AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Tell me, Mr. Wilson,” James said slowly, his confidence in this man—who had come highly recommended—slowly drifting away. “Why should I hire you for this task?”
Mr. Wilson looked taken aback by the question, but he was answering almost instantly. “It is quite simple, My Lord. You wish to learn about the whereabouts of someone, do you not? That reason alone should lead you to put your trust in me, since there is nothing I know better than how to find those who do not wish to be found.”
James sipped his brandy. “A rather lackluster response, Mr. Wilson.”
“I am quite lackluster in everything I do unless it deals with my profession as a private investigator.”
James stared at the man for a moment, not believing his ears. Then, he chuckled. “You are quite intent, so I shall put my trust in you. I suppose I do not have to tell you that you must act with your highest level of secrecy?”
“That goes without saying, My Lord,” Mr. Wilson said, nodding his head in that jerking manner.
James gritted his teeth, his good humor fleeing at the irritating sight. “Let’s get down to it then. The person I am looking for is a lady—Lady Elizabeth Parsons. I’m certain you must have seen our engagement announcement in the papers, considering it is your job to keep your ear to the ground. I would like for you to concentrate your search on London first. I have a feeling she is still within the city.”
“Yes, My Lord.” In a flash, Mr. Wilson whipped a crumpled piece of paper and a quill pen and pot from his satchel. He used his thigh to hold the paper. James caught sight of scribbles along the lower edge of the paper and assumed he was simply reusing it. “Please, tell me how she looks.”
“She has blonde hair that is quite light in color, almost white if caught in the right lighting. Very unassuming brown eyes, with freckles dotting her nose.”
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Wilson’s scribbles were rapid. James watched as he crossed something out and rewrote it. “What of the rest of her?”
“She is a bit shorter than most ladies, not tall enough to match my height.”
Mr. Wilson glanced up, looking at James from over the rim of his spectacles. “You have quite the elegant physique, My Lord.”
“I am well aware, Mr. Wilson,” James responded with a smile, tossing the rest of his brandy to the back of his throat. He stood and approached the sideboard to pour himself another. “I’m afraid that is all the information I can remember.”
“This is all the information I need, My Lord.”
James faced him again. “Good. I hope you will not disappoint me.”
Mr. Wilson shot to his feet and bowed. “I will find her within a week, My Lord. I promise you that.”
“Quite a brazen promise to make.”
“I am a brazen man.”
James smirked, nodding in acceptance. “Very well, then. I take it you know how to leave?”
“Yes, My Lord.” Clutching his satchel to his chest, he made his way to the door, bowed again and then left.
As soon as he was gone, James’ smile slid from his face. He gripped the glass tightly in his hand, the rest of the brandy struggling to slide down his throat. Within an instant, the anger than had been slowly overtaking him seized him once more and it was all he could do not to chuck the glass against the wall.
He could already hear the rumors. Lady Elizabeth has eloped. She’s left her pitiful betrothed behind.
Poor Lord Horenwall...poor Lord Horenwall...poor Lord Horenwall...
The reputation he’d built, the man he’d become, James could feel it slipping out of place all because of the foolish actions of a weak-minded lady.
Just where is she?
It had already been a few days since Lady Elizabeth’s disappearance. During that time, James had visited Gillet Manor nearly every day. He’d looked into the increasingly worried face of Lord Gillet and tried to calm him down, telling him that they would hear word from her—or her kidnappers—soon. But there was nothing and while Lord Gillet continued to succumb to his stress and concern, James’ anger had been mounting.
It had something to do with the maid. He knew it. He should have mentioned that to Mr. Wilson, had he remembered. That audacious maid who’d dare to look him in the eye and lie—she knew something. She simply wasn’t telling.
The memory angered him even further, but most of it stemmed from the feeling that Lady Elizabeth had staged this herself. He didn’t know why. He didn’t care why. He only knew that, if they had to push the wedding back any further, if he had to endure the pitying looks from his friends at the clubs wondering about the whereabouts of his betrothed, she would have to pay.
He had enough of public embarrassment after what happened.
