Page 3 of An Unbending Lady for the Desperate Earl
“Now, how is it that you have no trouble calling me McCarthy, but the rest of these sorry sods do?” Victoria sighed, as the three other men in their group laughed. Not unkindly, though; they’d respected her father too much to be cruel to his daughter. And Benedict would not permit any lack of courtesy toward her. She had his unfettered respect and, as such, the rest of Benedict’s colleagues admired Victoria. Well, perhaps not admired, but they certainly tolerated her.
She had a keen eye and an extensive knowledge of new investigative techniques that her father had passed on in his personal notebook. An item more valuable to Victoria than gold. With its help, more often than not, she spotted things that others had missed, and that was useful in their line of business, regardless of the sex of the one doing the spotting. She supposed that was what had earned her the nickname of ‘Vixen’, too, aside from the obvious relation to her given name of Victoria—she had a way of sniffing out evidence, as a fox might.
She had yet to decide if she liked the moniker or not. Maybe the best way to stop it from becoming derogatory was to own it and make it part of her identity. Still, she wished folks would refer to her as McCarthy, as they would call any male investigator by their surname.
“Because I know you as if you were my own,” Benedict said, with a wry grin. “And I’ve taught you as if you were my own. I never had children, so you’re all I’ve got, and if you want to be called McCarthy, after your father, then who am I to call you otherwise?”
“Thank you, Ben.” She could always rely on him to keep her from feeling like the odd one out.
“It ain’t right to speak with a lady so casual-like,” one of the other investigators—a younger man by the name of Robert Elfin—replied.
Victoria grinned. “I am no lady, Elfin.”
“You can say that ‘til you’re blue in the face, Miss McCarthy. It won’t change the facts of the matter.” Elfin gave an apologetic shrug.
“Anyway, enough babbling. All I’ve heard this morning is chatter about the Pelsley girl, but no actual information about what happened, or how it may have happened.” Victoria glanced up at the imposing townhouse, with its white walls and balconettes. Here, the lamps were very much lit among the top floors. Until their beloved daughter was found, Victoria doubted they would be able to sleep again. “Have the family let anyone inside yet?”
Benedict shook his head. “Not yet, no.”
The third fellow, a man called Edgar Greaves, shot Victoria a withering look. “Do you think we’re all standing out here for the good of our health, Miss? If the Pelsleys had let anyone in, we’d be in there.”
“You must be playing some sort of jest with me?” Victoria gaped. “They haven’t let a soul into the house since yesterday? How are we supposed to help if they will not grant us access?” Lady Helena, their only daughter, had been found absent yesterday morning, at around the same time as it was now. The Bow Street Runners had been alerted which had, in turn, alerted the veritable swarm of investigators who strove to keep this city a safer place.
It makes no sense whatsoever.Why bother informing the Runners of their missing daughter, if the Pelsleys had no intention of letting anyone do their jobs? Victoria had been detained with another case in Poplar the previous day, regarding a missing child that had duly been located. As such, she happened to be somewhat late to the proverbial party. She had thought that might put her on the back foot with finding her place in this investigation, but it seemed she had not missed anything at all.
“I overheard the Duchess of Pelsley muttering that she didn’t want us trailing our filth through her home. How’s that for gratitude?” Elfin grumbled. “She won’t even open the door to the Runners, and they’ve got uniforms. We’ve got no chance.”
Victoria’s lips tugged into a smile, as an idea formed in her mind. “You’re forgetting one thing, my good men.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” Benedict cocked his head to one side, with interest.
“You’ve got a secret weapon. Well,Ido.”
Greaves frowned. “What are you talking about? What secret weapon?”
“Me.” Victoria swept past them and mounted the front steps, while the entire congregation of constables and investigators turned to watch in surprise.
She knocked on the door and waited for an answer, praying this would work. If it did not, she would have to face a mass humiliation, standing center stage before the rest of these men.
The door wrenched open and the butler appeared in a bluster of exasperation. “We have told you once, and we will not tell you again. His Grace and Her Grace do not—” he stopped short as he beheld Victoria standing on the top step, finally setting his gaze upon her. He evidently had not realized that he was conversing with a young lady.
“I apologize for the intrusion, sir, and I apologize if the household feels they are being pestered by these investigators.” Victoria gestured back to her rapt audience. “They men well, and they only want to aid in finding Lady Helena. But I am no investigator, sir, so I hope you will permit me entry. You see, I have been sent to help the Duchess endure this awful experience, as part of the Bow Street Runners’ new initiative in comforting the families of victims.”
The butler faltered. “May I have your name, Miss?”
“Certainly, sir. My name is Miss Victoria McCarthy,” she smiled sweetly. She didn’t possess the fairest of faces, but there were roses enough in her cheeks, and her mother had always remarked that she could be a beauty if she took more care in her appearance. In that moment, she hoped that prettiness might shine through, if only as a tactic to persuade this gatekeeper to let her in.
“Allow me a minute or two, Miss McCarthy. I will speak with the Duchess.” He lowered his voice. “Truly, you may have arrived at the ideal moment, for she is in an awfully troubled state.”
“I will wait, sir. I hope that I may be of some help to her, in what must be her darkest hour.” A chameleon of voice and mannerisms, Victoria knew when to play upon her feminine wiles, and when to behave in a more masculine fashion. This required a tenderer touch, inspiring her voice to soften and her demeanor to appear more delicate. And it seemed to be working.
The butler disappeared inside, leaving the door slightly ajar. Victoria took the opportunity to peer through the narrow gap, beholding the elegant entrance hall beyond. A chandelier glinted overhead, and a curving staircase spiraled upward, to where the Duchess must surely be in hiding… and perhaps mourning, for her vanished daughter.
I will find her for you, I swear it.See, she was not callous in using somewhat underhand tactics. She merely wished to do the finest job she could, and she was incapable of doing that if nobody would allow her inside. It served a purpose and came from a good place, though she had long dispensed with feeling guilt over swaying people with her altered mannerisms.
She glanced back over her shoulder, where the other investigators were gaping at her, open-mouthed. Clearly, she had already advanced further than they had managed.
You should learn not to underestimate me.She smiled and turned back, awaiting the reappearance of the butler. He returned several minutes later, with a hesitant look of relief upon his face.
