Page 36 of Lady Edith and the Registry Office
“I know you believe you’re in love with Lord Cecil, but the truth is, you’re not.” Louisa added in a firm voice, “Infatuation is not love.”
She let out a breath. “You’re an expert on love now as well as everything else?”
Louisa shook her head. “No, I’m not. It’s just that the viscount is not interested in you, and the baron obviously is.”
“Thank you for explaining the situation so clearly, Louisa. I would rather listen to Alicia prattle on all day than hear thetruthsyou choose to spout with no thought as to whether you might hurt or offend your audience.”
Both women were silent. Edith couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing to Louisa. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself.
“You’re right,” Louisa replied softly. “I am too free with my opinions and observations. My mother often tells me so. She said I should have been born a boy as I behave very much like my brothers.”
Edith was taken aback by Louisa’s words. Her friend, who always seemed so confident, sounded anything but. Perhaps Louisa’s prickly personality was a shield to prevent others from looking too closely and seeing the cracks in her armor.
“A boy? With your gorgeous hair and eyes? Your figure is the envy of every debutante.” She shook her head. “And you’re the most graceful dancer I’ve ever seen. Charlotte told me even Lord Wycliffe commented on your gracefulness.”
“Really?” Louisa looked far happier. “And he doesn’t even like me.”
Edith thought it best not to comment further on the animosity between Lord Wycliffe and her friend, so she merely replied, “It’s Tuesday, and you’re scheduled to volunteer at the registry office. Be off with you now and promise to give up needlepoint. That poor piece of linen needs rescuing.”
* * * * *
Wednesday afternoon, Nathaniel had his driver halt the carriage in front of the Bow Street Runner headquarters at the Bow Street Magistrates' Court, #3 and #4 Bow Street, Covent Garden, Westminster, a four-storied terrace house.
The summer was the coolest he could recall, and he missed the relative warmth of the carriage as soon as he exited the conveyance. As he walked into the building, Nathaniel wondered if the veterans were missing because of who they were or because someone wanted to harm the registry. Were the abductions aimed at him or Ashford? Or both?
Could Lord Norwich be involved? Perhaps his prospective employee was abducted so suspicion wouldn’t fall on the earl.
Nathaniel looked into the magistrate’s court but a second. His contact was one of the runners observing clerks standing at the bar below the dais of the magistrate, clerks surrounded by criminals of every sort.
The runner in question looked up and caught his eye. Nathaniel raised a hand in greeting, turned, and made his way back out of the building.
He crossed the cobblestone road to the inn at #34, the Russian Hotel, also known as the Brown Bear Inn. He ordered two pints from the none too clean barmaid and settled in to wait. Not ten minutes later, by a look at his pocket watch, his runner contact strolled into the building.
Black Jack Henley was a legend among the runners, a man who had worked his way from the foot patrol in blue coats and trousers, red waistcoats, and black felt hats up to a plain-clothes runner.
“Harbury.”
“Jack.”
The man was seated and took a long swallow of his beer. Nathaniel had managed merely a sip. It was terrible.
“I imagine you want to speak to me about the missing veteran.” The man raised a brow.
He sighed. “Veterans.”
Jack finished his drink with another long swallow. “I wondered if that was the right of it. Thereisa rumor.”
“There have been two disappearances so far.” He pushed his tankard across the table to Jack. “If it were wartime, I would suspect pressgangs.”
“That would be your area. The navy has no qualms in taking a man from his home and family.” The runner scowled into his empty tankard, pushed it to one side, and placed Nathaniel’s tankard in front of him.
Jack had escaped from such a pressgang. Nathaniel hadn’t agreed with the tactics of violently recruiting men for the navy, but it had been legal. He’d watched Jack escape from the HMSSt. Georgeand never said a word. Now, the man was in a position to help Nathaniel.
“Have you heard of any recent kidnappings in London? I’m not sure who would want these men. They have neither fortune nor connections, and we haven’t found a link to either gambling debts or moneylenders.”
“There have been no rumors or reports of kidnapping gangs in London. What say Lord Wycliffe? I thought he had a hand in every pie.” The man took a long pull of his beer.
“He does, but whoever is behind these disappearances is being careful. Cecil believes the RA wants to avoid the recent publicity of the incident in Hyde Park.”
