James scowled as he and Ryleigh made their way back to Downing Street. He was resolved to see Liverpool. The situation was growing more desperate. This time they were in luck and the butler escorted them to the Prime Minister’s dining room.
Liverpool waved his fork. “Sit down. Sit down. Coffee?”
“Thank you,” James said, lowering across from him. “Coffee would be welcome.”
Ryleigh nodded as well.
“I stopped by Fitzroy Square yesterday,” Liverpool said.
James lifted a brow, feigning innocence, and… hoping it worked. “Did you? My wife and I were out.”
“So, I learned. I’m guessing you are not here to break your fast, though you are free to do so.” Liverpool lifted his hand to a footman who hurried over to refill his cup. “Any update on—” he glanced at Ryleigh. “Er…”
James saw no reason to evade the insinuation. His gut instincts were on edge, and he wanted answers, and stopped the prime minister. “Perhaps, but I have a few questions of my own. Why are you so interested in the missing woman from Drury Lane?”
Liverpool’s expression froze in a mask of haunted horror, then apparently realizing his action, blanked his face and dropped his gaze to his spoon. He dipped it into the sugar bowl then stirred it in his coffee. He tapped it against the delicate China. He took in a deep breath then let it out with a sigh. “A small indiscretion in my youth… Louisa, er, knows nothing of the, er, situation, so I would appreciate your discrepancy.”
“You had a child.” Ryleigh spoke softly, a statement of fact, not a question.
James was too well-seasoned at shocking news to let it show on his face, but sufficed to say, he was stunned. And, furious. “So, my wife’s involvement was not a matter of national security or a threat to the Crown. There wasn’t any Higher Up, demanding answers for the missing woman, was there?”
Liverpool deflated. His spoon slipped from his shaking hand, plunking on the table with a soft thud. “Ryleigh is correct. I had a child. A girl. I didn’t learn of her existence until she died a few years ago. Dinah Darby is my… granddaughter. I certainly couldn’t bring a bastard child into my home, but I tried to look out for her in other ways.” He picked up his fork and loaded it with eggs.
A slow burn curled through James. The Prime Minister’s statement gave him sudden insight to his wife’s and the duchess’s inspirations towards less fortunate women. He, in that moment, decided he would never try to stop Gabriella from her dreams of equality for women.
James dropped his head back then sat forward, put his elbows on the table and let out a pursed breath. “I have good news and bad news for you, my lord.”
The change in Liverpool was instantaneous. His fork poised, midair, his face grim.
“You were correct in your assumptions of Lady Huntley’s involvement with Miss Darby’s disappearance. I regret to inform you that she was hurt badly—”
“Hurt?” he choked out.
“She was ravished. Quite savagely and tossed to the curb. My wife found her.” James spared no detail on the scenario Gabriella had shared. “Miss Darby is now ensconced at my estate in Doncaster and in good hands.”
Liverpool lowered his fork to his plate, his face quite white. “You have seen her?” he demanded.
“No,” Huntley admitted, relieved to learn that Miss Darby hadn’t been Liverpool’s mistress. It would have explained much except that Liverpool had always appeared devoted to his wife. “I’m assured she is well.”
“Who was the libertine?”
“I don’t know. Neither does Lady Huntley.” Leastways, she hadn’t said outright.
The man looked as if he’d aged ten years in the ten minutes since he and Ryleigh had arrived. “What of Stanford’s death?”
“We aren’t certain,” James bit out.
Ryleigh took up the conversation. “Huntley and I just returned from speaking to Bentick. He could tell us nothing. The man cannot hold his liquor. He’s quite useless.”
The color was returning to Liverpool’s face.
James sensed, and was glad for it, that Liverpool truly cared—in the only way a public figure could—for Miss Darby.
James decided to take his chances with Liverpool. “There’s more.”
Liverpool lifted a brow, showing the patience he was infamously known for.
James took a sip of very decently brewed coffee. “You might as well know. Her Grace and Lady Huntley have opened a shelter, if you will, for young women in need, similar to those of your granddaughter.”
