by Laura Beers
“You’re looking for a fight?”
Oliver smirked. “No, but I wouldn’t mind if one found us.”
Chapter Nine
The warmth of the afternoon sun streamed through the open windows as Madalene took a sip of tea.
“Please say that you will come,” Jane said over the rim of her teacup.
Madalene frowned, lowering the cup in her hand. “I daresay that your brother won’t want me at his ball.”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” Jane countered. “I want you there.”
Lady Hawthorne spoke up from next to her daughter. “Jane is correct. Besides, we both want you there.”
“I suppose I could attend, assuming I haven’t left for the countryside yet.”
Reaching forward, Jane placed her empty teacup on the tray. “You must delay your trip.”
“I already have for the sake of finding Edith,” Madalene replied.
“Has the constable found any leads on where Edith could be?” Harriet asked.
Madalene shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“You must be patient,” Harriet encouraged. “After all, these investigations can take time.”
“Time that Edith doesn’t have,” Madalene asserted, placing her cup and saucer onto the tray. “I just don’t believe the constable is doing all he can on this case.”
“Has the Bow Street Runner made any progress?” Jane asked.
“I’m not sure,” Madalene replied. “My solicitor hasn’t responded to my letter.”
Jane gave her a knowing look. “You might be working yourself into a frenzy for no reason,” she said. “The Bow Street Runner may have already found Edith, and she will be able to attend the ball in Baldwin’s honor.”
“I don’t believe that to be the case,” Madalene responded. “I’m sure I would have heard if that were true.”
“It would be nice to have two friends at the ball,” Jane commented. “I tire of pretending that I enjoy going to these social events.”
“Attending these social events is expected of you,” Harriet said, exasperated. “You are the daughter of a marquess.”
“I know,” Jane responded, “and I am expected to smile and pretend to enjoy all the busybodies that flutter around the room, openly judging one another.”
“Not everyone is a busybody,” Harriet pointed out.
“You are right,” Jane said, her lips twitching. “How could I forget the gossipmongers?”
Madalene hid her growing smile behind her fingers. They both shared a mutual dislike for social events, but Jane wasn’t in a position where she could refuse invites. However, that didn’t stop her from complaining about it incessantly.
“If you don’t stop, perhaps I will just arrange a marriage for you and be done with it,” Harriet declared, but there was no real threat behind her words.
“Will you arrange a marriage with a pirate for me?” Jane asked, perking up.
“Why a pirate?” Harriet asked.
“Then I could travel around the world and learn to use a cutlass,” Jane declared.
“Dear child,” Harriet sighed, “whatever am I going to do with you?”
Jane laughed. “We shall grow old together, and I will read you books by the fireplace.”
“What of grandchildren?”
“That is what Baldwin and Oliver are for,” Jane replied quickly. “They need heirs, not me.”
Harriet shifted her gaze. “What do you think about that, Madalene?”
Lowering her hand, Madalene replied, “I believe I shall join you by the fireplace and delight in Jane’s storytelling.”
“You both are terrible,” Harriet remarked, softening her words with a smile. “One day, you will both be married and have lots of children running around your estates.”
“I hope our estates are neighboring,” Jane mused. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Before Madalene could respond, Graham stepped into the room and announced, “Lord Hawthorne would like a moment of your time, Miss.”
Jane eyed her curiously. “Why is my brother calling upon you?”
“Perhaps he has an update on Edith,” Madalene replied.
“Why would that be the case?”
Madalene glanced over at the door before saying, “He offered to look into her disappearance.”
“But my brother is a marquess,” Jane said. “What could he possibly do to help Edith?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but it seemed like a good idea at the time to accept his help.” Madalene turned her attention back towards Graham. “Will you send Lord Hawthorne in, please?”
“As you wish,” Graham replied as he departed from the room to do her bidding.
A moment later, Lord Hawthorne stepped into the room wearing a dark green jacket, an ivory waistcoat, and buff trousers. His eyes widened with surprise when he saw his mother and sister in the room.
“Mother,” he acknowledged. “Jane.”
Jane frowned. “May I ask why you are calling on my friend?” she asked. “You don’t intend to yell at her again, do you?”
“That is not my intention,” Lord Hawthorne replied.
“Then what is?” Jane pressed.
Lord Hawthorne ignored the question, instead turning his attention to Madalene. “May I have a moment of your time, Miss Dowding?” he asked. “I have something private I would like to discuss with you.”
Rising, Harriet announced cheerfully, “I believe this would be a good time for us to depart. Don’t you agree, Jane?”
“I suppose it is,” Jane replied reluctantly as she rose.
Harriet stepped over to Lord Hawthorne and kissed his cheek. “Will we see you for dinner tonight?”
“You will not,” Lord Hawthorne said. “I regret to inform you that Oliver and I have business that we need to attend to.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Harriet remarked as she attempted to hide her disappointment, “but we understand.”
“I don’t,” Jane muttered.
Lord Hawthorne glanced over at his sister and asked, “Would you care to go riding before breakfast tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid I am busy, but I thank you for the kind offer,” Jane remarked dryly.
Despite Lord Hawthorne’s face remaining expressionless, Madalene detected pain in his eyes at his sister’s rejection.
“Come along, Mother,” Jane said before she hurried out of the room.
Harriet watched Jane’s retreating figure before she gave her son an apologetic smile. “We will see you soon, won’t we?”
“You will,” Lord Hawthorne assured her.
With a parting glance at Madalene, Harriet stepped out of the drawing room.
Madalene rose from the settee. “What did you wish to discuss with me?” she asked, finding herself increasingly curious.
In a few strides, Lord Hawthorne closed the distance between them and said in a low voice, “I need a favor.”
“From me?”
He nodded, his eyes intently watching her.
“What would you ask of me?” she inquired, clasping her hands in front of her.
“I need to abduct you,” he remarked simply.
“I beg your pardon?” Madalene went to take a step back, to create more distance between them, but the settee behind her prevented her retreat.
Lord Hawthorne appeared displeased by her reaction. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning,” he suggested.
“I think that would be best.”
“I have a credible lead on some missing girls, and there is a chance that Edith could be among them.”
“That is wonderful news!” she gushed.
He nodded slowly. “It is, but we are unable to retrieve the girls right away.”
Madalene tilted her head. “And why is that?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, but it is of utmost importance.” His words may have been curt, but she could tell that he was in earnest.
“I believe you,” she found herself a
dmitting.
Lord Hawthorne stared at her with uncertainty in his eyes. “You believe me?” he asked. “Just like that?”
“I do.”
“You don’t require an additional explanation?”
Madalene shook her head. “Not unless you intend to divulge more.”
“I do not.”
“Then it would appear that my curiosity must be satisfied.”
Wiping a hand over his chin, Lord Hawthorne looked puzzled. “It would appear that I have underestimated you yet again.”
Madalene lifted her brow. “Now, will you kindly explain why you need to abduct me?”
“I would take you to a pub near the docks where the other missing girls are being held,” Lord Hawthorne shared. “You will be in no immediate danger. I will have two people ensuring that you remain safe.”
“Who are these people?”
“One is my brother, Oliver, and the other is none of your concern. With any luck, you won’t even see him.”
“I see.”
“After you are with the missing girls, the Bow Street Runners will raid the pub and set you free.”
“Will it truly be that simple?”
He winced. “There are some risks associated with this plan.”
“Such as?”
“The Bow Street Runners might not come immediately, and you may be required to protect yourself,” he said.
“And how exactly would I do that?”
Lord Hawthorne reached into his boot and pulled out a small pistol. “Are you familiar with how to use a muff pistol?”
“I am not.”
“That is disconcerting,” he replied, frowning. “It is not uncommon for a lady to carry one in her reticule.”
Glancing down at the pistol, Madalene remarked, “I have never been in a position that required the use of one.”
“I shall bring my spare with me tomorrow and give it to you,” Lord Hawthorne said, returning the muff pistol to his boot.
“I am not opposed to that.”
“Good,” he replied. “Do you carry a knife on your person?”
“I do not.”
With disapproval on his features, he asked, “Do you not have the slightest regard for your personal safety?”
“I can box,” Madalene announced proudly.
Lord Hawthorne didn’t appear impressed by her admission. “I doubt that very much.”
“It’s true,” she asserted.
His next words seemed to catch her off guard. “Punch me, then.”
Her lips parted in surprise at his odd request. “I couldn’t possibly punch you, my lord.”
Leaning closer to her, he said, “I give you leave to punch me.”
“But what if I hurt you?”
Lord Hawthorne chuckled. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me,” he remarked smugly.
Tired of his pompous attitude, Madalene reared her fist back and punched him in the face. She felt gratified when she saw him stumbling backwards.
His right hand went to cover his nose and she saw blood on his fingers. “Oh, my lord!” she exclaimed. “I am so incredibly sorry.”
Rushing over to the table, Madalene picked up the handkerchief she had been working on and brought it back to Lord Hawthorne.
“Allow me to retrieve some ice for your nose,” she said.
Rising to his full height, Lord Hawthorne asserted, “That won’t be necessary.”
“But you are bleeding, my lord.”
Dabbing his nose with the handkerchief, he remarked, “No harm done. It was just some blood.”
“Again, I am terribly sorry—” she began.
Lord Hawthorne raised his hand, stilling her words. “I am impressed, Miss Dowding. You have quite a punch.”
“I assure you that I have never drawn blood before.”
“How often do you box?”
“I practice nearly every morning,” she admitted.
He bobbed his head in approval as he lowered the handkerchief in his hand. “I am glad to hear that. No one would expect someone of your stature to hit so proficiently.”
“I will take that as a compliment.”
“I assure you that it was meant as one,” Lord Hawthorne said.
Madalene glanced down at the bloody handkerchief. “Would you care for a clean handkerchief?” she asked.
Lord Hawthorne followed her gaze. “It would appear that I ruined this one.”
“No need to concern yourself with that,” she assured him. “I have many, many more.”
He smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace. “I’m afraid my nose is not ready for me to smile,” he admitted.
“Did I break it?” she asked hesitantly.
Lord Hawthorne brought his hand up to touch his nose. “It doesn’t appear so. But even if you did, it wouldn’t be the first time I have broken my nose.”
Unsure of what to say, she started, “I am truly sorry, and—”
“It was not your fault,” he interrupted. “I was the one who told you to punch me.”
“That may be true, but I shouldn’t have hit you as hard as I did.”
His lips quirked slightly upward in a hint of a smile. “I have a feeling you have been wanting to hit me for quite some time.”
“No, of course not,” she rushed to say.
Leaning closer, his eyes held an amused glimmer. “Liar.”
A giggle escaped her lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Well, perhaps.”
“I assumed as much,” Lord Hawthorne remarked, taking a step back. “If you are not opposed, I shall call on you tomorrow to continue our discussion.”
“I look forward to it.”
Lord Hawthorne tipped his head. “Good day, Miss Dowding.”
“Good day, Lord Hawthorne,” she replied, dropping into a slight curtsy.
He opened his mouth as if he intended to say something, but then he closed it. Finally, he spoke. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Madalene watched as Lord Hawthorne departed from the room, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had intended to say.
Baldwin lay on the filthy straw mattress as he stared up at the dry rot on the ceiling. It was only a matter of time before the ceiling collapsed, he realized. He truly hoped he wouldn’t still be around when that happened.
Most of the other side of the building had collapsed in on itself, but people were still residing in the rooms, at least the habitable ones. What horrible conditions these people had to live with every day just to survive. He could hear the wail of a little child further down the hall, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had enough to eat for the day.
Perhaps more workhouses would be a good thing, he thought to himself. It would give these people a chance to do more than just make it to another day. But the funding had to come from somewhere else besides the Home Office.
His swollen nose started throbbing and he brought his hand up to gently touch it. A small smile came to his lips at Miss Dowding’s reaction after she hit him. He could hear the slight panic in her voice, as if he would be upset with her. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was impressed by her strength. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him.
For some inexplicable reason, she believed in him. She took him at his word and didn’t press him for more. What an interesting woman Miss Dowding was turning out to be. Perhaps when this was all over, he would take her on a carriage ride through Hyde Park.
A knock came at the door, breaking him out of his reverie.
“Enter,” he ordered as he sat up on the straw mattress.
The door creaked opened, and Morton stepped into the room. “Evening, Baldwin.”
Rising, Baldwin returned his greeting. “Evening.”
“I have come to speak to you privately,” Morton said. “Do you have a moment?”
Baldwin huffed. “Time is the one thing I have plenty of.”
Morton closed the door and turned back around to face him. “Where is your cousin?” he aske
d with a side glance at the empty straw mattress.
“Chasing after women.”
“Ah,” Morton said, eyeing him closely. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Nothing that I couldn’t handle.”
Appearing amused, Morton remarked, “I just wanted to say that your story resonated with me, and I can’t help but think you and my father were similar.”
“How so?”
“My father was a criminal, but he was hanged for his crimes.” Morton walked over to the broken window, which was stuffed with rags and paper to keep out the elements.
“What crime did he commit?”
“Murder,” Morton replied. “He killed my mother.”
Baldwin gave him a baffled look. “I am not sure how we are similar.”
Morton chuckled. “My father was a man of principles. When he found out his wife was fornicating with his friend, he killed her for it.”
“You think I am a man of principles?” Baldwin asked.
“I do,” Morton replied. “You made the choice to stop fighting for the king and start fighting for yourself.”
“That is true.”
“You risk death if you are caught, but you still deserted.”
“‘Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’ is what the Americans have, and I want that,” Baldwin said, leaning his shoulder against the wall.
“Everyone deserves that,” Morton responded.
“That they do.”
“Have you thought of traveling to the Americas?”
Baldwin bobbed his head. “Yes, but I need funds to buy a ticket, and I’ll only go after the skirmish is over between England and America.”
Morton met his gaze. “What if I could come up with the funds for you to start a new life in America. Would you be interested?”
Baldwin straightened from the wall. “I would be very interested, but are we talking about abducting more girls?”
“No, abducting the girls is just a quick way to produce some money,” Morton explained. “I am talking about much more than that.”
“I assume this is illegal.”
Morton smirked. “It only is if you get caught.”
“I don’t know,” Baldwin said as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I may live in a rubbish pile, but at least it isn’t jail. I can come and go as I please.”
