by Laura Beers
“That is true.”
“Furthermore, you are a marquess and require an heir,” Oliver said. “How are you going to accomplish that feat if you are traipsing all over England and Europe?”
“It matters not, especially since you are my heir.”
Oliver shook his head. “I don’t want to be your heir. I have no intentions of ever marrying.”
“Why is that?”
A haunted look came into Oliver’s eyes. “A lot has changed since you left.”
Before Baldwin could ask his brother what he meant by that, the door to the drawing room opened and his mother stepped into the room.
“The water for your bath is being prepared as we speak,” his mother announced in a cheerful tone. “Would you care to retire to your bedchamber?”
Baldwin rose from the settee. “That sounds delightful.”
“I also took it upon myself to inform Pratt that you were home, and he will notify the staff,” his mother shared.
Baldwin came to a stop at the door and gestured his mother through first. As they stepped into the entry hall, Pratt approached them and bowed. “It is good to see you, milord.”
Baldwin acknowledged the fastidious butler with a tip of his head. “Likewise, Pratt.”
“I have sent Stevens up to act as your valet,” Pratt said. “Do you require anything else?”
“Yes. A man will be coming by the servants’ entrance in the coming days to inquire about work, and I want you to hire him.”
“Does he have any qualifications?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask,” Baldwin replied frankly. “Furthermore, I want you to reimburse him for his travel expenses.”
Pratt lifted his brow, but wisely did not say anything on the matter. “Yes, milord. I will see to it.”
“See that you do, and report back to me when the man has been situated.”
His mother gave him a curious look and asked, “What is this man to you?”
“He attempted to rob me earlier.”
“And you wish to employ him?” his mother questioned.
“I do,” Baldwin replied. “He was just desperate to feed his family and couldn’t see any other way.”
“And how did you know that?”
“I could see it in his eyes,” Baldwin admitted plainly.
His mother arched an eyebrow. “How is that possible?”
“Because eyes never lie, Mother,” Baldwin said. “You must remember that.”
“I will make note of it.” His mother gestured towards the stairs. “Let’s get you bathed and fed. I have requested Mrs. Hutchings to prepare supper for you.”
“Thank you for seeing to that.”
“It is my pleasure.”
As Baldwin walked up the stairs, he knew that he should feel elated at being home, but uneasiness had settled about him instead.
Chapter Three
“Do you mind if I go shopping today?” Mrs. Foster asked as she sat across the table in the dining room.
“Not at all,” Madalene replied, reaching for her cup of chocolate.
“You could always come with me.”
“I would rather not.”
Mrs. Foster smiled kindly. “I have never met a woman who was so opposed to shopping as you.”
“I only shop when the situation warrants it.” Madalene returned her cup to the saucer and picked up a piece of toast from her plate. “You will miss my boxing lesson,” she added.
“I find it rather odd that you enjoy such a barbaric sport.”
“It keeps me nimble and healthy.”
With a shake of her head, Mrs. Foster reached for her fork and said, “Be sure to have a footman near you during your lessons.”
“I always do.”
Mrs. Foster took a bite of her food and chewed thoughtfully. “Will you be calling on your friend from boarding school while we are here in Town?”
Madalene brushed the crumbs off her hands before saying, “I intend to. I will send a letter to Lady Jane today.”
“I always think it is a treat to see a dear friend.”
“I agree,” Madalene said. “Jane and I were exceptionally close during our time at Miss Bell’s.”
Mrs. Foster glanced over at the footman standing near the door and lowered her voice. “Don’t you find it rather peculiar that her brother, Lord Hawthorne, hasn’t been seen in polite Society for three years?”
“I do not.”
“Many speculate that he is dead.”
Shrugging, Madalene said, “I care not what the gossipmongers say, and you shouldn’t either.”
“Perhaps he is an invalid and can’t get out of bed?” Mrs. Foster mused.
“Or he is perfectly well and abhors Society.”
Mrs. Foster shook her head. “That can’t possibly be it. A marquess can’t abhor Society.”
“Whyever not?”
“It just simply isn’t done.”
Madalene laughed. “I daresay your argument is rather faulty,” she teased.
“It is entirely too early in the morning to argue with you,” Mrs. Foster said amusedly, placing her fork on her plate.
The butler stepped into the room. “Mr. Payne has arrived, Miss,” he announced. “He is waiting for you on the lawn.”
“Thank you, Graham,” Madalene acknowledged as she pushed her chair back.
“Do be careful,” Mrs. Foster remarked. “After your last boxing lesson, you had bruises on your arms that we had to conceal with powder.”
“I will be mindful of that.”
Madalene exited the room and stopped at a table in the entry hall to pick up her mufflers. The padded gloves helped her greatly during her boxing lessons. She headed towards the rear of the townhouse and a footman opened the door for her. He discreetly followed her outside and stood guard.
“Miss Dowding,” Mr. Payne greeted in a pleasant tone as he put his own mufflers on.
Madalene stopped a short distance away and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Payne.” She took a moment to study her young, slender teacher. He was dressed in a brown jacket with a matching waistcoat and buff trousers. She always thought he looked deucedly uncomfortable as he sparred with her.
“Put your mufflers on, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Payne ordered.
Slipping her hands into the padded gloves, Madalene motioned to the footman, who quickly tied the strings to secure them onto her hands before returning to his post.
“Are you ready to start your boxing lesson?” Mr. Payne asked as he punched his two tan mufflers together.
“I am.”
“Good,” Mr. Payne said. “Adopt the proper posture, please.”
Madalene set her body by placing her shoulders forward, slightly bending her knees and bringing her fists up.
Mr. Payne nodded approvingly. “That is good,” he declared. “Now, I want you to hit me as hard as you can.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” she attempted.
“Hit me,” he ordered.
In a swift motion, Madalene brought her fist up and hit him squarely in the jaw, causing him to stagger back.
Mr. Payne looked at her in surprise. “That was an impressive blow,” he said as he brought his muffler up to rub his reddened jaw. “You must be practicing at your country estate.”
“I have been.”
“Well, I won’t be underestimating you again, that is for sure.” Mr. Payne walked closer to her and stopped.
Madalene gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“This is boxing,” Mr. Payne said. “You don’t apologize for a well-timed blow.” He brought his mufflers back up. “Are you ready for round two?”
“I am.”
They continued to spar on the lawn until the sun was high in the sky. Madalene felt the sweat trickle down her back as she blocked his blows and returned a few of her own.
Mr. Payne put his gloves up and stepped back. “I believe our lesson is over,” he announced, his breathing labored.
“Must it be?”
Chuckling, Mr. Payne said, “You have become an admirable opponent, Miss Dowding.”
“That is kind of you to say.” Madalene motioned again to the footman, who untied the strings of her mufflers, and she removed them from her hands.
“There is nothing kind about it,” Mr. Payne pressed. “It is merely the truth.”
Another footman approached them with a tray in his hands and extended it towards them. Madalene accepted a glass of water and took a long, lingering sip.
“How long do you anticipate being in Town?” Mr. Payne asked as he removed his mufflers.
“Only for a few more days.”
“Would you care for another lesson before you depart?”
Madalene placed her empty glass back onto the tray. “I would, very much so,” she replied eagerly.
“In two days’ time, then?”
“That would be delightful.”
With a slight bow, Mr. Payne said, “Good day, Miss Dowding.”
She tipped her head in response. “Good day, Mr. Payne.”
The words had barely left her mouth when the butler approached and announced, “Mr. Walker is here to see you, Miss.”
“Will you show him into the drawing room?”
“As you wish,” Graham replied before rushing off to do her bidding.
Pointing towards the townhouse, Madalene asked her boxing instructor, “Would you care to exit out the main door this time?”
Mr. Payne shook his head. “I shall depart through the back fence, assuming you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “Whatever is most convenient for you.”
With a parting smile, Mr. Payne turned and started walking towards the back fence. She couldn’t help but smile when she heard him whistling a jaunty tune.
Madalene headed towards her townhouse and extended her mufflers to the waiting footman. She found herself curious as to why her solicitor had decided to call upon her. Did I forget about an appointment, she wondered.
Stopping at a large oval mirror in the entry hall, Madalene saw that her face was still flushed, and tendrils had escaped her tight chignon. She tucked the locks of brown hair behind her ears and smoothed down her pale blue cotton gown.
“Oh, dear,” she muttered under her breath, “I’m afraid it won’t get much better than this.” She didn’t dare take the time to go change; that would make Mr. Walker wait entirely too long.
Madalene stepped into the drawing room and saw her stout solicitor staring out the window, his hands behind his back. He was wearing a plain grey suit with matching trousers and his brown hair was combed neatly to the side.
“Good morning, Mr. Walker,” she greeted politely.
Dropping his arms, Mr. Walker turned to face her with a frown on his face. “Good morning, Miss Dowding,” he responded curtly.
“Whatever is wrong?”
His frown intensified. “There is no easy way to say this.” He paused. “Miss Hardy is missing.”
“Missing?” she gasped as her hand covered her mouth.
“I’m afraid so.”
Madalene walked over to the settee and lowered herself down onto it. “When did this happen?”
Taking a step closer to her, Mr. Walker explained, “Miss Hardy was noticeably absent this morning, and Miss Gaillard took it upon herself to visit the headmistress’ room. When she arrived, she discovered that the room was in disarray, and Miss Hardy was nowhere to be found.”
“Was the constable notified?”
Mr. Walker nodded. “He was, and the constable suspects foul play. He believes the room was ransacked.”
Pursing her lips together, Madalene murmured, “Poor Edith.”
“After the constable left, I came here directly to tell you the horrific news,” Mr. Walker said, his voice saddened. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”
“I appreciate that.”
“With your permission, I would like to hire a Bow Street Runner to run a parallel investigation into Miss Hardy’s disappearance.”
“Please do,” Madalene remarked firmly. “What else can we do?”
Mr. Walker gave her a sad smile. “Frankly, I am not sure there is anything else we can do. The constable will do his due diligence and investigate this case, but his workload is great. Hence the need for a Bow Street Runner.”
“How soon do you think it will take before the Bow Street Runner will take the case?”
“Hopefully, straight away, but there is a chance it might take a few days before they truly start investigating,” Mr. Walker replied.
“That won’t do,” Madalene mused. “Has anyone spoken to her family yet?”
“I hadn’t realized that Miss Hardy had any family,” Mr. Walker said, giving her an odd look.
Madalene nodded. “She isn’t entirely forthcoming about them.”
“Do you know where they are residing?” Mr. Walker asked. “I would be happy to notify them myself.”
“I do,” Madalene replied, wincing. “But I daresay Miss Hardy would be furious if I revealed where they are living.”
Mr. Walker lifted his brow in disbelief. “Miss Hardy is missing. Why would it matter if anyone discovered where her family is residing?”
“I can’t explain the reasons without betraying her trust,” Madalene explained.
Mr. Walker wiped his hand over his mouth, the disapproval evident on his features. “A woman’s life is at risk, Miss Dowding. I am surprised that you would do something to hamper the investigation.”
“Perhaps I could go speak to Mrs. Hardy and her daughter and ask them to seek out the constable directly,” Madalene suggested.
Frowning, Mr. Walker said, “That seems like rather a foolhardy thing to do.”
“I disagree,” Madalene replied, coming to her decision. “I shall go speak to them immediately.” She rose from the settee.
“With all due respect, Miss, I believe we should let the constable and Bow Street Runner handle this case,” Mr. Walker stated.
“If nothing comes from seeking out Mrs. Hardy, then I will notify you at once of their location,” she said, her voice firm.
“As you wish, Miss Dowding.” He bowed. “I will be awaiting word from you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walker.”
After her solicitor had departed from the room, she walked out into the entry hall and saw Graham standing next to the staircase.
“Has Mrs. Foster already left to do her shopping?” Madalene inquired.
“Yes, Miss,” Graham confirmed.
Drat! It was evident that she was going to have to do this errand by herself.
“I have an errand to run,” Madalene explained, “will you ensure the coach is brought around to the front?”
Graham bobbed his head. “As you wish.”
Madalene glanced down at her gown. Fortunately, this gown was perfect for her errand. It would garner much less attention than her afternoon gowns. Now she just had to have her lady’s maid fix her hair.
Her plan was simple. Go to Floyd’s Coffeehouse and speak to Mrs. Hardy about her daughter’s disappearance. With any luck, Edith would be with them and this whole mess would be sorted out.
The sun may have been high in the sky outside, but the inside of Floyd’s Coffeehouse was dimly lit by sconces fastened to the wall. Baldwin sat with his back against the wall and watched as the patrons flocked in and out of the establishment. Some were dressed in raggedy coats and others in the finest clothing, but they were all seated at the same round tables. Despite this, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he rooted out the radicals. That, he was sure of.
Coffeehouse conversation always seemed to conform to a specific manner. Politeness was essential to the conduct of debate and conversation, thus hoping to keep out the undesirables. If people did not conform to the unwritten rules, then they would be asked to leave, never to return again.
Most of the conversations centered around fashion and politics, and he had yet to hear anyt
hing that was suspect or traitorous.
An older woman with faded red hair sashayed up to him with an empty tray in her hands. “Can I get ye anything to eat, love?”
Baldwin smiled politely at the woman, never knowing when she might become useful to his investigation. “No, thank you. But could I get another cup of coffee?”
“This is yer third cup,” the woman said, leaning closer to him. “Ye must really be enjoying our coffee.”
“It is true,” he said as he picked up his cup and extended it towards her.
“We also serve food, and it is nearly midday.”
“Perhaps after my next cup I will order something to eat.”
The woman glanced at the empty chairs next to him. “Are ye expecting someone?”
“I am not.”
Glancing over at the next table when they burst into laughter, she asked, “Why not join their lively conversation, then?”
“I prefer to be alone.” He reached into his pocket and removed a few coins. “Will you ensure that no one is seated next to me?” he asked as he extended her the coins.
The woman looked down at the coins and her eyes grew wide. “Yes, Mister.”
“Thank you,” he said. “What is your name?”
“Sarah,” she replied as she deposited the coins into the pocket of her white apron.
Baldwin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “What a beautiful name.”
A rosy blush came to her cheeks as she averted her gaze from his.
“If I was to join a conversation,” he began, “which one do you suppose I should join?”
Sarah pressed her lips together before saying, “The table in the corner is discussing the skirmish over in America, the table next to it is discussing Prinny’s excessive debts, and the one next to ye is discussing the merits of workhouses.”
“I’m afraid those subjects are of little interest to me.”
Leaning closer, Sarah lowered her voice and said, “At night, a group of men come in to discuss things that are much more serious in nature.”
“Such as?”
“The state of the government and whatnot.”
Baldwin put his hand up. “I am not interested in doing anything illegal.”