Page 31 of A Mayfair Maid

“What of Lord Edward?” she offered next. “It was clear they were lovers. Perhaps he was filling her pockets in order to preserve the lady’s attention.”

“No, again,” Mr. Crowley sighed. “He receives his income from his father, well, now his brother. Even if he did give her every bit of it, I am sure it is nowhere near the amount that she has been producing. Unless he has hidden accounts of which I am unaware.”

“What more can be done?” Marilee asked. They seemed to have so much information but no proof. It was disheartening.

“The rookery is the key,” he grumbled. “I just know it. If only I could figure out which bawdy house she is using, I think I could tie her to the profits. Whores are not usually known for their discretion, but there are hundreds in London alone. It could take years for me to narrow it down.”

“Hundreds?” Peggy groaned. “Years?”

“And that is only the ones I know about, even if they present as legitimate clubs by day.” Nick raked his fingers through his hair and Marilee smiled at the disheveled state that they left in their wake. She could almost imagine him as a boy when he was mussed like that. Suddenly, she wanted to do the same; to run her fingers though those silky locks and feel the softness of his hair.

She caught Peggy watching her with a knowing grin and turned to look out the window instead, the heat of a blush filling her face.

“I’ve had the house watched for anyone going between here and a brothel but so far, nothing. The same with this James. Either he is extremely fleet of foot or he has not returned in recent days.” Again, he sighed. Then, he leaned forward with his elbows pressed into his knees and his fingertips tapping a rhythm against one another. “Have there been any new maids recently?” he asked.

Marilee shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”

“She’s getting them somehow, but it’s not direct.”

“Perhaps they make a connection at the market,” Peggy suggested. “The footman goes every morning to fill a list.”

He shook his head. “I’ve had him watched. He buys what he needs and returns. He flirts with the butcher’s daughter, but my man says its innocent and they never pass anything between. Besides,” he continued, “I’ve known that butcher for years and he’s not got a crooked bone in his body. A hard worker and he would never allow his daughter to get caught up in such things.”

Marilee found that she was chewing her lip.

“We’ll have to keep looking,” Peggy stated with determination. “Until then, we keep adding names to our list of girls and you keep searching for their families. When this all goes to hell, they’ll hopefully be able to go home.”

“First names rarely give me a lot to go on,” Nick replied, pressing Marilee’s reluctance to tell him her surname. Little did he know, that she had not given him her true Christian name either. Perhaps she should.

Mr. Crowley continued speaking. “I’ve made a collection through my contact at the runners of known missing persons and some of them may match but I cannot be sure until we might ask the girls themselves.”

“They could have been using false names as well,” Marilee murmured. How true it was. Her own name, Kate, was a lie, though their captors thought it true for the time being. She suspected that they had meant to give her a second false identity, but the Madam had been too hurried to ship her out to think of it. Or, perhaps there was simply no need as the girls were never allowed out of the house and therefore identification was a moot point. So, she had kept Kate, which would not help the baron or anyone in Northwick to find her.

“Did they change your names?” he asked, looking first to Peggy who shook her head and then to Marilee who hesitated and then did the same. “Well, we have fifteen names to start though I would wager that is only the beginning.”

“Do you think you will be able to find all of their families?” Peggy’s voice was wistful. If he could place the girls back in their homes, then he could certainly find her son.

“If the girls are forthcoming, then there is a fair shot,” he nodded.

“You look tired,” Kate smiled over at the man who must have been working himself to death. Between his business dealings and the intrigue of Blackwell house, he might only manage a few hours of sleep a night.

“I am tired,” he sighed. “But it is no matter.”

“Why don’t you take Kate for a walk in the garden?” Peggy suggested and Marilee realized that this is where Peggy had been leading him all along. “She has not been out for fresh air even once since you convinced Mrs. Cavendish to allow it and the cool air would do her coloring some good.”

Marilee shook her head, but Nikolas was already standing and offering her his hand.

“Not even once?” he pressed.

Marilee groaned. She did not even try to hide it. “We have so much work to do,” she delayed with a gesture toward the linens.

“Nonsense,” Peggy swatted at her hand. “These loads must soak through the night. There is nothing else to be done but twiddle our thumbs, and if you don’t mind, I’d like an early night.”

“I should sleep too.” Marilee knew she was grasping at straws.

“You do not sleep even when you lay in bed,” Peggy countered. “And look, you’ve offended our dear friend.”

Nick did not look offended in the least. He looked amused. He was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort and efforts to wheedle out of being alone with him.

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