Chapter Twenty-Two
A smiling Mrs. Benson answered the door, her black dress and apron dusted with flour, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting about her.
“Good evening,” she said. “I was just about to deliver your meal.” She brushed her finger over Edward’s cheek and tsked.
“The bruise has darkened since this morning. I have a poultice here somewhere that should help you heal.”
“The food smells delicious,” Edward said. “You are so very good to me, so I hate to be an imposition, but I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything for my favorite of Mr. Fielding’s People,” she said.
“Could you keep an eye on a young woman I am tasked with keeping safe? I must work this evening.”
Her eyes lit up and she grinned mischievously. “A young lady, you say?”
“ ’Tis not like that,” he said with a twinge of guilt. Lying to this dear woman brought him no pleasure.
Edward quickly sorted through the facts.
He was responsible for Franny’s safety, and although he wanted her on a deep, visceral level, he had not tupped her.
Just because they had slept in the same bed, and he had once thrust his tongue into her mouth, it did not mean it was like that.
This morning, when he’d awoken beside her, he pledged to behave like a perfect gentleman, even if it meant cold baths and taking his arousal into his own hands.
He would do the right thing even if he withered away to nothingness from his desire for Franny.
You might be a randy fool, but at least you told Mrs. Benson the truth, he concluded.
“Does this mean I am finally assisting you in an investigation?” Mrs. Benson asked, her eyes twinkling.
If that was how she wanted to think of it, he would not spoil her fun. “I suppose so. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight. If she follows me, her life could be in danger.”
Mrs. Benson rested her hands on her hips. “It sounds like your charge might be a handful.”
A handful, a pain in the arse, and exceedingly difficult. “Yes, she is,” Edward said. “She is an impassioned red-headed pugilist and quite difficult to manage.” Not to mention, she sometimes had more attitude than common sense.
“Is this the same woman who broke your nose years ago?” Mrs. Benson asked.
Edward groaned. “You remember that story?”
“Of course. I remember everything you tell me. Despite your denial, I knew there was a woman behind the petrified look in your eyes. Now, help me carry the pork pie. I’ll carry the stewed apples and bread upstairs.
Just give me a few moments to find the poultice and gather my embroidery.
I can work on your new table covering while this wild woman and I get to know one another.
We shall have a delightful time while you are out saving the world. ”
Something told Edward that his two favorite women would have a companionable evening. More importantly, he was leaving Franny with a capable nursemaid.
*
Purple and black clouds striped the sky, and heavy droplets pelted Edward as he waited in an alley for Lancelot and his men to leave The Round Table.
Shivering, and soaked to the bones while listening to Baker yammer on about useless drivel while the wind howled, took a toll on Edward’s nerves.
At least Jenkins and Newton, the other two men assigned to assist them, were respectable blokes.
The downpour had just turned into a lazy drizzle when Newton, the officer stationed near the stairs running up the side of the tavern, held his white glove high.
“Shh,” Edward told Baker. “They might walk past us at any moment.”
Luckily, Baker stopped talking so that Edward was able to observe in silence as a group of men descended the stairs. They passed Jenkins and then headed in the opposite direction from Edward.
Once Edward was certain the crew of miscreants was too far away to notice them, he swirled his wrist high, alerting the other men that it was time. “Let’s go,” he said to Baker.
Leaving puddles behind them, the four lawmen entered the tavern.
They easily found their way to the bar because the room was not as crowded as it had been last night.
Anyone with any sense was at home in front of their hearth.
Edward withdrew the warrant from his staff and presented it to the same tavernkeeper he’d encountered the previous evening.
“We are with the Magistrate’s Office,” Edward said. “Can you point us to the man in charge? We have reason to investigate the party residing on your third floor.”
“This is my tavern.” His lips pursed, the business owner skimmed the notice. For a moment, Edward thought he might not be able to read, or that he might try to impede the investigation, not that it mattered. They would climb the stairs whether or not they had his permission.
“You were here last night with the pretty redhead,” the tavernkeeper said as he handed the warrant back.
From beside him, Baker snorted. “Christ, Robinson.”
With his notorious reputation, Baker was not in a position to throw stones. Edward’s jaw clenched. along with his fists. Then, upon reflection, he forced himself to relax. He probably shouldn’t knock Baker’s teeth down his throat while in the middle of an investigation.
The tavernkeeper crooked his finger, inviting Edward to lean close. “The truth is, I’ve had enough of them. A spoiled lordling playing at being a street criminal to get back at his father is worse than the worst lowlife ruffian.”
“I can imagine,” Edward said.
“Last night, right after you left, they went out and returned rather worse for wear.” The tavernkeeper withdrew a key from his apron pocket and handed it to Edward.
“The rumor is that a rival crew got the better of them. I would be grateful if you removed these hellions from my establishment. Just keep me out of it. I don’t need trouble.
” He sighed. “What made them decide to terrorize my business?”
Edward would explain to the owner about how his whimsical choice of a name had become an unfortunate one another time. He took the key and thanked him, adding, “I see no reason to drag you into this.”
The tavernkeeper said something, but his voice was so low, Edward had to press his stomach on the bar in order to get close enough to hear him.
Obviously, the man did not want to be overheard, which was an understandable caution since the night before someone had heard Edward ask about the Knights, and the consequences had been disastrous.
“Please repeat yourself,” Edward whispered.
“The indoor stairway leads to the second-floor rooms,” the tavernkeeper said. “The one outside leads to the room the Knights commandeered.”
Edward nodded. “May I borrow that?” He inclined his chin toward a candle.
“Yes,” the tavernkeeper said.
Edward used his palm to shield their light source from the elements as the three of them climbed the rickety staircase. Newton, their lookout, stationed himself in a shadow created by the building’s eaves.
Holding his finger to his lips, Edward whispered, “Be careful. Someone may have remained behind.”
Edward slid the key into the lock and slowly turned. The door creaked open, and they cautiously entered a human-less pigsty that smelled of unwashed bodies and stale ale. Clothing littered the unmade bed and the floor. Dirty dishes and half-eaten food were scattered about.
Edward tried not to breathe in the malodor as he spoke. “We are looking for a stash of jewelry.”
The search was slow going with only one candle. Eventually, they found a small lamp and lit it. This allowed Edward to search the drawers as his companion kicked clothing about and checked beneath the mattress.
After about ten minutes, Edward stood in the center of the room, scratching his wet head.
The loot had to be here, unless Lancelot had sold it.
Edward rubbed his temple. Think, you dullard.
“If you were an angry aristocrat with stolen goods you were struggling to pawn, what would you do with them?” he asked his companions.
“If we find them, I say we each keep a trinket or two,” Baker said.
Edward whirled on him.
Baker held up his hands. “No sense of humor, mate.”
This had nothing to do with a sense of humor, and if Baker tried to pocket stolen goods in Edward’s presence, he would lock him in a cage and melt the key.
“I would hide them until the previous owners stopped looking for them,” Jenkins said. “Then I would try to sell them on the continent.”
“Brilliant answer,” Edward said. Lancelot hadn’t had time to travel outside the country between his visits to Mr. Wagner and his sighting at The Tea Rose, which meant Lady Milton’s jewelry had to be in this room.
“Check for loose floorboards,” Edward said. “The stolen jewels are here. I can feel it in my bones.”
While the other men searched, he dragged a piece of round carpeting to the side and dropped to his knees. He placed the candle beside him and pressed on the floorboards. One gave beneath his fingers.
“I think I found something,” he called.
He pressed again, and when a corner lifted, he pried the wood loose. In the hollow beneath the board lay a pile of sparkling jewels, including a set of rubies and diamonds, a sapphire ring, a necklace dripping with diamonds, and strands of pearls.
Edward sat back on his heels and grinned. “We have what we need. We will wait for them, and when they return, Lancelot’s reign of terror is over.”
Baker peered over Edward’s shoulder. “Interesting. I’ve been looking for some of those items.”
“What do you mean?” Edward asked.
“Some of the wealthy clients from my private cases are missing jewelry,” Baker said.
Who in their right mind would hire Baker?
Edward stood, stepped into the man’s space, and glared at him.
“What the hell? You didn’t think to tell me this when you knew I was looking for Lady Milton’s missing items?
We’ve had a theft ring right under our noses and have been looking for the same men. ”
Baker shrugged. “I would have said something, but you wouldn’t tell me what was in The People’s Hue and Cry when I asked, so now we are even.”
Edward flexed his fists again. Do not kill. Do not kill, his conscience chanted.
“Gentlemen,” Jenkins said. “Now is not the time.”
Edward rubbed his brow. Jenkins was correct. When Newton’s high-pitched tinkling lark’s trill sounded the warning, the four of them had no choice but to work together like a well-oiled machine.