Eleanor
Eleanor sucked ina breath. The proposition was outlandish. She glanced at Mr. Rollins. Working with that self-righteous prig would most likely be impossible. But whatever she thought about it obviously didn’t compare to how absurd the Runner thought the idea. His face was the very expression of horror.
Lady Mary continued. “That means sharing information with the others.” She gave Mr. Rollins a pointed look. “Discussing our theories together.”
Mr. Rollins jumped to his feet. “That is impossible. I am an agent—”
“For the magistrates of Bow Street, yes, yes, we know.” Lady Mary flapped her hand at him dismissively, and Eleanor fell a little bit in love with the woman. “And we are two women of society. We have access to places you do not. And people will talk to us more freely than they would with you.”
Mr. Rollins began to pace, batting the frond of a fern from his face when he passed underneath it. “People will speak with me or face a writ for obstruction of justice.”
“As terrifying as that prospect may be to some,” Lady Mary said dryly, “those with money and connections have no such fear. In a case such as this, you need someone on the inside. We can help.”
He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric pulling tight around his biceps. “You have a nephew who is part owner of an inquiry agency. The Bond Agency for DiscreetInquiries, I believe it is called. If you don’t trust Bow Street to handle this investigation, why aren’t you asking your nephew for help?”
Eleanor had wondered that, too. It had been quite a sensation when five noblemen, chief amongst them the Duke of Montague, Lady Mary’s nephew, had opened the detective agency. If it wasn’t for the wealth and political power of the five friends, chances were they would have been shunned from polite society for engaging in such a trade. They did hire investigators to work the cases and were nominally only investors in the enterprise, but there were rumors that the noblemen dabbled in an investigation or two.
Lady Mary grimaced. “The boys would help, no doubt, but they are all busy men. They all have their own wives and families to look after now. And this, well, this happened at my club. My business. I’m responsible, and I don’t want to merely hand the task off to someone else. Besides,” she said, sniffing, “who would hire an inquiry agency when there’s already a Runner on the case?”
“An officer of the Bow Street magistrates.” Rollins rubbed the back of his neck.
Eleanor waited for his next objection, certain Lady Mary would be able to aptly counter whatever it was. To her surprise, Mr. Rollins halted by the window, his black jacket melting into the inky darkness framed behind him.
He sighed, his broad shoulders rounding. “You may be right. My usual cases don’t bring me into high society and insiders would be helpful. However, it would be unconscionable for me to involve women in this matter.”
“My mother is a suspect.” Eleanor pressed her hands into her thighs. “The reputation of Lady Mary’s club is suffering. We are involved whether you wish it or not.”
Lady Mary nodded. “I fear you misapprehend me, Mr. Rollins. I am not asking your permission. I, and I assume Miss Lynton, will continue asking questions whether you agree or not. I am only suggesting that it would be to everyone’s benefit to work together.”
Mr. Rollins shoved an aloe plant to the side and plopped down on the wide window sill. “I can’t convince you otherwise?”
“Certainly not.” Eleanor leaped to her feet and stood next to Lady Mary. She had been feeling directionless these past days, knowing she needed to help her mother but lacking in the skills necessary to conduct an investigation herself. Forming a partnership seemed the perfect solution. Yes, it would mean working with the ninny from Bow Street, but even that would give her the opportunity to convince him of her mother’s innocence.
He stretched out his long legs and hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. After a moment, he sighed. “Then I concede defeat. I am not wholly unaccustomed to working with others.” He gave them an assessing look. “I guess you will have to do.”
Eleanor and Lady Mary shared a look of their own.
“How gracious,” Lady Mary said. She went back behind the desk and retook her seat. “Now, since we are partners—”
“Working together,” Mr. Rollins corrected.
“—then perhaps you would tell us how it was that Lord Richford came to call upon you to investigate, Mr. Rollins.” The older woman leaned back and steepled her fingers. “It did not escape my notice that he requested your assistance from Bow Street specifically.”
Mr. Rollins stared at the hanging fern for a moment before nodding. “You correctly surmise I was acquainted with the family. I had a previous encounter with Lady Richford.” He scraped his palm across his jaw. “I have kept quiet some information because it doesn’t seem relevant to thisinvestigation and, if released, would only hurt the family. I trust you will honor that discretion.”
Eleanor nodded.
Lady Mary inclined her head.
Though Mr. Rollins didn’t look completely satisfied, he continued. “I met the woman nigh on three years now, when I was a member of the Bow Street Foot Patrol. It was late at night, and a pickpocket attempted to rob Lady Richford. A small scuffle ensued, and I intervened.” He flicked his finger at the tip of the aloe plant, the thick leaf quivering.
“And she and her husband were grateful enough for that intervention for the viscount to remember your name years later?” Eleanor cocked her head. That hardly seemed likely.
Mr. Rollins narrowed his eyes. “The story is not yet finished. And the earl wasn’t with her when the theft attempt occurred.”
“Ah.” Lady Mary pursed her lips. “Shewashaving relationships with other men then.”
“No.” Rollins poked at the aloe again, seemingly fascinated with the small spikes that ran along the succulent’s leaf. “At least, not to my knowledge. The lady was alone that night.”
