My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(11)

She was busily making a list of supplies, when Meg abruptly stepped into the room with a decided air of annoyance.

"There's a gent here to see you, Miss Jocelyn," she announced in disapproving tones. "He says he's a Runner."

"A Runner?" Jocelyn rose to her feet in surprise. Although the Watch haphazardly controlled the rough streets, it was rare for a Bow Street Runner to take an interest in the refuge of humanity that huddled in the darker streets of London. "You had better show him in, Meg."

Meg folded her arms across her ample chest with a loud sniff. "Not that it's my place to judge, but I would think that a man like that would have more important matters to attend to than bothering law-abiding maidens and tracking dirt onto my freshly scrubbed floors."

Jocelyn could not halt a small smile at the disgruntled tones. Meg had never fully approved of her desire to live in such a neighborhood and help others. And she liked it even less when she felt Jocelyn was being put upon.

She was far more protective than any mother.

"No doubt he considers his business here of some necessity," Jocelyn murmured.

There was another decisive sniff. "It had best be is all I can say. Otherwise he can clean them floors himself."

Meg reluctantly turned to leave the room, stomping away in a manner that indicated that she was intending to severely chastise the caller for daring to interrupt Jocelyn.

Stepping around the desk, Jocelyn was kept waiting only a moment before the large, surprisingly young man with a smiling countenance and thatch of unruly brown curls entered the room. He appeared more an innkeeper or merchant than a dangerous Runner, and Jocelyn found her initial unease lessening as he offered a dashing bow.

"Forgive me for intruding, Miss Kingly. I am Mr. Ryan."

"Mr. Ryan." She gave a nod of her head. "I understand you are from Bow Street."

He smiled ruefully. "Alas, it is true, but please do not hold that against me. I am merely a simple chap attempting to do my poor best to make a living."

Jocelyn was swift to sense this man used his decidedly boyish charm to his full advantage. If not for the shrewd glint of intelligence in the blue eyes, it would be easy to mistake him for an easily deceived fellow.

She could only wonder how many criminals had been lured into admitting far more than they should.

"Will you have a seat?" she asked as she perched on the edge of a chair near the desk. She waited until he had settled his own large form onto a chair opposite her before continuing. "What can I do for you?"

Thankfully he came directly to the point. "I am investigating the death of Molly Chapwell."

Jocelyn lifted a hand to press it to her heart. The pain was still too fresh to be easily accepted.

"Poor Molly."

He lifted a brow at her words. "You knew she had been murdered?"

"Vicar Fallow informed me last evening." She grimaced at the memory of the small man who sent chills down her spine. "I was searching for her."

"Ah, yes." He ran a hand along his jaw in a thoughtful manner. "The vicar who discovered her body."

"He said that it was a savage attack."

Mr. Ryan's smile faded. "I won't lie to you, miss. It was as bad as I've ever seen."

Jocelyn shivered, unable to imagine anyone able to hurt the simple, kindhearted maiden, no matter whether she was a prostitute or not.

"Why? Why would someone harm Molly in such a vicious fashion?"

He paused for a moment. "To be honest, I was hoping that you could answer that question."

"Me?" she retorted in surprise.

"You did know her."

"Only from the streets." She heaved an unconscious sigh. "I attempted to convince her to leave her life as a prostitute and travel to the small property I own outside of London.

Unfortunately she would not heed my urgings. Now it is too late."

"You did not perhaps know if she was fearful of any person in particular?" he demanded.

Jocelyn briefly considered Molly's drunken husband, who had more than once left her with a black eye. He was obviously violent. And yet she could not believe he would readily dispose of his one source of income. He may have been despicable, but he was not entirely stupid.

"Not that she revealed to me," she at last conceded.

"Would she seek you out if she discovered herself in danger?"

The question caught Jocelyn off guard. Would Molly come to her if she were in need?

"I do not know. Perhaps." She gave a lift of her hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Because this was found clutched in her hand." Mr. Ryan leaned forward to press a crumbled piece of paper into Jocelyn's hand.

Startled, she glanced down to discover her name roughly scrawled across the torn sheet.

"It has my name on it," she breathed in shock, then her brows drew together in confusion.

"But..."

"What is it?"

She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his steady regard. "Molly could not read or write."

The blue eyes narrowed at her sudden exclamation. "Most astute, Miss Kingly. That was what I presumed as well."

Jocelyn could not halt a deep shudder. It had been disturbing enough to know that an acquaintance had been brutally murdered. To discover she was clutching a paper with her name upon it made the horror even greater. It suddenly seemed very personal.