Page 42 of Tamed By a Duke
And Hugh knew, that when spying on the upper-classes, there was no better source of information than those who worked for them.
Good servants were almost invisible to their employers, and though they went unnoticed as they moved from room to room, it did not mean that they did not take notice themselves. Many a traitor had been outed by a tip from an unassuming scullery-maid, or a word from a disgruntled butler.
Thus, once he had returned home to change, Hugh found himself lingering on the west corner of Grosvenor Square, hoping that he did not look too conspicuous.
Thankfully the square was abustle with workmen, who were making alterations to several of the houses. Unlike St James' Square, Grosvenor was relatively new, and filled with the new money of thenouveau riche—such as Brandon Drew. The new owners of the mansions which looked over the park were keen to exhibit their wealth, and no less than seven of the buildings on the square were under renovation, each clamouring to be taller and grander than their neighbour.
Hugh kept to the shadows as he watched the Drew's home, number twenty-three, for some minutes. In time, a carriage drew up outside the door, depositing none-other than Dubarry at the front steps, and no sooner had his cousin entered the Drew's, than the door was opened again and a liveried footman emerged with a package in his hands.
Ah. At last!
Hugh watched as the footman made his way toward the corner of Brook Street, gave him a moment's head-start, then followed him. It was not a difficult task for Hugh to keep track of the young gentleman, for he stood head and shoulders above everyone else.
Hugh kept his distance as the lad made his way west from Brook Street, in the direction of Covent Garden.
He had been following him for a good half-hour, when the lad stopped at a little mews house in Barbour Street and knocked upon the door.
A woman—a rather young woman, by Hugh's estimates—answered his knock, clutching a sniffling infant in her arms.
"Miss Drew has sent this for urgent repair," the footman said, thrusting the parcel in his hands forward for the young woman to take. As her hands were already full, she was forced to place the infant down, though it immediately began squalling unhappily and tugging at her skirts.
"Thank you, Thomas," the young woman said, raising a weary hand to her brow.
"Shall I collect Miss Drew's last dress, since I'm here?" Thomas replied, and the young woman paled.
"It's not quite ready yet," she said, turning to place the package inside the door, before picking the baby back up into her arms, "Molly has been quite poorly. I sent word to Miss Drew and she was quite understanding of the delay."
"Yes, Mrs Thatchery," Thomas replied, before tickling little Molly under her chin, "Until next month."
Mrs Thatchery bid Thomas goodbye and closed the door. As the footman turned to head back toward Grosvenor Square, Hugh decided that now was the time to reveal himself.
"Does Miss Drew send parcels here monthly?" he asked, as he stepped into Thomas' path, hoping that the element of surprise might shock an answer from the lad.
"Like clockwork," he replied, before catching himself. "Who's asking?"
"The Duke of Penrith," Hugh said, adopting his most ducal manner. The poor footman looked suitably chastised, though he still regarded Hugh warily.
"And for how long has Miss Drew been sending these parcels?" Hugh continued on with his line of enquiry. The footman might wish to remain tight-lipped, but Hugh would get the information from him by hook or by crook if needs be.
"Around two years, your Grace," the footman provided, his brow furrowed with confusion, "Though, I hope you don't mind me asking, I don't see why you're so concerned as to where Miss Drew gets her dresses mended."
"No, I don't suppose you would," Hugh sighed; he rather liked Thomas, it was clear that the lad intended to defend Charlotte to the best of his ability. Loyalty in a servant was to be commended, and Hugh had to pay him his dues.
"You're a good lad to try and protect Miss Drew," Hugh said, gently steering Thomas away from Mrs Thatchery's, "But I'm rather afraid that your mistress has become involved in something sinister and that Mrs Thatchery has something to do with it."
"Mrs Thatchery?" Thomas hooted, "Why, it's just her and the bairn in that house, your Grace. She ain't up to anything sinister, she's just trying to get by."
"Did you never wonder why Miss Drew, with a whole retinue of servants at her disposal, and the world's most diligent abigail, sought to have her dresses mended outside the home?"
Thomas shook his head, though it was clear from his expression that the penny was at last beginning to drop.
"I fear that Miss Drew is using those parcels as a means of smuggling money to Mrs Thatchery," Hugh continued, adding a note of urgency to his voice, "Tell me, what do you know of the woman?"
"Not much, your Grace," Thomas shrugged, "She's a widow, but she wears no ring. Though that don't mean anything when you've a mouth to feed, like she has. She mentioned once that she worked for some lord or other, but now she mends clothes."
"Which lord was it?" Hugh pressed, resisting the urge to take Thomas by the shoulders and shake him until he revealed the name.
"Gemini, I'm not sure if I recall," Thomas laughed, though his face lost its look of amusement when he caught Hugh's eye. "Mayhap it was Lord Pond-something. Lord Morass. No, Quagmire. No, I have it now! Lord Marshdon!"
