Alarm streaked through her. “You don’t suspect Mariana of—” She gulped down the last word, unable to speak it aloud.
Nick and Mariana were the rare aristocratic couple who were perfectly suited to one another. Well, after they’d sorted through the first ten years of their marriage. Their connection could almost convince one to believe in the sort of love that lasted.
“Infidelity?” He waved dismissively. “Nothing like that.”
She could sag with relief. “What’s the job?”
“My brother.”
She knew of the older brother, but Nick never spoke of him.
“You’ll recall,” he continued, “my mother and father died in a carriage accident five months ago.”
She nodded and kept her silence at the cold distance in his voice. The few fragments of rumor and speculation about the Marquess and Marchioness of Clare that had drifted her way over the years—indiscriminate affairs by both parties, public screaming matches—painted them in a depraved and loathsome light. Nick wasn’t the sort of man to be close to such people.
“As the firstborn son, Jamie inherited the title.”
She detected no bitterness. Second sons knew their lot was to be the spare to the heir. And if the heir survived to inherit, well, the spare received naught all for his trouble.
“I haven’t seen my brother since the reading of the will four months ago. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t left Asquith Court in all that time, and he won’t let anyone in. I’ve tried.”
“What do you need from me?” she asked, the bud of anticipation blossoming, impossible to resist. It had been so long since a job truly interested her.
“I need to know what state he’s in.” Nick met her gaze for the flash of a second, but long enough for her to detect uncertainty, and concern. “If he’s dead or alive.”
She inhaled the sigh that wanted release. “Blast.”
He cut her a hard glance. “You won’t do it?”
“Of course, I shall.” She couldn’t refuse Nick anything. “But, just once, I would like to wear a silk dress instead of a maid’s uniform.”
He snorted, a wry smile playing about his mouth. “When the job is finished, Mariana will take you to her dressmaker. A new silk dress as a bonus payment.”
Her eyes rolled toward the uncommon indigo sky above London. “And where would I wear such a garment?”
He shrugged. “Life rarely lets us know where it’s leading us before the fact. It has a habit of simply arriving. One should ever have one’s silk dress at hand, in case.”
They walked on a few steps. “When do you want me to start?”
“At your earliest convenience.”
In fact, she had another job set to begin on the morrow—a lady whose precious terrier had been kidnapped by a former lover. This lady happened to be married to a well-known member of Parliament and required the deed done discreetly. Another job that was simply a variation on the tired theme of infidelity. But Nick was the one person in the world for whom she would drop everything. He’d loosed her from Doyle. The debt she owed him commanded utter and complete loyalty.
They had circled back and were quickly approaching Number11. “I can start in the morning.”
“It shouldn’t take more than a handful of days.”
“Any other pertinent facts I need to know?”
It was a standard question, but Nick’s brow creased into a deep furrow. “My brother,” he began, haltingly, “struggles with drink. You should be aware of that.”
She gave a curt nod. He need say no more. His primary concern was that his brother was drinking himself to death. “I shall contact you in a few days’ time.”
“My thanks.” He nodded and pivoted on his heel, continuing up Little Peter Street, a muted whistle trailing in his wake.
Hortense ducked down the narrow alley that ran alongside the boardinghouse. Her key slid into the lock of an unobtrusive black door. Once inside, she turned the lock behind her and climbed the straight staircase to her attic rooms. This private entrance was the deciding factor for having chosen this place. A useful feature for those nights when she returned in the early hours of the morning, like tonight.
It had taken quite a bit of searching to find a respectable landlady willing to accept her two conditions. She would be allowed to keep her own hours. And no questions would be asked.
