A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(9)
“Oh, she has - together with a conviction that she is always right. I have known Verity forever and have no illusions about her. I hope she will not be too distressed if we do trace her sister. You know as well as I the likely fate of those poor souls who are persuaded to elope to London thinking they are in love.”
Adam’s grim expression reflected his own. “I do indeed. Not only to London. Do you have contacts amongst your more interesting acquaintance who could help if hers is one of those cases?”
His more interesting acquaintance. The Pool, in other words. The loose ‘pool of talent’ that his one-time school fellow Benedict Fitzgilbert had drawn together to combat the rising tide of lawlessness in London. That was definitely something he would need to hide from Verity.
Fitz’s had been a simple idea. To recruit gentlemen who had a particular area of expertise, and who shared his own progressive ideas, and to see if they might pool their resources in a war against crime. Fitz provided the funds and the connections, including access to Sir Nathaniel Conant, Chief Magistrate at Bow Street. Charles’s contribution was a sound knowledge of the law, a working relationship with London’s poor, and a useful affinity with the card table. Other members had other skills.
For the Pool to function successfully, it had to be invisible. Adam was one of the very few people who were privy to Charles’s clandestine life. “Any number,” said Charles, answering him, “but it will be tricky just now for me to make contact. The Pool have had whisper of a shadowy gentleman that we have suspected the existence of for some time. We think he is behind a number of women’s disappearances as well as running a score of unsavoury establishments catering for all degrees of vice. I’m loathe to do anything more than tiptoe through the outskirts of his empire until I am more sure of who hides within the rumours.”
“Can you make enquiries for Verity’s sister by proxy then? Use my name if you wish.”
Charles shook his head. “Not until we know more. I learned very early not to involve others. This particular shadow has a swift and merciless way with loose mouths. I’ll not have retribution falling on the innocent. I’ve a couple of aliases that will serve if it comes to it. But thank you.”
“It wouldn’t be ‘involving’ me if I made the enquiries myself.”
“I can’t do that, Adam.”
“As you wish. It is your fight. But remember, if you need a strong arm, send me word.”
Charles quirked an eyebrow at that. “Is settled life palling on you? Are you hankering for the boards again?”
“Hardly, there is enough to do and more here. I am enjoying the challenge of being a gentleman farmer again, but I’ll not deny that some action in a good cause wouldn’t go amiss. What is the point of being built like a bear and not using it?”
Charles clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a promise then. If I do track down my shadowy target, there’s no one I’d rather have at my back, that’s for sure.”
“At your back, is it? I was thinking more side by side. This isn’t an idle offer, Charles. I’ve lost enough young actresses, and promising actors too, to the lures of the city to have no qualms about bringing the puppet masters to justice.”
“Then I will send word if there is time. Meanwhile, shall we join the ladies and see what fresh variation of hell has been cooked up for me?”
“Certainly. I am not sure I envy you this task at least. It is an interesting conundrum, to decide what constitutes rational behaviour. How do you look to resolve it?”
Charles squared his shoulders as if the guillotine, rather than a civilised nuncheon, awaited him in the dining room. “I don’t believe I will have to. By now it has almost certainly been resolved for me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“I beg your pardon, Hicks?” Charles looked at his man over a forkful of indifferently cooked egg which he was endeavouring to eat with sufficient dispatch that it did not linger overlong in his mouth. “For a moment there, I thought you said a lady had called.”
“I... yes, I....”
“Good morning, Charles.” Before his appalled eyes, Verity walked past the valet, looking impossibly bright-eyed and alert for a young lady who had endured a lengthy carriage ride the previous day and who had looked set to be talking with his sister far into the night. She removed her gloves as she sat down. “Pray do not mind me. I did not know at what time you departed for your chambers, so thought it as well to be here early.”
Charles found his voice. “Do not sit down. I forbid you to make yourself comfortable. Hicks, procure Miss Bowman a hackney carriage immediately. Are you quite mad, Verity? What are you thinking of, calling on a gentleman at this hour of the morning? Remember your uncle’s stipulations on the legacy if nothing else. Ruining both our reputations is not rational behaviour.”
“I apologise for putting you out,” replied Verity, not appearing in the least discomposed as she reached forward to test the coffee pot. “You departed so precipitously yesterday that I had no chance to ask when you would be ready, but I shall know to leave it a further quarter-hour before setting out next time. Do not look so disapproving, it was better that I came inside to wait for you rather than loitering in the street, do you not think?”
“Yes. No. Do not pour that coffee. You are leaving. Verity, do not pour...”