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“Very odd she was. Did not look like a maid to me. She wore a gown just like one of Cassie’s.” The duke shrugged. “I do not understand what is fashionable amongst young women these days.” He looked to Oliver. “I imagine you do, though, young man. You would not neglect to compliment a woman on her gown, would you?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“My Ellie always looks most beautiful, do you not think?”
Oliver looked to Eleanor, unable to keep a smile from his face as he eyed the less than elegant clothing she wore today. “I could not agree more, Your Grace.”
Casting her eyes down, she looked away, but the rise of the corners of her lips was enough for Oliver. She was no more immune to being called beautiful than any other woman. He’d have to remember that.
“What of this woman, Papa?” she prompted. “Do you recall what she looked like?”
“Unless it is my daughters, I do not pay much attention to young women these days. Though I did remark on the fact she had a mark on her arm shaped almost exactly like Italy. Quite unusual.”
Eleanor gasped and shot to her feet before Oliver could say anything. “I know who it is.”
Chapter Twenty
Oliver followed Eleanor out of the library. He took her arm, pulling her to an abrupt halt in the hallway and causing her to twist and stumble into his chest. He took her other arm and urged her to look at him.
“Who is this woman, Ellie?”
“Another enemy of ours.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It seems we have many.”
“From an investigation?”
She nodded. “Though Cassie and I were not even involved in the investigative society then.”
It had been several years until Chastity—who by default had taken charge of it when their mother died—had let either of them into the society. Cassie had joined last, being the youngest and a little overprotected by them all. However, with other members marrying off or leaving, it had been up to Eleanor and Cassie to take their place in the group. This case had occurred only months before Eleanor joined.
“What happened?”
“It was fairly simple. I may have mentioned it before.”
Oliver waited, his fingers still offering light, supportive pressure upon her arms. At present, she feared if he let go, she might well drop to the floor so she took comfort in the touch—a touch that was becoming so familiar that she was going to miss it when it was gone.
“Various items were going missing from the Countess of Warwickshire’s home. A maid was accused—the sister of Demeter’s lady’s maid—but she was innocent so my sisters and the other women agreed to help. It turned out to be a young friend of the countess. Miss Caroline Davies had an inclination to take things though we never really fathomed why as Caroline is wealthy enough.” She shrugged. “I read some studies that suggested it is like an illness though of course they blamed hysteria or women’s courses for such behavior. Whatever the reason, once it was discovered, the lady fled in shame to the continent.”
“Another woman chased away,” he murmured.
“We do seem to have a tendency to chase people out of London,” Eleanor admitted with a half-smile.
“So where could she be?”
Closing her eyes briefly, she shook her head. “That is the problem. I do not know. Maybe her father’s house? Or another family member’s house perhaps? But, Oliver, it’s getting too late. What if my sister has already been accosted?” Her throat tightened painfully, making it hard to swallow. “We wasted time visiting Ruth.”
“You cannot blame yourself. You followed the information you were given.” He urged her to look at him with a little shake of her arms.
“We should go. We need to find Demeter. Maybe we can meet her at the coaching inn before it’s too late or even on the road.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ll find her, you go to Caroline’s father’s house.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. It could be hours until they met up with Demeter’s carriage. They needed information on what was to occur—when and where her sister was to be intercepted. But she could hardly trot around London while her sister was in danger.
“We need to find Demeter,” she repeated.
