Had Jack not been tugging them forward, Gwyneth would have come to a halt. “His…he had a pass? But wh—”
“One never knows.” Her smile turning mischievous, the lady patted her arm. “But I can tell you he gave it to them so that the knowledge might bring you peace. Did you know your father gave Bennet and me passes that allowed us to escape the City of New York with our lives during the Revolution?”
Had she known? Nay. Did it surprise her? Yes…no. Given what she knew of them, Gwyneth could infer that such a gift could have caused her father trouble at the time. And Papa had been a firm believer in rules, in honor, in duty.
But he was also a firmer believer in the bonds of love and friendship. She summoned up a smile and hoped it had even a fraction of the light Mrs. Lane’s held. “I did not, but I am glad he did if it resulted in your survival.”
Mrs. Lane chuckled but then fell solemn. “He was a good man. One of the best I have ever known. One who always did what was right no matter what politics told him was expedient. Men like that are rare in this world.”
“And rarer now.” The words slipped out before she could stop them and brought a burning to her eyes. “I am sorry.”
“We are all sorry.” But Mrs. Lane visibly bolstered herself, squaring her shoulders and producing another smile. “Thaddeus tells me he lent you our book of prayers. My father copied them himself from sermons and manuscripts his grandfather left him. I hope they bring you comfort.”
A far safer topic. “Oh, they are lovely! And so profound. I have been reading from them daily.”
They turned the corner, and the bustle along the street increased tenfold. Chatter filled the air and horses clopped along, while pedestrians hurried this way and that. Mrs. Lane tugged Jack a bit closer to her side. “It has long been one of our family’s most beloved tomes. The fact that my son shared it with you…well. There are few he does not call friend, but fewer still he would deem close ones. I am glad to see you are numbered among that elite group.”
Gwyneth could only stare at Mrs. Lane and trust the woman to keep her from running headlong into some innocent bystander. “Am I? I must say, ma’am, I had rather thought he would give to anyone whatever he saw they needed.”
“But only ever so rarely what will give them true knowledge of him.”
So his treatment of her was unusual? Something special? Something she still ought to have better sense than to relish. Clearing her throat, Gwyneth did her best to make her smile easy. “It is a blessing to have—and to be—a true friend. Especially now, when I need them so acutely.”
“A need that never lessens. And you are welcome with us always, Gwyneth. I hope you know that. Or,” she said, her grin back in place, “if you have a desire to go elsewhere, I daresay Thaddeus will be more than happy to ferry you anywhere in the world aboard the Masquerade.”
How strange a thought, that the world was open to her. There had never been much of a world to her mind beyond the one she knew. But the inspiration that may wait somewhere out there! Scenes waiting to be painted, the unknown waiting to be discovered by her pencil.
They made their way into the busiest part of town, where shops and businesses and taverns kept the streets filled with people, and where the brackish scent of the bay occasionally swept by on the breeze. Where carts and drays were as numerous as barouches and chaises.
Where, from the ambling, bustling crowds, one particular movement caught her eye. She knew, even as the terror choked her, it was not Uncle Gates. Knew, even when the man turned as if he felt her gaze catch on him, that it was the one Thad had called Mr. Mercer and not the monster of her nightmares.
Knew it. Yet she couldn’t reason her mind from wanting to flee in the other direction when Nathaniel Mercer smiled and strode their way.
Eighteen
Miss Hampton. How good to see you again.” Mr. Mercer stepped in front of them with that same posture and way of moving that had first alarmed her in the stationer’s. “I trust you recovered from your spell?”
His gaze—too warm, too curious—made Gwyneth suppress a shudder and press closer to Mrs. Lane’s side.
Her chaperone cleared her throat, nudged Jack into the space between them, and extended a hand toward the newcomer. “I don’t believe we have met, sir. I am Mrs. Bennet Lane.”
Mr. Mercer took her hand and bowed over it. “Nathaniel Mercer, ma’am. You have no doubt met my mother, who resides in Annapolis. I happened across your son and cousin in town some weeks ago, but I am afraid Miss Hampton had an episode that day. I have thought of you often, miss, hoping you had recovered.”