Chapter Nine #2
The fellow’s carrot-haired companion, called “Benny,” leaned over the table, his voice lowered. “Are you sure it’s done, Will?”
Will glanced sharply around. “Shut your bone box. Don’t blab it about. Do I ever fail? It’s done right and tight.”
“How about we go to a bawdy house to celebrate?”
Will shook his head. “Not until I get what’s owed me.”
They put down their tankards, slid from their chairs, and as Will reached up to put on his hat, the kerchief slipped and bared his throat.
The tattoo was exactly as the young woman had described it, Jack noted with a sharp intake of breath.
The men left the tavern, and after waiting a few minutes, so did Jack.
Ignoring the urge to grab the man and throw him into a Bow Street Magistrate’s cell, he gestured to Joseph to wait, then Jack shadowed them.
They turned down an alley, then parted at the next corner.
Jack followed Will as he continued on down the street.
He kept his distance, but Will didn’t glance back once and seemed deep in thought.
On reaching a building that had seen better days, he ran up the steps and disappeared inside.
Jack kicked his heels at the corner in case Will emerged. Candlelight suddenly glowed through an upstairs window, and a short time later, it was extinguished. A half hour later, the man did not reappear.
It seemed likely that Will was tucked up for the night. Jack ran back to join his groom, who waited around the corner with the restive horses eager for a feed and a warm stall. Was this the hired killer he sought? Jack would have him shadowed in the hope he’d lead them to those who’d hired him.
Regrettably, that could take days. His intention to chase Everton before calling upon Lady Prudence and her great-grandmother with any news would require a letter of apology.
Jack felt a mixture of relief and regret at not seeing Lady Prudence again, which was hard to fathom.
Perhaps the real reason for his reluctance was he had no wish to be reminded of how much he admired and desired her, not when it was clearly impossible to pursue her.
He must put her from his mind. His friends’ warm friendship would prove a great distraction.
If they didn’t pepper him with questions, he couldn’t answer.
Why not join them on their daily ride again in the park tomorrow?
The following day, Jack was advised by the agent consigned to follow the possible suspect that William Darby had breakfasted in a tavern and then returned to his room.
It was close to five o’clock when Jack rode through the gates of Hyde Park.
Shadows lengthened across the grass, heavy clouds swirled overhead driven by a cool breeze, but that did not deter the fashionable crowd, who drove their carriages along the South Carriage Drive, or rode their mounts in Rotten Row.
Only one of his friends was free to join him.
His dinner guest the previous evening, Damian Beaufort, Lord Ballantine, who had remained here in London on business.
His charming wife, Diana, had returned to their estate to be with their two young children.
As they trotted down the Row, catching up with news, a pretty woman in a dashing black hat came into sight riding a mare farther down the Row, her groom following close behind.
“The red-haired lady ahead of us is Lady Prudence Sedgewick, an acquaintance of mine,” Jack said, attempting to tone down his surprise and pleasure at seeing her.
Ballantine, not fooled, glanced at him with a quizzical grin. “Mm? Is she, indeed? Diana told me she is Lady Aldridge’s great-granddaughter.” He chuckled. “Debutantes are not your usual preference.”
“Don’t get any ideas. I am merely helping her after the tragic death of her father.”
“Oh, that is very magnanimous of you,” Damian said with heavy irony.
“Men like me should never marry. I have no intention of condemning any lady to a lonely future.” Jack tapped his horse’s flank. “Come. I’ll introduce you.”
Lady Prudence spied him and spoke to her groom over her shoulder before slowing her horse to a walk. The groom discreetly dropped several paces behind.
Jack rode up to her. He should not have been so glad to see her, not when she must have come today hoping to see him. The tilt of that firm, little chin told Jack she was eager to pepper him with a good deal of difficult questions—questions he wasn’t prepared to answer yet.
Jack introduced Lady Prudence to Damian, who made his apologies and rode on. “Lady Prudence. How delightful to see you again.” He met her gaze and almost sighed at her determined expression.
“I had hoped you might call,” she confessed.
“Forgive me. I have been busy but would have advised you had I news to impart,” he said.
“Have you heard any talk about my father?” Her back stiffened in the saddle. “He was well regarded among the ton, and in the House of Lords.”
“He was, indeed.”
Her horse sidled, reacting to the tension. “Have you still not found a glimmer as to why…?” She broke off, studying his face.
Jack read her disappointment in him in her eyes.
The urge to tell her the little he did know became irresistible.
He took a firm grip on himself. It would be extremely unprofessional to confide in her so early in the investigation, when it all might come to naught.
While he trusted Lady Prudence’s discretion, he wasn’t about to risk her becoming involved.
“So that’s all,” she said after a pause.
“It’s early days, Lady Prudence. Leave it in the hands of the authorities.”
“Gramma and I return to Richmond on Tuesday.”
“If there’s a breakthrough, I’ll write to you there.”
“You are the only one I can turn to, Lord Hereford. I thought we might be friends.”
Friends? Better not. He had no wish to be her friend. What an exquisite pain that would cause. Conversing politely while he wanted to hold her. To kiss her. And to have her under him, moaning with pleasure.
She turned her horse’s head. “I shall await your letter,” she said brusquely.
“My lady.” Jack lifted his hat and bowed in the saddle. He watched her ride away with the groom following, her shoulders stiff.
“Poor fellow. You looked as if you had your back to the wall,” Damian said sympathetically when he’d rejoined Jack. “Or am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” he said while any enjoyment in the ride ebbed away. “Sorry, Damian. Dinner and a game of cards at White’s this evening?”
“Absolutely. In your present mood, I expect to win back the money I lost to you last time.”
Jack chuckled. “Don’t be so sure.”