He snorted on a laugh and was rewarded with her dimple again.
“My invective, admittedly mild, still rendered poor Freddy speechless at first. When the shock of it passed and he got his mouth properly closed, it took very little additional prodding forhim to meekly tell me the specifics. And he returned a few more times to Hewards after that. He learned that Mr. Compton was departing for Paris. I travelled to Dover as soon as I could make preparations to follow.” Her face contorted. “Might I have put Freddy at risk, sending him to Hewards? I knew only that Mr. Compton might have something to do with Lucy having disappeared, not that there was... more.” She ended abruptly.
“If Mr. Berry only listened discreetly rather than asking pointed questions that might catch the ear of Compton’s informers, I expect he’s fine.”
Isobel’s brow remained furrowed, her lips compressed.
“I would tell you straight if I thought otherwise. Compton might have looked into him as a new customer, but he’d have had no reason to dig further. Many men enjoy gaming.”
She released a breath. “I could not bear having put Freddy unknowingly at risk.”
“How did you locate Les Moineaux in quartier des Marchés? I don’t suppose Mr. Berry was sufficiently chastened such that he purchased you one of the guidebooks.”
“Such guides exist? How...inventive.” She laughed, looking less shocked than he might have predicted. “Men do enjoy cataloguing everything, so why not the haunts of ladies of the night?” She laughed again, her face alight with amusement. “No, even if Freddy knows of such a book, I am certain he would draw the line at sharingthatwith me, no matter his guilt in the matter of the dropped trousers. I should no doubt have been genuinely nonplussed to peruse such a volume. But it would have made matters easier for me, had he. No, Freddy reported only that the location ofthe sparrowswasin the marsh. It was some sort of oh-so-witty pun, I gathered. After consulting a map, I went first to quartier du Marais in search of Les Moineaux.” She laughed again. “Just a few well-placed questions informed me that what I sought was not in quartier du Marais. No sparrows to be found inthat marsh, except for wee brown birds.” She shook her head, eyes amused. “I can only conclude that the men conversing at Hewards spoke execrable French to have used such ridiculous shorthand.”
Marais,marshland, as opposed toMarchés, markets. To an uneducated English ear,Marchéssounded not unlikemarsh.
“In any case, once I realized my error, I had only to offer a few coins to several sympathetic women in the Marché des Innocents. I was only a street away from Les Moineaux. And I was fortunate to have Mr. Compton’s description from the Runner’s notes. Mr. Compton entered Les Moineaux after I waited outside it for two days.”
“You are certain it was him?”
“The Runner mentioned his mismatched eyes.”
A chill chased up his spine. Compton was unremarkable in appearance, save for one brown eye and one hazel eye. She’d have needed to be very near to him to note that detail.
“He did not notice you?”
“No. Or—I think not. I was dressed plainly, as you see”—she gestured at the clothing she wore—“and I kept my veil down. I trailed him to Pont Neuf. You saw me there, I believe?”
The veil had been an advantage for her anonymity, but it was also part of why he’d marked her easily on the bridge. She’d need to dispense with it from here on out.
He finished his wine. “You were outside Les Moineaux again yesterday.” And he was certain that Compton had not been present.
“I hoped some of the girls might leave on errands or to attend services. I understand that by law in France, such establishments are not allowed to be open for business on Sundays? Surely the girls are free to do whatever domestic errands need doing. I thought perhaps I could ask after my sister. I do not have reason to think she is there, specifically, but it is my only lead in Paris.” She smiled sadly. “No one came out. Are the girls not allowed to leave even on Sundays?”
“From Les Moineaux?” Owned by Dubois. “No.”
“Actually, one woman came out. She was considerably older than I expected for a woman who— I suppose she may have worked there. I cannot say. I did not approach her in the end. Something about her made me uneasy.”
Probably Mme Lafourcade, who ran the brothel per the law despite it being owned by Dubois. Wise, not to approach her.
Isobel touched the cover of her notebook again. “I transcribed the notes from the Runner’s reports, all of them. Much of what is in here is probably not of direct use to you, since I was concerned only with Lucy’s disappearance. Also a few observations since Calais.” She lined up the pencil so that it was straight with the cover and then looked at him. “Perhaps what relates to Mr. Compton will help you. I will translate it for you, if you wish, beginning with the Runner’s reports on Mr. Compton.” The dimple again, briefly. “Seeing as yourresourcesmight require time to do the job adequately.” She took a big breath. “Will you aid me?”
He’d already made that decision, bringing her wine after she’d woken screaming brokenly for her sister.
Chapter 5
It cost her, but she held Nathaniel’s intent gaze.
“Aye, as I can, I’ll aid you.”
Coming from this man, those words had the sound of a vow.
His eyes... A nonsensical thought, but they reminded her of a tiger’s-eye stone from India that she’d seen in the British Museum. Before, they’d looked dark brown flecked with amber. The way the growing light hit them just now, they were cognac-colored with streaks of coffee.
He blinked, freeing her from the inane thoughts, and rose, walking to a window. He stood there for several minutes, hands clasped loosely behind his back, before turning back to her.
“There is someone I want you to meet. A friend. And she will most certainly have better food to offer you than I did.”
