“Thank you,” Miss Carlisle said with a note of defeat, “but I’d rather go through everything on my own, and besides, I’m expecting a constable any moment. Please rest assured I will send word straight away if it reappears.”
It didn’t sound as though she believed there was any chance of that happening. Blayne gave Miss Russell’s arm a gentle tug and was glad when she finally started moving her feet. Seeing her so lost and upset did something savage to him. It made him want to catch whoever had done this and tear the blighter limb from limb. By God, if there was a chance in hell of finding the damned thing Miss Russell had written, he’d do it.
“I’ll put a crew on this right away,” he said once they were back in the carriage. “See if they can find out who was behind this.”
“You did mention Miss Carlisle informing Bow Street,” Daisy said when Miss Russell failed to respond. “I’m sure they’ll figure everything out. Wouldn’t you agree, miss?”
Miss Russell stared stiffly out the window. The faraway look in her eyes made her appear so vulnerable – so unlike the woman Blayne knew her to be. And it made him want to do whatever he could to ease her concerns, if only to have her true self returned.
“Bow Street is an excellent start,” Blayne said while keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the woman who’d somehow started mattering to him. “But if there’s a thief, I’d trust my men to find him first. It would help if ye could tell me exactly what to look for.”
Daisy glanced at her mistress with marked concern. “Miss?”
“It’s a novel,” Miss Russell said with a weary sigh. She turned away from the window and locked her gaze with Blayne’s. “As of right now, it consists of four hundred hand written pages entitledBook Threeby Anonymous.”
So it was a novel. He’d been right in his deduction thus far. “What’s it about?”
“You’ll know if you find it.”
“Hmm…” So she wasn’t willing to let him in on that particular secret yet. He pondered the out of the way publisher she’d decided to use, the mess the office had been in, and what had been taken. Something didn’t add up. He angled his head in contemplation. “Not to disparage yer writing, but why on earth would a thief steal an unpublished book?”
“More than one, according to what Avery told us.”
Blayne nodded. Yes, there had been at least two other clients. “What could he possibly hope to accomplish?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Miss Russell said. “Maybe he likes to read.”
“Books aren’t cheap,” Daisy added.
No. They weren’t. But if the unpublished books had been the thief’s main goal, then why not rob a bookshop instead? Unless it was a very particular manuscript he was after.
Deciding to file that piece of logic away for later, Blayne leaned back against the squabs and gave Miss Russell a smile. “Whatever his reason, I’ll do my best to track him down.”
“Thank you, Mr. MacNeil. I’m glad to know I have your assistance.”
Her dismal attempt at looking happy almost broke his heart, but her words made him feel like a king.
The incredulous stare he received from Guthrie later that day when he mentioned the extra problems he faced had the opposite effect. “Please remind me, Blayne. Did I not advise you to avoid getting involved with her?”
“Ye did, but I dinnae regret doing it.”
“No?” Guthrie studied him for a long moment before saying, “What if I refuse to help?”
“Then I suppose Miss Russell will lose credibility with her parents, be labeled a liar, suffer potential ruination, and possibly get shipped off to America if Mr. Cooper still wants her after all that.” Not something Blayne would allow to happen if he had anything to say about it.
“Why the hell did she have to say you were an entrepreneur and why in all that is holy did you feel inclined to invite this American person to visit your place of business together with her father of all people? Blayne, the situation with the Home Office aside, this is madness, and cleaning up your mess along with hers is beginning to require a dedicated team of people.”
“I’m sorry, Guthrie. I realize the situation has worsened.”
“Devil take it, Blayne. If you were anyone else I’d toss you out on your arse and let the both of you suffer the consequence of your idiocy.”
“Except ye can’t. Can ye?”
Guthrie blew out a frustrated breath and grabbed his brandy. He took a long sip and set the glass aside. “Unfortunately, my conscience will not permit it. And you probably deserve a thousand curses for counting on that.”
Blayne couldn’t deny it. He knew Guthrie would always feel indebted to him. It was something he could have taken advantage of repeatedly during the time they’d known each other, but he hadn’t. Not until now. “I’m sorry.”
“Christ. I know what it’s like to be smitten. I just don’t want to see you give up on everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve, that’s all.”
