To Kensington Church Street, for instance.
She blinked. “Oh. Yes. That is…” She drew breath and found a smile. “Thank you. A drive in the park would be pleasant. That is”—she turned to Edith—“if you’re sure you can manage without me, Aunt?”
“Oh, indeed, indeed.” Edith beamed at Deverell. “It’s only Lady Hardcastle’s this morning. I’ll do perfectly well on my own.”
“In that case, if you’ll wait, my lord, I’ll fetch my bonnet and cloak.” Phoebe rose and headed for the door, then paused and glanced back at Edith. “You will remember if you meet Lady Purcell…?”
Edith smiled and waved her on. “Of course, dear. If I see her I’ll drop a word in her ear.”
With a nod, Phoebe turned and left.
Once upstairs, she summoned Skinner; while she set her bonnet over her hair and tied the wide ribbons under her chin, she explained she was going to the agency to check on Miss Spry and Jessica, too. “She’ll be leaving with Lady Pelham tomorrow—I must check that she has everything she needs. How’s Fergus?”
“Still laid down upon his bed.” Skinner gave Phoebe’s cloak a sharp shake. “Luckily that lad of his viscountship’s has called around and offered his services—said as his viscountship said as he ought. Fergus said he helped him last night. Seems the old Scot’s willing to trust his horses to the lad, so he’ll drive Mrs. Edith to her engagements today. Fergus swears he’ll be better come evening.”
Phoebe glanced at Skinner’s tight expression; she was worried about Fergus, and about Phoebe, too. Phoebe had told her about the trouble at the Chifleys’ and how Deverell had helped them. Skinner’s opinion of “his viscountship” had noticeably mellowed.
Standing, she let Skinner swing the cloak about her shoulders, then, tugging on her gloves, she went downstairs.
Deverell stood waiting in the front hall. “Edith’s gone to get ready for her visit.” Taking Phoebe’s hand, he turned to the front door.
Phoebe shot him a sharp look as she walked beside him. She’d jumped at the chance to visit the agency; she hadn’t until that moment wondered why he was so keen. He appeared his usual, arrogantly confident self; going down the steps beside him, she told herself it was merely understandable curiosity on his part—a wish to know how the agency worked, given that he’d elected himself its protector as well as hers.
A niggling little voice murmured that men like him were wont to take charge, to insist on running any enterprise. Jaw setting, she let him hand her into his curricle; they would see about that—just let him try.
“How much does Edith know of your little enterprise?”
The question pulled her back to the present; picking up the reins, he set his grays trotting.
She took a moment to find the right words to answer. “She knows, yet she doesn’t.” She caught his eye as he glanced at her. “Edith’s one of those people you don’t have to explain things to—she’s terribly knowing. She sees and understands, and somehow just knows. And in this case, she and I have left matters like that—if she hasn’t been told, then if Papa asks, she can with a clear conscience say she’s heard nothing.”
Somewhat to her surprise, Deverell nodded, accepting her odd description. “But if you were to disappear, or she needed to contact you urgently, would she know where the agency is?”
“No, but everyone else in the household knows. And she knows they do. She’d simply ask Henderson to send a message to me.”
He nodded again. “So why is Edith having a word with Lady Purcell?”
She inwardly grimaced; she’d hoped he hadn’t picked that up. “Because although Edith knows no details, she does understand the thrust of the agency’s work. Lady Purcell is Lady Chifley’s sister, and a much more sensible sort of lady.”
His eyes narrowed. “Edith was with you when you met young Chifley yesterday afternoon.”
“Yes, so she’s guessed enough to see the value in mentioning to Lady Purcell how troubling she found her nephew’s behavior when we called…and then Lady Purcell will no doubt hear of the governess who ran away, put two and two together, and being the sort of female she is, she’ll take her sister aside and have a stern word in her ear, and with any luck Lady Chifley will be much more careful over what sort of female staff she brings into her household.”
A moment passed, then he murmured, “Very neat.”
He tooled them through the busy thoroughfares around the park, then turned into Kensington Church Street, drove past the agency and around to the rear. Drawing rein in the lane, he deftly backed the curricle into the narrow space immediately before the agency’s back door, moving the horses out of the laneway before halting them and applying the brake.
As he stepped down—a distinctly strange sight in that locale, with his drab, many-caped greatcoat and glossy Hessian boots—two urchins, wide-eyed and wondering, came sidling down the lane to stare.
Deverell saw them; he beckoned. They edged closer, unsure, but then he spoke, asking them if they could keep an eye on his horses.
Phoebe couldn’t see what he passed them, but their faces lit, they nodded and pocketed his largesse, then took station at the horses’ heads. Deverell went with them, showing them how much rein to leave loose, then giving them the ribbons. Then he rounded the carriage and handed her down.
Phoebe eyed the large, powerful grays. “Are they safe?”
She glanced back at Deverell in time to see his lips twitch.
“I assume you mean the boys, but yes, my cattle