“How did you find me, anyway?” she asked Blayne.
“It wasn’t too hard. Once I learned of your connection to Fielding, it didn’t take much to work out the rest. Not with Guthrie’s detailed catalog of London addresses.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Simon asked.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I had to make sure you were well,” Blayne said, ignoring the question. “Holler if you need my assistance, aye? From what I recall, you suspect a marquess and an earl of being the real traitors?”
When Ida nodded, Blayne expelled a harsh breath. “Won’t be easy. It took two decades, a hell of a lot of luck, and some serious help for Guthrie to bring down a peer. And he’s as tough as they come, lass.”
“I know. But I have to try.”
“Aye. I suppose you do.”
Knowing it wouldn’t be long before Guthrie returned, Ida looked up at Blayne. “Will you tell him where I am?”
Blayne gazed down at her with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. “He’ll be wanting a full report the moment he gets here. I can’t keep this from him.”
“Of course not.”
He glanced at Simon who was scowling back with disapproval. “I don’t want to know what’s between you two, but it seems you’re on a path that’s bound to stir up trouble and put you in danger.” His thoughtful gaze met Ida’s. “Are you sure he’s the man you want on your side for this?”
“Without a doubt,” Ida told him resolutely. “Fielding cares for me. He’ll do what’s needed to keep me safe.”
Blayne nodded, moved toward the door, and paused. “Is there anything I can do?”
Ida pondered that for a moment, then asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know a good forger, would you?”
Blayne scratched the back of his head. “Can’t say I do. Not besides that cur who was caught up in your disappearance last year.”
Ida shuddered at the memory. “Mr. Reynolds made counterfeit artwork. What we need is someone who could have forged the king’s seal.”
“Haven’t heard of any such person myself, but you can try asking some of the men who frequent The Black Swan. I’m headed back there right now. If you like, I can make a few inquiries and round up some lads who might know more than me. Stop by in a couple of hours if you’re able, and you can question them yourselves.”
“We would appreciate that a great deal,” Ida said. “Thank you.”
Simon made a non-committal grunting sound.
Ignoring him, Ida waited until Blayne was gone before turning to face Simon’s scowl. “He’s a good man and a loyal friend. You could have been nicer.”
“I’ve little respect for anyone linked with Guthrie.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.” Simon shoved his hands in his pockets. “Guthrie may be the Duke of Windham now, but let’s not forget the criminal he was before he laid claim to the title. He killed people, Ida.”
“Only those who didn’t deserve to live.”
“He had no right to play judge and executioner.”
“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Ida snapped. “I was kidnapped and auctioned off alongside children as young as eight years old so men could lock us up in their basements and do despicable things to us. Don’t tell me they didn’t deserve to die or that you would have acted differently than he did when he came to find us.”
“Ida, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through all that, and you’re probably right. I would have killed those men as well. But you have to admit that’s not all Guthrie’s done. I just…I’m not able to picture him in a good light.”
She knew it was hard to go against truths that had been ingrained. It was part of the reason why proving her father’s innocence would be an uphill battle. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.” He moved toward her and cupped her cheek. “Without question.”
“Then believe me when I tell you that Guthrie is the most just man you’ll ever know. A formidable foe, but the best ally you could ever hope for.” Even though Simon offered no further dispute, she wasn’t so sure he believed her. “We have a few days until he gets back, which doesn’t give us much time to uncover the real traitor.”
Confusion marred Simon’s features. “If Guthrie’s as wonderful as you claim, why worry?”
“Because he’s not going to like this.”
Simon frowned. “What, exactly?”
“This.” She stepped back, moved away from his touch, and gestured between them. “You and me.”
Hard brackets appeared on either side of Simon’s mouth. “Ida, you’re your own woman, independent and strong. You don’t answer to anyone, least of all Carlton Guthrie or Valentine Sterling, the Duke of Windham, or whatever the hell you want to call him.”
“He has been like a guardian to me, offering help, support, and protection since I lost my father. I cannot dismiss that and neither should you.”
“Christ have mercy,” Simon muttered.
“So,” she said, eager to get past this difficult discussion as fast as possible, “we get back to work. And since The Black Swan is our best bet at the moment, I think we ought to have some breakfast and get ourselves ready so we can be there in a couple of hours like Mr. MacNeil suggested.”
Determined to move forward, Ida tried not to worry over where they intended to go. After all, the tavern was right next to Amourette’s, a place she’d been wary of heading back to in case it was being watched. But things had changed since the ball. She wasn’t safe anywhere anymore, and she wouldn’t be until she caught the real traitor.
“I need to check on my uncle first, not that I relish the visit.” Simon took a deep breath and expelled it. “There’s been no word from the hospital yet or from Huntley.”
“In that case, let’s hurry.” Ida grabbed his hand and led him toward the kitchen. “There’s much for us to accomplish and the day isn’t getting any longer.”
Chapter Fourteen
Until recently, Simon’s life had been neat and tidy, governed by order. His reputation had been impeccable, his future more or less carved in stone. In truth, his entire existence had been incredibly dull and predictable. To say his life had become more interesting of late would be a massive understatement.
Never in a million years would he have pictured himself heading off to a St. Giles tavern to interrogate uncouth men with a woman he’d found in a brothel. The world he’d once known had truly been flipped on its head.
“He’s doing well,” the Duke of Redding informed Simon when he showed up at St. Agatha’s, “should be back home again by tomorrow.”
“Are you aware of what happened to him?”
“Huntley gave me the broad strokes.”
Simon nodded. He liked Redding’s efficient, no-nonsense manner. “Then we are agreed that no crime has occurred here?”
“Indeed,” the duke muttered. “From what I understand, it was an accident.”
Simon shook Redding’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”
“Of course.”
When Simon returned to the carriage where Ida waited, there was no denying the concern in her eyes. “He’ll be fine.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m glad.”
He scoffed. “I wouldn’t have minded if he’d be bedridden for a week. The insults he dealt both of us and the fact that he dared approach you as he did when I was absent are unpardonable. My God, if he turns out to be the man we’re looking for, I’ll wish…”
Simon stopped himself. He was angry. Furious, really. Not just with Elliot but with the futility of the goal he was trying to achieve. It had been three weeks and they weren’t any wiser than they’d been at the very beginning. The few clues they’d found led nowhere. And now MacNeil was banging down the door and Guthrie would soon be returning and everything felt as if it was falling apart.
“It’s natural for you to feel resentment toward him,” Ida whispered. “That doesn’t make
you a bad person. It just makes you normal.”
“Normal?” He’d never felt normal. Except, he had to allow, when he was with Ida. “I’ve always judged others harshly, but I’m not sure I had the right.” Confused by what he felt and the threat it posed to the man he’d always been, he turned away from the window and faced her. “I’m not sure I deserve you. Ida, I’m not—”
“Stop.” Urgency filled her eyes, so intense it sucked the breath right out of him. “You are the very best of men, Simon Nugent, Earl of Fielding, and I…”
She averted her gaze, appeared to consider her words.
“You what?” he asked when the silence had gone on too long.
She swallowed, looked up, and smiled so warmly it washed away all the ugly emotions inside him. “I am honored to know you, to call you my friend, and to have the pleasure of spending the night in your arms.”
The kiss that followed was soft, gentle, so giving it seemed to say things her words had omitted. And while he’d been slightly surprised by the swift stab of disappointment he’d felt at the mention of friendship, the kiss revealed that she cared for him deeply. It banished whatever concerns he’d had of her choosing to leave him, of not standing up to Guthrie when he returned and fighting for the future they wanted to share. This kiss, so tender it made Simon’s heart ache, proved she would stay by his side forever.
So he kissed her back with all that he was, promising her with sweet caresses that he would always be hers. No other woman would ever compare.
“I think we’ve arrived,” she said.
He felt her smile against his lips and kissed her again, hard and thorough this time, before finally letting her go. “We’ll continue this later.”
A delightful blush colored her cheeks, expanding Simon’s chest and making him feel ten feet tall as he leapt from the carriage. Extending his hand, he helped her alight and then took a moment to consider the crooked structure before them.
“You’re sure this is a good idea?” The tavern looked even worse in the light of day than it had when he’d first seen it at night.
“We won’t know until we’ve tried, will we?”
No arguing with that logic, Simon supposed, so he escorted Ida up the front steps of The Black Swan and led her inside the dim interior where several men were enjoying meals and tankards of ale. To Simon’s surprise, the establishment appeared a lot cleaner than he’d expected. A servant girl was even sweeping the floor in the far corner.
She looked up when they entered and glanced first at Simon, then at Ida. A smile stretched wide across her face. “Miss Strong! You’re back!”
Simon frowned when the comment caused some of the patrons to look their way. He wasn’t interested in attracting unnecessary attention since this could increase the danger for Ida.
“Only for a brief moment,” Ida informed her.
The woman maneuvered her way between a few tables until she was able to speak with them properly. “Gracious, you’ve no idea how concerned Philipa has been about your absence. Have you met with her yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Oh, but you must. She’ll be overjoyed to see you looking so well.”
“Thank you, Laura.” Ida tugged her arm free of Simon’s and he reluctantly let her go. “Where’s MacNeil?”
“In the tap room as far as I know. Would you like me to show you the way?”
“We’ll manage.” Ida gave the woman a reassuring smile. “It was good seeing you again.”
Feeling much like a fish that had just been tossed onto the shore, Simon followed Ida across the uneven plank flooring. He didn’t like how most of the men paused to stare at her when she passed them and instinctively found himself balling his hands into fists.
“Miss Strong. Fielding. Welcome to The Black Swan,” Blayne said once they found him. Judging from his relaxed manner, he’d been having a casual chat with a few of the tavern’s regulars.
“Thank you,” Ida said. She stared up at the massive Scotsman. “Have you learned anything yet?”
A startled laugh was his first response. When she frowned, he coughed and immediately sobered. “I’ve nae had more than an hour, lass, but Reeves here reminded me of old Maggie’s son, Harold, who was minting counterfeit coins several years ago.”
“Guthrie put an end to it, I’ll tell you,” said a slim man with a beaked nose and a charcoal gray woolen cap pulled over his brow. “Claimed Harold was being too careless and that he’d eventually stir up trouble for everyone else in St. Giles. Threatened to hand him over to the law enforcement himself unless Harold stopped.”
“And did he?” Simon asked.
Blayne snorted. “No one thwarts Guthrie’s wishes. But Harold was skilled, so there’s always the chance he decided to earn some extra blunt by crafting a seal, though I dare say Guthrie would have kicked his arse for it if he’d known.”
“Perfect,” Ida muttered. There was still hope she might learn the truth. “Where can we find him?”
Reeves tilted his head. “At Bunhill, I reckon.”
Ida’s stomach dropped at the mention of the cemetery. “He’s dead?”
“Far as I know he took a drunken fall into the Thames about… What do you reckon, MacNeil? Four years ago, give or take?”
“Sounds about right,” Blayne agreed.
A chill swept through Ida.
“What else can you tell us about him?” Simon asked.
“Dunno,” Reeves muttered. “He lived with his ma not far from here. On Newton Street, I believe it was. Came here most evenings after work. We’d play cards together, him and me. Harold was hard to beat, though I’ll wager he probably cheated most of the time.”
Ida glanced at Simon before returning her attention to Reeves. “Where was he employed?”
“At the Shadwell Gun Works,” Reeves said.
“Are you sure?” Simon asked.
“Course I am.” Reeves sounded slightly annoyed.
“I wonder, did Harold ever give any indication that he might fear for his life?” Simon asked.
Reeves shook his head. “Not that I recall. If anything, he was very excited about something right before he died. Said all his problems would soon be solved.”
“I’m sure that’s what he believed,” Simon muttered. “What about his colleagues?”
“Huh?” Reeves gave Simon a puzzled look.
“Did none of the other Shadwell employees ever come here?”
Reeves blinked a few times, then turned a questioning look on Blayne. “I’ve no idea. Do you?”
“No, but I can ask around,” Blayne said.
Following Simon’s reasoning, Ida felt a renewed sense of hope. “Let us know what you find, all right?”
Blayne nodded. “Aye. Ye can count on me.”
Ida thanked both men and was glad to see Simon shake Blayne’s hand in parting. He was trying to be cordial for her sake, which meant a great deal since she knew it wasn’t an easy thing for him to do.
Taking his arm, she allowed him to guide her back to the carriage. She glanced toward Amourette’s and briefly considered calling on Philipa, then dismissed the notion. All she wanted right now was to be alone with Simon. The very idea of having to answer questions and explain herself was exhausting. But just when Simon was ready to hand her up into their conveyance a squeal erupted, followed by her name.
Ida turned and instantly spotted her aunt.
“I heard you were back but I didn’t know if to believe it,” Philipa said in a rush. Having hastened over from the building next door, she panted for breath while trying to keep her plump body upright. “Was one note really all you could manage, Ida? I’ve been near death worrying over you and what you’ve been getting into.”
“I’m sorry,” Ida said while doing her best to quash the guilt creeping into her conscience. “As you can see, I’m perfectly well.”
Philipa glanced at Simon. “Are you absolutely certain about that?”
“Yes. Fielding is actually helping me.”<
br />
“From where I’m standing you would have been better served without his interference.”
Ida sensed Simon’s tension and tried to end the uncomfortable conversation by saying, “I promise to explain it all later, but I really must go now.”
Philipa shook her head and sighed with exasperation. “I doubt your parents would want this for you.”
“You’re probably right, but certain events have transpired these last few weeks that will make it impossible for me to live with myself unless I try to see justice served.” She took Philipa’s hands between her own. “I’ll never be happy otherwise.”
Philipa pressed her lips together and nodded. “You always did have a formidable will, just like your mother. Cynthia was also determined to have the life she envisioned.” She raised her chin and scrutinized Simon. “Will you keep her safe from now on?”
“I’ll lay down my life for her if need be,” Simon swore without hesitation.
Ida’s lips parted with surprise. He sounded so serious. But—
“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” Philipa said.
“Indeed,” he murmured.
Ida stepped forward and gave her aunt a tight hug. “I promise I’ll be careful.”
“I’m sorry that didn’t go better,” Ida said once they were back in the carriage.
“Your aunt is simply concerned for you, and rightfully so. Her previous interaction with me was not the best.”
Nodding, she clasped his hand. What did it matter if he and Philipa got along? Ida had no reason to worry over whether or not her aunt approved of Simon. After all, it wasn’t as if he was going to be a permanent part of her life.
“I trust you also noticed the timing of Harold’s death?” Simon said, distracting her from the uncertainty pooling inside her.
Blinking, Ida forced her thoughts back to the forger. “He died right around the time the letters were sent.”
“And he worked for the munitions company all three men have invested in.”
“Who invested the most? Do you know?”
“Not yet. For us to figure that out, we’ll have to consult someone with access to that information.”
The Formidable Earl Page 19