Chapter 2 #4
The streets of London were already waking. Carriages rattled past, vendors set up stalls, servants hurried along pavements with baskets and lists. No one looked at Jane twice. A young woman on horseback was not so unusual at this hour.
But Jane felt as though every movement she made was deliberate, exposed, irreversible.
She rode first to Bow Street.
The building itself did not look impressive. It never did. That, she supposed, was part of its purpose. The Bow Street Runners were meant to blend into the city rather than stand above it.
Inside, the reception was exactly as she feared.
The man behind the desk looked up at her with the mild annoyance of someone interrupted mid-task. When she gave her name and purpose, his expression did not soften.
“Missing persons,” he repeated flatly. “Yes, yes. Lord Wynten. We are aware.”
“I need to know what progress has been made,” Jane said.
“You will be informed when there is progress, my lady,” he replied, already looking back down at his papers.
Jane stiffened. “I am his sister.”
“That does not change procedure.”
Another man nearby gave a short laugh under his breath, not bothering to hide it.
Jane took a step forward. “Last night armed men entered my home and abducted my brother in front of half the ton. Surely that accelerates—”
“It does not accelerate anything, my lady,” the first man interrupted. His tone was weary now, as though she were the one being unreasonable. “These matters require patience.”
“Patience?” she repeated, incredulous. “My brother has been taken.”
“And he is being looked for.”
There was a pause.
Jane looked between them. Neither man met her eyes properly now. One of them shuffled papers. The other leaned back as though the conversation had already ended.
A hot, frustrated pressure built in her chest.
“And if it were your brother?” she asked quietly.
That finally earned her a look, but not the kind she wanted.
The man at the desk gave a thin smile. “Then I would be grateful for the assurance that professionals were handling it.”
Jane held his gaze for a moment longer. “My mother and I shall await your report. Good day, sir.”
Then, she turned sharply and left before she said something she could not take back.
Outside, the air felt colder.
She stood beside her horse for a moment, hands clenched in the reins, forcing herself to breathe evenly.
If Bow Street would not help her, then she would find someone who could not ignore her.
Without fully forming the decision, she swung back into the saddle.
The duke.
The thought came unbidden, and she disliked it immediately. But it persisted anyway, irritatingly logical beneath the emotion.
He had come to her. He believed there had been a connection. And whether she liked him or not, he was at least actively looking.
Jane tightened her grip on the reins and turned her horse north.
She did not go directly to his house. She was unchaperoned, and she’d risked too much already going to Bow Street alone.
So, instead, she’d go to him at night. Just like he had when he’d come to her house.
Late afternoon blurred into evening. She kept her distance near the route she suspected he would take, watching, observing, and telling herself she was being strategic rather than reckless.
When the carriage finally appeared, it was not ornate, nor the kind she would have expected for a duke. It was dark and unmarked, and moved with purpose.
Jane’s pulse tightened.
He was alone. Or at least unaccompanied in any visible sense. She followed.
Keeping her distance on horseback through London streets required careful timing. Just enough space to avoid suspicion, but close enough not to lose him. Jane’s focus narrowed until everything else blurred: the sound of hooves, the shifting light, the occasional glance from passersby.
Eventually, the carriage left the more respectable parts of the city.
The buildings grew closer together. The streets narrowed. The air changed. Jane slowed instinctively. This was not a district in which she belonged.
The carriage stopped near a side street that led into a darker cluster of buildings. A brothel sat prominently at the corner, its windows dimly lit, its entrance guarded by a woman who watched everything with tired, practiced awareness.
Jane hesitated.
Of all the places…
Her cheeks heated before she could stop it. Instinctively, she drew her cloak closer around her to make herself less visible.
The duke stepped down from the carriage.
He did not look around. He simply moved into the alley beside the building.
Jane’s hesitation lasted only a moment longer. She dismounted quickly and led her horse into a narrow side passage where she tied it loosely. Her hands were slightly unsteady now, but she forced them still.
This is necessary, she told herself.
The alley was narrow, damp, and smelled faintly of smoke and refuse. The sound of the city dulled here, replaced by something quieter, more intimate. Jane kept close to the wall, moving carefully, her boots barely making noise against the stone.
At the end of the passage, the duke was nowhere in sight. Jane frowned slightly.
Then a voice came from behind her. “What on earth are you doing here?”