Page 41 of Choosing Her Earl at Last
“Afraid? Afraid of what?” Michael demanded to know his own suspicions growing.
“Before Martha disappeared, she had been acting strangely for months. I finally cornered her and demanded that she tell me what was wrong. She said that she had been working for a new employer in exchange for help with her family’s needs. She said that he was an important and violent man. She told me that I could not tell anyone about it.”
“Who was this man?” Michael could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising in trepidation.
“She only knew him as Mr. G. She never gave me any other names.”
“How long ago did she begin working for Mr. G?”
“Six months ago,” the woman answered.
Michael tightened his grip on Colin’s shoulder. “Is this Mr. G a man of criminal means?”
The woman nodded her head. “I was afraid that if I went to the magistrate about Martha that Mr. G would kill me. Martha said that he had people in high places protecting him and that if I spoke to anyone about what she had told me that he would have me killed.”
She looked over her shoulder as if she were afraid that the man would walk right through the back door and drive a dagger through her heart. “I am in danger just speaking with the two of you, but I am so very scared for Martha and what she may have gotten herself into.”
Michael gritted his teeth. If a man was willing to kill a woman for even saying his name, would he think twice about killing Rebecca if she became too much of a complication for him?
“Did Miss Rebecca ever meet with this man when she was with Martha?”
The seamstress shook her head. “I do not know, but not that I am aware of. I cannot imagine that Martha would have introduced a lady such as Miss Rebecca to a criminal like that.”
“And yet, they both disappeared the night of the Vauxhall Garden concert,” Michael replied, his voice as cold as stone as a chill rippled down his spine.
The seamstress’s eyes widened, her pulse fluttering frantically beneath the skin of her neck. “You do not think…” Her voice caught in her throat, cutting off her words.
“I do,” Michael gave a sharp nod. “You need to tell me everything that you know about Martha Gouldsmith, Mr. G, and Miss Rebecca Frampton.”
The seamstress began speaking, words tumbling over each other, telling them of Martha’s family, how she came to work with the seamstress, and then Mr. G.
As she spoke, Michael could not help but notice that Martha’s story was one of sacrifice for the sake of her family, just as his own mother had pointed out to him about Emmeline. When she had concluded her tale, Michael looked the woman dead in the eyes. “Where can I find Mr. G?”
“You do not wish to go there,” the seamstress shook her head vehemently. “It is too dangerous. The likes of you, rich and titled as you are, will not survive, my lord. The men there are all criminals who will beat you to death and take all that you possess.”
“Where?” Michael repeated, his voice firm, steady, and leaving no room for refusal.
Fear caused the woman’s lower lip to tremble. “I will not be held responsible for what becomes of you. I wash my hands of the both of you.”
“Understood,” Michael reassured her. “Now tell me. Where is Mr. G?”
“He runs his criminal empire through the Green Dragon Tavern, but no one can know that I told you,” she warned.
“You have my word that your name will not be spoken.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, her body sagging in weariness from the exchange. “Please bring Martha and Miss Rebecca home safely.”
Michael nodded. “I will do all in my power to see it done, but I cannot promise that Martha will be free from the law,” he warned.
“I understand.” The seamstress nodded. “I just wish to know that she is still alive.”
Michael understood. “I will have word sent to you if I find her.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The woman came forward and kissed the signet ring on his hand as a commoner might have done in years past when petitioning a king. The action made him feel uneasy, but he brushed it off. He gave the woman a nod of gratitude for her help, then left the shop.
As he and Colin stepped out into the street, Colin gave Michael a side-eyed look. “What do you think? Is she telling the truth about Martha Gouldsmith acting under duress for the sake of her family?”
Michael nodded. “I do. Something she said echoed my own mother’s words as to Emmeline’s actions.”
