Edith Layton

H
e sat in the shadows, waiting. A wedge of lamplight from the hallway fell into the dimly lit bedchamber, widening as the door opened further and the woman came in. And still, the man in the shadows didn’t move. It amused him to wait to be noticed. He wondered if the lady would even see him before she got into bed, because she was obviously preoccupied with her thoughts. He’d let her know he was there long before that, of course. But he was pleased. He liked the element of surprise. Especially in this case.

She was a slender woman of a certain age, dressed to the best effect that taste and money could achieve. The three snowy egret plumes nested in her hair band complemented her pale hair and the light gold
of her gown. The soft light in the room also flattered her, hiding the evidence of time’s passage. Her profile was perhaps the most beautiful thing about her, except, the man in the shadows thought with professional interest, for the exquisite diamonds at her white throat, on her hands, and in her ears.

She went to the chair by her dressing table, and sat. The lamp that had been left lit on the table showed a flash of blue as her eyes met her reflection in the looking glass. She began to remove an earring. Most women of fashion had their maids wait up for them to help them undress after a party, but the man in the shadows knew she’d sent hers to bed hours earlier. Fashionable parties lasted until nearly dawn, and she’d need the services of a wide-awake maid more at noon, when she awoke. After all, she wasn’t expecting company now. He smiled.

That white smile was what she saw reflected in her looking glass. Her narrow shoulders raised a fraction, but she didn’t cry out. Her expression went from alarm, to mere surprise, then rueful recognition…and sorrow? He wasn’t sure, because in a second, she was composed again.

“You,” she said with a twisted smile.

He sketched a bow from where he sat on her window seat, but didn’t stand. “Me,” he agreed.

It was difficult to see him clearly in the half-light he sat in, but she saw him well enough to recognize his brilliant mocking smile.

“You sent for me,” he said.

“So I did,” she said as she removed her other earring. “But I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Exactly,” he said and then stood. He roamed her bedchamber, as though pricing every ornate item of furniture, including her satin bedcovers.

She watched him in her glass as he wandered her room. He was a lean, dark, dangerously attractive, restless young man of middle height. She frowned. He wore a laboring man’s clothes. A shapeless hat sat low on his forehead, shadowing his face; he had on a long, dark, baggy coat and ugly scarred and misshapen boots. “They’d have you clapped in prison if they caught you entering my house as you are,” she commented and went back to stripping off her jewelry.

“But they wouldn’t. Catch me, that is.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps not. But they did once.”

“They caught me mate,” he said in one of the rough accents he sometimes used. “Not me. They only got me because I stayed by ’im.” He looked up, and she saw a flash of his blue eyes in his dark face as it lit in a devilish grin. “They’ll not catch me again, my lady,” he drawled in aristocratic tones. “You may make book on it.”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know why you must always be so dramatic,” she said. “You might have come see me below stairs.”

“Where I belong?” he asked sweetly.

Her eyes flew open, her composure cracked. “I never meant that!”

“I know,” he said. He ran a finger lightly along the porcelain skirts of a Dresden shepherdess on the mantel over her hearth. “Just checking to see if your heart was beating, my lady. After all, you wouldn’t want to anger the lad you’ve summoned to do work for you. What is it you want, then?”

“How did you get in?” she asked curiously, ignoring his question.

“By the window.”

“But it is two stories up. How could you? There are no trellises, ledges, or handholds. Did no one see you?”

“Then not by the window,” he said with a shrug. “No troubles. I’m here as you asked, aren’t I?”

“I want to know…” she began to say.

“…if anyone saw me?”

“…
if
I must tell Mr. Fitch you are here so the servants don’t try to apprehend you as a trespasser when you leave,” she finished.

“Ah,” he said. “Well, no worries there.” He pulled off his disreputable hat, and she saw that his shining black hair had been expertly barbered. It was a bit overlong, but that was obviously his preference and not lack of style. He took off his long bulky coat. She suddenly saw a fashionable gentleman before her; his fitted blue jacket bore the mark of a master tailor, his spotless neckcloth had seen the hands of a valet, his dun breeches fit without a wrinkle. He slipped a foot out of a boot and exposed a shining black shoe. “Again,” he said, as she stared. “What is it you want of me?”

“You were at my party!” she exclaimed.

He smiled. “I thought you invited me. Not to worry. I wasn’t seduced by any of your lady guests. Nor by any of the gents, either. Nor do any of them know who I was. Nice party, by the way. Crowded to the doors. The lobster patties were a bit dry, I thought, but the wine was fine. I’ll leave by the window though, in my old coat and with my hat on, so I can be invisible, or as good as. There
are
handholds out there, by the way. No need to stir up old Fitch. You wouldn’t want anyone knowing I was in your rooms, would you? Well, I wouldn’t care for it even if you don’t mind. Now, will you tell what it is you want, or should I go?”

She kept looking at him, hunger as well as sorrow in her intent expression. Then she looked away. In a moment she sat abruptly upright again. She pulled off a ring and placed it in her jewelry box. “I need your special talents,” she said as curtly as he had.

His head came up. “Someone snabbled something from you?”

“No. I need someone I can trust to be discreet to find something else for me.”

He approached her. But when he got to her side he ignored her and lifted the ring she’d just put down. He inspected it, turning it around and around in his long fingers. “‘Discreet,’ is it? Aye, well, so I can be.”

“Discreet,” she repeated with a nod, “and practiced in stealth, as well as adept at finding things gone astray. By which I mean, I need someone who would know the mind of an impetuous and troubled
youth, and know to where such a person might stray.”

He frowned, obviously pretending to be thinking hard. “Oh. Aye, took me a while, but I figured it out,” he finally said. “You mean, knowing criminals and runaways. But, my lady, it’s sure you know the latter as well as me.”

She might have winced. It might have been the flame in her lamp flickering. In a moment, her expression was serene again. “Yes. But the world has changed since I was young. You would know it now. I do not.”

“Who’s gone missing?” he asked as he put down her ring and picked up the diamond bracelet she had discarded, weighing it in his hand. “And did he run away, or was he kidnapped?”

“
She
ran away. She left a note saying she had. No one disputes it.”

He looked up at that. “How old is she, and where did she run from, and what’s it to you? Or me?”

“She’s seventeen, and the daughter of a friend. I am, in fact, her godmother. I should hate to see her come to ruin.”

“If she ran off, and they told you,” he said, “it means they haven’t found her. She has already come to ruin. I can’t help. What else do you want of me? Need her fortune told? I might oblige, but she isn’t here.”

She made an impatient sound. “Don’t play games, Daffyd. She isn’t ruined, because few others know and her family has the money and position to keep
her misadventure secret at least a little while longer. They asked me precisely because they thought I might have some ideas.”

“She run off with a gypsy lad?” he asked in surprise.

Now he could see she winced. “No. That is to say, they’re not sure. There were gypsies in the neighborhood, but it’s spring and there would be, wouldn’t there? She ran away from her fiancé. She was visiting at his country estate and they discovered her gone in the morning. Her note said she’d be safe, but had to get away for a spell.”

“Arranged marriage?”

She nodded. “But they’ve known each other since childhood. She seemed well pleased with the match.”

“Were you?”

“They seemed to suit,” she said carefully.

He grew still. “Tell me about her.”

“Young, pretty, blond with blue eyes. She is perhaps a bit headstrong. But I don’t doubt she’ll settle down when she matures, because she is by no means stupid. She does have a charming lisp that might give that impression. But she tries to correct it. That is to say, she doesn’t lisp because it’s a fashionable affectation. She actually has a delightfully refreshing personality.”

“Family got money and position?” he asked slowly.

“They are wealthy. Her father is a landed baron.”

“Ah,” he said with what might have been relief, “then you’re not matchmaking. Don’t stare. I thought
it possible. Might be the chit was already ruined, and you were trying to get a husband, any husband for her because of a debt you owe. It isn’t like you to trouble yourself about other people’s misfortunes.”

She stiffened. “It is, but I can’t expect you to know that.”

“Aye,” he said, putting her bracelet down. “You can’t. So. Why should I help you?”

“She’s alone in a strange world now, and I hoped you might be sympathetic.”

“Where’s her father? And the fiancé?”

“Her father has hired a Runner to trace her.”

Her guest’s low laughter was mocking.

“Yes, exactly,” she said. “I have as little confidence in them finding her as you do. Her fiancé has gone in search of her himself as well, but he’s also young, inexperienced, and hotheaded. So who knows what danger he will get into himself?”

“I do,” he said.

“Yes. So will you look for her? If not as a favor to me, then at least to help another young person who has put herself in jeopardy? The world’s a dangerous place for those who have no experience with it.”

He looked directly at her then. For once, there was no humor in his expression. She saw all the rebuttals he wanted to make in his eyes: dark blue eyes that were an echo of her own. She lowered her gaze because of the intensity of his.

But, “Aye, why not?” he finally said. “I live to oblige you, my dear mama.”

“There’s a lie,” she said bitterly.

“Is it?” he asked. “Well, that’s something neither of us knows, isn’t it? And we haven’t known each other long enough to even guess. But I surprise myself. I have sympathy for her. So I’ll do it. I’ll find the wench and return her to you.”

“You won’t…that is to say, when you find her…” she paused.

“I won’t take her, in any way, and to no place but back to her home,” he said with a wry, humorless smile. “Not every gypsy lad lusts for well-bred flesh, Mama. Some of us prefer any lass who wants us for ourselves, not just for the novelty of a tumble with a rough lad, for a taste of forbidden fruit, even if it’s rotten.”

“I thought I loved your father,” she said, raising her chin.

“The more fool you,” he murmured. “But that’s past. Talking about it won’t profit either of us now. As for now, I’m here and strangely enough, at your service, just as my da was, if in a different fashion. No matter,” he said, waving a hand. “I know that was a vile thing to say.”

He walked back to the chair where he’d left his hat and coat. He clapped on his hat and shrugged into his coat. “Give me the chit’s name and her father’s direction, and I’ll be gone. I’ll bring her back if I can, untouched by me, at least. That’s a promise.”

She handed him a slip of paper. “I’ve written it all out.”

“I’ll get someone to read it to me,” he assured her with grave mockery, his hand on his heart.

“You don’t like me, do you?” she asked suddenly.

“What’s that to do with anything?” he said in surprise as he pocketed the paper and moved toward the window. He threw it open, looked out, smiled back at her, and then stepped out into the darkness of the night.

“Everything,” she finally answered softly to the breeze that blew in through the empty window after he’d gone.

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