“Regardless of what comes,” Henry said, “know I’m here for you.”
Agnes smiled and rose from the chair. “I’m well aware of that fact. Your friendship has been more important to me than you can imagine.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, for the feeling is mutual. But there is one more thing. It concerns Lord Dowding.”
Agnes raised a single eyebrow. “Oh?”
Henry nodded. “I attended the masquerade ball he hosted last week, and I noticed Miss Clifton was also in attendance.”
“She had my permission,” Agnes said.
“My concern is not for her being there. She spent a great deal of time in the company of one Lord Tulk, a most vile man. Are you acquainted with him?”
“I am.”
“And you allowed it?”
Agnes laughed. “I allowed what? They attended the same party. The chance that they may speak to one another were high. Her safety was never in question. I would never put any of my students in danger if that is your concern.”
Agnes placed a hand on her friend’s arm. “Henry, I can assure you that Jenny is safe. Now unless you wish to become involved with matters you should not, I should say no more.”
Mr. Bromley returned just as Agnes and Henry were leaving. “Do take care,” he said, his cheeks red. “That wind is bitterly cold.”
“I have my carriage nearby if you would like me to return you to the school,” Henry shouted to be heard over the gusts.
“Thank you,” Agnes replied, “but I must meet someone else. Don’t worry, my friend. I’ll get home safe.”
With a nod, Henry hurried away. Agnes surveyed the street. Few people were about, and those who were, hurried past with their heads lowered against the cold.
Pulling her muffler tighter, she made her way toward Drake Street, better known to many as Rake Street due to the nearby gaming hell. Rake Street was actually more an alleyway than a street, and the shadows that loomed over it were darker than ever.
Yet Agnes was unafraid. For she had lived in such a place when she was younger. Therefore, she had dealt with every possible threat one could encounter.
The man she approached would not harm her. In fact, he had helped her many times over the years.
His hands were stuffed inside his trouser pockets, but he wore a warm smile.
“Agnes, I’m so glad you came. We need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Three days without seeing Miss Jenny had been torturous for Nicholas. Committing to a romance had worried him as much as it excited him. Yet he chose to concentrate on the latter. There was no denying his attraction, nor the new feelings he had for her. Feelings he still could not bring himself to admit aloud. Doing so was just too risky. For if he confessed them, things would somehow go wrong.
And when it came to Miss Jenny, he wanted nothing more than for everything to be right. No one deserved to be happy like she did. If there were anyone in this world who deserved happiness, it was she. And the idea of helping her achieve it gave Nicholas a sense of pride.
Pulling his coat tighter around him, he stepped out onto the portico. The days had grown frigid since Miss Jenny last called. With the dark-gray sky and no sign of the sun, Nicholas looked forward to spring more than ever.
He made his way to the white-washed stable, hoping for some luck on this early afternoon. Tibbons had been tasked to recruit a handful of men under the guise of a theater production. From that lot, he hoped to find a man who would be appropriate to play the role of either Mr. Thompson or his son. Patrick Thompson was proving to be as elusive as his father.
Nicholas admired Miss Jenny for her imagination. He had never considered putting in a substitute, nor would he have. But if he could convince Lord Tulk that the person he presented was either, that was all he needed. Then he would take down the marquess once and for all, and his sister would be vindicated.
Yet as he entered the stable and saw the men before him, doubt began to rise inside him. Four men stood huddled together, each as different as the one beside him. The oldest Nicholas recognized. Old Tom White was known to everyone as simply Old Tom. Why would Tibbons even consider him? Everyone knew the type of man Old Tom was.
The others, however, were unknown to him. One was a rotund man in his fifties with a scruffy face and heavy jowls. The other two were no older than twenty, one with blond, almost white hair. The other was red-haired and thin enough to hide behind an aspen sapling without being seen.
“Ah, my lord,” Tibbons announced, “these are the men who’ve come to audition for the part in the play.” He lowered his voice and added, “They mayn’t look like much, but the young one with the red hair’s performed before. The others, well, they heard me talking and wanted a chance.” He shrugged. “Maybe they’ll prove to be better than they look.”
Sighing, Nicholas rubbed his hands together. “Excellent! I want to thank you for volunteering today. As you know, I’m putting together a small production for the local theater. What better way than to take on some local men to play some of the parts?”