Jasper snorted and they cautiously tucked into the rustic fare.
“Go on then. Tell me why we’re here? The ale has made me fairly mellow and the pie rather full. I can’t move so you have a rapt audience, but I should start by telling you that I won’t go back to the Continent. I’m still recovering.” He could feel the scars itch at his words: in reality, he would never be fully recovered.
“God’s teeth, Lucas. I would never ask that of you.”
“It’s just you mentioned Asher Rainham and assignments to the Continent are his area of expertise. I’m not the man I was.”
“You seem recovered and in very good health to me, hearty and hale, if just a little…battered, and I heard via Rainham that the Prince Regent was most grateful for your efforts.”
“The Prince can go fuc–”
“Drop your voice.” Jasper laughed, but it seemed that down here by the docks such views were not uncommon as none of the weather-beaten faces at the bar flinched. “And anyway, that language is not befitting of an earl.”
“I was a major before an earl and such language isverybefitting.My vocabulary was much expanded by the Irish whilst on the Peninsula – never heard so many exuberant curses. And as to my recovery…well, my own mother can’t look at my face without blubbering and you do remember that damn house party, don’t you? Some woman fainted when she saw my scars. Fainted!”
Lucas was aware that his lips were curling in annoyance and so sat back in the creaky seat, willing his limbs to loosen. Countless times he’d wondered why the woman fainting at the house partyhadaffected him so. He’d thought himself hardened to such reactions.
“I’m sure she did not faint for that reason. I know Miss Rosalind Trewent, not well I admit, but she is a good friend of my wife and by no means a lily-livered girl.”
“Hah. She looked me straight in the eye with utter horror and fell to the floor like some swoony damsel confronted by a rabid wolf.”
It was probably his own fault, Lucas acknowledged. For some reason, he’d hardly been able to take his eyes from Miss Trewent that night. Usually, he preferred an armful, and she was slender, but there was just something about her that had been so graceful, so natural – her hair had shone with a red tint in the candlelight, pretty cheekbones had jutted forth, and colour… He mostly remembered colour.
She’d worn a lustrous yellow gown, so bright it had almost hurt the eyes to look, but how he’d wanted to bask in her sunshine.
“Maybe you bared your teeth?” Jasper suggested. Lucas ignored him.
That sunshine had burned his back from across the ballroom and instinct had made him turn to clash eyes with the auburn-haired Miss Trewent. Then she’d done the bloody swoon.
Shrugging, he swigged more ale. Damn, he’d never made one faint before.
Women, it seemed, now viewed him with either outright repugnance or a strange mix of distaste yet lust. He’d been lauded a hero after recovering from the horrific burns that covered the left side of his face and chest, and a few women seemed to view him as a name on a list – to be fêted, conquered and possibly bedded. He hadn’t touched any of them and had quietly retreated from society.
“We digress, Jasper. Tell me what you want of me so I may refuse, and then we can have another ale or two.”
Eyes narrowing and brow furrowing, Jasper began. “There have been two murders in a small village up north. Both young women.”
Lucas’s fist clenched on the pewter handle of his tankard and he heard the second nail in his coffin being firmly hammered home. Despite having been a soldier, he loathed violence, especially against women.
“Job for the local magistrate, no?” Lucas asked.
“I was approached because it was felt that the magistrate was not being…particularly thorough. The first murder was over a month ago now. A local servant girl was found in the woods with her throat slit. No sign of despoilment or a fight – very strange.”
Lucas gulped the rest of his ale. “A violent murder. Jealous lover? Husband?”
“No. She had nobody close and it was believed to be an isolated incident. The villagers blamed outsiders, as they are wont to do in these places. Two weeks ago, however, the daughter of the schoolmaster was also found dead. Same woods and also with her throat slit.”
The barmaid sashayed her way to the table and refilled their tankards whilst Lucas rubbed calloused fingers over his eyes. Murder happened every day and war took thousands of lives, and yet to hear of such violence filled him not only with anger but also disappointment.
“Why were you approached? Thought you were too busy being a married man.”
“The second girl’s mother was governess to a duchess and is still held in high regard by her employer. The duchess heard I was back from Spain and wondered if I could help, or at least if I had contacts that could. I can’t do it, so I started asking around. You really would be perfect.” Jasper shifted his chair closer. “It needs someone who is equally capable of talking to farmers, schoolmasters, squires and lords alike,” he cajoled. “Bow Street doesn’t have the skill or men for this type of thing, especially considering where it is.” Lucas kept his face expressionless, so Jasper continued rambling. “It also needs someone with discretion, manners, intelligence and…able to look after themselves. There is a murderer on the loose.”
“Did Asher Rainham tell you to use flattery on me? It no longer works. He once told me he needed someone agile, strong and clever to do some non-dangerous scouting work near Vimeiro.”
“I expect you recovered valuable information.”
“I got shot in the bloody leg!”
