Page 64 of A Duke's Scandalous Obsession
“I… I don’t remember the last time I had strawberry jam,” Charlie admitted apologetically, as if it were his fault. Then he hastily added. “Your Grace.”
“Well, like I said, if you tell me what I need to know, I might persuade Mrs. Jenkins to part with a jar or two so you can take it with you, along with that shiny sixpence. Would you like that?”
“Very much so,” Charlie nodded.
“Good,” Dominic smiled again. “Now, you are probably wondering what it is I want to know.” He paused there. Charlie seemed to be a good boy, well-mannered for an urchin. He didn’t interrupt him. He merely nodded, listening intensively, waiting to be asked a question. “You delivered a letter this morning to Lord Stanhope. Do you know who that is?”
“No,” Charlie shook his head, his eyes wide with apprehension and fear that he might be left without a warm meal and some money.
“All right,” Dominic continued patiently. “You might not know the man, but you do know the house.”
“Mmm,” Charlie nodded hastily. “I was told which house it was.”
“Told by who?” Dominic asked cautiously.
“The man with a scar on his forehead,” Charlie explained.
“Did he tell you his name?” Dominic asked again. He made a mental note about the man with a scar on his forehead.
“No, nothing like that.” Charlie shook his head. “He approached me and my brother, asking which one of us would want to deliver a letter for two shillings. He said it was urgent andneeded to be done straight away, in time for the morning mail. So, I said I would do it, because my brother is lame. He can’t run.”
Dominic nodded compassionately. “You are a good brother, Charlie.”
Charlie didn’t say anything to that, but Dominic could see the pain in the boy’s eyes and it touched him.
“The man showed me the house,” Charlie continued. “And I slipped it into the mailbox without being noticed, just like the man told me to. When I returned, he gave me the money and told me that he might be sending another letter tomorrow, and if I want to make another two shillings, I should be in the same place, at the same time.”
“Tomorrow, you say?” Dominic inquired, a plan already hatching inside his mind.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Charlie nodded.
“You see, that man wants to hurt a friend of mine,” Dominic tried to simplify the situation, to make it as uncomplicated for Charlie as possible, but at the same time, he wanted him to understand that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, he was helping. “I need to find him before that happens. Your information has helped me a lot, Charlie. Thank you.”
“I will get the tea and scones?” Charlie asked apprehensively.
“Of course,” Dominic nodded with a smile. “And two jars of Mrs. Jenkins’ famous strawberry jam, one for you and one for your brother.”
Charlie couldn’t believe it. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Your Grace!”
“But before I take you down to Mrs. Jenkins,” Dominic continued. “I will give you the sixpence. However, if you tell me where you were this morning and where you will be tomorrow morning, to wait for that man, I will make it a crown.”
“A crown!” Charlie gasped; his little lips open wide. “Of course! George and I were in Seven Dials at six in the morn.”
Dominic’s brow furrowed. Seven Dials was a street located in the heart of Covent Garden, known for its labyrinthine network of narrow alleys and bustling market stalls, making it a magnet for street urchins and urchin gangs, who would congregate in the shadowy concerns and hidden alcoves, their presence a constant reminder of the social inequalities that plagued the city.
“All right,” Dominic said, concluding their conversation. “I just want you to promise me that if you see me there, you won’t approach me. Just wait for the man, all right?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Charlie nodded gratefully, as his eyes widened at the crown that suddenly appeared out of the drawer of Dominic’s writing table.
“Here, this is for you,” Dominic offered him the money, and Charlie hastily pocketed it. “Now, let us go downstairs to Mrs. Jenkins so you can have some tea and scones.”
Charlie quickly jumped to his feet, heading for the door before he was even told to do so. Dominic knew that he could have easily asked a servant to accompany the boy downstairs, but he wanted to do it on his own. He felt sorry for the little boy and his lame brother, who hopefully helped them in their path to finding Reginald’s family.
Chapter 32
“A man with a scar?” Reginald asked, pacing about the parlor of his sister’s home, with Catherine and Dominic seated in the chaise lounge. Timothy was standing by the open window, leaning against a wall. Everyone was listening intently. “That has to be George Thompson.”
“Are you sure?” Dominic asked, while Catherine merely listened. She didn’t know anything about Annabel’s husband, so her opinion mattered little. However, she listened with deep focus, in hopes that she would still be able to offer her help if need be.
