Page 64 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
Chapter Twenty-Three
Luke had asked the Duke for two days off to settle Jack’s affairs and, of course, the Duke had eagerly agreed. Luke knew that was because he wanted him away from Alison, but it didn’t matter. He had what he wanted, and he would return for Alison later.
He said a quick goodbye to Jenny before disappearing.
“Don’t go getting yourself into trouble,” Jenny had said, her tone matronly and her finger pointing. She tried to look stern, but Luke had spotted the tears welling in her eyes.
“I won’t,” he said, squeezing her arm.
“And you come back to me as soon as possible, you hear me? I want to know about our mother just as much as you do, but it ain’t worth losing each other over.”
“Yes, Jenny, I hear you. I promise I’ll be back. It’s only two days.”
And then he kissed her on the top of the head, as he did every morning, and left with a couple of coins in his pocket and little else.
Lola Reynolds.
He knew only her name, and he knew where Jack had found them all those years ago. He would start there, ask around, and see if anyone knew her.
He hadn’t returned to that street in all the years since Jack adopted him, and it felt odd to return now. It was so familiar and yet so different, and Luke was flooded with memories.
On his right was the corner on which he and Jenny often stood, begging for food from the nearby stalls. And to his left, near a low-rise wall, was where Jack had stopped them to talk.
It was a relatively wide road, compared to the narrow alleyways that were typical of the area. The mud on the ground had been long flattened by trundling coaches and the march of a thousand feet. Along either side, the buildings were standing but ramshackle, and Luke could see people everywhere—milling around in the streets, faces in windows, men with carts selling their wares, and even men without carts, half-begging and half-selling whatever treasures they had hidden deep within their coat pockets.
He walked slowly down the street, taking it all in and not having a clue where to start. His breath quickened as he became overwhelmed by the enormity of his task.
To find a single woman by name alone—and in London, too!
He was beginning to think he had made a huge mistake and that he should simply turn around and return to Alison. But then he saw a tavern on the corner. A sign swung on a rusty iron bracket, the screech of it making Luke wince.The Rose and Crown. As good a place as any to start.
He swung the door open to a squeak not quite as loud as the swinging sign. The noise inside was overwhelming, despite the early hour. It was a large place, with lanterns strung to the walls and tables and chairs in no seeming order whatsoever. There was a battered piano in one corner, the keys yellowed with age and smoke, and an unlit and uncleaned fireplace on the far wall. The windows, though, large and stretching across the front wall, seemed to sparkle from the sunlight reflecting on them.
Luke spotted the drunks—the ones he doubted ever left. He saw those who had spent the night there, snoring on the benches. He even caught sight of the odd adventuress, making her way home after a night’s work.
“Excuse me,” he said to the man that appeared to be the landlord. “Are you the tavern keeper?”
“That’s me,” the man said. “Walter. What can I do for ye, Lad?”
He was a big man—taller by a head than Luke, and broad shouldered. His belly hung over his trousers, and his chin had doubled. He didn’t have a single hair on his head—not at the top, nor on his chin or at the sides. His teeth were somewhat lacking, too, and those that remained jutted out at odd angles, a mixture of yellow and black.
Still, he smiled broadly and he seemed convivial enough, certainly willing to help this young man who had walked proudly through the door. Luke knew he stood out for his better clothes and scrubbed clean face, but he was identifiable as a servant, and he would be sure to be careful how he spoke.
“I am looking for someone,” he said, striding up to the tavern keeper.
“We’ve got plenty of ladies,” Water said with a smirk. “It’s a bit early, but I’m sure none of them would mind being woken too much, not when there’s money involved. What kind you after?”
“No,” Luke said quickly, shaking his head of the thought. “Nothing like that.” He smiled, but the keeper looked at him askance.
“All right,” Walter said, his brow creased. He seemed wary now, uncertain, and Luke held his hands up to put him at ease.
“Nothing dodgy. I’m looking for a particular woman. One Lola Reynolds. Do you know her?”
“Lola Reynolds?” Walter repeated the name over as he tapped his lip. “Name rings a bell, but… ‘ere, Ollie, you know a Lola Reynolds?”
He shouted across the room to a skinny man who could barely hold himself up on his stool. His nose had the bright red shine of an alcoholic and his eyelids drooped heavily.
“Aye, she were a good’un,” he said, guffawing. “She’s the one who used to do a ditty on the piana, remember? Music was no good, but the words she sang were good for a laugh.”
