“Lady Clara, I don’t think—”
“St. Giles, Mr. Brady.”
She gazed out at Mrs. Watkins’s home while they rolled away.Parnassusmight be a lady’s avocation for her, and others like Lady Farnsworth and Lady Grace, but for Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Watkins, and even Mrs. Dalton and Althea, the small earnings they gleaned from the journal mattered. In some cases quite a lot.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adam pulled on the oars, hard. His body felt no pain because all of his concentration remained on thoughts in his head. They flashed to the rhythm of his rowing.
Clara wanted to hear all. She believed he could never see her as separate from the rest of it, from her family’s actions, from his duty to extract some justice. He might convince her otherwise.All, however, also included the recent revelations he learned from that letter.
That led to a terrible place, where his thoughts had lived for days. If he had not lost Clara, he might have had a better sense of where his duty lay. He never expected to face a choice between his two parents, but now he did.
Let it all lie as it did, and his father’s good name remained dishonored. Try to rectify an injustice, and it would mean asking his mother questions no son should ever put to the woman who gave him life.
He pulled harder, his whole body stretching, his shoulders knotting from the effort. Wednesday, Clara had said. Tomorrow.Are you now finished with this?Perhaps he could be. If she did not forsake him entirely, he might be.
Shouts came to his attention. He looked around. Behind him, arms hailed him.
“You won, damn it,” Brentworth shouted. “Do you plan to row to Richmond?”
He set up his oars while he judged the currents, then turned the boat and made his way to shore.
Brentworth and Langford had already donned their coats. Servants who had followed along the shore began rowing the boats back to where they had all started the race. Others held the horses. Adam’s bow hit ground, and he jumped out.
“Hell, you rowed as if your life depended on it,” Langford said. “We did not even have a wager.”
“The exercise suited my mood and helped me think.”
“You are doing too much of that these days.” Langford wiped his head with a towel. His curls emerged all the more reckless. “Let us partake of some ale so your brain might find some ease.”
A tavern waited across the road. The three of them sat at a table and Langford went to bring back some pints.
“He is right,” Brentworth said. “You are too much in your thoughts. You look angry. It makes men nervous. Last night at White’s the card room almost emptied when you arrived.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
