“But I know someone who will know.”
His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “You do?”
“I do.” Worry overtook her features. “She is not like me,” his mother said in a low voice. “Hers is a true secret.”
“Who?” Elation coursed through him.
His mother shook her head. “I can’t reveal that. I gave my word.”
Disappointment slammed Jasper’s hope. He opened his mouth to voice his discontent, but his mother spoke first.
“I will make an inquiry on your behalf, to arrange for you to speak with her,” his mother said. “You must understand, she is a pinnacle of society, but she was once taken by Madam Dequenne, as well. Only, no one saved her. Not soon enough. She was there for months, but she escaped, and created a lie. I can give you no more detail than that, but suffice it to say, her story must never get out. Even her husband does not know.”
Jasper stared at his mother, stunned.
“She helped me, in that short time I was there,” his mother continued. “I will attempt to persuade her to speak with you. If I’d any thought that vile woman still lived, I would already have asked her to help you.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“I can make no promise, dear. I can only ask.”
He nodded.
His mother drew in a deep breath, along with her composure. It was clear that the memories of her abduction were difficult for her to revisit and it pained Jasper to have asked her to. She reached out and tugged the bell pull, summoning tea. A smile turned up her lips. “Now, tell me of this young lady with whom you danced. The one the gossip columns say you ran out on. What manners did I teach you?”
A day ago, Jasper would have bet his entire fortune that, as a man of six and twenty, no one, not even his mother, could make him blush. Therefore, the heat that rushed up his neck must be considered a result of a too-tight cravat. And, indeed, his cravat did take on a sudden binding feel. He tugged at it. “There’s nothing to tell.”
His mother raised an eyebrow. “Well, were there something to tell, some affection on your part, I’d recommend making amends immediately. A grand gesture of sorts. No lady likes to be abandoned in the middle of a set. Especially not for a man’s mistress.”
Yes, his cravat was definitely too tight. Fortunately, footsteps and the rattle of trays sounded in the hall. Jasper ignored his mother’s knowing expression and looked to the door, which soon opened to reveal her maids. Only a small reprieve but, for now at least, Jasper was saved.
Chapter Seven
Madelina shifted in her carriage seat, tugged at her gloves, and studiously ignored Aunt Aubrey’s censorious look. Aunt Aubrey did not approve of fidgeting.
“How amazing,” her aunt drawled.
Madelina willed the words to stay in her mouth but failed. “What is?”
“That adjusting your gloves for the twenty-third time will make us reach the museum sooner.”
Madelina scowled. “You know I loathe them. You should have made me wear them growing up so I would be accustomed to them by now, as all the other young ladies appear to be.”
“Or perhaps all the other young ladies simply have more discipline than you.”
Madelina looked her aunt in the eyes and adjusted her gloves a twenty-fourth time.
Aunt Aubrey’s expression turned stony.
Madelina sighed and focused her attention out the window. Her mood reflected her lack of success. For days, she’d spent every moment of free time following Mister Mclintock, but the one time he had gone somewhere other than his residence or The Black Aspen, she’d learned only that his mother’s servants were entirely immune to bribes. The only thing of interest Madelina had discovered was that someone else followed Mister Mclintock, as well. A man who then reported back to The Black Aspen. Madelina didn’t dare follow the watcher inside, but if Mister Mclintock was out, the man must be reporting to Miss White. Having her lover followed so closely was an odd thing for a mistress to do.
On top of Madelina’s inability to discover any useful information, her aunt’s informant had visited the warehouse and found nothing. No one there knew of Madam Dequenne. Not even the auctioneer, who turned out to be an unwilling pawn. The most interesting details their inquiries revealed was that Madam Dequenne never used the same building twice, extorted use of the spaces, and didn’t conduct her business in person. She was a ghost, if a ghost could have young women abducted and their lives ruined.
Today, though, Madelina’s bribery of Mister Mclintock’s staff had born fruit. Mister Mclintock had ordered his carriage brought round to take him to the museum. While he may enjoy the finest collection of arts and antiquities anywhere in England, it seemed equally likely to Madelina that he intended to meet someone. After all, aside from a brief visit to his mother, he seemed dedicated to his work. Madelina had only followed him a week, but the outing deviated from his usual behavior enough to excite her anticipation.
She tugged at her gloves. How she preferred loitering about, dressed as a young man. The ridiculous curls, the feather-and ribbon-festooned hat, the layers of skirts and petticoats…they were so attention garnering. Both physically and socially restrictive, although skirts hid her knifes better than did trousers.
“I don’t see how I’ll be able to spy on him dressed like this and with you in tow,” Madelina grumbled.
