When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

“Grosvenor Square.”

“I’ve missed Franny dreadfully.” It had only been a little over a week since she had been taken from her home, and each night since she had been restless and worried without her child.

The hard line around his flat, unsmiling mouth softened. “Franny is well. I am sure she misses you, too. We must return to her as soon as possible. Tomorrow.”

Her heart lifted. “Of course.”

An odd tension lingered in the air. She drew the curtain aside and watched the townhouses they rattled past. She frowned as they drove past a woman with a swaddled bundle pressed against her chest and a young boy of about three years with his hand clasped between her own. They were hurrying away from a townhouse, and to Phoebe’s shock, a footman dashed a pail of water toward them.

The lady hurried along, almost tripping in her haste.

“Stop the carriage,” Phoebe cried.

Hugh arched a brow and rapped the roof of the carriage.

“There is a lady outside with…with two children, and a servant threw water at them. It is already drizzling outside and so dreadfully cold. How terrible of him!”

Hugh made no reply, and Phoebe opened the window when it stopped at the woman’s feet, causing her to cast a wary and suspicious glance at the equipage.

“Hallo,” Phoebe greeted. “It is raining, and I daresay it will only fall harder. Might I offer to take you and the children to your lodgings?”

Shock blanketed the woman’s face, and she stared at Phoebe for several moments before saying, “I ain’t got no coin to pay.”

“I am not a public hackney, madam,” Phoebe said with some teasing. “Surely that is evident.”

The little boy swiped some of the water from his face, tugged at his mother’s hand, and peered up at her pleadingly.

“Thank you,” the lady said quietly.

The steps to the carriage were knocked down, and Hugh exited the equipage to assist the lady inside. That seemed to be a greater shock to her, and she wiped her hands in her skirt before accepting his gloved hand.

Phoebe offered her a reassuring smile. “Where can we take you?”

“I am letting a room in Covent Garden.”

Quick instructions were given to the coachman, and the carriage rumbled over the street, taking them away from Mayfair. The lady and the boy huddled closer, though there was ample room for them to sit comfortably. A gurgling sound emitted from the boy, and Phoebe realized it was his stomach.

“I witnessed that footman tossing the pail of water your way. I am deeply sorry you had to suffer that indignity.”

The lady did not seem to know what to make of Phoebe, and she nodded shyly. Upon looking closer, Phoebe could not help noting how young the girl was. “How old are you?”

The boy scooted closer to her, and she wrapped her arms around his thin shoulders. They shared a resemblance with their brown hair, the slant of their cheekbones and light eyes. He was a handsome lad, and the lady herself quite pretty despite her haggard appearance.

“I am one and twenty, milady.”

“And these two children are yours?”

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nbsp; Her throat worked on a swallow before she nodded.

“And your husband?”

Something flashed in the lady’s light gray eyes, a curl of shame and fright, before she lifted her chin. “Dead,” she said, though the word trembled.

Phoebe suspected then she’d had the children out of wedlock. “Were you coming from the home of their father just now?” she said quietly.

The lady’s chest rose on a harsh breath, and the little girl in her hand stirred awake.