By the time I left Maw’s building the cloud bank that had been assembling along the northern horizon had won its battle for the sky, leaving no stars visible. My mood was coinciding with the night. While I was pleased with the information I’d gotten about the regiment, I had no idea what to do about finding Lady Stuart. As I trudged back to Limehouse Street I swore I wouldn’t be the reason Colin couldn’t solve this case. No matter what, I was going to find the blasted woman somehow.
The wind caught my coat as I rounded the corner, slapping it against my thighs, but I gave it little thought as I concentrated on how Colin began every case he took, how he would start by assembling the facts, clinically and without prejudice. I tried to think of everything I knew about Lady Stuart. She had to be comely enough to attract a suitor such as Captain Bellingham, a young man of high regard with the promise of a long career in the Queen’s service ahead of him. She was also likely either widowed or unsatisfactorily wed, given their affair and the apparent frequency with which they were able to carry it off. Last, she had to be a woman of questionable conscience to be involved in such an indiscretion with a married man. Which left me pondering whom I might be acquainted with who might know such a woman.
Few names came to mind. Abigail Roynton was one of them.
Mrs. Roynton was the well-connected neighbor of the Arnifour family and had been a valuable source of information in Colin’s last case. If there was a highborn woman in this city, Abigail Roynton would almost certainly know something of her. So in spite of the fact that I had found Mrs. Roynton overbearing, unctuous, and wildly cloying where Colin was concerned, I could think of no other alternative as I crossed onto Shadwell Street, the demarcation between those who suffer in complete squalor and the merely downtrodden, and hailed a cab. The driver’s dubious expression did not escape me as I instructed him to take me to the estates on the outskirts of the city’s limits, so I made a show of jingling the coins in my pocket as I climbed into his carriage. Lucky for me that Maw had not accepted the last of my paltry funds.
Within thirty minutes we pulled up to the familiar iron gates outside the Roynton estate. I paid the driver and hopped out and was immediately struck by the overwhelming scent of rain. I looked up just as the sky shivered and rumbled with a staccato display of lightning, like a visual Morse code. Almost at once, the rain drew on me like a thief, tumbling from the willowy canopy of trees lining the long driveway. I raced the rest of the way up the drive but was well saturated by the time I reached the sanctuary of the porch. Stomping and sputtering, I reached out and banged the great looped knocker, conscious of the sight I would present to whoever answered.
“Yes?” Her houseman eyed me without expression.
I tried to coax a contrite smile as I gave my name and reminded him of my connection to Colin. As so often happens, his eyebrows rose at the mention of Colin’s name, and he ushered me inside, bringing me to a library where a fire was thankfully ablaze. He offered me brandy, which I declined, but I did accept the chenille wrap he held out, grateful for its ability to blot my saturated clothing. I sidled up to the fire as soon as he left me alone, catching sight of the mantel clock. It was already nine: I had one hour left before I was to meet Colin at Shauney’s.
As I warmed myself before the fire I tried vainly to keep from fretting about the time. Even so, I was grateful when a butler scuttled in with a tray of hot tea and a fresh blanket. He removed the wrap clinging to my shoulders, managing to avoid displaying an ounce of displeasure at its level of wetness, and replaced it so deftly that it was about me again before I realized the other was gone. He handed me a cup of tea before withdrawing with the stealth of a cat.
Within a few minutes I was able to shed the second wrap, and after the butler returned twice more to refill my tea and restoke the fire, and just before I was sure I was on the verge of apoplexy from waiting so long, the great wooden doors on the opposite side of the room swung wide to reveal the mistress herself. She was as striking as ever, her curly black hair piled up just so and wearing no more than a hint of makeup on her flawless skin. This was a woman who had clearly spent a lifetime protected from the harsh glare of the sun.
“Mr. Pruitt. What a pleasure,” she cooed as she swept into the room. “I hope you’ve had a chance to dry off some?”
“I have, thank you. Your staff has taken care to see that I am both warm and dry.”
“As they should.” She gestured to a seat across from where she settled herself. “What brings you out on such a night as this? Might you be working on something for the enchanting Mr. Pendragon?”
No wonder he had liked her so much more than I. “Indeed,” I answered rather coolly.
“And how is dear Colin? Pity he couldn’t come himself.”
I froze the smile on my face and forced myself not to launch my tea at her. “Yes . . . well . . . I’m afraid he has more important things to attend to tonight,” I shot back cheekily.
She laughed. “I’m sure he does.”
Her laughter made me feel foolish. “He wanted to come himself,” I quickly backpedaled, “but he’s quite involved in a new case, which is why I have had to impose upon you this evening. He’s wondering if you might have knowledge of a titled woman he is most eager to find.”
“How amusing!” Her eyes flashed with merriment. “Dear Colin sent you to ask me about another woman?”
I chuckled as though there was the slightest amusement to be found in her words before saying, “Her name is Lady Dahlia Stuart. Have you heard of her?”
“Let me think. . . .” She tilted her head and sighed. “Dahlia Stuart . . .” She turned and stared disinterestedly at the fire. “I do believe I have heard of a woman by that name,” she conceded after what felt a protracted time. “Though I’m not at all sure about that title.”
“It’s what we have been told.”
“No doubt.” She gave a thin smile. “It may be what she calls herself, but then everyone knows how cheaply titles and a whiff of respectability can be had these days.”
“Of course,” I answered in a tone so dry it nearly caught in my throat. “Do you know her by some other designation?”
“I know her exactly as you refer to her, though I don’t believe she has come by her title properly.” She stared off vacantly. “I suppose she does have a vague sort of charm—”
I tried to keep the excitement from my voice as I continued to press her. “Would you happen to know where we might find her?”
“Lancaster Gate, I think. Not exactly the domain of those most noble, but I do believe you will find her slouching about there somewhere.”
“Outstanding.” And now an honest smile came easily. “I cannot thank you enough,” I said as I set my teacup down and stood up. “Mr. Pendragon will be most grateful.”
“Oh”—a Cheshire grin overtook her face—“I do hope so. Please give him my very best.”
“Of course.” I nodded as I headed for the door.
“Do let him know I’m here should he ever get lonely. . . .” She chuckled.
“Piss off,” I hissed under my breath.