“Ahh, yes. Right this way, please.” She opened the door wider, and after Kit passed through, she led her to a sitting room just off the side of the front hall. “Whom may I say is calling?”
“Mrs. Forge. Your mistress will know who I am.”
“Very good, Mrs. Forge.” She dipped her head then pivoted with military perfection.
Kit wandered the room. A lot could be learned about a person from the furnishings of his home. For the most part the space was sparsely furnished, indicating the Colemans felt no need to flaunt their money—and they must have a fair amount to live in Pimlico. A silver cigarette box adorned the mantel, as did a clock inlaid with gold filigree, indicating a fashionable taste and a desire for punctuality, or at least they were sticklers for timing the length of their visitor’s stay. Nor were they the sentimental sort. Not one family picture or portrait graced the walls. Two overstuffed wingbacks and a sofa sat in a cozy collection in front of the hearth, none of which bore so much as a smudge from soot. Everything looked new. Unused. How unusual. Perhaps the Colemans didn’t have many visitors.
“Mrs. Forge. I am delighted to see you.”
Kit turned as Mrs. Coleman rushed in and clasped Kit’s hands. Hopeful eyes locked on to hers, and a queer pang struck Kit’s belly. She’d swear she’d seen that green gaze before, but she just couldn’t place the face surrounding those eyes. Had they met sometime in the past? But…of course. No doubt this green-eyed woman—for such a hue was a rarity—reminded her of the wily Jade Swanson, a sharper who’d cheated her years ago when she hadn’t known any better, or perhaps Carky Smathers. A shiver rippled through Kit. She hadn’t given Carky a thought in years, not since she was shipped out to Australia.
“I hope this means…?” Mrs. Coleman’s fine neck strained.
“It does.” Kit squeezed the woman’s fingers. “I have decided to take on your case after all.” A slight pang of guilt squeezed her chest for going against her father’s wishes. But she would tell him of her decision and beg him to reconsider his. That had to count for something, didn’t it? Perhaps he would change his mind.
“Oh!” Mrs. Coleman’s hand flew to her chest, and she sank into one of the chairs. “I have been praying all night for just such an outcome. You have no idea how relieved I am. Please, have a seat.”
Kit took one corner of the sofa and pulled out a notepad and pencil from her reticule. The devil was in the details, and if the devil who’d stolen his own child were to be found, she’d best take copious notes. “I will need a few particulars to get me going, starting with your husband’s full name.”
“Harold V Coleman, though the V does not stand for anything. His mother thought it lent an air of mystery to her son.” She blew a delicate snort. “I never suspected that mystique would play out in the disappearance of my baby daughter.”
Kit jotted down the name. “Can you give me a physical description of your husband?”
“Nut-brown hair, normally slicked back. Brown eyes, rather intense. A full mouth, some might say overwide, and a square jaw.” Kit’s pencil flew, and she was grateful when Mrs. Coleman paused for a few beats before continuing. “Oh yes, and there is a hump on his nose from having been broken as a younger man. You know how schoolboys can be.”
Hah! She didn’t know much about schoolboys, but street-rat lads could certainly bust a face or two with their flying fists. She penciled down the defect then glanced up at Mrs. Coleman. “Age?”
“Thirty-two.”
“And when was the last time you saw Mr. Coleman?”
“It has been three weeks now. I know I should have sought you out sooner, but I had hoped—” She choked. Pulling a finely embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, she pressed the white fabric to her lips.
Such emotion was to be expected. Had someone taken Bella from her, she’d be a raging lunatic. Three weeks would be an eternity to be parted from her little love. It was hard enough to leave her behind at Martha’s each morn.
She copied the information then angled her head at Mrs. Coleman. “You did the right thing in seeking me out, but I think the best course of action will be for me to accompany you to my husband’s station to file a report. I would then be able to work alongside an officer to find your husband and child.”
Kit smiled. She wouldn’t be breaking her promise not to rescue the child if she had an officer along to do it for her.
Mrs. Coleman shook her head violently. “No police. There is a reason I sought a private investigator.”
“Such as?”
The woman’s lips pinched, the large mole near her mouth flattening somewhat. “My family.”
The thin woman crossed to the window, sunshine blessing her auburn hair with glints of gold. Though she stared out the pane of glass, Kit got the distinct impression she didn’t see a thing. “You have no idea the pressure my mother puts on me for social perfection, how my father values the sanctity of his good name. Were word to slip into the papers, linking me to either of them, the shame would be too much to bear.” She whirled back, hugging herself. “Please, it is of the utmost importance this matter be kept out of the public eye, or I will be ostracized from society and my family. I would have nothing left.Nothing.”
Kit couldn’t begin to understand the push and pull of such strangling family ties, but she did know desperation when she heard it. “I understand, Mrs. Coleman. Please be at ease. I don’t see any reason why this cannot be kept discreet. In fact, I have a successful history of keeping to the shadows when need be.”
Relief sagged her slim shoulders. “Thank you. I knew I came to the right person.” She resumed her seat, posture once again erect. “You have my eternal gratitude for your prudence and your kindness.”
“Think nothing of it.” Kit flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Now then, pardon my prying, but were there issues between you and Mr. Coleman? Any infidelities, gambling habits, drinking problems?”
“Heavens, no. None I know of, or I suppose I should sayknewof.” She tucked away her handkerchief, jaw hardening. “I suspect my husband has recently fallen in with a bad crowd. He might even be involved in something illegal.”
Kit narrowed her eyes. “What makes you say such a thing?”
“The last few months he has been so secretive, coming home late, leaving early, cagey, tense, angry—so unlike the man I married.”
