Charlotte looked down at the piece of paper in her palm. “You’ve already given me the address.”
Lucy sighed. “Do you really think it will be alright, after everything that you suspect has happened to Hester? What if this gentleman is out to kidnap you?”
“Make it a public place—a tavern or pub will do—two villages over so we don’t draw local attention. That way if something happens I can call for help, but no one from around here will think to gossip to Father about seeing his daughter with a strange ruffian.”
She laughed at that last word, but seeing Lucy’s stricken face she added, “He won’t be a ruffian, Lucy. I’ll be safe.”
Lucy waited for another long moment and then relented. “Alright, I’ll arrange a meeting. But don’t write to that address—I’ll speak with this Ambrose fellow and have him break the information. I wouldn’t want us to lose the opportunity because Sinclair found out about an advertisement he didn’t agree with.”
The two sisters parted ways in the garden, and Charlotte sat down to think about all that had transpired. In more ways than one, this was the answer to everything that had been weighing her down in recent months. She’d been doing her best to pursue all avenues, research places where Hester might have gone, and think about people she might have been involved with—people of an unsavoury nature. Despite all these attempts, however, she’d been coming up dry at every corner. No one had seen Hester Russell in months, and those that had seen her before her disappearance hadn’t seen anything that made them suspicious that she was about to leave.
Then came Lucy with word of this Ewan Sinclair. Perhaps this gentleman could track down her cousin. Perhaps he could unravel the story of what would convince a young woman to abandon her family and all that she knew to run away, or, if what Charlotte feared was true, what kind of person would kidnap an innocent young woman and take her far away from her home. He sounded like a man with a long resume to draw from, a man who had nothing to lose and would stop at nothing to find the truth. Just the kind of man they would need to find a missing girl.
But if Charlotte were honest, the name Sinclair stood for more than just Hester’s salvation. What was it that Lucy had said? He was an adventurer who travelled, had experienced a shipwreck—perhaps—had gone on long journeys around the world and survived grand adventures without the behest of societal aid.
He was a symbol the same way Alice Montgomery had been a signal all those months ago, a siren singing from a faraway place and telling Charlotte that there was more out there to be had in the world, more to be had out of life itself, if she would only reach out her hand and take it.
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A Lady's Perfect Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 31
