Chapter Twelve
Eleanor
Eleanor sucked in a breath. The proposition was outlandish.
She glanced at Mr. Rollins. Working with that self-righteous prig would most likely be impossible.
But whatever she thought about it obviously didn’t compare to how absurd the Runner thought the idea.
His face was the very expression of horror.
Lady Mary continued. “That means sharing information with the others.” She gave Mr. Rollins a pointed look. “Discussing our theories together.”
Mr. Rollins jumped to his feet. “That is impossible. I am an agent—”
“For the magistrates of Bow Street, yes, yes, we know.” Lady Mary flapped her hand at him dismissively, and Eleanor fell a little bit in love with the woman. “And we are two women of society. We have access to places you do not. And people will talk to us more freely than they would with you.”
Mr. Rollins began to pace, batting the frond of a fern from his face when he passed underneath it. “People will speak with me or face a writ for obstruction of justice.”
“As terrifying as that prospect may be to some,” Lady Mary said dryly, “those with money and connections have no such fear. In a case such as this, you need someone on the inside. We can help.”
He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric pulling tight around his biceps.
“You have a nephew who is part owner of an inquiry agency. The Bond Agency for Discreet Inquiries, I believe it is called. If you don’t trust Bow Street to handle this investigation, why aren’t you asking your nephew for help? ”
Eleanor had wondered that, too. It had been quite a sensation when five noblemen, chief amongst them the Duke of Montague, Lady Mary’s nephew, had opened the detective agency.
If it wasn’t for the wealth and political power of the five friends, chances were they would have been shunned from polite society for engaging in such a trade.
They did hire investigators to work the cases and were nominally only investors in the enterprise, but there were rumors that the noblemen dabbled in an investigation or two.
Lady Mary grimaced. “The boys would help, no doubt, but they are all busy men. They all have their own wives and families to look after now. And this, well, this happened at my club. My business. I’m responsible, and I don’t want to merely hand the task off to someone else.
Besides,” she said, sniffing, “who would hire an inquiry agency when there’s already a Runner on the case? ”
“An officer of the Bow Street magistrates.” Rollins rubbed the back of his neck.
Eleanor waited for his next objection, certain Lady Mary would be able to aptly counter whatever it was. To her surprise, Mr. Rollins halted by the window, his black jacket melting into the inky darkness framed behind him.
He sighed, his broad shoulders rounding. “You may be right. My usual cases don’t bring me into high society and insiders would be helpful. However, it would be unconscionable for me to involve women in this matter.”
“My mother is a suspect.” Eleanor pressed her hands into her thighs. “The reputation of Lady Mary’s club is suffering. We are involved whether you wish it or not.”
Lady Mary nodded. “I fear you misapprehend me, Mr. Rollins. I am not asking your permission. I, and I assume Miss Lynton, will continue asking questions whether you agree or not. I am only suggesting that it would be to everyone’s benefit to work together.”
Mr. Rollins shoved an aloe plant to the side and plopped down on the wide window sill. “I can’t convince you otherwise?”
“Certainly not.” Eleanor leaped to her feet and stood next to Lady Mary.
She had been feeling directionless these past days, knowing she needed to help her mother but lacking in the skills necessary to conduct an investigation herself.
Forming a partnership seemed the perfect solution.
Yes, it would mean working with the ninny from Bow Street, but even that would give her the opportunity to convince him of her mother’s innocence.
He stretched out his long legs and hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. After a moment, he sighed. “Then I concede defeat. I am not wholly unaccustomed to working with others.” He gave them an assessing look. “I guess you will have to do.”
Eleanor and Lady Mary shared a look of their own.
“How gracious,” Lady Mary said. She went back behind the desk and retook her seat. “Now, since we are partners—”
“Working together,” Mr. Rollins corrected.
“—then perhaps you would tell us how it was that Lord Richford came to call upon you to investigate, Mr. Rollins.” The older woman leaned back and steepled her fingers. “It did not escape my notice that he requested your assistance from Bow Street specifically.”
Mr. Rollins stared at the hanging fern for a moment before nodding.
“You correctly surmise I was acquainted with the family. I had a previous encounter with Lady Richford.” He scraped his palm across his jaw.
“I have kept quiet some information because it doesn’t seem relevant to this investigation and, if released, would only hurt the family.
I trust you will honor that discretion.”
Eleanor nodded.
Lady Mary inclined her head.
Though Mr. Rollins didn’t look completely satisfied, he continued.
“I met the woman nigh on three years now, when I was a member of the Bow Street Foot Patrol. It was late at night, and a pickpocket attempted to rob Lady Richford. A small scuffle ensued, and I intervened.” He flicked his finger at the tip of the aloe plant, the thick leaf quivering.
“And she and her husband were grateful enough for that intervention for the viscount to remember your name years later?” Eleanor cocked her head. That hardly seemed likely.
Mr. Rollins narrowed his eyes. “The story is not yet finished. And the earl wasn’t with her when the theft attempt occurred.”
“Ah.” Lady Mary pursed her lips. “She was having relationships with other men then.”
“No.” Rollins poked at the aloe again, seemingly fascinated with the small spikes that ran along the succulent’s leaf. “At least, not to my knowledge. The lady was alone that night.”
Eleanor stomped forward and rescued the plant from his prodding.
She held the pot to her abdomen. “You mean to say that a viscountess was out roaming the streets of London unattended at night? That would be madness.” And madness was a quality she feared she was becoming all too familiar with lately.
Mr. Rollins cleared his throat. “It wasn’t as dangerous as you might suppose. Lady Richford was dressed as a man. And a fairly convincing one, too, if one didn’t look too closely.”
Lady Mary must have been as shocked as Eleanor, for neither woman spoke for some moments. Finally, the older woman said, “Was she in a play like her son, and performing a male’s role?”
“She was not.” Mr. Rollins crossed his ankles.
“She said she liked the freedom pretending to be a man gave her, the ability to travel without an escort. When I took her home, her husband was clearly surprised at her activities, but didn’t seem overly shocked that his wife would do such a thing, if that makes sense. ”
“He knows what her temperament makes her capable of, even if not the exact form of her actions.” Lady Mary nodded.
“Well. That changes matters. Could the cravat that she was strangled with have been her own?” She waved her hand and dismissed that almost instantly.
“She was dressed in a gown when we found her. If she was still dressing as a man, it wasn’t on that night. ”
Eleanor leaned back against the desk. She absently stroked one of the succulent’s fat leaves. “I wonder what it would be like to walk about as a man.”
“Keep wondering.” Mr. Rollins glowered. “Even dressed as a man, it isn’t safe. If some scoundrel had looked closely enough, Lady Richford could have been in real trouble.”
“I’d say she found enough trouble wearing a gown, as well.” But his point was well made. It wasn’t just raiment that made a man. There was increased height, generally, strength, and the body—
“A man’s jacket hid…?” Eleanor blushed, gesturing to her bosom.
Mr. Rollins’s lips twitched. “I believe the lady wore a wrap of some sort, to minimize her curves.”
“Ingenious.” Lady Mary stared at the ceiling. “And so the Richfords became indebted to you for your discretion, and when trouble found them again, the viscount called you.”
Mr. Rollins drew his shoulders back. “Yes.”
“And how much do you wish to remain in Lord Richford’s favor?” Lady Mary asked.
“I feel as though you are insinuating something.” Rollins narrowed his eyes. “Ask what you want directly, please.”
Lady Mary dropped her head to give him a frank stare.
“The Home Office gives Bow Street some funds each year, but you are essentially hired by the victim’s family.
You will receive the bulk of your fee from Richford.
In consequence of that, are you considering Lady Richford’s family as potential suspects?
If the evidence leads to the husband or son, will you have him arrested or will you conceal his guilt? ”
The pointed questions weren’t even directed at her, but Eleanor still swallowed. The silence in the room grew uncomfortable. She hugged the plant closer and waited for the Runner’s answer.
Mr. Rollins slowly unfolded, rising to his feet.
“I didn’t take payment from Lord Richford when he offered it to me for my discretion on Lady Richford’s eccentricity.
I followed my conscience and my duty. Even though the viscount has retained me now, I will still follow my conscience, and follow the facts no matter where they lead. ”