“Fieldgate is the good friend of my nephew by marriage.”
“Of course, familial ties and all. Yet, even those should be reconsidered when dealing with a man of my son’s ilk.” She reached out and patted Olympia on the arm. “You are still young enough to make a good match, m’dear. It would not be wise to allow even that close connection dim your hopes because your good name has been sullied by acknowledging a man like my son has become. It breaks my mother’s heart to say such things, but I felt you should know the truth.”
Olympia was so angry she barely heard anything else the woman had to say as she took her leave, ushering a silent Agatha toward Lady Nickerson. That Lady Mallam acted as if that woman was her dearest friend told Olympia that Brant’s mother knew exactly how to spread her poison about him. There was a good chance she was now spreading a little poison about Olympia as well. The way Agatha tensed ever so slightly told Olympia that.
Quickly taking her leave of her hostess, Olympia stepped outside and took a deep breath. London’s air was not sweet but it was far better than what she had been breathing in that little nest of vipers. She had forgotten how vicious the ladies of society could be. Olympia had the sneaking suspicion, however, that she was about to be strongly reminded. Lady Mallam knew she and Brant had arrived in town together. Whether that meant they were allies or not would not be something her ladyship would worry about. All she would want to do is make sure that no one would heed anything anyone might say in defense of her son and, if that meant destroying the reputation of someone connected to Brant through the thinnest of ties, she would do it without hesitation. Lady Mallam obviously held to the tactic of strike first and worry about the need to do so later.
As she told Pawl to take her home and then climbed into the carriage, Olympia tried to decide if she should tell Brant that she had absolute proof that it was his own mother destroying him in society. He had guessed that it was but it would still be a blow. She sighed and closed her eyes.
For now she would say nothing. It aided nothing for him to know and she just did not wish to give him even more bad news. He had had enough since she had dragged him away from Fieldgate and he was facing far more in the days ahead. She just hoped that he did not get proof of it on his own for he might think she was keeping secrets from him and she was certain that trust was something Brant did not give easily. Catching her in what could appear to be a lie could cost her dearly. Then again, she was keeping other secrets from him. What was one more?
Chapter 7
“I do not wish to think of any blood of mine being forced into such a place,” Brant said as he stood in the shadows of an alley across the road from Dobbin House.
“No one ever does, especially since the poor lad or lass who is most like to be forced to go to such a place. I doubt anyone goes there willingly.” Thomas glared at the dirty, old brick building. “I best not be finding Ned or Peter in there.”
There was such cold hatred in the boy’s voice, one echoed in the harsh lines of his expression, that Brant actually feared for his mother’s life. It was a fear that quickly died away. She might be the woman who had borne him but she was no mother of his, not any longer. It was not because she had sold the woman he had loved and wanted to marry to a brutal killer, either, although he had turned his back on her after that. The woman sold children, was no better than some slaver. He would never again acknowledge her as any relation of his and it was far past time that he removed all sign of her from his life, his siblings’ lives, and every single one of his properties.
Little by little, each tiny piece of information they had gathered had led them to this place. Each piece had also let them know who would have sold children into this sordid life. His mother was rather well known amongst the urchins of the street, too many of them knowing someone she had sold into a form of slavery. He had not missed the fear in their eyes when her name was mentioned. From what they had been told, there had been girls of marrying age forcibly placed on ships to plantations in the colonies and the profit pocketed by his mother and her compatriots, one of which was Lord Minden. Brant did not know if he could ever rescue all the ones she had wronged.
“’Tis not your fault, m’lord,” said Thomas.
“She is my mother.”
“True and that is a sad thing to have to admit to, but she is also a grown lady and must know what she is doing is wrong. Merry always says that it is a choice to do right or wrong and it is only the person hisself who can make that choice.”
“How old is your aunt who has gone missing?”
“She was sixteen, m’lord.”
Brant cursed. “From what we have learned, I am not sure I can ever get her back for Merry.”