His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(78)

“Of course, my lord.” Kendall was off at a trot, while Hessian tossed the satchel into the traveling coach.

“About that schedule,” Worth said. “Will I have to hire Oscar Leggett in truth? From what I’ve observed, he hasn’t a thought for anything except getting drunk, chasing opera dancers, and getting into arrears at his club.”

“Such a waste of good tailoring would benefit enormously from seeing how hard you work,” Hessian said, flipping open a gold pocket watch then eyeing the gray sky. “You will look after Lily? Communicate regularly with Rosecroft? Look in on my staff?”

Another footman charged across the alley bearing a picnic basket that was stashed inside the coach.

“You think I work hard?”

“Incessantly, would be closer to the mark,” Hessian said, tucking his watch away. “I don’t suppose you’ve come across any more clues regarding Leggett’s finances?”

Worth took Hessian by the arm and led him a dozen steps from the coach. “He hasn’t a single marker out at any club I know of, not one. Nobody can recall seeing him at a charity do for the past two years, not even in the company of his niece. He attends social dinners, but he’s yet to host any this year.”

“Is he growing eccentric?”

Kendall reappeared from the house, Lady Evers’s journal in his hand. He remained by the coach, a respectful distance away.

“Leggett’s behavior is growing eccentric.” Which was bad news for all concerned when a fortune had likely gone missing. “What’s in that box?”

Another parcel had been affixed to the back of the coach, this one sizable, but with one side of wire mesh rather than wood.

“Pigeons. Rosecroft has kindly lent me two. They’ll cover the distance from Dumfries to London in less than a day, if the weather’s fair. Kendall, my thanks.”

Who was this man? Hessian had thought through details Worth would never have considered, had minions running in six directions, and was attempting a journey in two weeks that Worth would not have tried to complete in a month.

The footman passed over the journal, which Hessian stashed into a pocket of his greatcoat.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?”

Kendall was a young man, tall and lean, as footmen were supposed to be. After tearing into the house, climbing three flights of stairs, and tearing back to the mews, he wasn’t out of breath.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Hessian said. “You miss your Jenny.”

Kendall’s expression went from polite inquiry, to astonished, to blank. “Grampion is my home, my lord. London is… not home.”

As best Worth recalled, there was a scullery maid named Jenny at the family seat.

“I have yet to take my leave of my ward,” Hessian said. “If you can pack a bag and be on the box in fifteen minutes, you may accompany me. The journey will be brutal, but we’ll stop at Grampion, however briefly. You will bide there when I return to London.”

Never had a footman smiled as broadly, bowed as quickly, or leaped a garden gate as handily.

“How did you know he was pining for his lady?” Worth asked, not that a footman was supposed to have a lady.

“Because I’m pining for mine,” Hessian said, “and I haven’t even left Town. And here is my other lady.”

The nursery maid had carried a sleepy Daisy down to the mews. The child was in her nightgown and swaddled in a blanket. Her braid was all but undone and her expression cross.

“I want to go with you,” Daisy said as Hessian took her from her nursemaid and perched the girl on his hip. “I want to go home.”

Worth took himself around to the back of the coach, rather than watch a small child wake up an entire neighborhood with an early morning tantrum.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” Hessian said. “I will miss at least eight outings to the park, four visits with Miss Bronwyn, three visits to a certain toy shop with your Auntie Jacaranda. Your Uncle Worth will get to feed ducks with you, take you for an ice or two at Gunter’s Tea Shop, and take you up before him in the park. I will miss all of this, and so much more. You will write to me, won’t you?”

The question bespoke genuine regret to be parting—from a child who’d turned the household upside down.

“Will you write back?” Daisy asked.

“I will, though I’ll probably return before my epistles reach you. You must do me one special favor while I’m gone, Daisy.”

“I’ll be good.”

“You are always as good as you know how to be,” Hessian said. “You must keep an eye out for our Miss Lily. If you see her in the park, you will offer her cheerful company. If you run into her at the toy shop, you should ask for her to aid your selection. She has very few friends, and you are special to her.”

This was part of Hessian’s plan to ensure Lily Ferguson had frequent opportunities to send for aid or to inform others of her uncle’s mischief. Worth was to keep a coach in readiness to take the lady to Dover—bags packed, coin on hand—until Hessian returned.

He’d thought of everything—and of everyone—and Worth hated that his brother was making this journey without him.

“Do you promise, cross your heart, that you will come back?” Daisy asked.