My heart leaped painfully against my ribs. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased. “I came to see Mr. Finch. I asked him to take on an enquiry.”
Steele’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion. “About what?”
“Do come in, Your Grace,” Finch interjected, “and close the door behind you. We wouldn’t want Lady Rosalynd catching a chill.”
“No. We wouldn’t,” Steele said, closing the door behind him. As he stepped into Finch’s office, he tossed his hat and cloak over the rack near the stove. But rather than take the only available chair, he remained standing, arms crossed, frowning down at me. “I’m listening.”
Keeping my voice steady, I explained about the caller from the mission, what she had shared about the missing women, the lack of follow-through by the police, and my decision to hire Mr. Finch to investigate their disappearances. The longer I spoke, the darker his brow grew.
“Why did you not come to me?”
“You were occupied with your legislative work,” I answered.
“I can attend to more than one matter at a time, Rosalynd.”
Irritation pricked hard. “And what would you have done?” I couldn’t help the edge to my tone. “You would have asked Mr. Finch to look into it, which is precisely what I have done. What I have every right to do.” I had made a sound decision, and I would not apologize for it.
His jaw tightened. “Is that your hackney outside?”
“Yes.”
“Where is your footman?”
There was nothing I could say that would satisfy him.
“So you came alone.” When his gaze swept over me, I felt the weight of his disapproval more keenly than if he had shouted. “Hatton Garden is not Grosvenor Square. Have you no sense of danger?”
I rushed to my feet. “Do not speak to me as though I were a child, Steele. The police have turned their backs on these women. Someone must do what they will not. Mr. Finch understands that, even if you do not.”
We faced one another in silence. The sound of traffic from the street seemed distant, muffled by the tension between us. He was angry with me. That much was clear. But there was more to it than that. There was fear in his eyes. For me.
Finch cleared his throat. “Your Grace, may I inquire as to the purpose ofyourvisit?”
Steele turned toward him, his expression hardening. “Lord Greystowe came to me this morning. His daughter has gone missing.”
My breath caught. “Lady Honora?”
“The same. She went out to meet her suitor disguised as her maid. She never returned.”
Finch leaned forward. “Disguised as her maid?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward Finch and, in that instant, an understanding passed between us. “The disappearances are connected,” I said.
Finch nodded slowly. “So it would appear.” He gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Your Grace, please take a seat, so we may speak plainly.”
Steele hesitated, then sat, the chair creaking under his weight. As I retook my own seat, his gaze returned to me. But his voice, when he spoke, had softened. “You should take more care, Rosalynd.”
I forced a steady breath. “Nothing has happened to me, and nothing will. But these girls are gone, Steele, and now a lady ofbirth has joined them. Whoever is behind this, they are moving boldly. Something needs to be done.”
Finch nodded. “Lady Honora’s disappearance may bring the matter into the open. The Yard will not ignore an earl’s daughter.”
Steele shook his head. “That won’t do.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Greystowe refuses to bring in the police. He fears what it will do to his daughter’s reputation.”
