Page 32 of One Waltz with the Viscount

‘Have you seen her since?’

‘No. I can’t say I have.’

‘I think you know who Miss Shepherd was talking about,’ Lord Routledge said quietly. ‘You knew who her father was.’

‘I’ll tell you exactly what I told the other one, I have no clue what you are blathering on about.’

Lord Routledge stepped closer, drawing himself up so the older man was aware of the size difference between them.

‘Twenty-three years ago a friend of yours entered into an affair with the daughter of a vicar,’ Sarah said, trying to keep calm. She felt a sinking disappointment. He might know who her father was, but she wasn’t overly interested in that detail. All she wanted to know was what had happened to Selina. ‘He made her certain promises about the life they would lead together. They were involved with one another for some time, but he left her when he knew she was pregnant.’

She watched Mr Peterson carefully, and thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes before he stumbled sideways.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ He went to move away but Lord Routledge put a hand out to stop him.

Sarah shook her head. ‘I do not think he knows where Selina is. It does not sound as though he saw her after he dismissed her in the street.’

‘Which school did you attend?’ Lord Routledge asked, surprising them both with the question.

‘Eton, of course.’

‘Which year did you start?’

‘Seventeen eighty-two.’

‘University?’

‘Oxford.’

‘Year?’

‘Seventeen eighty-eight.’

The questions were barked out, but it had the desired effect. Mr Peterson answered before his brain could even think about stopping him.

‘Thank you.’

He released Mr Peterson’s arm and the older man staggered to one side, almost losing his footing.

‘I think that is all we are going to get from him right now,’ Lord Routledge said, shaking his head in disgust as Mr Peterson retched and then vomited in the gutter.

Feeling disappointed, Sarah nodded, and with one last look back at Mr Peterson they walked away.

Chapter Eleven

The disappointment and frustration were evident on Miss Shepherd’s face as they made their way back through Southwark. Henry had never been overly hopeful that Mr Peterson would be the key to unlocking what had happened to Miss Shepherd’s sister, but it would have been foolish to pass up the opportunity of speaking to him. Perhaps when he had sobered up he might be convinced to give up the identity of Miss Shepherd’s father, but Henry thought he could probably work that out on his own.

By asking when Mr Peterson had been at school and university, he would be able to compile a list of his peers, and no doubt within that list Miss Shepherd’s father would sit.

He glanced at the young woman walking beside him and felt a flush of guilt. For the last half an hour he had not thought of his own predicament once. It was refreshing to have something to distract him, and he wondered whether subconsciously one of his motives for helping Miss Shepherd was as a distraction from his own complicated personal life.

‘Thank you for taking me to see Mr Peterson,’ Miss Shepherd said. She sounded dejected. He knew she saw the chances of her finding her sister shrinking before her eyes.

‘I am sorry it was not more useful.’

‘You could not have foreseen that. It was important we spoke to him in case Selina had approached him again.’

‘I will go to the gentleman’s club your sister mentioned later this afternoon, once I have escorted you home.’