“Graham’s right.” Philippa closed the albums on her lap with care. “My ladies’ reading circle independently studied the obfuscated messages and reached similar conclusions.”
“See?” Graham told Tommy. “They’re the experts. Philippa and her friends solved a centuries-old enigma and designed a military cipher. Iftheysay I’m right about this…”
Philippa nodded. “It does seem that two or more individuals are attempting to capture a woman, for reasons unknown. She has gone missing. Whether she escaped or was abducted by those hunting her, is also unknown.”
“Exactly whatIsaid. Two dozen clever bluestockings agree with me. But not my own sisters!”
Elizabeth smacked him with her cane. “You said ‘princess.’”
“My darling expert,” Tommy stage-whispered to Philippa. “What are the chances the missing woman is a princess?”
“Unknown,” Philippa whispered back. “But unlikely.”
Graham lifted his nose. “It doesn’t matter. Wynchesters rescue anyone who needs rescuing.”
“We usually wait until a client invites us to intervene,” Elizabeth reminded him.
“Not Graham.” Tommy poked his shoulder. “If he even senses an injustice, he springs into motion like a freshly wound clock. There’s no stopping him…or his imagination.”
“One day, I’ll scale a tower to save a princess,” he informed them. “I’ll rescue her standing atop a noble steed with a rose between my teeth.” He pantomimed the pose.
“Those are not things that people do,” Elizabeth said. “It makes no sense. Why carry a flower in your mouth? And why should anyone stand on a horse?” She turned to Philippa. “What percentage of Graham’s ‘reconnaissance skills’ comes from the circus?”
“Ninety percent,” Philippa replied. “Mayhap closer to ninety-five.”
“Bah.” He tapped the panel behind him and the carriage rolled to a stop. “I’ll see you spoilsports at dinner, and we’llseewho has had the more exciting day. I’ll wager five quid it’s me.”
“Ten quid!” called Tommy as Graham leapt from the carriage onto a cobblestone street just outside of Mayfair.
He brushed a barely perceptible wrinkle from his new mazarine-blue frock coat. He did not know which country the expected dignitary would visit from, or when he or she was to arrive. In the event the missing woman was indeed a stray princess, he wanted her first impression of him to be favorable. Like all his clothes, this afternoon’s elegant ensemble was specially tailored for ease of movement, should he suddenly need to scale cathedrals or leap across rooftops. One never knew when one would need to perform daring feats for a damsel in distress.
This day would be full of adventure. He could feel it. Graham had fathomed out the pattern in the covert advertisements.
She, or her captors, possessed a copy ofBoyle’s Court Guide, and was systematically appearing outside each aristocratic residence in the exact order they were listed in the guidebook.
Graham hadn’t the least notionwhythe sightings followed this pattern. Following a popular—if outdated—tourist guide was a baffling manner in which to conduct a covert abduction…and an equally baffling manner in which to evade capture. But Grahamwascertain which homes were next on the list. He owned every printing of the guidebook and had determined the edition his quarry was following.
He picked up his pace.
Two refined ladies heading toward him on the pavement startled and clutched their reticules to their bosoms as they edged to one side.
Oh, for the love of…Keeping his gaze straight ahead, Graham clenched his teeth and maintained a carefully cordial expression as he passed. His Schweitzer & Davidson waistcoat cost more than both their ensembles combined, but his skin was darker, which meant he was obviously a dastardly miscreant out to rob them.
His sisters and sister-in-law need not withstand such daily insults, because their skin was white as milk.
The ladies liked to tease their bachelor brother for holding out for a princess, but the truth was, Graham didn’t just dream of rescuing a royal. He wished hewereone.
No one would snub him if he had a crown.
As recently as 1759, an African prince had been fêted by the ton and welcomed with open arms into the beau monde and all its amusements. He’d even received a standing ovation from the audience at Drury Lane. But one needn’t look to the past to see the intangible advantages of royalty. Queen Charlotte had distant African ancestry. Her son, the Prince Regent, was an absolute disaster, and he would be fawned over the rest of his life.
If Graham were a prince, he wouldn’t squander his position on gluttony and bad wagers. Just think how many more good works could be accomplished if he could influence the entire country! Having been raised in the glare of footlights until the age of ten, Graham was used to commanding attention. What he lacked was social standing. Playing ringmaster to a network of equally lowborn informants did not make him king, but at least he was using his gifts to help others.
Such as the missing woman.
He drew to a stop across the street from a large, terraced home. Was she here? Was she frightened? Was she still in danger?
There were too many people walking up and down the pavements, too many carts and carriages crowding the street. He would not be able to spot her from the street.
