Page 21 of Never a Duchess
Lillian turned to Mr Daventry. “You should question Lord Kinver, sir. Someone in his household must know the owner? Why drop a handkerchief no one can identify?”
“Excellent, Miss Ware. We might make an enquiry agent of you yet.”
Pride filled her chest, and she inhaled deeply. The faint whiff of something familiar teased her nostrils. Perfume. An uncommon scent.
Lillian brought the lace to her nose, closed her eyes, and sniffed to locate the source. She gave a broad smile when realising the significance of her finding.
“Sir, we have another clue.” She handed Mr Daventry the handkerchief, prompting him to smell the fragrance. “Convallaria majalis, otherwise known as lily of the valley. In perfume, the extraction process means the flower loses much of its potency. I know of only two perfumers in London capable of producing a blend accurate enough to mimic the original flower.”
“Valmary’s in Old Bond Street,” Vivienne Sloane said.
“Yes, and Baudelaire’s in Ludgate Hill.” Perfumers often kept a list of clients, particularly those willing to spend over the odds. “They might have a record of the ladies who purchased the fragrance.”
Mr Daventry returned the handkerchief. “Visit them tomorrow with Dounreay and search their records. Kinver is on honeymoon but see what his staff say about the handkerchief.”
“Me?” Lillian feared she had misheard. “I beg your pardon? We’ve come to hire an agent, sir. A professional who can deal with the intricacies of this case. Someone with experience.”
At best, she had hoped to assist Mr Sloane in an investigation, not spend endless hours with the handsome duke.
Mr Daventry shrugged. “I have no agents available, and I’ll not trust this matter to the local police office. They pulled three women from the Thames last night alone. One might be our mystery lady, but we must know for sure.”
“I’m to return to Scotland soon,” Dounreay said, reminding her they had limited time together, though he did not sound remotely panicked. “But I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Good.” Mr Daventry clapped his hands together. “I shall arrange for a chaperone to accompany you tomorrow.”
Lillian scoured her mind for an alternative.
“We can investigate the matter separately and meet at your Hart Street office.” Spending time alone with Dounreay at balls and soirees was as much as she could cope with.
“Together, you will make more informed decisions, and I’ll not risk your safety, Miss Ware. If you refuse, I’ll have no choice but to refer the matter to the magistrate. Lord knows what will happen to the poor woman then.”
Lillian looked at Dounreay, willing him to offer an objection.
The devil sat there, a gleam of satisfaction in his dark eyes. He raised his porcelain tankard in salute. “Here’s to our new adventure, Miss Ware.”
ChapterFour
Callan instructed his coachman to park on Fleet Street.
The decision had nothing to do with navigating the bustling crowds on Ludgate Hill. Lord MacTavish and his daughter Ailsa were acting as chaperones, and the fellow wagged his bushy red brows at Callan, desperate for a private audience.
Moreover, after spending the journey squashed next to Miss Ware, their thighs touching as the vehicle rattled over the cobblestones, Callan needed air. Needed the breeze to cool his heated blood.
MacTavish gestured for the ladies to walk ahead. Being firm friends, the women linked arms and kept their heads together while sharing secrets.
“Tell me ye’re suffering from a malady,” MacTavish whispered as they walked along Fleet Street towards the obelisk. “Tell me all this hot air hasnae frazzled yer brain.”
Callan shot his friend an amused grin. “Lucius Daventry is short of agents. There’s nae one else to investigate the crime, and he can be mighty persuasive.” He didn’t care about helping Daventry. The desire to spend time with Miss Ware had motivated Callan to accept the case.
“Aye, Daventry could convince the King to dance through the streets naked.” MacTavish stroked his long red beard. “But I’m referring to yer interest in Miss Ware. She’s nae intention of ever marrying. She’ll be off on a wild adventure when her brother's bairn is settled. Where will that leave ye then?”
“Are ye trying to protect my poor heart, MacTavish?”
It was too late.
Miss Ware had claimed a sizeable piece long ago.
“Surely ye see, it’s pointless investing time in a woman who doesnae want ye. ’Twill end in nothing but a lifetime of regret. Mark my words.”
