Page 23 of Speculations in Sin

“No,” I said quickly. Joanna would be upset enough without the strain of having an earl’s daughter in the house—Joanna would feel the need to cater to her. “It is good of you, but…”

“I quite understand. We’ll spare her the fuss of me.” Cynthia spoke the words glibly, but I heard an undercurrent of exasperation, not at me or Joanna, but for the social rules she could not avoid.

“Thank you. If you could perhaps send word to Mr. McAdam of what has happened? Though I will be surprised if he does not know already.” Daniel not only had many connections with the police, but also an uncanny ability to know exactly what transpired in connection with me.

“I would be happy to, Mrs. H.,” Cynthia said at once. “I have to wonder though. Why the devil did Mr. Zachary or his Miss Swann not cancel my appointment? Afraid of losing the custom of the Earl of Clifford’s daughter, I suppose.” She answered her own question. “Let us cover up something as embarrassing as a murder so her ladyship will flood our bank with money and good repute.” She huffed. “I will tell Uncle Neville that I prefer to invest my little funds elsewhere. If anywhere at all. Are any of these institutions safe?”

Cynthia waved a hand at the massive buildings rolling past, each one large and solid, their countenances somber. But inside these edifices were people who lived, loved, worried, made mistakes, stole, and apparently killed one other.

My thoughts continued in this muddle as we rode the short way to Cheapside. At the end of that road nearest St. Paul’s,Dunstan halted the coach. I was too distressed to wait for him or any ambitious boy to help me descend, and climbed to the ground myself the moment we stopped.

“Anything she needs, you have but to ask,” Cynthia called to me.

Her concern truly touched me, but I could only throw her a distracted thanks and farewell before I hurried up Clover Lane to the little house in the middle of the row.

Usually, my heart was light when I approached this narrow brick edifice with its white painted windows and black shutters. Behind the door with its brass knocker, my daughter would be waiting.

Today, lead weighted my chest and my feet felt numb as I approached the house.

The front step was scrubbed clean, the short iron balustrade polished and shining. Joanna and Sam didn’t have much but scraped together enough to pay a man and woman of all work to help keep the place tidy, as well as a cook to feed the five children who lived here.

The door opened before I reached it, Grace bouncing on the balls of her feet on the doorstep. I ran the last few yards and caught her to me in a hard embrace.

Her warmth and the feeling of her arms around me calmed my agitation, but at the same time ramped up my worry about what would become of her. Of us both.

“What is it, Mum?” Grace asked, always sensing when I was unhappy. “Has something happened?”

I released Grace, smoothing her hair and cupping her face. “I need to speak to Aunt Joanna, love. By myself, at first.”

Grace nodded, puzzlement but also understanding in her eyes.

She was so beautiful, my daughter at twelve, who teeteredon the brink of becoming a young woman. Her face had lost its child’s plumpness and was now slim and curved, holding a comeliness that only increased my fears. Her young beauty could catapult her into so much danger. I longed to wrap her in my arms and keep her close until we were both too old and gray for the world to bother about.

Grace’s hand in mine broke my thoughts. She guided me inside and toward the sitting room, where I could hear Joanna admonishing one of her sons for some minor transgression.

I knocked on the door, but I could not find my voice to announce myself. It was Grace who said, “Aunt Joanna, Mum has come.”

Joanna broke off as Grace opened the door, her beaming smile as she rose from the sofa breaking my heart. Her younger son, Mark, shamefaced about whatever he’d done, brightened at my entrance.

“Aunt Kat, I’m that glad to see you,” he said happily.

He meant that his mother would cease scolding him now, the young scamp. Grace held out her hand to him.

“Come along, Mark. Let’s see what Cook is making for tea. I’ll wager something fine, now that Mum’s here.”

Mark, his scolding forgotten, raced out past Grace, pounding toward the back stairs. Grace sent him an indulgent glance, then carefully shut the door on her way out.

Her consideration wanted to make me burst into tears, but I forced myself to remain quiet.

“He’s a devil, that one,” Joanna was saying as she resumed her seat. “Tried to trick his sisters into giving him their share of bread and butter this morning. Had all sorts of arguments why they should. I had to have a chat with him…” She trailed off, her smile fading as she noted my dismal expression andthe fact that I’d not yet shucked my coat and hat. “Why, Kat, whatever is the matter?”

“Oh, Joanna.” I sat down next to her and squeezed her hands, my calm deserting me. I could not think of a gentle way to break the news, so I simply plunged in. “They’ve taken Sam away. My darling, I am so sorry, but I could not stop them.”

7

Joanna’s expression shifted from consternation to stark fear. “Took him away? What do you mean? Took him where?”

“I’m not sure yet, but they’ve arrested him. They’ll take him to a City nick, but—”

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