Chapter 8 #3
He paused. “You want to know why I have spoken out? Because I read things, too, Lady Augusta. Does it shock you that I’m capable of turning back the covers of more than just a bed?
Or is it that you think an—how did you put it—indolent wastrel could not possibly care about anything more than his next mistress or hand of cards? ”
She swallowed hard, surprised as well as puzzled that he had remembered to the letter her harsh words of the past. For some reason, he seemed truly upset that she might see him as the rest of Society did.
And yet she couldn’t fathom why.
“It has been quite some time since I have thought of you in those terms,” she said very softly.
“Oh, and just what terms do you think of me now?”
“A … friend, I suppose. Because of Edwin.” She twisted the pearwood handle of the parasol in her hands. “You told me before that you felt some debt to my brother, so that, I imagine, is why you are offering to help me.”
“Ah yes, brotherly friendship,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t mean any insult by my question, milord. Truly I didn’t. I merely want to be assured that your feelings on this matter run deep. For if I decide take you into my confidences, I should not want to discover my trust was misplaced.”
“I may appear shallow to you, Lady Augusta, but rest assured that the current of my convictions is stronger than you imagine. When I set my mind to something, I am not easily put off course.”
“Very well then, sir.” Augusta closed her eyes for a moment, hoping she wasn’t making a grave mistake.
“The whole thing started six months ago, with the disappearance of a child from the fields near my home. That was terrible enough, but soon after, another went missing. The third was abducted just a month ago. There was sign of a struggle, and I found a scrap of expensive silk fabric, the sort of material used to make a gentleman’s waistcoat. ”
“Do you think this certain gentleman is the sort of monster who has an appetite for murdering children? Have any bodies been found?”
She shook her head. “No. Nor do I think any will be.”
His brow arched in question.
“I can’t help but think the disappearances have to do with another reason, which is nearly as appalling. In the course of my readings, I have come across mention of how some of the mines in the north are getting child labor from unscrupulous sources—that is, children stolen from their homes.”
Her mouth twisted in disgust. “It is cheap, for the owners don’t have to pay even a paltry wage, and effective, for the small bodies may wriggle in where a man cannot. And it is, sir, little more than slavery.”
Marcus thinned his lips. “Have you any proof at all of this?”
Augusta shook her head. “No, but my intuition tells me I’m right.” The tone of her voice indicated that she expected him to challenge the assertion.
He gave a low snort, then looked as though he might.
“Before you begin what will undoubtedly be a harangue on the merits of a female’s intuitive powers—or lack thereof—let me add a few other points of unassailable fact,” continued Augusta.
“I have done a fair amount of research into the matter, and as it happens, there are several large mines around Newcastle where the shape of the veins of coal make extraction difficult. Small bodies at work in the tiny passages are the only way to keep them profitable. And profitable they have been, but only starting six months ago.”
The earl tugged at the brim of his curly brimmed beaver hat. “The devil take it,” he muttered. “It still seems to me as if you have precious little to go on.”
“Hmmph.” Her parasol came down on the floorboard of the phaeton with a decided thump.
“And what about falling coping stones? Someone is clearly not happy about any stirring of public interest in the subject of child labor. You may fail to see any connection, but the link is certainly clear enough for me.”
“For you to do what?”
There was a slight pause. “I imagine if you close your eyes and think very hard, milord, you’ll be able to conjure up some idea of what I mean.”
The oath that followed was one she decided was well worth filing away for future reference.
“I vow, Lady Augusta, if you were my sister, I would—”
“Well, I am not.
He continued to stare at her intently for a moment. “Right,” he said slowly. “And just how many more suspects do you have on your list, may I ask?
Augusta decided there was little harm in answering. “Two.”
Marcus couldn’t quite believe his ears. “Two?” he repeated, eyeing her with some surprise. What an odd coincidence. That was exactly the same number left on his own list.
“You appear disappointed. Would you have preferred more?”
Marcus didn’t answer but continued to consider the matter.
Despite his initial skepticism, he had not entirely dismissed her conjecture as absurd.
In the course of his readings, he, too, had become aware of such sinister doings.
It was just possible she was on to something.
Yet he was determined to figure out a way to keep her from pursuing that particular line of inquiry.
For if Augusta was right, she was courting more danger than even she could imagine—not, he noted wryly, that such knowledge would have the least effect in stopping her head-on assault on injustice.
“Lady Augusta,” he finally said, trying to keep a note of reason in his voice. “Let us think on this a moment. You have two more suspects. It so happens that I have the same number in mind. Let us leave our waltzing around on the dance floor.”
“Sir, I cannot believe that they would be the same—”
He rattled off two names.
Augusta gave a faint gasp. “How is it that you came up with those men?”
His hands tightened on the reins and he turned his team toward an even more secluded spot.
“I should have liked to keep this to myself, but I see if I am to have any hope of convincing you to let me handle this, I shall have to reveal certain things.” He took a deep breath.
“I have already told you that I became involved in this at the behest of … a friend. While you may find my intellect and commitment suspect, I doubt you would find any such fault with this learned man. Especially concerning the subject of child labor.”
Marcus turned to face her. “Have you read the pamphlets of Firebrand?”
Augusta was overcome by a fit of coughing.
“Don’t try to gammon me. Given your interest in the subject, I would never believe a denial.”
I … I am acquainted with them,” she managed to whisper.
The earl lowered his voice as well. “Well, I am acquainted with the author.”
“Y-You know who F-Firebrand is?”
His lips quirked upward. “Well, I have to admit that I don’t actually know his real identity.
But we have corresponded through his publisher on a regular basis for some time now.
He has asked for my help in pursuing a matter that I cannot help but feel is related to yours.
It is from him that I have received my information, and it is on his behalf that I am acting.
I should hope that would convince you to trust me.
After all, it is apparent that he does.”
“Is Firebrand aware of your identity?”
“I see no reason why he should be. We have chosen to remain anonymous to each other for a variety of reasons.” Marcus’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “You think it would make a difference in his attitude if he knew?”
Augusta stared down at the strings of her reticule, which he noted were now twisted into little knots. “I imagine that is a question only Firebrand can answer, milord.”
“I am asking your—” He stopped speaking on noticing that her hand had come up to rub at her brow. “Are you all right, Lady Augusta? You look a trifle pale.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. I … I don’t know what has come over me, but I find … I find that I’m suddenly feeling quite fatigued.”
Marcus peered at her wan face and muttered an inward curse for pressing her too hard. “Come then, I had best take you home.”
She made no attempt dissuade him.
The team started forward at a smart pace, the earl guiding them back through the park and the crowded streets of Mayfair with a sure hand.
He slanted an occasional glance at her rigid profile, but found himself only looking at the poke of her bonnet, for her averted face was shielded in its shadows from any further scrutiny.
His mouth crooked in concern. Damnation, he thought, she was trying to shoulder entirely too much responsibility. However, he could well imagine her response should he voice the opinion that she couldn’t go on without help—a man’s help.
That caused the corners of his mouth to turn upward.
His ears would be soundly boxed, if not his person, but he found he was becoming rather used to their verbal sparring.
In fact, he rather liked it. Though he had never expected it, she had proven up to his weight in both giving and taking a hit.
Her grit and determination were most unusual in a female …
Indeed, he was almost relieved to hear her admit to a bit of fatigue. It showed she was human.
He stole another quick look at the rounded curves of her willowy form, shown to perfection in a new carriage dress of impeccable design and cut.
Way too human.
The team pulled up in front of her townhouse, and Marcus quickly came around to hand her down.
“Get some rest, Lady Augusta. I trust when you have given the matter careful thought, you will use your good judgment and good sense to come to the right decision.”