Chapter 3 #2
Her gaze moved first to the duke, then more slowly, to Jane. It lingered there. Jane resisted the urge to shift under it. Then the madam smiled faintly.
“Well,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk, “this is not my usual sort of appointment.”
Jane’s spine stiffened slightly. The duke did not react. The madam’s gaze flicked between them again, a little sharper now, and more amused. “I do hope I am not interrupting something intimate.”
Heat rose instantly in Jane’s face. “That is not,” she began, then stopped herself, mortified at how easily she had been flustered.
The duke spoke over her, unfazed. “We are not here for entertainment.”
The madam tilted her head slightly. “Pity.”
Jane pressed her lips together tightly. The duke stepped forward a fraction, subtly placing himself half in front of Jane without making a show of it.
“We are searching for information,” he continued. “A man who may have visited your establishment within the last week.”
The madam leaned back in her chair. “I’m afraid I cannot discuss my clients.”
The duke’s expression did not change.
Jane, however, felt the tension shift immediately like a rope pulled taut. The duke reached into his coat and placed something on the desk. Coins. A considerable amount.
The madam’s eyes flickered briefly to them, then rose back up. A faint smile returned.
“Tempting,” she said lightly. “But still no.”
Jane frowned. That had been too easy for her to refuse. The duke’s voice remained steady.
“I am not asking.”
The madam’s eyes sharpened slightly.
He continued. His tone remained calm but was now edged with something colder beneath it. “You may either assist us now, or be visited later by people far less polite than I am.”
Jane glanced at him sharply.
That was not a threat spoken lightly. It was precise. And it made something uneasy twist in her stomach.
The madam studied him for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, she exhaled softly.
“All right,” she murmured. “No need for such theatrics.”
“Please,” Jane said quickly.
Both the duke and the madam looked at her. The madam’s gaze sharpened with renewed interest.
Jane swallowed once, then continued, forcing herself to ignore the heat still lingering in her cheeks.
“If possible,” she said, “we’d like access to the guest ledger for this month.”
The madam regarded her for a long moment, clearly recalibrating.
“Well,” she said slowly. “So, you do speak.”
Jane stiffened slightly but held her ground. The duke glanced at her briefly, as though noting something, but said nothing.
“Very well,” she said. “Since you asked so nicely.”
She took the duke’s money without further comment, and moved to a locked drawer behind her desk. From it, she retrieved a thick ledger bound in dark leather.
She set it down carefully. Then opened it.
The pages inside were dense with handwriting. It was the kind of record meant to be seen but not understood by anyone not already initiated into its meaning.
Jane stepped closer without thinking. The duke remained beside her, scanning the pages quickly. For a moment, neither spoke.
The madam watched them both, her arms folded, and her expression unreadable. The duke turned a page. Then another.
Jane felt a sinking sensation. Nothing obvious prompted it. Nothing that stood out at any rate. The duke exhaled slightly, as if already preparing to dismiss the entire lead. Then Jane stopped him.
“Wait.” Her voice was sharper than she intended.
The duke looked at her. Jane leaned in, pointing. “There.”
A single entry.
FOXGLOVE.
The duke looked at it, then back at her. “What is it?”
Jane hesitated for only a moment before answering. “When we were young, my brother and I invented a game,” she said quietly. “We used to play it at our country home. Foxes and foxgloves. We would look for them in the gardens during spring and summer. It was Colin’s favorite. It was mine too.”
The duke’s gaze shifted back to the ledger. “Are you certain?” he asked quietly.
Jane nodded immediately. “Yes. He would never use that word by accident.”
The madam, who had been listening with mild curiosity, now stepped closer. “Foxglove,” she repeated, as if tasting it.
Jane turned toward her quickly. “Who booked that entry?”
The madam studied the page. Then she looked intently at Jane and the duke.
Finally, she said, “A man.”
“Alone?” she asked.
“Yes. He had the complexion of a gentleman,” she added. “Nothing unusual at first glance. We have many such visitors.”
The duke’s expression did not change, but Jane felt the tension in him sharpen slightly.
“Did he request a woman?” Jane asked.
The madam shook her head. “No.”
Jane frowned. “Then why did he come here?”
The madam’s tone shifted slightly, becoming more observational. “He did not ask for company,” she said. “He only took a room.”
Jane exchanged a glance with the duke. He was listening now, with full attention.
The madam continued. “He paid in advance, but he did not stay long.”
Jane’s stomach tightened. “And?” she prompted.
The madam hesitated before adding, “He seemed to be waiting.”
The duke’s voice cut in immediately. “For whom?”
The madam lifted one shoulder slightly. “That, I cannot say.” She paused, and then added almost thoughtfully, “No one arrived.”
Jane felt a chill settle in her chest.
The duke’s gaze remained fixed on the ledger. “And then?”
“He left at dawn.” The madam closed the ledger slightly, as if she were done with it emotionally even though she still held it physically.
“He had the air of someone expecting a meeting that never occurred,” she said quietly.
Jane’s hands curled at her sides.
“Has he been here before?” the duke asked.
The madam shook her head immediately. “No,” she said. “Never.”
The duke closed the ledger slowly. For a moment, neither he nor Jane moved. Then Jane turned to the madam.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
It felt strange to say it here, in this room, but she meant it all the same.
The madam inclined her head slightly. “You are welcome,” she said.
The duke placed additional coins on the desk. “This is for your discretion,” he said simply.
The madam did not count them. She did not even look surprised anymore. She only nodded once.
“I am always discreet,” she said.
Then she closed the ledger and returned it to its place as though the conversation had never occurred. Jane felt the weight of what they had learned settling between her ribs.
Foxglove. A waiting man. A meeting that never happened. And Colin, wherever he is.
The duke turned slightly toward the door. Jane followed him without speaking. But as they stepped back into the corridor, she could not shake the feeling that something had just shifted. Somewhere ahead of them, whatever was waiting next no longer felt like an investigation.
It felt like a trap they had already stepped into without realizing.
They left the office without speaking.
The corridor outside felt colder than it had before, as if the warmth of the room had been shut away behind them. Jane followed the duke through the narrow passage, her cloak still drawn tightly around her shoulders, her thoughts no longer anchored to the physical space around her.
The brothel, the lamps, the faint perfume in the air—it all blurred together as something distant and secondary. What remained was the ledger. More specifically, the word written inside it: Foxglove.
It did not leave her mind. It clung there stubbornly, like something half-remembered from a dream she could not quite wake from.
They stepped back into the alley.
The night air hit her immediately—cooler, sharper, and real in a way the interior had not been. Jane paused just long enough to steady herself, her gaze instinctively lifting toward the building.
The brothel’s windows glowed faintly. Life continued inside as if nothing had changed. As if no answers had just been pulled from its records. As if Colin had not been reduced to a name in ink and speculation.
Jane’s fingers tightened slightly in her cloak. The duke stood beside her but did not interrupt her silence. For a moment, she simply looked at the building. Then she exhaled.
“Colin was here,” she said quietly.
The words felt strange in her mouth, as if speaking them made them more real than she was ready to accept.
The duke glanced at her. “Yes.”
Jane frowned slightly, still thinking. “He came to meet someone.”
Her gaze dropped to the ground briefly as she tried to piece it together aloud, as if speaking might make the pattern clearer.
The duke turned his head slightly toward her.
Jane continued, more certain now as she spoke. “The madam said he had never visited. So he did not come here as…” she hesitated, her cheeks warming faintly despite herself, “as a client.”
The duke’s expression did not change, but a faint flicker of amusement appeared at the edge of it. Jane ignored it.
“He was using it as a meeting place,” she finished.
A brief silence followed.
Then Jane added, thinking aloud, “If this one exists, there may be others. Other establishments like this. We could check them. Ask if anyone else saw him. If he used the same word elsewhere…”
The duke cut her off. “No.”
Jane blinked. “No?”
“I will not send you into every brothel in London,” he said.
Jane bristled immediately. “I did not suggest I would go alone.”
“You implied you would go at all,” the duke said.
“I implied efficiency,” she corrected sharply.
The duke’s gaze held hers. “It will not be efficient. It will be conspicuous.”
Jane opened her mouth.
He continued before she could interrupt. “I will send one of my men. He will ask the necessary questions.”
Jane frowned. “One of your men?”
“Yes.”
“And you trust him to know what to look for?” Jane asked.
“I trust him not to draw attention,” the duke replied.
Jane exhaled sharply through her nose. “And what do we do while we wait for him to report back?”
The duke studied her for a moment. Then he said, “You go home.”
“I am not leaving until I am certain we are doing this together,” she said.
His gaze sharpened slightly, as if he had not expected that phrasing or had expected it and disliked it all the same.