Louisa pieced together everything that happened the day she’d heard about her family dying. This did not make sense at all. “What about my friend, Eliza? She knew I didn’t drown. She was there with me when her uncle gave me the sad news.”
Macgregor tilted his head back and laughed. His yellow and brown teeth were coated with food particles, and she wanted to gag.
“Oh, my dear Louisa. Yer startin’ to see things clearly, already. Do I really need to tell ye?”
“I don’t understand. Why would my good friend lie to my family about my death… and lie to me about her uncle?”
He shrugged and focused back on the road. “That ye will have to ask her. The deal she made was with Featherspoon, not me.”
“But you must know something.”
He chuckled. “What they did was none of my concern. The children I have purchased are the only things that matter right now.”
She folded her arms tightly across her chest and scowled. “My family is alive, and one day Iwillfind them.”
“Oh, my naïve Louisa. There is one thing ye do not understand yet.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“If yer family is alive and ye happen to find them, they will not want ye any longer. Their precious little girl has turned into a common thief.” Tsking, he shook his head. “Nobody will want ye after ye take the dowager’s jewels.Nobody… but me.”
Tears stung her eyes as her heart finished breaking. Although she didn’t want to admit it, Macgregor was correct. Nobody would want her—not her family, and especially not Trevor.
Her life as she knew it had turned into a hellish nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Where is thatman?
Richard Macgregor paced the small amount of floor space in his office, glancing out the window every minute as he passed. It had been two hours now since he’d taken Louisa back to the duke’s estate, and the first place Macgregor went after that was to meet Percy Featherspoon at the office. That man had promised Macgregor another child. Today.
Richard stopped in front of the window. Outside, the street was busy with hackneys creeping down the road and couples leisurely strolling in the early afternoon as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The imps who worked for him were out in their assigned spots, watching for the best moment to pick some gent’s pocket or snatch a lady’s wrist purse.
Because Richard had nothing to do at this particular moment but wait for Featherspoon, irritation for the man’s tardiness grew by leaps and bounds. Already, Richard wanted to throttle the man, and when given the chance, he’d surely follow through with his instincts.
Grumbling, he raked his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t like Featherspoon to be this late. Something must have happened.
Richard’s heartbeat paused as his mind took a different direction. Could Percy have been discovered by the police and taken to the gaol? Or perhaps that insipid niece ofFeatherspoon’s had the man dancing around her selfish demands once again. The woman was almost as crafty as Richard, himself.
He scratched his ear. Perhaps it was now time to meet the young lady face-to-face. For years, he’d known about her hold on Featherspoon, which was the very key that kept the worthless man working for Richard. He’d threatened Featherspoon many times to take Miss Eliza Watson and teach her how to work the streets. Perhaps now was the time to follow through with the threat. Of course, the girl was past the age he needed, but she would serve him well as a harlot—just as Louisa would eventually.
After hurrying out of his office and locking the door, he took fast steps to his steed and mounted. There was no time to waste since he was losing daylight fast. Thankfully, he’d known about Miss Watson’s life through Featherspoon, and if Richard didn’t act quickly, the young maiden would soon be the wife to Lord Wellesley. Richard could not let that happen now. But first, he must find Featherspoon and drag him along in order to be formally introduced to Miss Watson.
Kicking his heels into the horse’s belly, he urged the animal faster toward Featherspoon’s pitiful home. If that man didn’t drink himself into oblivion every day, he might wonder why Richard did not pay him well.
He chuckled. Once again, he enjoyed being in control and making people bend tohiswill.
As he neared the meager cottage of his colleague, a long wagon, two carriages, and several horses stood vacated in front. Curious, Richard slowed his steed and crept closer. All the occupants of these vehicles clustered near the front porch. A fancy-dressed young lady stood out amongst a handful of working men, with the girl’s maid lingering close by. A man—who Richard had tried his best to avoid—asked the younglady questions. When she turned and Richard saw her face, recognition struck like a blow to the forehead.
Miss Watson.
Yet why was she talking to the local constable?
Panic clutched Richard’s heart. Featherspoon’s niece must have ratted out her uncle.
Gritting his teeth, Richard pulled his horse to a halt. He’d like nothing better than to get his hands on that girl and teach her what happens when people cross him.
Another movement drew his attention to the porch as two men lifted a body draped in a blanket and carried it to the wagon. Eliza held a white lacey handkerchief to her mouth as the men moved the covered body past her. Hesitantly, she touched the blanket only to quickly withdraw her hand.
