Chapter 4

 

 

 

Viscount Tensbridge was ushered into the Galway Agency’s conference room at two o’clock. Edwina Callen had not exaggerated; the man was handsome to a fault. Tall, with that lean musculature that Claudia imagined all women find appealing. His clean-shaven looks showed off his cheekbones to his advantage, and his thick, dark, wavy hair and flawless skin merely added to the prevailing picture of an indolent but beautiful aristocrat who had the world by the tail.

Mrs. Bartle, the housekeeper, accepted his coat, hat, and gloves and hastened from the room.

“Viscount Tensbridge, I am Eleanora Galway, and this is Claudia Ellingford, who will be taking your case.”

The viscount took Eleanora’s hand and bent over it, then slightly twisted toward Claudia, giving her a short nod of acknowledgment. How intriguing that the man’s gaze had not met hers. Or maybe it wasn’t interesting at all.

Once seated, he turned toward Eleanora. “I will come straight to the point. I require surveillance on my younger brother, Bryan Wollstonecraft.” The viscount reached inside his suit coat and pulled out a photograph. Placing it on the table, he slid it across to Eleanora. “This is recent, as I received an Eastman Kodak folding camera as a gift.”

Eleanora smiled. “We also have one. Miss Ellingford recently learned to use it if you wish the surveillance to include photographic evidence, my lord. That will be an extra charge.”

 “Of course. Include any photographs when necessary, but I believe most of this investigation will be undertaken at night. I do not expect a twenty-four-hour, seven-days-a-week report. Just a general accounting of his comings and goings. The family believes he has fallen in with a disreputable crowd and wishes to avoid any—complications.”

The viscount brought forth an envelope, sliding it across the table to join the photograph. “This is the address and the names of the men he shares a residence with.”

“He is not staying with you, my lord?” Claudia questioned. “Seems to me that if you wish to keep tabs on your brother, you’d keep him under your roof—and thumb.” Typical of a peer handing off his family responsibility to another.

Eleanora glowered at her with eyes widened as if to say, “What are you doing?”

Tensbridge gazed at her for the first time since entering the room. Claudia almost gasped audibly. His eyes were a shade of gray-green she had never seen before, and they were quite mesmerizing. And so was that plump lower lip of his.

“What do you suggest, Miss Ellingford, that I lock him in a room?” his lordship questioned sarcastically. “He is twenty-two years of age, an adult, at least by the legal terminology. The family suggested he stay with my cousin and me, but Bryan refused. There we are.”

Claudia didn’t care for his sardonic tone and bit back a retort. Instead, she seized the envelope and tore it open. Her heart sank when she saw the address. His lordship’s wayward brother lived in Notting Hill on Clarendon Road. Right next to Notting Dale, the aforementioned West End Avernus, a location she swore she would never return to. She could not refuse to take the case. It would mean elucidating why. And to reject her first solo case? Not wise.

“Is there a problem, Miss Ellingford?” Tensbridge asked gruffly.

“No, not at all, my lord,” Claudia replied. “What can you tell me about Viscount Shinwell and Lord Linton?”

“I do not know them all that well. They joined The Rakes of St. Regent Park the same time as I—”

An undignified snort escaped Claudia’s lips before she could restrain it. What an outlandish name for a men’s club. Rather foolish, really.

“You are aware that your superior’s husband, the Duke of Allenby, is a senior member of that group?” Tensbridge stated, with one thick eyebrow cocked.

Claudia arranged her features to show neutral indifference. Hell’s bells, no, she was not aware Eleanora’s duke husband was in the group or of the group’s existence at all.

You are off to a great start, Claudia.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the viscount. “Thank you for informing me, my lord.” There was no keeping the slight sneer from her voice. Claudia cleared her throat—best to change the subject. “I will begin the surveillance tomorrow. What are your brother’s habits? Is he an early riser? Are there any clubs or pubs he likes to frequent?”

“That is why I hired you,” Tensbridge sniffed haughtily. “As far as an early riser, I suppose Bryan is similar to the rest of the indolent upper classes and rarely ventures out before noon.”

“It must be why you asked for a two o’clock appointment, my lord,” she smiled sweetly.

The corner of his mouth quirked. An actual reaction: was he amused, annoyed, or perhaps both? It was difficult to tell as the man was so self-contained.

“We will start tomorrow. How can we reach you, my lord?” Eleanora asked.

“At the Tensbridge house, 5 Hill Street, Mayfair. Next to the Coach and Horses,” he replied. “But I am not at home most evenings or some afternoons. Better to send word first to my butler, Dalton, to arrange an appointment.”

Next to a public house, how convenient. And only home some evenings. Not a surprise there, either. Claudia exhaled. She must stop being so hypercritical of a man she knew nothing of. But peers and wealthy gentlemen generally had good cause to rile her contempt. Starting with her miserable father and to every man of the elite and gentry class she had come across while living on the streets.

By the restrained expression of annoyance on Eleanora’s face, Claudia was about to be reminded of treating all clients with respect, regardless of their station in life. 

It’s best to nip this in the bud.

“Excuse my tone,” she offered contritely, looking to Eleanora and Tensbridge. “I meant no disrespect. It appears I tumbled out of the wrong side of the bed this morning. I will throw myself into this investigation immediately, my lord, including discovering more about your brother’s housemates.”

Tensbridge nodded. “Thank you, Miss Ellingford. I must be off. Meetings at Parliament.” He stood, and Eleanora called for Mrs. Bartle.

Claudia stood as well and came to stand before him. Those eyes. Not a shade she will soon forget. “I would like to arrange a sit-down interview with you, my lord, perhaps at the end of the week? I can give you my preliminary report and ask more in-depth questions regarding your brother.” She added a brief smile to show the appropriate amount of eagerness.

“Is it just me you disdain, or my entire class?” His voice was low, his gaze intense. Standing this close, she could see a ring of gold around the irises of those extraordinary eyes. There was a tiny mole above his upper lip. How distracting. The man really was a handsome specimen. A flutter moved through her insides. 

Attraction? It’s best to dismiss that immediately.

“Oh, it is the entire class. Nothing personal at all, my lord. I will restrain my derision in the future, I promise.”

There, the hint of a smile. It makes the viscount all the more appealing; drat it.

Mrs. Bartle handed Tensbridge his coat, hat, and gloves. “Good. Then I will see you Friday afternoon at two o’clock to hear your first report.” He nodded and left the room.

“Claudia,” Eleanora began.

“I know. I do apologize; that was not well done of me.”

“Mrs. Bartle, please bring us a tea tray. When is my next appointment?” Eleanora asked the housekeeper.

“Not until half past four. I’ll fetch the tea.” She hurried off, leaving them alone.

Eleanora pointed toward a chair, and Claudia sat. “It was not well done, and it cannot occur again. The agency treats all clients respectfully, regardless of class, gender, race, or other classification. Let me tell you about The Rakes of St. Regent’s Park. You might wish to take notes.” Eleanora was not overtly angry; she spoke matter-of-factly. Regardless, Claudia heard a slight admonishment in Eleanora’s tone. Claudia felt her cheeks grow hot. New life, indeed. Claudia nodded in response and pulled out her notebook and pencil—the ones Althea said she should always have on her. 

“Indolent peers formed the club twenty years ago to seek excitement and adventures in moral iniquity. Over the years, the membership has ebbed and flowed. It now consists of a small group of friends and acquaintances, of whom most are married now. In the past months, the group’s purpose has turned to more of a charity bent, but the few unmarried members still pursue certain vices.”

Claudia wrote furiously.

“The current membership includes my husband, Christian Bamford, the Duke of Allenby. Gideon Broyles, the Duke of Watford. Damon Cranston, the Duke of Chellenham, and Althea’s intended. Asher Colborne, Baron Wenlock. Merritt Redfern, Viscount Tolwood. Troy Buckingham, Viscount Shinwell. Oliver Wollstonecraft, Viscount Tensbridge. Mr. Gregory McFadden and Lord Rome Linton. And my husband tells me Mr. Rett Wollstonecraft, a cousin of Tensbridge’s, will join the group.” Eleanora spoke slowly, pausing after each name, giving Claudia time to write everything in her notebook.

Mrs. Bartle brought in the tea. On the tray were a plate of sandwiches and another of assorted biscuits, homemade ginger and store-bought Peek Frean and Company Garabaldis, a flat raisin biscuit, and chocolate-covered digestive biscuits. Claudia was famished. 

Eleanora poured the tea. “The unmarried ones are from Tolwood onward. As far as Viscount Shinwell and Lord Linton, who is the second son of the Duke of Coldbridge, I do not know much about them. The Duke of Coldbridge recently married Christian’s mother, making Rome my husband’s stepbrother. But they are not close, though Christian has tried to include him in the family.”

Eleanora passed her an empty plate and then held out the platter of sandwiches. Claudia took five wedges. She would say this of The Galway Agency: the food was plentiful and well prepared. Even better than at The Velvet Vine. It certainly improved over one meal a day at the Ten Bells.

“Shinwell has a reputation,” Eleanora continued as she held out the platter of biscuits. “I suppose you could refer to him as the main rake now that Chellenham is engaged to my sister. If Bryan Wollstonecraft is staying with Shinwell, then the young man will be pulled into Shinwell’s pursuit of depravity, I have no doubt. Linton, as well. I will ask Christian to ask around about the two men discreetly.”

It astounded Claudia that a duke would be assisting his wife with investigations, but credit where it was undoubtedly due. Perhaps not all aristocrats were soulless bastards.

The bell sounded, and Mrs. Bartle rushed down the stairs. A few moments later, she entered the room and announced. “The Duchess of Watford.”

Claudia stood and watched a beaming and beautiful Olivia Durham, now Olivia Broyles, a duchess, cross the threshold. Olivia held out her hands, and Eleanora took them.

“So good to see you, Eleanora.” She turned toward Claudia and smiled. “Mary. Or rather Claudia.” Olivia embraced Claudia, startling her into inaction. “You can hug me in return,” Olivia whispered. Feeling awkward, Claudia patted Olivia’s back.

They parted. “I stopped in to see Althea,” Olivia continued. “What a scene! Damon fluffed her pillows and poured her tea. Who would have thought?”

Eleanora laughed. “Certainly not me. I thought Chellenham was an unrepentant rake, but I was mistaken, as he genuinely loves Althea and is completely devoted to her. Mrs. Bartle, please bring another cup.”

“At once, Miss Eleanora.” The housekeeper departed as the women sat at the table.

“Your housekeeper doesn’t call you, “Your Grace’?” Olivia asked.

“While here at Cleveland Street, I am Eleanora Galway. Besides, Mrs. Bartle is like family. I would never insist on addressing me as such.”

“I am not interrupting anything?” Olivia asked as she removed her gloves.

“Oliver Wollstonecraft was just here,” Eleanora replied. “He has hired the agency, and I was filling in Claudia about The Rakes.”

Olivia grinned. “A handsome cluster of naughty men, to be certain.” 

“Olivia, sorry to interrupt,” Claudia interjected. “I meant to call on you before this, but I have been busy with training. I know you were told about my real first name, but I wanted to tell you in person about my actual last name, at least the one my mother put on my birth certificate. My father is Whinstone. I am Claudia Ellingford.”

Olivia’s friendly smile disappeared. “Whinstone?”

“Yes. The duke kept my mother in a few rented rooms at Eaton Place. He didn’t come around much and hardly paid me any mind. Then we were dispatched to other places, each address heading toward absolute poverty until he cut us off altogether. Things went from bad to worse. My mother fell seriously ill, and I asked Whinstone for money to care for her in a decent room. But he refused to see me.”

“Oh, that horrible beast,” Olivia seethed. 

“My mother died soon after, and I was alone. I had no one to turn to.”

Olivia placed her hand over Claudia’s and squeezed it in support. “I know, for it happened to me when my adopted father abandoned me in London. There is nothing worse than being alone on the streets.”

Claudia nodded, unable to speak. A haze of hot tears glistened in her eyes as unfamiliar emotions swelled, but she blinked the tears back. Try as she might, there was no keeping the reaction in check, not when speaking about this. This bleak part of her life caused irreparable harm, scarring her soul and damaging her ability to deal with people and properly regulate her emotions.

“Whenever you are ready to talk about it, I’m here,” Olivia whispered. “For I understand more than anyone.” More loudly, she said, “Gideon and I are staying in London for the rest of the autumn and part of the winter as renovations continue at Foxmont. I want us to see each other, Claudia, and Gideon wishes to know you. He understands you are not related to him by blood, but there is a tie through marriage. Soon, I will tell you about Whinstone. You know he is in prison?”

Watford? What would her tie be to Olivia’s husband? Illegitimate stepsister?

Hell’s bells.

 “Yes, Althea had mentioned Whinstone’s imprisonment. We will talk of it later to be sure.”

Olivia released her hand from Claudia’s. “You will find no finer friends than the Galway sisters. Allow yourself to be open to new relationships, Claudia. I know it won’t be easy to trust—anyone. But do make an effort. I still find it problematic.”

Claudia nodded. A lump had formed in her throat. Trust. It will take work. She could try. 

Olivia understood her well despite not knowing each other long. Claudia found Olivia’s frank revelations and observations refreshing. Yes, if anyone comprehended living on the streets, Olivia would. Perhaps discussing it with someone when she is ready will lessen the nightmares and permit her to deal better with people and feelings.

Olivia patted her hand in reassurance and turned toward the doorway. “Ah, Mrs. Bartle. Thank you.” The housekeeper placed a plate, and a cup and saucer before her. “I am hungry.”

Eleanora poured the tea. Then, the platters were passed around.

“I am holding an afternoon tea in two weeks to raise money for Chellenhome,” Olivia declared as she placed numerous sandwich slices on her plate. “Althea said she would attend. I wish for you both to attend, as well.”

Claudia choked on her tea and coughed. “You can’t be serious. Me? Among rich ladies? No, thank you.”

“Like me, you are a daughter of a duke,” Olivia replied firmly. “Illegitimate or not, you can hold your head up in any company, despite Whinstone’s reputation and recent doings. Besides, it is for a good cause. Chellenham is my half-brother, and he owns Chellenhome for Foundlings.”

The Duke of Chellenham was her half-brother? Which meant the late duke was her father. “Hell’s bells,” Claudia muttered.

Eleanora laughed. “There is quite a lot to fill Claudia in on.”

“There is. Eleanora, your cousin, Sybil, and the other investigator, Miss Callen, are also invited,” Olivia said as she sipped her tea. “It will be my first social event as the Duchess of Watford. I am nervous, and I need my friends there for support.”

“We will gladly attend, won’t we, Claudia?” Eleanora stated as she reached for the biscuits.

What choice did she have? She had other options, but why decline when Olivia acted so kind and compassionate? Despite her initial instinct to refuse, Claudia decided to accept. She might as well make an effort, at least for this tea party situation. “Yes. Very well. But I don’t own a proper dress for a fancy afternoon tea.”

“We will go shopping. I will pick you up tomorrow morning at ten. You can spare me two hours?” Olivia asked. “We might even have time for tea at Lyon’s Tearoom.”

A tearoom? Another first for Claudia. Since Bryan Wollstonecraft would no doubt be still abed, Claudia sighed. “Yes. But I agree to this under protest. I do not mix well with the elites.”

Eleanora snorted. “And you think we do? Join the club, Claudia.”

Olivia raised her cup and chuckled lightly in agreement.

Claudia was swept up into these ladies’ lives whether she wanted it or not. Trying to remain disconnected will prove to be a challenge. On all fronts. Including finding Tensbridge attractive. That had been the most astonishing revelation of the day.

It would be best to set that aside for several reasons. Handsome or not, Viscount Tensbridge embodied what Claudia could not abide: the arrogant, indolent peer who disdains everyone below them. She had encountered worse examples than Tensbridge, but he disturbed her in ways beyond his stuffy manner. What had that Sentinel bloke stirred up inside of her that a stranger also piqued her interest? A client, no less. 

Claudia shook her head. It is best to dismiss it, as nothing could ever come of it.