Then he deflated. Mr. Fielding pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, but he did not completely break down as he had in Covent Garden. In a moment, he straightened again, drawing a breath of resignation.

“Damn and blast you, Mrs. H. You know how to ferret out a man’s greatest weakness, and then hit him over the head with it.” His gaze flicked to Daniel. “How are you enamored of this woman?”

Daniel’s smile warmed his face. “If you must ask, you will never understand. Lewis.” He called up to the coachman. “Take Mrs. Holloway wherever she wishes. I’ll get Errol home in a hansom. Holding him every inch of the way so he doesn’t bolt.”

While Mr. Fielding glowered at him, Daniel assisted me back into the coach, his hands gentle through rough gloves.

“Bless you, Kat,” he whispered, then he slammed the door, and waved Lewis on.

I noticed he took a firm hold of Mr. Fielding’s arm as he steered his brother away.

*   *   *

Lewis opened a little hatch in the top of the coach and asked where I wished to go. I told him.

Not long later, I alighted in Cheapside, the coach too large to fit comfortably in the narrow lane where the Millburns’ home lay. I ran on alone, my legs trembling, and knocked on the door.

Grace herself flung open the door. “Mum?” she asked in concern. “Where’ve you been? I was worried.”

“I’m here now, my darling.” I swept Grace into a long embrace, the wind pushing the door closed behind me.

I breathed the scent of her hair, the wool of her frock, the sweetness of her. I thought of the mite who’d been saved from the bawdy house, young and frail, the two sisters clinging to each other, hardly daring to hope.

Grace hugged me in return, as though sensing I needed this comfort. I took solace in my child, and let my tears come.

23

As much as I hated parting from my daughter, it was refreshing to return to my own kitchen that evening, smell the good things burbling on the stove, and hear Tess sing out her greeting. Mr. Davis sat at the table, chortling over something in the newspaper. Mrs. Redfern swept in, giving me an approving nod, and swept out again, ever efficient in her duties. This was an easy place, I realized, comfortable and without strife, one I’d made my own.

Tess had started a fairly simple supper, as the Bywaters and Cynthia were dining alone tonight. I finished the sauce for the pork roast and potatoes, and Tess had already made a nice salad and peas pudding—mashed boiled peas beaten with butter and eggs, and wrapped in a pudding bag for more boiling. The last of the apple tarts went up for dessert.