Chapter Six
At the end of his long day, Edward trudged from Bow Street to his lodging house on Henrietta Street.
As usual, the dutiful Mrs. Benson lit the lamps and set out Edward’s brandy, ensuring his comfortable welcome home.
He hung his coat on its hook, poured a drink, sank into his favorite chair and contemplated his day.
As stressful as the last twelve hours had been, Edward’s life was quite fulfilling.
He favored his job, his home, his landlady, and his cat.
He did not require excessive wealth, but he did enjoy a certain amount of comfort and Runners barely made enough to feed themselves.
Along with a few other lawmen, he’d honorably earned additional blunt by pounding the streets twice a week, trying to rid Drury Lane of pickpockets.
He gave the money to Mrs. Benson who, in turn, took excellent care of him.
His long workdays on his feet had the additional benefit of maintaining the muscular physique with which he’d been blessed.
Additionally, twice a week, he visited a men’s gymnasium where he skipped rope and hefted dumbbells.
Loudly meowing, Zigzag leaped onto his lap and nudged his hand.
“Damn tough one,” he told her as he caressed her soft cheek. “Would you like to hear about it?”
The ball of orange and white striped fur meowed, her golden eyes flashing.
“There is this infuriating female pugilist, the same one who broke my nose years ago.”
Zigzag swatted at his hand, reminding him that he needed to keep the pats coming if she was expected to listen.
“Yes. I know. I am a fool to find her attractive but that is not the point. Someone tried to burn down her business.”
“Meow.”
“Exactly. I went to her gymnasium today, and let me tell you, she was none too happy to see me. Three angry women probably saved me from having my nose broken again.” He paused, recollecting.
“Who were these women, you ask?” Edward let out a lip vibrating huff.
“Angry, self-righteous sheep who don’t believe a woman should learn to protect herself or work outside the home.
And God forbid a woman wear less than five layers of clothing and sweat. ”
Edward raised his voice to imitate the imperious Mrs. Brown. “‘Indecent, I say. Did you see her state of undress’?”
Oh, Edward had seen it alright. Except Frances Valentine was not trying to tempt a man or call forth Satan. She was simply exercising alone in her own building.
Zigzag stretched and yawned, almost knocking Edward’s drink from his hand.
“Am I boring you?” he asked.
She blinked as if to say, Continue if you must, but be quick about it so I can sleep.
Allowing his bossy pet to dragoon him, Edward increased the pace of his storytelling and the length of his caresses.
“These women and their vicar want The Silk Knuckles closed down. They believe it is akin to a brothel. The real concern should be that someone hit one of the women on her cheek. I know what a bruise from a punch looks like, and her injury was caused by one hell of an angry fist. I tried to question her about it, but Mrs. Brown wouldn’t let the poor woman speak for herself.
Tried to tell me her daughter-in-law ran into a door.
Ironic, don’t you think? I’d wager the young Jane Brown needs to learn to protect herself from her husband. ” Edward exhaled a huff of disgust.
“Stupid arse that I can be, I returned to work and barged into the magistrate’s office telling him that Samuel Baker was not the best person to investigate The Silk Knuckles fire. You can imagine how well that went.”
“Meow. Meow?”
“Then, I asked why the Duke of Griffendale hired us to look into the fire. Would you like to know what I discovered? Good, because I’m about to tell you.
He sponsored Jabbing Josie, one of the instructors, to be his champion at the mill he co-hosts with the Duke of Paulsgrove.
Now, do you want to know the most interesting part?
The magistrate demanded I keep my nose out of it because Maxwell Whitehill, this lord with clout in Parliament, is demanding The Silk Knuckles be permanently closed.
It seems two influential aristocrats are interested in the saloon for different reasons.
One is trying to protect it. The other is trying to destroy it. ”
Aghast with the absurdity of it all, Zigzag sprang onto all fours and dug her claws into Edward’s thighs.
“Ouch. Easy, please!” He lifted her slightly.
When she’d sheathed her claws and settled down again, he continued, “I know. Suspicious as hell, isn’t it?
Why would Whitehill give half a shite about a pugilism school?
And then I had to go to Celeste Milton’s townhouse and explain that I had no leads on her stolen jewelry. And do you know what she said?”
Zigzag plopped down and nudged his hand so hard his glass tipped, and brandy spilled onto his lap. At least his soggy crotch kept his cock from reacting to the memory of the dowager thrusting out her prodigious bosom as she said, “Edward, darling. Why don’t you stay the night?”
His common sense may have been screaming, Don’t do it, but his damnable prick had been ready to sink deep inside her. Reason had prevailed, however, and he’d left the lady looking as if she might cry at his rejection.
“ ’Twas a shite day all around,” Edward told his purring companion.
Mrs. Benson stepped into the parlor, and placed her hands on her ample, aproned hips. “You are quite late. Your dinner is getting cold.”
“I was just telling Zigzag about my day,” Edward said.
As she often did when Edward was in one of his thoughtful moods, Mrs. Benson sat in the wing backed chair across from his. “Tell me all about it.”
Edward rested his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes. “Stuck my nose in a case that wasn’t mine.”
“I see,” she said. “And the magistrate told you to stay out of it. Again.”
“Yes.”
“Would you like my opinion on the matter?” Mrs. Benson asked.
There was no point in saying no because she had a habit of offering unsolicited advice.
“Was the man who makes a muddle of his cases assigned to it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And you think that a real injustice has been done and if you don’t step in someone could get hurt?”
Mrs. Benson was more than just a meddling landlady, cook, and maid. She was also a wise woman and a dear friend. He opened his eyes and tilted his chin to see her better. “Yes.”
“You always do the right thing when it comes to finding the truth, holding criminals accountable, and protecting others. You are one of the good ones, Edward.”
He was no saint, but he appreciated her vote of confidence. “So you think I should continue investigating a case I’ve been told to stay out of if I think someone may be in danger?”
“I do. Just be sure you are working on your other cases. If need be, do it as a citizen, not a lawman. Of course, I don’t need to tell you that. You are the hardest working, most honorable person of my acquaintance.” She tapped her forehead. “And for a man, you are quite intelligent.”
Edward chuckled.
“Is there a beautiful woman involved in this case you are not supposed to be investigating?”
“What would make you ask that?” he asked with entirely too much indignation.
Mrs. Benson grinned, and her apple-like cheeks rounded even more.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“You have that haunted look of an infatuated man.”
He moaned.
With a hiss, Zigzag leaped from his lap, then sprinted beneath his desk. Her tail slapped the carpet as she angrily swished it, giving away her hiding place.
“Oh dear. Zigzag didn’t like that.” Mrs. Benson stood.
“Your dinner is on the table and your breakfast is in the larder. I’ll stop up tomorrow afternoon.
” Before departing, Mrs. Benson sent him a compassionate smile.
“Get some sleep. You won’t be good to anyone if you fret all night.
I’ll wash those wet trousers tomorrow morning.
You have a clean pair in your wardrobe.”
“Thank you,” he called to her back, then he closed his eyes and exhaled.
Bloody hell, if Mrs. Benson sensed his attraction to Franny he must beyond hope.
“I’m in deep shite,” he told Zigzag as she peeked out around his desk.
“Meeooow,” she scolded.