Page 9 of An Unbending Lady for the Desperate Earl
He crept toward the window, which looked out onto the street beyond, and peered around the edge of the heavy, green velvet drapes. He picked Miss McCarthy out of the crowd, though it was not hard to do. She was the only lady. Even attempting to blend in by wearing that dense woolen cloak did not make her any less noticeable.
Who is this colleague—this Admiral Thomson?Intrigue prompted him to closer to the pane, where he might get a better view. Miss McCarthy had taken one gentleman to the side and was in the midst of an animated discussion, her arms flailing wildly as she made some poor display of charades. The gentleman in question was much older, with silvered hair and bushy whiskers, and weathered features that suggested he had endured some hardships in his time.
As a former military man, Christian had wondered if he might recognize Admiral Thomson. True, he hadn’t been in the Navy, but Admirals tended to be well known by all who served to protect this nation. But he barely recognized this man at all.
Hmmm… how disappointing.If he had known the Admiral, even vaguely, he might have tried to undercut Miss McCarthy altogether; go directly to her colleague and make the proposal of working together to him. He supposed she would not have liked that one jot, and would have railed at him for it, but a young lady was still missing. A very important young lady. And Miss McCarthy had refused his offer of aid, without bothering to hear his views. So, he did not care so much for the fragility of her overstuffed ego.
He had been so deep in thought regarding Miss McCarthy’s churlish behavior, that he did not realize he had been spotted until it was much too late. His eyes widened. Miss McCarthy had turned, catching him in the act of his spying. A half-amused, half-withering look darted from her eyes, striking a keen blow in his chest.
No!He ducked back, his cheeks burning with sudden heat. He knew he had nothing to prove to that rude creature, but he certainly hadn’t wanted to be caught snooping on what she was doing.Why did I have to pry? What purpose was that supposed to serve? Now, she has seen me peeping through the window like a foul Tom, and will no doubt think me even less worthy of her respect than she did before. How idiotic of me!
Part of him wanted to follow Miss McCarthy outside, so he might explain himself, but he reasoned that would only succeed in making matters worse. No, it was far better to remain indoors, and keep away from the windows, where he was safe from embarrassing himself any further.
He gritted his teeth and scuttled back out of the drawing room, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He had spent most of yesterday at this house, even going so far as to sleep in one of the guest chambers.
But, in truth, he longed for his own home and the solitude it would provide. Not out of callousness, but out of a sense of intangible loss that he had yet to start processing. He had been here for the Duchess, while her husband hid away in his own grief, giving Christian no time to dwell upon Lady Helena in his own fashion.
At eight-and-twenty, and she at one-and-twenty, he had known Lady Helena all of his life. Two decades of shared family summers and gatherings at Christmastide, with her turning from a ruddy-cheeked child with golden ringlets to a beautiful young lady, who had blossomed into womanhood. Indeed, he supposed his mother and father had only suggested a betrothal between the two children as a means of ensuring that those pleasant assemblies would always continue.
Did they foresee something that I did not?Christian sighed sadly. After his mother had passed from an affliction of the heart, which carried her off in the middle of a snowy winter’s night, his father had not been long behind her. To this day, Christian fervently believed he had died of a broken heart, for he had never seen a pair more ferociously devoted to one another than his mother and father. Nor did he think his father could have coped without her. Maybe that was what they had hoped for Christian and Helena—that same sort of unyielding adoration.
How mistaken they were.He did adore Helena in his own method, but it was not the stuff of heroic romance that his parents’ marriage had been. To him, Helena was more like a sister. A dear one, at that, but a sister nonetheless. A platonic affection, at least on his part. Helena had shown a willingness to love him, once they had discovered they were to be engaged. But as for her true feelings… well, he would not have assumed to know those.
Nevertheless, even as a much-loved sisterly companion, he loathed the very essence of what had happened to her. It made him sick to his stomach.She must be so lost and afraid… No, I will not cow to Miss McCarthy’s conceit. Two days, and if Miss McCarthy and her associate have not called upon me, I will pursue Helena of my own accord.
He owed her that much.
* * *
“Who was that, at the window?” Benedict asked, nodding to the empty space that Lord Galbury had just vacated in an embarrassed rush.
Victoria shrugged. “Lady Helena’s fiancé. He wanted to aid in our investigation, but I told him it would not be necessary. He is a military man of some kind, and claims to have acquaintances in knowledgeable places, but I doubt he will be of much use. He did not emit the sensibilities of a combatant, and we do not need outsiders treading on our toes.”
“You have become ruthless these past years, McCarthy.” Benedict offered a curious smile, somewhere between sadness and resignation. “It would have been more prudent of you to keep him on your side, in case we do require external help.”
“Well, there is naught I can do about it now.” Victoria glanced at the window, wondering what had prompted the gentleman to stand there and peer at her in so intense a fashion. Had she really riled him so very much that he had wanted to observe her?
Perhaps I was somewhat hasty in my dismissal…But she had been so aggravated by the Duchess’ remark about informing the Duke that Benedict would be the main investigator, that she had momentarily taken leave of her common sense. She had thought that, just once, someone had chosen to rely upon her exclusively.Not in this world. Not in this time. Maybe, not in my lifetime.Always, she would fall in below her male counterparts.
“Come, we should go to the office. We have much to do.” Victoria brushed off her upset, focusing on the task at hand instead.
Benedict nodded. “I think that is a fine idea. I think you have done some fine work today, my girl. You thought on your feet and used your intuition regarding the Duchess.” He paused, that sad glint reappearing in his eyes. “You really are your father’s daughter.”
Truly, it had been a long while since she had missed him this much.
Why did you have to leave us, Papa? You did so much good in this world—why did the Lord have to take you away so soon?She blinked back bitter tears, knowing they would do her no good. A young lady was in the hands of a deviant wretch, and the clock was clanging above Victoria’s head. If she did not act quickly, then all the evidence in the universe may not be enough to save Lady Helena.
Chapter 5
Victoria paced the floor of the office she shared with Benedict. In truth, it served as both Benedict’s office and Victoria’s place of residence, with a cramped room above that provided her with sanctuary. It was not much, but it belonged to her, allowing her to live independently of anyone and anything. Her mother lived across the city, close to Southwark, though Victoria visited often. Sometimes, she grew somewhat lonely, but it always passed swiftly.
A day-and-a-half had gone by since she had left the Pelsley townhouse, and they had come no closer to finding any avenues they might follow. Yesterday afternoon, she had returned there in secret to scour the alleyway at the end of their garden for boot prints. Sure enough, she had found the muddy marks of the perpetrator, but they had petered out once they had reached the street.
“He must have taken her by carriage,” Victoria declared, staring out at the docks below. Barges and fishing boats sailed by in slow succession; an ever-changing carousel of the same old sights. Ordinarily, the water brought her comfort, reminding her of childhood excursions to Brighton with her mother and father, but now it brought only frustration.
Benedict looked up from his desk, piled high with paperwork. “Pardon?”
“He must have taken her by carriage. That is why the boot prints ended at the street.” She touched the pendant at her neck; a gift from her mother. “Which means he cannot be working alone. It would be too much for one person to manage without being noticed.”
