Page 66 of Tender Blackguard

“Not at all,” Lark interrupted. “You’re right to get away. Men like Dryden...can’t always be fought through honorable means. Not when they use their wealth and privilege to protect themselves from proper justice.”

“Thank you for understanding. But it’s just as we’ve always dreamed, Lark. A country cottage, away from the city.” Her eyes widened on a gasp, and she glanced to her new husband before looking back to Lark. “You should come with us.”

Before Harriet even finished the statement, Lark was shaking her head.

“Oh, you must. I don’t know how I’ll survive being so far away from you.”

“That’s totally ridiculous and you know it,” Lark replied firmly. “You have your husband now. And you’ll be far too busy being happy to even think of me. But even if I could leave London, I wouldn’t want to. Not right now.” She glanced down for a second before meeting her friend’s curious gaze. “There’s something important I must do.”

Harriet knew better than to argue, so she nodded and squeezed Lark’s hand. “Be careful,” she whispered. “And get away from this neighborhood as soon as you can. Then come visit me in Suffolk.”

“I will,” Lark said with a smile. “Promise.”

The women rose to their feet and embraced. It might be years before they saw each other again. Months at the very least. But Harriet was safe and happy and that was all that mattered.

Still, knowing exactly how close Harriet had been to becoming a victim of the same wickedness perpetuated against the marquess’s mother filled Lark with renewed purpose.

Though she was tempted to watch as Dr. and Mrs. Kirby drove away, dawn was not far away, and she’d soon have to start her duties as housekeeper. Yet, as she began to slip back through the night, an impulse claimed her, and she suddenly changed direction.

Dryden House was quiet and still. The servants who’d been left to manage the place in the family’s absence all slept on the third floor. She intended to be in and out again before any of them awoke.

Gratefully, her tools were still in the pocket of her trousers, and she made quick work of the garden door. With silent steps, she made her way through the house, peeking into rooms until she found the one she wanted.

The gentleman’s study.

After ensuring the drapes were all closed and the door was secured behind her, she lit a single candle. Then she began her search. She wasn’t exactly looking for anything specific, just trusted she’d know if she came across something pertinent to his involvement in the marquess’s investigations. She’d told the man she could help, and that’s what she’d do, whether he wanted her to or not.

When she began leafing through a leather portfolio containing information on various estate holdings and investments, a tingle of anticipation danced along her nerves. Then, nearly halfway through the documentation, she came upon a bill of sale dated several years prior for a piece of property located on a small street off Drury Lane in Covent Garden.

Lark knew the street well. At one time, it had been the site of an open market, but too much thievery and rowdy crowds had eventually shut it down. To make use of the space, developers put up a row of small warehouses with offices in front, but the venture didn’t pan out well, and last she knew, most of the buildings sat empty.

Except this one, perhaps.

She reviewed the paperwork carefully. It appeared Dryden put quite a bit of money into the property after his initial purchase. An odd investment for a lord of Mayfair, to say the least.

The marketplace.

That’s where Dryden had said he’d intended to take Harriet. Where he might have taken any number of other girls. A place where no one would hear their screams.

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