Page 23 of Lady Edith and the Registry Office
The next day, Edithcould not ask her father about the latest issue ofThe Gentleman’s Magazineas he had already left the house by the time she came downstairs. Although they were close, she would never invade her father’s study in search of reading material.
Edith did ask Mr. Thorne if he would lend the periodical to her, and he’d agreed. She was leaving Thorne’s with her maid and walking to her carriage when she saw Lord Ashford and his friends enter the registry office down the street. Curious, she walked to the door of the establishment and knocked. A moment later, Lord Harbury opened the door.
“Lady Edith! Good morning!”
His wide smile led her to believe he was pleased to see her. The baron looked quite handsome when he smiled, and she wondered why she’d never noticed before.
“Is something amiss?” she asked, straining to get a peek around him.
He shrugged. “Just business. Looking up some information about one of the veterans.”
“Perhaps I can be of assistance. Unless Diana is here? I do know how to find any information you might need about the veterans.”
The baron hesitated a moment before nodding. “Come in.” He stepped aside to allow her to brush past him.
She observed Ashford and Lord Wycliffe enter the backroom.
Just then, one of the male employees came stumbling down the stairs in an old robe, trousers visible underneath. “What in blazes is going on?” Before anyone could answer him, he exclaimed, “Beg pardon, my lord! I was worried someone was breaking in.”
“Sorry about that, Porter. We should have alerted you to our presence.” Lord Harbury raised his hands. “Just a clerical problem Lady Edith has brought to our attention. We will leave you in peace in just a moment.”
The man smiled uncertainly, bowed awkwardly, and made his way back up the staircase.
“What is this all about?" She strode into the backroom to find Ashford and Cecil looking through the drawers of the two desks. “Something important must have happened for all three of you to be here on a Saturday when the registry is closed.”
“We need an address for one of the veterans,” Lord Wycliffe replied soothingly. “It appears one of the men didn’t show up for his new post.”
She frowned. “And it takes all three of you to look up a name and address? I’m surprised it isn’t something that can’t wait until the registry reopens on Monday.”
“We would prefer to avoid any adverse attention,” Cecil replied with a devastating smile.
She blinked, determined to keep her wits about her under his charm offensive.
“Who is the veteran?” She directed her attention to Lord Harbury, who stood near her. If Cecil smiled at her again, she might swoon, while ignoring him might also help her attract his interest.
The baron answered, “James Fleet. He was in the Navy, I believe.”
She strode past the gentlemen and opened the doors to a large armoire, quickly locating the necessary ledger.
The men surrounded Edith as she put the ledger on one of the desks and stood turning the pages of the heavy book.
“Here he is. James Fleet, Able Seaman, Navy. He was matched to Sir Henry Doyle.” She picked up a blank employer card from a basket on the corner of the desk. “I’ll write down Mr. Fleet’s address for you.”
When finished, she handed the card to Lord Harbury, again ignoring Lord Cecil.
“Sebastián Street.” The baron sighed as he looked at the card. “Not a terribly nice part of London.”
“Thank you for your assistance, Lady Edith.” Ashford gave her a brief nod. “If we need further help, I will call on you.”
“Shall we go?” Lord Wycliffe asked impatiently as he exited the room.
“Lady Edith?” Ashford waved a hand at the open door.
She quit the backroom and took up a place next to her maid. “Please do let me know if I can assist you further. Good day.”
As interested as she was in why the men needed information about a veteran, she wouldn’t ask more questions. From their closed expressions, she supposed they would not tell her much. She wasn’t too worried. A bug in Charlotte’s ear could net her the information she wanted.
As for Lord Wycliffe? She was beginning to think being handsome and dangerous didn’t outweigh a decided lack of manners.
