“How is your head? Where did he strike you?” Jasper asked.
“Strike me?” His driver sat up more fully. He looked about, eyes widening when he took in the gaggle of watchmen. “What happened?”
“We were set on by a robber.” Jasper dropped his arm. “He knocked you out.”
His driver shook his head, then winced. “No, sir, he grabbed my neck. That’s the last thing I remember.”
The head watchman urged his horse up alongside the carriage. “Can you describe him?”
Jasper’s driver blinked several more times. A hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “He wore black, and a mask. Seemed young.”
The watchman frowned. “That’s not much to go on.”
“Well, it’s all we have,” Jasper replied, then turned back to his man. “I can drive. You go sit in the carriage.”
“I couldn’t do that, sir.”
“You can and you will.”
“Do you want an escort, Mister Mclintock, in case that ruffian comes back?” the head watchman asked.
“That’s not necessary,” Jasper replied as his driver climbed down, movements made awkward by his bad leg. “Your time is better used looking for our attacker.” Though not much better, Jasper silently added.
The watchman nodded. “Don’t you worry, sir, we’ll get this Little Hook.”
“Indeed,” Jasper said dryly.
His driver climbed into the carriage.
Jasper took his seat at the reins. “Thank you, men, for your assistance. If you’ll move aside, we’ll be on our way.”
“Yes, of course, sir.” The lead watchman gestured to his men. They formed up on either side of the narrow street.
Jasper offered a nod and flicked the reins. The carriage rolled into motion, his team happy to be away. Jasper agreed with them.
As he neared the end of the street, he looked over his shoulder. The watchmen had split into groups of two and spread outward, searching the area. He had no thought that they would prove capable of locating his attacker.
He cursed inwardly. The lad might have been persuaded to talk. He may have given Jasper some clue that would lead to Madam Dequenne. Jasper could end so much evil if he found her and got her locked away.
A thread of desperation snaked through him. Even if he sold all of his holdings, secured donations from all of his old acquaintances, he would eventually run out of funds. Ending the abductions at their source was the only way to halt the evil.
In view of his lack of progress and Madam Dequenne’s escalating abductions, he might have to do something he’d very much wished to avoid. He had one more source of information. Someone who had likely seen Madam Dequenne firsthand. Someone he knew well.
As much as he wished not to reawaken old torment in her, Jasper would have to seek information from his mother.
Chapter Five
Madelina stood in her chamber the morning following her first attempt at vigilantism, thoroughly put out. She slapped the scandal sheets down on her dressing table. Picked them up. Reread them. Slapped them down again. Her attention shifted to the fireplace. Maybe she would burn the offending pages.
She saw her mistake now. In only reading about Lord Lefthook, she’d failed to take in additional information that might be of value. The pages made it obvious why Lanora and Miss Birkchester were dismayed by Mister Mclintock’s approach the previous evening. Perusal of earlier editions, scoured for Mister Mclintock’s name, had informed Madelina that he ran a gambling hell, The Black Aspen, on the edge of Lord Lefthook’s borough. That, then, was probably where he’d put the girls, to rent their favors to his unsavory clientele.
Madelina’s gaze refocused on the open page, locating the lines pertaining to her. Her first, and hopefully last, appearance in the scandal sheets.Lady M, younger sister to the Marquess of W, abandoned halfway through her very first set by bastard son of the late Duke of A, Mister M, when Mister M’s mistress appeared at Lady K’s ball.
The content galled Madelina. The attention the words would garner. The confirmation that the gorgeous creature Mister Mclintock had left with was, indeed, his mistress. Not that she didn’t expect a man who bought and sold young women like chattel to have a mistress.
Most of all, that single, accusatory, vile word. Bastard. Mister Mclintock was a man born out of wedlock…just as Madelina had been.
She stared down at the word. Those seven letters, so neatly printed, seemed to pulse on the page. Judging.
