Page 38 of The Lady Confesses
The maid nodded and then bustled from the room. Hettie was not far behind. But their paths diverged when the maid disappeared into the servants’ stairwell and Hettie made her way down the grand staircase to Vincent’s study on the second floor. She could hear the soft murmur of voices within. Knocking softly, she waited for permission to enter.
A moment later, she heard her new brother-in-law’s voice calling out. Opening the door, she stepped into that very masculine enclave.
“Is something wrong?” Joss asked immediately.
“I’m not entirely sure. Foster, my maid, has not returned. I gave her a half day to visit her mother and sister who reside in Lambeth. And she’s never tardy. It’s simply not in her nature. I’m afraid something may have happened to her.”
“Something . . . or someone?” Vincent demanded.
“Again, I’m not entirely sure,” Hettie answered honestly. “But I cannot imagine that Simon would have any reason to harm her. She’s a lady’s maid and hardly a threat to him.”
“No, but she does have your loyalty. She risked life and limb to bring Honoria word of your abduction,” Vincent stated. “And Simon may well be counting on your selfless nature. He’s certainly not above using her to force your hand in some way.”
Hettie swayed on her feet. “Oh, no. No. I should not have sent her away this morning. I thought—well, she’s been working so hard that she had earned a bit of respite. It never occurred to me that I might well be sending her right into the face of danger!”
“It shouldn’t have had to occur to you,” Joss protested. “It should have occurred to us. We’ve been chasing our tails trying to tackle this on both fronts—Bates and Simon. We should have focused on Simon and let the Bates business work itself out. Do you know her mother’s direction?”
“Yes... I have it in my ledger. Foster has me send half her pay there every month,” Hettie exclaimed. “I’ll get it for you.”
“No,” Joss protested. “Tell me where it is, and I’ll get it. You’re near to falling over. You do not need to be going up and down the stairs given the state you are in now.”
She wanted to protest, but honestly she could not. The possibilities of what might have happened to Foster had left her quite shaken. “It’s in my writing box, next to my dressing table.”
Joss nodded and then marched from the room to retrieve the item.
“Sit down, Hettie. You look as though you might topple at any moment.”
The directive from Vincent had her shaking her head. He wasn’t wrong. But she was also far too nervous to sit. So she paced. “I can’t. If something happens to her because of me—”
“It isn’t because of you. It’s because of Simon. Do not take his sins upon yourself.”
“No... but I should have considered that he might be desperate and do something horrid.”
Vincent shook his head. “Or maybe she’s just late? Possibly her mother or sister were ill and she is tending to them? Let us not assume the worst until we have no other option.”
Hettie knew he was right, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible had happened. Because in her life something horrible had always happened. Before she could say anything, Joss returned, her ledger in hand.
Hettie opened it to the correct page and then passed the book to him. “That’s where they live. Do not go alone. I cannot help but feel that is precisely what he wants. It could well be a trap.”
“I’ve no intention of going alone,” he replied. “I’ll take some of Vincent’s men with me. And in the meantime, you are to stay here with Vincent. I do not trust Simon. This could be simply a diversionary tactic, intended to leave you unprotected. That is not a chance I am willing to take.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Joss watched thehouse for a good half hour before giving a quick nod to Arliss Batson, who then jerked his chin in acknowledgement. They didn’t need words to communicate. Arliss was a former military man, and had been working for the Hound for many years. And what he’d gleaned from his service to king and country had been well utilized during his tenure with the unofficial king of London’s underbelly.
Crossing the road, Joss knocked loudly upon the door. “Mrs. Foster?”
The door opened, but only by a scant inch. Even that was enough for him to see that the young woman inside was not Annie’s mother. The sister then.
“Lady Ernsdale sent me,” he explained. “My name is Mr. Joshua Ettinger. I’m a private inquiry agent... and Lady Ernsdale is quite concerned because your sister, Annie, did not return as scheduled.”
The girl’s eyes widened and she opened the door, not to invite him in but to step outside herself. “Annie left ages ago. She should have long since returned by now. But please keep your voice down. My mother is not well. She tried to put on a brave front when Annie was here, and it’s left her very fatigued, Mr. Ettinger.”
“I understand . . . Mary, is it?”
“Yes, sir. Mary Foster. Annie is older by four years.”
It was a strange bit of information to offer, but that was a mystery for another day. “Did Annie say she intended to stop anywhere before returning to Mayfair?”
