Chapter 10
James exited The Laughing Rogue and crossed the street to another alehouse.
He’d learned nothing more so far. The patrons he’d spoken to at the three places he’d visited since parting ways with Croft weren’t acquainted with a man who went by Grover, Smith, Havilland, or even Marsdale.
They’d also heard no mention of an auction of any kind.
“Not the sort o’ thing we spend our blunt on,” said one man while digging into an early supper. He’d gestured toward other patrons who were busy tossing dice in a game of hazard. “Soon as I’m done eatin’, I’ll be spendin’ my coin on tryin’ to win back the two pounds I lost last night.”
James had realized in that moment that even if Grover had come here and this man had seen him, the chance of them discussing the auction would have been slim. In all likelihood, mentioning it to Lilly had been a thoughtless slip made in haste for the sake of bolstering his own ego.
Chances were, no one here would have any valuable details to add. They weren’t of the right class, and yet, James was reluctant to stop his interviews until he’d visited every establishment Grover might have gone to.
Until he’d exhausted every possibility of finding out more about this elusive bastard.
Hell, he’d repeat the effort later tonight if need be, once the gaming hells, taverns, and brothels were fuller.
He pushed his way inside The Jade Pavilion and glanced around the dim interior. Plush divans placed along the periphery of a large open space were separated by wooden screens, offering patrons privacy while they lounged in their opium-induced stupors.
The vinegary scent attached to the pastime activity filled James’s nostrils.
He knew from personal experience what kind of hold the stuff could have on a man’s mind.
The smoke could ease all kinds of worries and fill the body with bliss, but the cost was higher than any other he’d ever encountered.
It built a prison for the users and turned them into slaves.
The strength of will required to escape it was indescribable.
How lucky had he been that Croft found him when he had?
That he’d seen something useful in him, beyond the delirious opium-induced lethargy James remembered?
That he’d brought James to his home and locked him in a room, away from all temptation, for as long as it took his body to rid itself of the poison?
He owed his life to that man and would happily give it as payment if the need to do so arose. James would do the same for Croft’s wife and child. No second-guessing.
Hell, if it weren’t for Croft, James might still be working himself to death in the dockyard, loading and unloading crates from dawn until dusk.
Instead, he’d been offered a job as footman.
This allowed him the chance to improve his education and speech, merely by interacting with Croft and the other servants in his employ.
And indeed, he’d paid keen attention so as to make the most of the opportunity.
His effort in this regard had paid off, ensuring his promotion to valet a year or two later when the position became available. So yes, there was no doubt as to where his loyalty lay. He’d always strive to serve Croft to the best of his ability.
Moving carefully through the dimly lit space where low-burning oil lamps cast most of the divans in shadow, James approached the proprietor.
The Chinese man sat at a table near the back of the room, his gaze fixed on James with interest. “You want?”
“No.” James stopped before him and realized there were other eyes on him.
Two men stood nearby, one in each corner behind the owner.
Both alert, their pistols at the ready. Returning his attention to their master, James said, “I need information about a man who’s known to have frequented this area.
Liked spending his evenings at The Gilded Lady from time to time. ”
“I know nothing,” the proprietor said. “Very dark in here.”
Clearly he had no desire to get involved in whatever trouble he thought James brought to his doorstep. This was further underscored when he produced a small tray filled with all the supplies one might need to enjoy a good time there. “You stay, you smoke. Five penny.”
James stared at the stuff, the urge to surrender to one quick puff so strong it took every ounce of willpower in his possession to fight it off. “I’ll give you a pound instead, if you can tell me about the man I’m seeking.”
“Sound like he very important to you.” The Chinese man studied James, his expression thoughtful. “Five pound.”
“That’s an outrageous sum,” James protested while taking a step toward the man.
Two unmistakable clicks made him freeze. The tell-tale sound of pistol hammers being pulled back. He sent a careful look toward the men who stood guard. Both appeared ready to blast his head off his shoulders — a realization that made him back up a little.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Provided the information you give me is useful.”
Hell, he’d not even given the man a description of Grover yet. Might be a good idea to start there. So he painted a picture based on what he knew so far, and realizing this might describe any number of individuals, decided to mention the name Grover, just in case.
To James’s surprise, recognition filled the proprietor’s eyes at the sound of the name. “Regular customer, that one.”
“You’re sure?”
“Grover not too common name, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” James agreed. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Came many times. Just smoke little. Then two weeks ago, he ask to buy supply — wanted special price for large amount. I tell him I don’t sell supply. You want to smoke, you smoke here. You don’t take opium away, give to others, or worse, sell and make profit.”
“You thought he wanted to start his own business?”
“I don’t know what Grover want, but he no like my answer. Got very annoyed. Said he wanted to give me chance to make money because he like me, but now he go to competition instead. Then he left.”
“Any idea which competitor he was referring to?” James asked.
“Veiled Lantern on Regent Street. Opium there not as clean as mine. Less good.”
James wasn’t sure the quality mattered. If his suspicions were correct, Grover had somehow used the opium to drug Lady Edwina, which would explain the semiconscious state she’d been in at The Gilded Lady.
He thanked the man for the information and paid him, then went to find a hackney that could take him to Regent Street.
The funds Croft had provided him with were dwindling fast. He’d spent the vast majority at the last stop, so if the next person he spoke to demanded a similar sum, he’d be out of luck.
On a positive note, he did feel as though he was making progress in tracking Grover’s movements.
It was nearing seven o’clock in the evening by the time he arrived at The Veiled Lantern.
Unlike The Jade Pavilion, this location looked pretty upscale.
Expensive was another word that came to mind.
Could be the reason why Grover had been so annoyed by the Chinese man’s refusal to sell to him.
Based on location alone, coming here would require deep pockets.
James pushed out a breath and entered the building, which was indeed furnished with an entirely different clientele in mind. Where The Jade Pavilion had been dark and smoky with only wooden screens separating the patrons, this place was bright and inviting.
White marble floors offered a pristine look to the front area.
Small seating arrangements stood to either side of the entrance, across from which a desk had been placed.
This, along with the man who sat behind it, blocked a hallway leading straight to the back of the building.
On either side of this hallway were numerous doors, no doubt leading to private rooms where the patrons could savor their opium in peace.
The man behind the desk looked up from the book he’d been reading, gave James a quick head-to-toe inspection, and frowned. “May I help you?”
Accustomed to the arrogant ways of people who liked to pretend they were better than everyone else, James met the man’s critical gaze with a cool one of his own. “I’m seeking information about a man who reportedly came here to purchase supplies.”
A snort of disdain. “We run a discreet business here, so you’ll have to find what you’re after elsewhere.”
“The man in question probably used the name Grover,” James said, ignoring the man’s reluctance to help. “Does that jog your memory?”
“I can’t say,” the man gritted and reached for a nearby bell-pull.
He gave the velvet-wrapped cord a hard yank. A faint ring sounded then a door concealed in the paneling at the end of the hallway popped open. Two burley men appeared, their expressions grim.
“Please make sure this individual leaves,” the man behind the desk instructed the pair.
James expelled a heavy sigh. He’d been hoping to manage without the most valuable tool in his possession, but it was starting to look like he had no choice if he wanted to make quick progress.
“I’m here on behalf of Mr. Croft,” he said.
The two enforcers went utterly still. The man behind the desk, however, merely hardened his expression and said, “I don’t care if you’re here on behalf of the Prince Regent.
What happens within these walls is confidential.
Our clients depend on our discretion to protect their reputations, and I’ll not break that trust because you want to find a particular person. Do I make myself clear?”
“Grover has kidnapped a woman whom I believe he drugged using your opium. If you refuse to help, you’ll be aiding his nefarious deeds.”
“Who is the woman?”
“I cannot divulge that.”
“Then there is nothing more do discuss.”
James stared at the infuriating man while imagining his hands around his throat. Eventually, he spun on his heels and left, slamming the door on his way out. How could someone be so stubbornly single-minded that they would place a scoundrel of a client above a woman in need?
It was inconceivable to James that anyone could be so desperate to follow the rules they refused to use common sense.
He stopped on the pavement and tried to figure out what to do next. Given the hour, John Adam Street would soon be bustling with activity as men finished work and started to fill up the various establishments. Returning there to question additional people might prove useful.
Even though James’s gut said it wouldn’t, he prepared to hail another hackney when a loud, “Oi” made him turn.
A stocky man stood some ten yards away, partially hidden in the alley that ran between The Veiled Lantern and the next building over. As far as James could tell, it was one of the guards he’d encountered inside.
Unsure of his motives, James stayed where he was and watched as the man jerked his head to one side, then vanished.
James glanced at his surroundings, the pedestrians moving along the pavement and the traffic filling the street. All appeared oblivious to the man who’d just shouted at him.
Jaw set, James strode to the alley and approached the man who waited inside. It was indeed one of the guards he’d encountered just moments before. “Yes?”
Hunched over, one hand in his jacket pocket and the other holding a lit cheroot to his lips, the man peered at James from beneath the brim of a brown woolen cap.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke, then said, “Is this Grover fellow you’re lookin’ for in his early thirties?
Roughly yay high and with light brown hair? ”
James moved a bit closer and raised his chin. “He is.”
“A man of that description did show up here a while back. Wanted to purchase supplies. Struck a deal with my boss and left with ten ounces of opium.”
“Why are you telling me this?” While James was immensely grateful, he was also curious to know the man’s reason for choosing to betray his employer.
The man shrugged one shoulder and took another drag from his cheroot. “For starters, Mr. Croft helped me out of a bind once, so I reckon I owe him. More than that, I’d rather a woman doesn’t suffer if I can prevent it.”
James nodded his appreciation. “Any idea where Grover went from here?”
“Not a clue.”
“Did he happen to mention an auction, by any chance?” Given the opium den’s appearance, the clientele was upper-class and might include the exact sort of people for whom the chance to bid on a duke’s sister would seem exciting.
When the man responded with a blank gaze James pressed, “What about some detail or name that could help me figure out where he’s currently lodging? ”
A thoughtful look preceded the comment, “He said he was makin’ the purchase on behalf of his employer. Mr. Henshaw was the name he provided.”
James stilled. Henshaw was a wealthy business man. He owned Henshaw & Co. Mercantile Company and was often mentioned in the papers. “Is he a client here?”
“Yes. He visits regularly but plans to travel. Hence Grover’s need for supplies. Or at least that was the explanation he gave my employer.”
“That’s…thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” James retrieved a few coins and offered them to the man. “I wish I could give you more.”
“There’s no need to give me anythin’ at all. Like I said, I owe Mr. Croft.”
“I’ll make sure he knows the debt has been paid,” James promised. He shook the man’s hand, thanked him again, and returned to the street where he hailed a hackney.
It took him a good half hour to get back to Portman Square with all the evening traffic blocking the way. When he finally arrived at Number 5, he entered the house and sought out Croft, who was leafing through some papers in his study.
James gave the door a quick knock to draw Croft’s attention, then said, “I think I’ve made progress.”
Croft stood, his expression on instant alert. “Tell me.”
James summed up the information he had acquired since they’d last spoken, then asked, “Any chance you know where Henshaw lives?”
Croft’s nod eased some of the tension in James’s muscles. Good. There was finally hope. If they tackled this the right way, they would soon figure out where Lady Edwina was being held.