CHAPTERONE
Ouse Tower, Bedfordshire
March 1819
Padraig, Nathanael, Viscount Fotherby’s Irish Wolfhound, opened one eye and closed it again when the knock came on the study door. Nate glanced up from the planting scheme he’d been reviewing. “Yes, Hulatt, what is it?”
“Mr. Beamish, the runner you hired, wishes to speak with you. He says it’s urgent.” The tenor of the butler’s voice clearly indicated he disapproved of the visitor. What Hulatt had against the man, Nate didn’t know.
But why Beamish had come all the way here . . . unless . . . “I’ll see him.”
“As you wish, my lord.” The door shut behind Hulatt.
They’d had false starts before, but if Beamish had indeed found the girl, it would all have been worth it.
Several moments later the door opened again and the runner was shown in. The man was about average height, with straight, medium-brown hair and eyes to match. Someone that no one would particularly notice. He’d been recommended as the best at finding people gone missing, but this had taken much longer than any of them thought it would.
He stood in front of Nate’s desk. “Please have a seat. I take it that you are certain this time.”
“Yes, my lord. She is at a workhouse under her own name. There’s no mistake.” The man folded his lips under. “There is also a babe.”
Nate leaned back in his chair. “I cannot say that is surprising. Which workhouse is she in?”
“That’s more good news. She went to Whitechapel. It ain’t as bad as some others. Still, I’d fetch her soon if that’s what you’re intending on doing.”
Beamish was right. Whitechapel wasn’t nearly as bad as St Giles or Seven Dials, nor was it the best of neighborhoods. Nate glanced at the clock. It was already past four in the afternoon. “I take it you plan to spend the night.”
“Yes, my lord. I have a room at the inn at Ouse Run. I took the mail coach as soon as I confirmed it was her.”
“Is she in good health?” That would determine how soon they could bring her home. If she’d agree to come.
“She’s skinny.” Beamish didn’t beat around the bush. “And she won’t put on any flesh there.”
“Thank you. Mr. Odell might wish to speak with you after I tell him we’ve found her.” Odell’s eldest son was to have married Miss Bywater, but he died before the ceremony could take place. Then she had disappeared. When her parents refused to discuss her, he’d come to Nate asking for assistance in finding her.
“I’ll keep an eye out for him.” The runner stood. “I hired a carriage in Bedford and plan on catching the mail back to London.”
“I might be able to provide your transportation. It won’t be as fast.”
“Thank you, my lord, but I need to get back as soon as possible.” The man bowed. “Let me know if I can be of further assistance.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Hulatt, hovering in the corridor, saw Mr. Beamish out, then returned to the study. “I took the liberty of sending for Mr. Odell.”
“Thank you. It appears that I’ll be going to Town tomorrow. Please let the coachman know.” Nate glanced around the room that had at first been his prison, but for a few years now was his refuge. The trim, shelves, and cabinets were all dark, almost black, ash. A year after he had been sent back to the country, he’d had the blue walls covered with cream-colored silk, with curtains to match. It had given the study a lighter feel.
He rose from the chair. “Do you know if my mother is here?”
“She is in her parlor, my lord.”
Nate nodded. “Thank you.” Once his butler left, he opened the door to his secretary’s office. “I’m traveling to Town in the morning. Please have anything I need to work on ready to go, and make arrangements for all the correspondence to be sent to Fotherby House. You will follow me as soon as you are ready. Bring Padraig as well.”
“As you wish, my lord.” If Chetwin was surprised, he didn’t show it. Then again, one of the reasons Nate had hired him when he’d had to retire the old secretary was his unflappable nature and good sense.
He closed the door. He didn’t wish to go to the metropolis at all, but needs must. Miss Bywater must be dealt with, and it was time he retook his place in the Lords and in Polite Society. In addition to that, he was approaching his twenty-ninth birthday, and it was past time he found a wife. That decision would make his mother happy, but he dreaded returning to the bosom of theton.
He took his time tracing the familiar way to the hall and up the stairs to his mother’s parlor. Before knocking on the door, he took a breath. Once he had committed to this plan of action, she wouldn’t let him reverse course. Nor did he need to. Among his duties and responsibilities was marrying and filling his nursery.
