by Wendy Vella
“My uncle was his friend, and I was staying at his estate keeping Cousin Elizabeth company while her parents threw one of their debauchery parties.” Nick’s eyes rose to the ceiling as he spoke. “I remember looking out her bedroom window and watching the Duke and a woman step from a carriage. Beth told me it was the Duke of Marlton and his mistress, Miss Radley.”
“Radley is not a terribly common name. However, I’m sure there is more than one in London, so I’m not sure how you leaped from mistress to the connection with the Miss Radley who visited here,” Marcus said.
“The mistress had a child, a daughter, and he took her into his household, as he had no other children,” Nick said.
“Good Lord, did he?” Jacob shook his head. “The Duke is known for his debauchery and misdeeds, rather than acts of kindness.”
Nick nodded. “True, the man’s a pig, but the mistress begged him, from what I gather. So he acknowledged the child, and if memory serves, later betrothed her to Squire Lorne and then just months before the wedding, she ran away. The Duke was enraged, apparently disinherited her. Lorne bandied it about she wasn't right in the head and beneath him, being a by-blow, and went on to marry some eighteen-year-old debutante."
"What happened to her then?" Marcus felt sick at the prospect of Miss Radley wed to sixty-year-old Squire Lorne, if indeed she was the woman in question.
"No one knows. She just vanished, but I remember hearing a rumor that some distant aunt had taken her in, but that was never substantiated."
“What about the mother?”
“Oh, she died when the child was young. Apparently, she lived on the Duke’s estate and the duchess allowed this as she didn’t want the Duke’s lecherous intentions turned on her.”
“How the hell do you find out this information?” Leo questioned Nick.
“I have a memory, as you know, that does not let go of any fact no matter how insignificant. For some reason, people also tell me things.”
“What is her first name?" Marcus asked.
“Who?” Nick looked at him.
“The Miss Radley I saw tonight, if indeed she is the Duke’s wayward daughter.
"Charlotte, I believe.”
“How long ago did she leave the Duke?”
“Seven years I believe.”
Marcus mulled over what Nick had told him as his friends talked. Charlotte. The name suited her, and if she were the Duke’s daughter, it would explain why she spoke as she did. He would know more when he called on her tomorrow; for now, he and his friends had a plan to form.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eight hours later, he stepped down from his carriage at the end of a narrow lane.
“Return in an hour, Ben,” he told his driver.
Marcus knew that this lane held two brothels, one at each end, with a gambling den a ten-minute walk away. The thought of Miss Radley living here made the hair on his neck stand upright. How the hell had she survived, surrounded by prostitutes, criminals, and thieves?
Vile smells and refuse greeted him as he walked. The buildings rose high on either side, making the narrow lane dark even as the sun shone.
“Good day,” he said as a woman leaned over the railing to look down on him, her breasts nearly falling out of her bodice.
“Come looking for a bit of fun, lovely?”
“I’m seeking the residence of Miss Radley, ma’am.”
“What do you want with Charlotte?”
The woman’s words were the confirmation Marcus needed that Miss Radley was indeed the Duke of Marlton’s daughter.
“I am a friend, and she is in need of my help.” Marcus stopped to look up at the woman.
“I’m trying to bloody sleep, Nancy, shut your gabbing.”
Marcus nodded to the second woman who appeared beside the first. This one had black hair and wore a silk chemise and nothing else.
“Ooooh, hello, my lovely,” the woman called down to him.
“He’s here to see Charlotte.”
“Why?” Like the first, suddenly the second woman was no longer friendly.
“She’s a friend and in need of my help,” Marcus said again.
“Well, you mind you look out for her because she’s a special lady that one, even though there’s some who think she ain't. Lives at twenty-two, she does, you keep walking, and you’ll find it.”
“Thank you, ladies.” He bowed deeply, making them giggle.
“Watch those boots, my lovely, it’s filthy underfoot.”
“I will, and thank you again.”
Marcus felt eyes on him as he walked, but kept his pace even. He had his walking stick with a blade inside should he need it. Stopping at a tall narrow residence, he saw the number 22 on the dark-paneled door. The building was old and worn, in need of a coat of paint and the replacement of several boards. Windows were cracked, and he could still smell the stench of the manure Miss Radley had claimed was hurled on her doorstep. The entire lane was bleak and unwelcoming, and Marcus grappled with the fact that she had chosen to live there of all places. Lifting his walking stick, he rapped it twice on the front door.
"Hello."
"Good day, Fred," Marcus said to the boy he had met in the early hours of the morning. “I wish to speak with Miss Radley, please."
"She's up there." The boy gave him a wary look before pointing to the stairs. "It’s family time and Charlotte likes anyone who comes to sit at the table, so turn left when you reach the top."
"Thank you," Marcus said, following the boy’s hand.
“And will you not be joining family time, Fred?”
"I had my tea, and now I got errands to run,” he said, walking out the open door and closing it behind him.
Taking the stairs, Marcus looked around the dark walls as he climbed. It was as uninviting as the outside, and cold. As he climbed, he heard the hum of voices grow louder. At the top, he turned left, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm as he reached the door from behind which the noise was coming. He knocked and waited. Knocking again when no one answered, Marcus didn't wait any longer, instead turning the handle. He opened the door and stopped on the threshold.
This room was painted white, and around the walls were bright pictures. The floors had scattered rag rugs. Unlike the entrance and the façade, this room felt homely. His eyes fell on a large table around which four people sat, three women and Miss Radley, with an infant in her lap.
Her hair was a deep brown and lay in a single thick braid across one shoulder. She was smiling at the infant she was feeding what looked to be a slice of bread and jam. She sat there in a drab gray dress while around her the other women wore bright, gaudy colors. Their bodices were low, lips painted in vivid colors, and she looked sweet and pure. Where the hell did that thought come from? Marcus had no idea.
"Miss Radley.” Suddenly, he was the focus of everyone’s attention.
“Lord Needly!” She quickly handed the infant to the person closest and rose to greet him. “Do you have news?”
Her eyes were gray and circled with rings of black beneath the sweep of dark feathered brows.
“Yes, I have news.”
“So soon? Surely you have been up all night investigating?”
“Not all night.”
“Let me introduce you to Miss Dolly, Miss Samantha, and Miss Henrietta, Lord Needly.” She waved her hand at each woman as she introduced them.
Marcus bowed and acknowledged the women, sure he had never been introduced to prostitutes in such a formal manner before.
“Have you found Molly and Helen?” one of the women said.
“Not as yet,” Marcus said. “Is there anything you ladies can tell me that may help with the search?”
“Did she tell you that they tried to take her?” The woman who had spoken was looking at Miss Radley.
“No, she didn’t tell me that,” Marcus said, doing the same.
“Because it was not connected, Dolly,” Miss Radley said. “You ladies watch the baby please, while I take Lor
d Needly to the office. I shall return soon.”
“Take your time, Miss Radley, I’m sure I would,” one of the women said, winking at him.
“That will do, Samantha, thank you,” Miss Radley said, pouring a cup of tea. “Do you take milk?”
“Thank you.” He nodded, wondering who had tried to take her.
“I fear we are out of sugar, perhaps some honey to sweeten it?”
“No, just milk, thank you.”
She lifted the cup and a plate on which she placed two scones that had his mouth watering, and then she was walking from the room with Marcus on her heels.
He thought that her dress had once been in style, but that was some years ago. The bodice was snug over her breasts and worn at the hem and cuffs, which were a few inches too short. The toes of her black boots were worn, and no matter how much polish she applied, there was no disguising the scuff marks. She’d tied a black piece of wool around the end of the long thick braid that hung to her waist.
“We shall find a few minutes’ peace in here, Lord Needly.”
He found himself in a bedroom, much to his surprise. The bed was narrow and neatly made with a blanket of many knitted squares of colored wool. There was a small chair beside it with a book and lamp, and a cabinet held a brush and mirror. Miss Radley kept walking, and he realized there was a door at the end of the room, and it was in there she led him.
“My office,” she said, waving him into a seat.
Also small, it had no window and was the size of his dressing room and equally as dark. She placed the tea and scones before him and then sat in the chair behind a worn desk upon which papers were stacked. He watched her fingers fiddle with the lamp and then there was light.
“Please tell me what you have learned, Lord Needly.”
She was beautiful, Marcus realized, even dressed in the shabby clothes and lacking the extra pounds that were needed to reach a healthy weight. Her face was delicate, her lips forming a perfect pout, and the thought of her in the hands of Squire Lorne was not a pleasant one.
“My colleagues and I have received information confirming your belief that girls are indeed being taken off the streets of London.”
“Did you doubt me, Lord Needly?” Her chin rose with her words.
“No, Miss Radley, I did not doubt you. If I had, I would never have considered letting the Lords of Night Street start investigating.”
She had the grace to look ashamed, but did not lower her eyes.
“Of course, please forgive me.”
“Perhaps in future I suggest you attempt to trust me, Miss Radley; it will make this investigation move along.”
She hesitated before reluctantly nodding. “I shall try.”
“Now, I would like to know who attempted to abduct you and why you did not think it something worth telling me.” Marcus reached for a scone as Miss Radley fell silent. “If you do not tell me, then I will ask one of the women seated in your parlor.”
Her finger tapped on the desktop impatiently for a few seconds, and a line formed between her eyebrows. “It has no bearing on the missing girls, my lord.”
“How can you know that?”
She dropped her eyes. “I just do.”
“Not a good enough answer I’m afraid, Miss Radley. Therefore, I must insist on another.”
She lifted her chin, and his eyes went to the dark bruise marring her pale skin. He would like to track down the man who gave her that and mete out some justice.
“A few weeks ago, Fred and I were returning from the markets when a carriage pulled alongside. The door opened, and I thought perhaps those within wanted directions. When I drew near, a man grabbed me.”
Marcus watched her swallow, and the finger tapped faster.
“I screamed, Fred leaped forward. Between us, we fought the man off, and the carriage door shut and then it fled.”
“Did you contact the authorities?”
“Lord Needly, the authorities believe I am a woman of little sense or worth, whose sole purpose in life should be to stitch, cook, and clean for a man. The fact that I live here is bad enough, but that I would actively take an interest in women who prostitute themselves to survive beggars belief. Therefore, I think it safe to say that had I been abducted they would have been quite happy with that fact.”
Marcus wondered what it would be like to have all that passion centered on him.
“Furthermore, the constabulary do not have the time or men to investigate the disappearance of a few prostitutes when there are other more important crimes, to their mind, needing their attention. Having approached them, and been sent on my way, I am fully aware of how they feel about the matter.”
“You may have a point, but had they the time and men available, I believe they would have started a search. My friends and I often have dealings with the constabulary and find them helpful.”
“And because you’re titled, wealthy, and a man, you are deserving of their attentions, Lord Needly. Do not try and convince me otherwise.” Her gray eyes snapped sparks at him from across the desktop, and he had the foolish urge to haul her over it and ravish her.
“Surely you do not hold a grudge against every titled man and member of the constabulary, Miss Radley?”
“Neither holds a favorable place in my esteem, my lord, and since living here, I have seen nothing to change that opinion.”
“And yet it is to noblemen you turned to for help?”
She didn’t drop her eyes or looked chastened, just held his gaze steadily, and he felt his admiration for the woman grow.
“Desperation forces us to do often what we would rather not.”
Marcus had the feeling that he could sit there and argue with her for hours and never win a point. He also believed he would enjoy every minute. She was refreshing in her honesty, and no simpering miss who would agree with his every word. He wasn’t about to acknowledge she was right and that men, especially some noblemen, did treat woman as beneath them. Marcus had a feeling that giving in to this woman would be to his detriment.
“Could you identify the man who attempted to abduct you?” A surge of anger rushed through Marcus at the thought of her struggling for release from whomever was in that carriage.
“He wore a scarf tied around the lower half of his face.” She’d lowered her eyes, which suggested she wasn’t telling him the complete truth.
“And you think there is no connection with the prostitutes’ disappearances because you are not of the same profession, and they were taken on horseback?”
She nodded, her eyes wary as she watched him. They were the color of the sky when a storm was brewing.
“So you walked through some of the most notoriously dangerous streets of London last night knowing that someone out there has already attempted to abduct you? Not a sound notion, one would think,” Marcus said. “In fact, it calls into question your sanity, Miss Radley.”
“I do not have use of a carriage, Lord Needly, nor servants to protect me. I did what needed to be done.”
“I shall send a footman to you. Until this matter is dealt with, please do not leave the house without him.”
“I do not need or wish for your footman.” She glared at him. “I have been taking care of myself since I was nineteen years old, Lord Needly, and will continue to do so.”
Stubborn wretch, Marcus thought, as his respect for the woman grew in spite of her stubbornness. She lived in a house located in an unsavory, dangerous street, with several prostitutes as guests and a young boy for protection. He had to admit that she had a strength of will he had not seen in many.
“Very well, but as my colleagues and I are now on the case, you will no longer need to venture out at night.”
“You… you will stay on the case?” He could see she had doubted he would, which annoyed him a great deal more than it should.
“That is twice you have questioned my integrity, Miss Radley, and I like it even less this time.”
“I am unused to relying on people, Lord Ne
edly, and usually deal with everything myself.”
Not exactly an apology, Marcus thought.
“Everyone needs help at some stage in their lives, Miss Radley.”
“But not everyone receives it,” she added. “I have no money to pay you… well, very little,” she said, before Marcus could question her on who had not helped her when she needed it most.
“We do not work for money, but should we require your services in the future, we will then ask you to return the favor.”
She studied him and then nodded. “I doubt I could offer much, but, of course, should you need my help then it is yours.” She tapped her fingers again. “Please allow me to apologize if any of my words offended you. That was not my intention, Lord Needly. I do not interact with men of noble birth, and the few times I have it has not been a pleasant experience.”
“Are you the Duke of Marlton’s daughter?” She was a woman who understood straight talk. Therefore, he would deliver some. The color drained from her face as she looked at him.
“If you did not want the association known, Miss Radley, perhaps you should have changed your name,” Marcus said gently. “Many people knew of your mother.”
“I chose my mother’s name, so I had no association with the Duke, Lord Needly, and felt no need until now to use another.”
“Yet you are his daughter, Charlotte?”
Her nod was a quick jerk of her head. “I am his baseborn daughter,” she corrected. “And I would like you to keep that to yourself if you please, my lord.”
“I do not tell tales, Miss Radley. However, if my friends and I came to that conclusion, I’m sure if others tried, they would also.”
She shrugged. “I have never visited my father’s house in London, nor met any of his friends other than Squire Lorne. Nor did he acknowledge me openly to anyone other than servants. Therefore, my identity has been safe, and I see no reason for that to change, nor is there any reason anyone would need to seek me out.” She had lowered her eyes again.
“Your father was displeased with your departure and the broken betrothal you left behind, Miss Radley. Have you given thought to the fact that it could be he or Squire Lorne who attempted to abduct you?”