“How?”
“By setting a trap.”
***
Padua tucked her mother’s blue wrap around her shoulders more snugly, and cast her gaze over Berkeley Square. On this overcast, chilled morning, most of the people dotting the paths and grass were governesses with small children.
“Padua.” The voice behind her made her jump. She turned to see Jennie walking toward her, arms open.
They embraced, then Jennie stood back and gave her a good look. “That is a new pelisse. It suits you.”
It was one of the garments Eva had redone for her. “I wore it just for you, so you would know I am not starving.”
“I feared you were, or that I would never see you again. What were you thinking, writing that you were leaving town for an indeterminate period, then never writing again? I have worried the whole time.”
They locked arms and strolled along the path. “I have made some new friends, and learned some things about my family too. It has been an amazing few weeks, Jennie.”
Jennie’s blue eyes glanced at the pelisse again. “Did one of your friends buy you that? I promise I will not scold.”
“Yes, but not a man, if that is your insinuation. A very nice lady gave it to me. An artist.” She told Jennie about Eva and Gareth, and their recent trip abroad.
“Such circles you have moved in, Padua. How did such doors open to you?”
“It is all due to my father.” It was the truth. “There is much I cannot confide yet, but eventually perhaps I can explain everything. I wanted to see you mostly to know you are doing well, Jennie. Please tell me that you are.”
“Little has changed, except I no longer have you to complain with. The woman hired to replace you knows little more than the girls. She has them doing the most basic problems. Mrs. Ludlow does not know, or does not care.”
“London could use a proper school for girls,” Padua said. “One that taught them the way boys are taught. Girls are just as smart. Why should they have to tolerate teachers like this one you describe?”
“Because the one who could do it better got herself thrown out?” Jennie’s eyes glistened with humor.
Padua laughed. “Someday I hope to have a school, Jennie. Would you teach there if I did? Would you be the Mrs. Ludlow?”
Jennie laughed, too, then realized Padua no longer did. “You are serious?”
“It is something I think I may be able to convince my father to support someday.”
“You do?” Jennie gave her an odd look, then averted her eyes.
Ten paces on, the little frown on Jennie’s brow had not smoothed.
“What is it?” Padua asked. “You are subdued all of a sudden.”
“You speak of your father as if there has been a rapprochement between you. If there has been, I am truly happy for you. But—”
“But?”
Jennie took a deep breath. “I saw a newspaper that had a small notice about a man with your name. Belvoir. He is to be tried for serious crimes. I wondered if he was your relative, and asked Mrs. Ludlow. She insisted he was not. But—” She looked embarrassed, and hopeful.
Padua watched poor Jennie try to believe the best, the way dear Mrs. Ludlow had encouraged. If she were told that Hadrian Belvoir was not relation at all, Jennie would probably believe it.
“The notice was about my father. A mistake has been made.”
“Of course it has. I am sure it has.”
“I know he will be acquitted.”
“I know he will be, too, if you have cause to think that. Truly.”
