Chapter 10
Next day
Chancery Lane, London
“You’ll have to come to the club for a drink sometime,” said Lord Tamber, placing his beaver hat firmly on his dark head. “I can introduce you to some friends.”
“I’d like that very much, my lord,” said Ben. “If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
“I’m not a hesitating kind of man,” he said with a chuckle. “My brother and I were taught to go after what we wanted.”
Ben knew most titled men were raised in the same fashion, encouraged to take whatever they desired and to the devil with everyone else.
Ben liked the earl, though, who was more approachable than most noblemen he was acquainted with.
Then he remembered Harry’s brother-in-law, the Earl of Darby.
A man with integrity and a lack of class prejudice.
Perhaps it just depended on the man, like the rest of the human race.
It was after five, and he was meeting Clayton at the Stock Exchange Coffee House for a drink and a meal.
He hoped to find Mr. Felton on his nightly rounds afterwards, let him know his daughter was safe, and ask permission to court her.
He clenched his teeth, hating the nerves that overtook him whenever he thought of it.
Why? He’d never been anxious before when it came to women.
His last courtship had been with a young widow.
A prime article, blonde with sea-green eyes and a delightful laugh.
But she hadn’t been interested in a relationship, enjoying the freedom widowhood had brought her.
That had been a year ago, and no one had caught his attention until Miss Felton.
Kitty. Oh, how he longed to make her purr.
Hold her in his arms, kiss those soft lips again, whisper in her ear and feel her shiver.
I’m getting ahead of myself, he thought as he stepped out onto busy Chancery Lane.
The street was filled with vehicles, people trying to cross between the carriages and wagons, crowds moving both ways on each side of the street.
A man bumped into him, mumbled an apology, and continued on.
A scraggly dog dashed under a carriage, spooked the horses, and barely escaped a crushing wheel.
Most of the vendors were closing up, their wares sold by now. He increased his pace, knowing he had an hour’s walk, but enjoying the warmer weather too much to wave a hackney.
Would Clayton have good news? Ben desperately wanted the murderer to be found, so he could begin courting her in earnest. Living with strangers in fear for your life and your family was not the proper way to begin a relationship.
He wanted her to come to know him, the man, not the solicitor whose family saved her.
He was looking for, hoping for love not gratitude.
In the present situation, he wouldn’t be sure about the reason for her affection—if any affection grew between them.
Weel, boyo, I t’ink ye’ve already let that cow out of da barn.
Ben chuckled to himself, thinking of what Paddy might say. His folks had an Irish saying for every situation. He thought of Miss Felton and her courage, and the tears she held back when speaking of her father and her dog.
He snapped his fingers. That’s what he’d do. Yes, she would like that. Ben decided to ask Paddy the next day. But first, he had to speak to a father about his daughter.
* * *
The Coffee House was humming with customers.
It was a popular public house for bankers and neighborhood businessmen.
It was close to home for both him and Clayton, who lived on Threadneedle.
For now. Ben wondered how long before Clayton and Genie would purchase a townhouse and move from his rooms. Clayton’s place wasn’t ideal for a family, and he had the impression the couple was eager to start one.
He nodded to Sally, the buxom barmaid who knew everyone’s drink and favorite dish, and scanned the large room for his brother. Sally stopped in front of him, a tray filled with bumpers of ale and a half loaf of fresh bread.
“He’s back there,” she said with a toss of blonde curls. “Got some tasty rabbit stew today.”
“Sounds perfect,” he said with a wink, heading toward his brother who sat at the end of a long table.
“Brother, how goes the office?” Clayton asked with a snicker. “I don’t know how you can sit behind a desk. I’d be dicked in the knob if I had to stay locked up in a room all day.”
“First, I’m not locked in. I enjoy my work. It’s not a prison. And I don’t have to wear grimy clothes and forget what dialect I’m speaking on any given day.”
“Point for Ben.” Clayton nodded at the ale he had waiting for his brother. “Did you order the stew?”
“I usually take whatever Sally suggests. She’s never steered me wrong.” Ben took a long pull on the ale.
“She knows her customers,” agreed Clayton. “I used to think I didn’t need a wife between Sally, Bess at Dog’s Bone, and my landlady.”
“Genie has convinced you otherwise.”
“I believe fate convinced us both.” He looked over Ben’s shoulder. “Here comes our girl.”
Sally set down their bowls of steaming gravy, vegetables, and meat, with a fresh hunk of bread and churned butter.
“If I wasn’t betrothed, Sally…” Clayton grinned at her as he picked up a spoon.
“Before ye was betrothed, ye used to say, ‘If I was a marryin’ man.’” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Anythin’ else?”
“Everything I need,” Ben said around a mouthful of potato, and Clayton echoed the sentiment.
When she had moved on, Clayton leaned forward. “I’ve put someone on Rowlands, hoping to catch him when he goes after the second man who wanted out. I’d almost feel sorry for the old gallows bird, but he wears the same feathers as Rowland.”
“So you hope to catch him in the act?” Ben liked the idea, possibly eliminating the need for Miss Felton to testify. One murder would send the man to the gallows as easily as two.
“My main concern as we approach this is to keep my anonymity. I don’t want to jeopardize my placement within The Vicar’s gang.
” Clayton dug into his stew, emitting an appreciative groan.
“I need to find a cook when we move to a bigger home. Genie’s too busy to keep up a household, and we’ll be losing her Aunt Lydia.
That woman can make a pudding better than—”
“Don’t say it!” Ben raised a hand. “Maggie’ll find out somehow, and you will pay dearly.”
Clayton snorted. “You’re right. But it’s true.”
“I’m surprised Rowlands hasn’t already taken the other man out.”
“Like I said, he’s a coxcomb to be sure, but he’s also a fox.
He told us last night he had no idea what happened to the man, but he wished him well.
Then laughed.” Clayton waved his empty bumper in the air and smiled, presumably catching Sally’s eye.
“I need to be careful not to arouse his suspicions. Rowland’s got skill at spreading flim flam and luring natty lads into the fold.
He’s brought in four new recruits in the last couple of weeks. ”
“I’m sure it takes a certain degree of finesse to do that. He’s offering them a job they can never walk away from.” How many wayward lads had fallen in with the wrong people? It was an age-old tale.
“The typical ruse. Street urchins are used to being on the wrong side of the law, so they snatch up the generous wage for something they’d be doing anyway. Once they’re comfortable, they’re asked to do something a little more dangerous—and more pay.”
“Locked in before they know it’s happened.”
“Exactly. I imagine Rowlands himself learned the trick the hard way.”
“Are you concerned for your safety?” Ben worried about his brothers, putting themselves in danger for most cases, though he knew how much they loved their work.
And they were deuced good at it. Ben appreciated the information he learned as a Runner, knowing what was needed for a case before it could be presented at court and how much work it took to attain that information.
He didn’t enjoy the violence. He would fight, if needed, and rather enjoyed a good boxing match. His marksmanship was excellent, and he would shoot another man to preserve his life or someone else’s, but he much preferred assisting through his practice.
“I’m always concerned about safety—mine and any innocent victims—but it’s part of the job.” He paused while Sally refilled their bumpers. “I’m thankful Genie has never asked me to quit. She understands how important the cases are to me.”
“You’ve found a good woman. I’m glad you didn’t make a bumblebath of the whole relationship and let Harry talk some sense into you.” Ben remembered how Clayton had almost lost Genie. She made him a better man.
Is that what I want? To be a better man? Then he was about to court the right woman because he was certain Miss Felton would have the same effect on him.
“I put Lynch on surveillance for the Felton place at night,” added Clayton, ignoring Ben’s statement about the mess he almost made of his betrothal. “If Rowlands knows who the witness is, he’ll show up at her residence when she’s alone.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. If no one comes looking for her, then they haven’t been able to discover her identity. She may be safe after all.”
Hope bloomed in Ben’s chest. While Kitty would still need to stay out of sight so she wasn’t spotted, the issue of her safety would be greatly reduced. “Roger must not need much sleep. Doesn’t he have regular hours now?”
“Paddy talked to his constable. He’s helping us with this case, and all information will be directly relayed to Bow Street.”
“Smart.” Ben took a deep breath, then set down his spoon.
“Uh-oh, whatever you’re about to tell me must be serious.” Clayton followed suit and gave Ben his full attention.
“I’m speaking with Mr. Felton. I want to court his daughter.” There, he’d said it out loud. It hadn’t been so bad.
Clayton let out a whistle. “She’s a beauty. There must be something special about her to lure you out from under the rock you’ve been hiding under.”
“I haven’t been hiding. I just needed to re-establish my priorities, make a wise decision about my future.”
“And find the right girl,” said Clayton with a knowing wink. “Be as practical as you want, but it doesn’t matter when Cupid strikes. All sense flies out the window.”
“You should know,” said Ben, raising his ale to toast his brother. “To the parson’s trap.”
“To tailormade leg-shackles,” agreed Clayton.
* * *
Ben walked the neighborhood until he found Mr. Felton. He stepped in beside him after scratching Terry’s ears.
“She’s doing well,” said Ben.
Mr. Felton nodded, unusually quiet. He probably missed his daughter.
“Someone is tailing the suspect, hoping to catch him when he goes after the next man.”
“Good to hear,” said the night watchman.
“A man will also be surveilling your place. My brother reasoned that, if no one comes looking for Miss Felton, the suspect doesn’t know her identity.” Ben saw the deep lines in the older man’s face soften.
“This business needs to be over, so I can bring my Kitty home.”
Woof!
Terry’s agreement made both men chuckle, easing the tension. Ben plowed ahead, throwing subtlety to the wind.
“I’d like your permission to court your daughter.” He was appalled at the relieved sigh that had forced its way out of his chest. And shocked at Mr. Felton’s reaction.
“It took you long enough,” he said, slapping Ben on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re a solicitor and not a barrister. You wear your heart on your sleeve, son. Or in your eyes, at least.”
Ben grinned. “I can’t deny it. It’s a fault I was born with.”
“Not a fault, my boy. It makes it easier for people to know you speak the truth.”
“Are you giving me your consent, then?” This had been too easy.
“I’m for it, but you’ll have to convince Kitty. She has it in her head that a husband would keep her from doing the things she wants to do. She’s dead set on making of business with her gewgaws.”
“She’s against marriage?” Ben asked, flabbergasted. Didn’t all women want a husband and a family?
“No, nothing like that. She’s just willing to wait for the right partner. You’ll have to prove you’re that man.” Mr. Felton looked at Ben and let out a guffaw, slapping his knee. “You’ve turned as pale as the mornin’ milk.”
“I always thought women—”
“There’s your first mistake. Don’t try to rationalize a woman’s actions, for their minds don’t work the same as ours. You’ll end up in Bedlam.”
Ben began to laugh, and soon Mr. Felton joined him. “I wish you luck, my boy. Nothing I’d like more than to welcome you to the family.”
Ben’s smile crumpled. Luck? Oh nooooo.