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“People will do all sorts of fool things for love, especially the young ones.”
He couldn’t dispute that. God knows he’d been a complete fool when it came to love.
Mrs. Culp tapped her chin. “Still, Betsy is such a good girl.”
Braden waited for a few moments then reached over and gently nudged her shoulder. “And?”
“It’s these bairns that keep disappearing. From the orphanage, and now the school.”
“You know about them?” Braden asked, surprised.
She rolled her eyes. “We all do, here in Old Town. Word travels, ye ken.”
The foundation board had tried to keep the news of the disappearances under wraps, since it didn’t reflect well on the charity. They’d been successful when it came to the upper echelons of society, but clearly not so in Old Town.
“And what does the word say?”
“Nothing good. Everyone knows that the lads are well treated at the orphanage. There’d be nae reason for them to be joining up with bully boys or the gangs.”
Braden frowned. “People think the boys have been recruited into criminal gangs?”
“None of us ken what to think. But the folks of Old Town are keeping a close eye on their little ones, I can tell ye that. No one’s taking any chances.”
“Understandable. Anything else you can tell me about Betsy, or what the residents of Old Town think about all this?”
She rolled her lips inward, as if reluctant to share her thoughts.
“What?” he gently prompted.
“Ye’ll think it plain odd, sir.”
He flashed her an easy smile. “I’m a Kendrick. We specialize in odd.”
She snorted. “That ye do. Well, there be rumors about a couple ghosting about Old Town, all dressed in black and never saying a word. No one knows what they’re up to. The more ignorant-like think they’re faceless ghoulies that take the children. Nonsense, of course, but the fear is real.”
Hell and damnation.
Braden waved a dismissive hand. “They’re probably just a team of thieves. As you know, it’s not unusual for women to be part of these criminal gangs, either.”
“I suppose,” she replied, sounding doubtful.
And wasn’t this a splendid development? Those rumors could swell to the point where they attracted the attention of the local police. Even worse, if the residents of Old Town grew frightened enough they might band together to take action to protect their children. With just a little bad luck, Samantha could find herself in the middle of a mob looking for vengeance.
“If you could find out the name of Betsy’s fellow, I’ll write to my brothers in Glasgow. They might be able to turn up information on them.”
His instincts, however, told him that the girl had not left Edinburgh. Bathsheba obviously thought so, too, or else she wouldn’t have sent him the note expressing her concerns.
Mrs. Culp nodded. “I’ll get back to ye with that name.”
“Now, be off with you, Mrs. Culp. I’ve kept you late enough.”
“Thank ye, sir.”
Braden checked the time. Already going on six o’clock. He’d have to go home first to change, since a frock coat and shoes was hardly appropriate attire for spying—or for searching through Old Town, if it came to that. And since he suspected itwouldcome to that, he’d better arm himself, too.
So much for a quiet evening at home.
Thanks to the crusading Lady Samantha, a quiet night would obviously have to wait.
