“Thank you.” She touched his arm lightly before descending from the hansom cab. “For trusting me, I mean.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Smiling warmly, he pulled the cab doors closed. “I’ll be in touch.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine

New York, August 1869

MARGARET HAD RETURNED EARLY TO the city from upstate, where she had been staying with the Astors once again. Finding herself surrounded by fellow guests with well-established philanthropic credentials, she had been unable to resist trying to interest them in the plight of the Five Points children. She had abjectly failed. Frustrated, against her better judgement, she had made a final, fatal attempt at the dinner table two nights ago, demanding to know if there was anyone present interested in her views on the scandal going on downtown in their own city, rather than her inside knowledge of the relationship between a widowed queen and her Scottish ghillie. The result had been a startled, embarrassed silence, followed by a hum of conversation in which she was pointedly ignored. Though her ostracization was temporary, by the end of the evening Margaret had made her excuses and left first thing the next morning.

Randolph, who had remained in town on business, was sympathetic but pragmatic when she poured her heart out to him over dinner on her return. “These socialites pride themselves on their charitable largesse, but they prefer projects where they can see their name above the door, like the library William Astor built. You should have known better, Margaret. They’re never going to be interested in something hidden away in a part of town they barely acknowledge exists.”

He had suggested that they take a day out, forget all about the world for once, and simply enjoy themselves; and when she woke this morning, Margaret already felt considerably better. It was a beautiful summer’s day and the sun was blazing down from a cloudless sky as they arrived at Peck Slip, paid their fifty-cent fare, and boarded the little side-wheeled steamer headed for Coney Island.

“It’s not too late to take a cruise on the Day Line instead,” Randolph said, as they jostled for space on the crowded deck.

“A sedate cruise in comfort and elegance, with views of the Hudson Highlands,” Margaret quipped.

He grinned. “Yeah, boring. I know.”

“But lovely, I did it last year. They’re nothing like the real Highlands, though.”

“You feeling homesick?”

“Not really, a little emotionally battered and bruised after the debacle at the Astors’. For some reason,” she added sardonically, “failure always makes me think of home.”

Randolph, who knew most of her history by now, smiled sympathetically as he edged them both towards a seat on the port side of the deck. “Is this okay, or do you want me to check and see if there’s space in the saloon?”

“On a day like this! Don’t be daft!”