The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(31)

“Sounds rather like a night in a London ballroom.”

“That’s why the lady chose it. Happen there’s a message in the title as well as on the inside page.”

What the hell was Wickett talking about? “Are you referring to the plot?”

Wickett frowned. “No, my lord, I’m talking about the lady who came and asked me to pass on the message.”

“You mean the book really is entitled Nocturnal Visit?”

Gripping the reins with one hand, Wickett grabbed the book, reached down and gave it to Vane. “See, take a look for yourself.”

Vane examined the words embossed in gold on the spine. “They say Regina Roche is more popular than Ann Radcliffe.” He flicked to the first page, to the feminine script suggesting the sender make a late-night call to his house on Berkeley Square. It was signed in a delicate flourish. The lady wanted him to be in no doubt as to her identity.

“The lady’s maid was most insistent I accept the gift, my lord.”

“Burn it once we’re home.” Lady Cornell was quickly becoming a nuisance. “On second thought, I’ll keep hold of it for now.” He had no intention of granting her request but might need to use it as leverage at a later date.

Wickett nodded. “Are we to head back to the square?”

Vane considered the question. His time should be spent thinking of a way to ruin Lord Cornell — a legitimate way that would shame the fool. He should pry into the lord’s affairs, look for anything to use against him. But all thoughts turned to Estelle and her meeting with Mr Hungerford.

“Take me to Mr Joseph in Whitechapel.”

Now that Estelle had made a sudden appearance, Vane would give the runner another task to occupy his time. He wanted to know everything about Mr Hungerford. Specifically, why a gentleman of his status was keen to court a shopgirl?

Vane found Joseph in The Speckled Hen tavern, tucking into a meat pie. He sat at his usual table in a dingy corner next to the hearth. The man’s hard, sculpted jaw looked capable of taking more than a few punches. His eyes made him handsome in a rugged sort of way. They were an intense shade of blue, as inviting as a warm sea to a woman, as cold as ice should anyone rouse his ire. While he had once worked in Bow Street, now he worked for himself, conducted his business from the tavern, and paid the landlord handsomely for the privilege.

The low beamed ceilings proved difficult to navigate for a man of Vane’s height. With a slight stoop, he made his way to the bar, paid for two tankards of ale and instructed the serving wench to bring them to the table.

Witnessing Vane’s approach, Joseph gestured to the chair opposite. “My lord. We don’t often see you around these parts during daylight hours.”

The rotten smell of open gutters permeated the air, banishing the scent of sweat and unwashed clothes.

Vane gestured to the open window. “Do you mind?”

Joseph snorted. “You get used to it,” he said, reaching up and pulling the window shut. “I’ve had no luck finding the lady. Seems you’re right about her perishing on that ship.”

“There’s no need to keep looking. The lady found me.”

Had Fate thrown them together? Had Destiny a hand in their reunion? Had he learned whatever cruel lesson the Lord intended and so seeing Estelle again was his reward?

The landlord, a man with a dirty complexion and unkempt side whiskers, came with their drinks. He scanned Vane’s immaculate attire and eyed Joseph in such a manner as to enquire if he needed assistance.

“Nothing to worry about, Fred,” Joseph said, accepting the tankards.

With a suspicious frown which looked to be a permanent expression, Fred shuffled away as if expecting to lose the soles of his shoes.

“So you have no need for my services now you’ve found her.” Joseph shovelled a forkful of pie into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of ale.

“There is something else I need you to do. I want you to find out everything you can about a Mr Hungerford.”

“Hungerford, you say? Shouldn’t be too difficult what with it being an unusual name.” Joseph wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“You’ll have his address tonight.” Vane decided he would venture to Whitecombe Street this evening, purely with the intention of spying. “His wife died recently, so I’m told.” Vane thought back to the night Estelle and the Erstwhiles stumbled upon him in the alley. They had not walked far. “I’d wager he lives somewhere in the vicinity of Longacre. Perhaps begin your search for his wife with the records at St Clement Danes. I imagine that’s the closest church.”

Joseph nodded. He withdrew a notebook and pencil and took down the information. “I’ll send the nod to Wickett when I find something of interest.”

Vane retrieved a few sovereigns from his pocket and slid them across the crude wooden table. “I’ll pay you ten pounds when you’ve found out what I need to know. And you can keep the money I gave you to find Miss Darcy.”

The runner grinned. “If only all fine folk were as generous. I’ll ask around the area, see if anyone knows him while I wait for his address. I’ve a man who can slip in and out of a house without the owner never knowing he was there.”

It was suddenly apparent why he no longer worked for Bow Street. Vane proceeded to give Joseph a description of his quarry, one that incorporated the words fop and coward.