Secrets of a Fair Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “She is a good woman, Inspector Brock. No one cares that she is missing, but I do. You must do something. You must be sure that she is safe. I would far rather waste your time to confirm that she has found a better prospect than to go on unaware as to whether or not something terrible has happened,” she said.

  “Yes, Miss Reid, I can see that. You have stated your case quite vividly,” Hamish said.

  “I am glad that you understand, then. I tell you, Inspector Brock, as I will however many times it is that you require to hear it, Rachel did not run off. Something has happened. Something has happened and we must find out what it is,” Miss Reid said.

  Hamish nodded.

  “Really? You are in agreement, Inspector Brock?” she asked.

  “I am,” he replied.

  “And you promise to take my case?” she asked.

  “I promise, Miss Reid, that I shall help,” he said, consenting to her demands.

  Miss Reid exhaled a breath of relief.

  “And you shall make every effort? You shall put forth a true effort?” she asked.

  “Indeed, I shall put forth all of my efforts. Not only that, but Sergeant Miller, my best detective, shall be working alongside me,” he said, knowing full well that he and John would be able to close her case quickly, finding Rachel and demonstrating that everything was all right and she had no reason to fret.

  Until then, however, Hamish recognised that Miss Reid was going to be anxious, that she was going to struggle to accept that there was no reason to fear.

  “You must accept, however, that your Rachel, Miss Smithfield, is likely all right,” he said.

  “I shall accept it once you have found her and proven it to me,” she replied, turning up her nose as if to remind all present that she would not be swayed on a whim. He did not expect her to be swayed at all.

  Hamish couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth when it lifted in a grin at her precocious behaviour. There was something charming about it that outdid the irritation that would have been so easily to identify in her manner.

  “So, we are agreed?” she asked.

  “Yes, Miss Reid, we are in agreement,” he replied.

  She smiled and clasped her hands together.

  “Thank you, Inspector Brock. I am glad for your attention in this matter,” she said.

  Hamish let out a small laugh, amused by her gratitude. She was a demanding young woman, that was certain. Lovely in her own way, but still the sort that he might find to be a problem if the circumstances allowed for it.

  However, she would not be a distraction. He and John would do their work, find the maid, and leave Miss Reid satisfied that they knew well how to do their job without her demands.

  Chapter 5

  Georgiana was nervous, fidgeting with her hands as she awaited Inspector Brock and his sergeant, watching them unload from the coach and come toward the door.

  From the window on the floor above, she eyed them with curiosity. Were they going to find out who did this? Would they ensure that Rachel was found?

  Suddenly, Georgiana grew anxious. Why had she thought that these men were so needed? What if everyone was right?

  She would be humiliated if she discovered that she had not known Rachel as well as she thought she had. Surely, it would be humiliating to find that she had been wrong all along.

  But as she watched the two men, there was a quickening in her chest.

  She could not place it. There was no reason for it, nor was there any reason she should doubt herself.

  She did, however, wonder if these men were equipped for what she was asking. It was not as though she was speaking with London detectives in the slums. Those were men who knew how to solve a crime.

  These men? How did they know what to do about a missing woman? Georgiana hardly ever heard of a crime, aside from, perhaps, a petty theft.

  Did they even know what they were doing?

  There was a knock at the door. She listened as Mrs. Buckley answered, peeking her head out of the bedroom door and waiting until the men were seated in the parlour before she came out.

  Entering the parlour, Georgiana kept her head held high.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said, thankful that they had come so quickly after her visit to the precinct in the morning.

  “Miss Reid, good afternoon. And this is Sergeant Miller, my best detective. I have apprised him of your case and he has promised to afford you every courtesy,” Inspector Brock said.

  Georgiana saw the look of boredom in the sergeant’s eyes and she was certain that he, as well, thought this search to be futile.

  “It is very nice to meet you, Sergeant Miller. I do hope that the Inspector has informed you that this is not the sort of behaviour that Miss Smithfield has most often shown,” she said.

  “He did say as much, Miss Reid,” Sergeant Miller replied.

  “Why did you not tell me?” came a demand from out in the hall.

  Georgiana knew right away that her father was scolding Mrs. Buckley for not having predicted sooner the arrival of the two men, despite the fact that it would have been impossible for her to do so.

  “I believe Mrs. Buckley has just told my father of your presence,” she explained when the two looked at one another with alarm.

  “Indeed, it would seem that way,” Inspector Brock said.

  Georgiana’s father stormed into the room, his face alert as he assessed the situation and looked at her with a mild annoyance that her insistence had brought the constabulary to their home.

  “Good afternoon, Inspector. And I trust that this is your sergeant?” he asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Reid. Sergeant Miller. My very best man,” he said.

  “Well, I am grateful to you both for helping my daughter in this matter. Although it is probably nothing, I know that it is important to her,” he said.

  “You think your daughter is unreasonable in her request for assistance?” Inspector Brock asked, as if he was trying to gauge her father’s reply with a deep consideration.

  Her father did not, at once, reply. He clearly sensed that he was under suspicion, being questioned by the men. Georgiana was certain that Inspector Brock was hoping to discern whether or not her father had played a part in all of this.

  She was somewhat taken aback that they would dare to think such a thing, but Georgiana was also intrigued by it.

  “I never said as much,” her father replied, after a pause.

  “Yes, Father. You said plenty to that effect,” she said, turning to him.

  “Well, yes, all right, I suppose in some ways. I cannot help it that you are allowing yourself to run off with this fanciful notion that your Miss Smithfield has gone off for any reason other than her own will,” he said.

  “I do believe,” Inspector Brock began, interrupting before Georgiana could speak, “Miss Georgiana, you ought to leave us for a moment. We should like to speak with your father.”

  “With me? Why is that? You have no reason to speak with me. The maids are the ones who knew her and they are the ones who could give you any answers that you might seek,” her father said.

  “Mr. Reid, we would prefer to do our due diligence. We must speak with everyone in the household in order to put together the full portrait as to what has happened,” Inspector Brock said.

  Georgiana had expected that he would question Mrs. Buckley and Sarah. After all, they were friends of Rachel’s, her equals.

  But why were they questioning her mother and father and brother? Surely, they did not suspect that they had anything to do with it. There was no reason for that. Her family had never given them a reason to doubt.

  If anything, her father was of the same mind as Mr. Brock. She would have thought that they would simply rest in that agreement.

  “I cannot stand for this,” her father said.

  “But you must. We wish to question everyone in the house if we are to honour our word and give Miss Reid a full investigation,” he said.

  “Then you may qu
estion me first,” Georgiana said. “I have told you what all I know, but if you wish, I may tell you again and you may ask anything in case I have not thought it relevant.”

  Inspector Brock looked at her with those wise, brown eyes. He was not an old man by any means, perhaps six or seven years her senior is all. But there was something incredibly aged about him. Whether from his work or life or simply his own mind, he was not as a youthful man might be.

  “If you wish,” he said, calmly.

  “I do. Father, please allow me time with the Inspector and his Sergeant,” she said.

  “You wish to be questioned like a common criminal?” her father asked her, incredulous.

  “No, Father. They are not asking us anything with accusation. They are merely trying to learn what has happened, what has taken place in our very home. Is that correct, Inspector Brock? Am I mistaken? Are you seeking to arrest anyone who speaks out of turn?” she asked.

  He smiled from the corner of his mouth, similar to how she had seen him smile before. It was the devilishly handsome smile of a man amused.

  “You are not mistaken, Miss Reid. We are merely seeking to put together a timeline and the simple facts. Everyone who was in the home that day has a relevant story to tell us,” Inspector Brock said.

  “See, Father? That is all we must do,” Georgiana said.

  Her father turned away in a huff, exiting the room without ceremony.

  “Forgive him. He dislikes an interruption of order,” she said.

  “I trust that he does. And now, Miss Reid, we must begin to ask you questions,” Inspector Brock said.

  “As you wish,” she replied.

  “First, please tell us everything you recall from the last time in which you saw Miss Smithfield,” he said.

  Georgiana tried to focus on both of the men. She wanted to do her best, to give them any answers that she had. However, she was finding it difficult to focus on Sergeant Miller.

  There was something about Inspector Brock.

  Georgiana wondered why it was that he looked so sad all of the time. It was as though he was constantly depressed.

  He would have been a very handsome man…if he would only smile now and then.

  But that was of no importance. She had called them there in order to find Rachel. That was all that mattered.

  “It was before breakfast, yesterday morning. She helped me to ready myself for the day,” she said.

  “And when did you realise that she was no longer in the house?” he asked.

  “In the afternoon. I was to attend a ball and she did not come to assist me,” Georgiana said.

  “I see…”

  “Forgive me, Inspector, but I must ask you a few questions. If you do not mind, that is,” Georgiana said.

  He looked at her with confusion at that, but nodded, granting her permission.

  “I should like to know your credentials,” she said.

  Inspector Brock scoffed.

  “My credentials, Miss Reid?” he asked.

  “Yes, Inspector Brock. How do I know that you are, indeed, the best man for this case? How am I to know that you shall make every effort as you have promised?” she asked.

  Sergeant Miller looked as though he was trying not to laugh, as if he was refraining from openly mocking her. But Inspector Brock slitted his eyes just as a slightly haughty smile graced his lips.

  “Well, Miss Reid, as you are so insistent upon having only the very best, I shall tell you of my meagre credentials,” he said, his tone somewhat bitter.

  Georgiana straightened her back, but was feeling less confident than she had before, wondering if she had embarrassed herself in front of this rather dashing man.

  “I joined the constabulary a mere ten years ago in Obsen. At the age of seventeen, I was—at the time—the youngest man on the force. Within my first year, I was responsible for having solved five robberies and two homicides, bringing in each and every man and woman responsible. I had an eighty percent success rate in getting the guilty to confess and produced irrefutable proof in the other twenty percent of my cases,” he said.

  Georgiana nodded, knowing that Obsen was an area with a good deal more crime than her district.

  “I rose in the ranks quickly, you might understand. After a mere three years on the force, I was given the title of Sergeant. Just a year later, the Chief Inspector informed me of a position here. Inspector. He wished for me to run an entire division. Four years into my duty. At twenty-one years of age,” he said.

  Inspector Brock was not arrogant as he listed his accomplishments. He stated them as facts. Without emotion. Without pride. Without shame. It was simply the truth of what had taken place.

  “And, if you wish to learn of something more recent, I suggest that you look to the papers. I have only just caught the three men responsible for the brutal murders that took place in our very own division,” he said.

  “M-murders?” Georgiana asked.

  “Yes, the Dudley murders,” he said.

  His credentials were certainly effective. But this was more information than she had been prepared for.

  Georgiana was angry at herself for not having known about the murders. Did she not live in this area? Did she not walk those very streets? How was it that she had not been aware of the goings-on of her own town?

  It made her wonder what else she was unaware of. If she could not see, if she could be blind to the very streets around her, could she not also be blind to what was taking place in the room beside hers? Was it not possible that even the kitchens held their secrets?

  “Have I satisfied your need for an adequate inspector, Miss Reid?” he asked.

  “Yes, Inspector Brock, I believe you have,” she said.

  “Very well, then. Let us move on and I shall ask you further about what took place yesterday,” he said.

  Georgiana answered every question the two men volleyed her way. For the most part, it was the same as she had told them before, but there were a number of details that she would not have considered sharing.

  Inspector Brock and Sergeant Miller were certainly equipped for the job. She would not doubt them again. Even if she was frustrated that it had taken so long to get her case started, at least it was finally being done.

  And, she hoped, it would soon be solved.

  Chapter 6

  Hamish leaned forward, holding his hands together. He squinted and looked at Mrs. Reid with enough suspicion that she would have broken if she had anything to hide.

  But, perhaps that was the problem. She certainly did appear to be hiding something. Nevertheless, Hamish could not make any assumptions as to her guilt. Her coldness was a bitter, driving force, but he had seen nothing that could be the reason behind it and did not wish to presume upon her motivations.

  With her husband and her son, he had already begun to wonder, even without having questioned them. She, however, gave no sense of impropriety. It was only that she was guarded that gave him pause.