Good Dukes Wear Black (21 page)

At that assessment, Ophelia felt slightly uncomfortable. “I'm not sure I'd say he was eager for the match,” she said ruefully. “I doubt he'd have asked if Mama and Lord Goring hadn't walked in on us.”

But Leonora shook her head. “You may set your mind at ease on that score, my dear,” she said with a sweet smile. “For I have no doubt that Trent had already made up his mind to have you before he kissed you. You musn't forget that he spent a decade or more in the military. He doesn't move a muscle before he's thought the thing through most thoroughly. Rest assured that he does nothing by accident.”

That gave Ophelia pause. “That makes it sound as if Trent intentionally compromised me.” Something about that notion dimmed her enthusiasm for the betrothal. She'd been so busy avoiding her mother's attempts to trap her into marriage to Lord Goring, it hadn't occurred to her that she might have gone from the frying pan into the fire.

But Leonora would have none of it. “Of course not!” she said with a shake of her head. “I only meant that he would not have kissed you if his intentions weren't honorable. That's all. Please do not think that I am saying he maneuvered things so that you'd be forced to marry. Indeed, I have no knowledge of what was in Trent's mind. I have enough trouble trying to figure out what Freddy is thinking. And half the time with him I'm only guessing, and incorrectly at that.”

Ophelia was quick to reassure her. “I don't think that, I assure you. For one thing, he'd have had to arrange Maggie's kidnapping in order to orchestrate the circumstances that would throw us together for two days. And even he couldn't have predicted I'd go to him first on the day Maggie was taken.”

“Speaking of Maggie,” Leonora said, sobering. “Is there any news? I had hoped by now you'd have learned something.”

And like the sun going behind a cloud, Ophelia's world dimmed. “No,” she said to her friend. To her shame, in the drama surrounding her betrothal she'd forgotten about Maggie for hours at a time today. Which made her feel like the worst friend in the world. “In all honesty, I don't quite know where to look next. We still should speak to your cousin Daisy, but that will need to be postponed until after the wedding. For I sincerely doubt Mama will be put off long enough for me to speak to her. Even if I'm to wed Trent and not her preferred candidate.”

“Since you don't know that Daisy will be able to tell you anything new,” Leonora said sensibly, “then I think it best that you don't put too much hope into it. Otherwise the disappointment might be too much for you to handle.”

“There's no fear of that,” Ophelia admitted with a sigh. “I've begun to expect disappointment rather than success in this matter. There are simply too many possibilities for where she might have been taken. For all I know she's been put on a ship bound for America and I'll never see her again.”

“Oh, my dear,” Leonora gave her an impulsive hug. “Do not think that. You will find her. I know it. Have no fear of that.”

“If only there were something I could do right now to look for her,” Ophelia said with a shake of her head. “I should like very much to visit the orphanage run by Daniel Swinton, to follow up on what I found in Maggie's journal. But there's little chance of that before the wedding.”

Frowning, Leonora tapped a finger on her lower lip. “Perhaps there is a way to do so this afternoon.”

“How?” Ophelia asked, frowning. “I can hardly go into Whitechapel by myself to make inquiries of the man.”

“But why not?” Leonora asked. “Is it not the sort of thing you would do to research something for the
Ladies' Gazette
?”

“But that's the sort of story Maggie writes,” Ophelia countered. “I write strictly about light, fashionable things.”

Leonora, however, had already gone to the bellpull, and rung. “Then it's high time you remedied that, isn't it?” she asked with a wink. “And we can call and pick up Hermione on the way.”

Leave it to Leonora, Ophelia thought with a rueful grin, to simply set things in motion whether Ophelia was ready or not.

“I do love you,” she said to her friend once they were in the carriage, two burly outriders accompanying them. “I'd never have done this on my own.”

“Think nothing of it,” Leonora said with a wave of her hand. “I also wish to know what happened to your friend Maggie. I don't know about you, but I cannot sit idly by while Dr. Hayes simply declares someone to be mad, sight unseen, and has them locked away indefinitely. It's the most frightening thing I've ever heard of. And you must remember I was acquainted with both past presidents of the Lords of Anarchy, so I know whereof I speak.”

And with that assurance, they were on their way.

 

Fifteen

It turned out that securing a special license was not as difficult as Trent had thought it would be, thanks to Freddy's brother, who was conveniently in town and, as a clergyman himself, known to the archbishop. It was only a matter of a couple of hours before Trent had the license in hand and was on his way back to Brooks's to have a celebratory drink with his friends, which turned out to be a much shorter celebration than either Freddy or Mainwaring had intended.

“Why are we leaving so soon?” Freddy asked as Trent hustled both men out into St. James's Street and into his waiting carriage. “I barely had time to make a toast before you were calling for the carriage.”

“Not to mention that we had only managed a few sips of brandy,” Mainwaring groused. “Really, Trent, if this is what you'll be like as a married man, I must recommend against it.”

Trent peered out the window as the vehicle began to move, and once he was sure they were under way, he turned to his friends. “My apologies, gentlemen,” he said with a not very regretful expression. “But I wished for you to accompany me to Whitechapel. And I was unsure you would do so if I didn't make it impossible for you to refuse.”

“What the devil is wrong with you, man?” Freddy asked, rolling his eyes. “You're about to get married and you wish to make a trip into the most notorious part of town? I realize it is customary for a man to have some sort of last hurrah before he weds, but I never took you for the sort who'd favor the type of wares offered in Whitechapel.”

“Rest easy, Freddy,” Trent said, leaning back against the squabs. “Your assessment of my character is correct. I am not the sort who'd favor Whitechapel wares as you so poetically call them.”

“Then why the devil are we going there?” Freddy looked more puzzled than angry now.

Before Trent could answer, however, Mainwaring spoke up. “I think I've got it, Freddy. And it's something in the way of a bridal gift he's after.”

But poor Freddy looked more confused than ever. “Are you telling me that Ophelia has some sort of fascination with Whitechapel—”

Trent cut him off before he could complete the thought. “No, Freddy. No one is going to be sampling any of the base pleasures Whitechapel has to offer. At least no one in our immediate circle. Mainwaring does have the right of it, though. We are here because I wish to do something for Ophelia as her bridal gift. I want to find her friend Maggie.”

Freddy let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Lord. I was quite overset at the idea I'd have to explain to her before you were even wed that you'd died at the hands of an angry pimp or the like. Clearly I am not made for a life of vice.”

“Is this the same man who spent years gambling his way through Paris?” Mainwaring asked Trent idly. “For I cannot imagine that Freddy tolerating this Freddy for more than a few minutes before shooting one or both of them.”

“I'm a married man now, Mainwaring,” Freddy said without rancor. “With a child on the way. You cannot expect me to get up to my old tricks when such a momentous occasion is only a few months away.”

“I too am married, old chap,” Mainwaring said, training his quizzing glass upon Freddy. “And you do not see me cowering like a scared debutante at the mere mention of Whitechapel.”

“Stop bickering, you two,” Trent snapped before Freddy could argue. “Or I'll put you both out of the carriage. And I have a feeling neither of you would wish to walk back to Mayfair from this distance.”

“That was quite masterful, Trent,” said Freddy admiringly.

“I think you'll make a splendid father when the time comes,” Mainwaring said, turning the quizzing glass from Freddy to Trent. “Quite masterful. But sensitive too.”

“Yes,” Freddy agreed. “Like the sort of father one wouldn't be afraid to tell about a little tipple into his brandy.”

“Or a kiss behind the rosebushes,” Mainwaring added.

“Or losing the cricket match for the whole team,” Freddy agreed.

“You are both quite mad,” Trent said, shaking his head at them. “You know this, do you not?”

Freddy shrugged. “Leonora has said it once or twice. But I can generally make her change her mind with a bit of persuasion.” He winked.

“So, tell us what it is we're doing in Whitechapel for Ophelia,” Mainwaring said once their verbal sparring had died down. “I'm guessing we're paying a visit to an orphanage run by one Daniel Swinton?”

Trent nodded. The idea had occurred to him while he was waiting to see the archibishop—or rather, the archbishop's clerk. The fact that he and Ophelia were going to have to wed just now necessarily meant that their search for Maggie would need to be postponed. And though he knew Ophelia had consented to the marriage, he also knew that she would regret it if Maggie had to spend any more nights wherever she was being kept than she absolutely had to. So, it had occurred to him that he could visit this Daniel Swinton and question the fellow about the connection between his orphanage and the Hayes Clinic. And if he and Freddy and Mainwaring happened to find the missing woman as a result, he knew that having her friend safe would be the best wedding gift he could possibly give Ophelia.

Aloud he said, “Well done, Mainwaring. It's obvious you weren't just a pretty face at the Home Office.”

The other man rolled his eyes. “Don't make me regret agreeing to accompany you, man.”

“So, what is it we suspect this Swinton fellow of?” Freddy asked, frowning. “And what's his connection with Maggie Grayson?”

Quickly, Trent filled both men in on what Maggie's journal had said about the orphanage Swinton ran—about the the disciplinary methods used on the girls, and Maggie's note about the possibility that some “discarded girls” might have been sent to the Hayes Clinic.

“What does that mean exactly?” Mainwaring asked, frowning. “I don't like the sound of ‘discarded girls' a bit.”

“Nor do I,” Trent admitted. “Which is why I want to question Swinton. There's no suggestion that he's done anything wrong in Maggie's journal. But even so, the connection with Hayes means that we have to check it out.”

The carriage slowed then, and soon the three men were being welcomed into the front room of the Whitechapel Orphanage.

“If you'll wait just a minute, my lords,” said the mobcapped young lady who'd ushered them in. “Mr. Swinton will see you as soon as he's finished with the little ones and the ladies. I'll have cook bring you some tea and biscuits.”

When she'd closed the door behind her, the three men wandered around the simply furnished room, looking for anything that might give them a clue about the nature of the institution. Or the man who ran it.

“He's got a taste for the classics,” Freddy said as he scanned the tall shelves of books on either side of the fireplace. “Latin, Greek, the usual things you'd expect to find in a schoolmaster's rooms.”

“I wonder if he teaches the young girls with them,” Mainwaring said with interest. “That would be quite progressive of him. Though rather unusual.”

“More likely they're his own books and the girls aren't allowed in this room very often,” Trent said, examining a quartet of paintings over a side table. “Or perhaps only a few of the older girls are allowed to use them. They'd not last long if they circulated among the entire school.”

“I think Maggie was right about there being a connection between Swinton and Hayes,” Freddy said from where he was examining a plaque on the far wall. “Come look at this.”

Trent and Mainwaring hurried over to look. Pointing to the words etched on the brass plates, Freddy stepped back so the other men could see it better.

“‘Most Improved—Miss Jane Dawson—Presented on Behalf of Dr. Hayes of the Hayes Clinic,'” Trent read aloud. “So Hayes is some sort of benefactor, it would seem.”

“Looks that way,” Mainwaring said. “Perhaps that's what she meant by ‘discarded girls'? That they were discarded, then he helped them improve?”

“Sounds like a rather optimistic way of interpreting things, to me,” Trent said grimly.

“It needn't be so terrible,” Freddy said with a shrug. “It's possible that Maggie's removal had nothing to do with this place.”

Before either Trent or Mainwaring could reply, voices sounded in the hallway—male and female—and all three men hurried to look casual, spreading themselves across the room from one another.

“It was such an honor to welcome you, ladies” said a warm male voice from the other side of the door. “Now, if you'll just wait in here, I'll have one of the girls go tell your driver that you're ready to depart.”

When he opened the door, however, the man looked surprised to see that it was already occupied. “Oh, well,” he said, smiling nervously. “This must be our day for unexpected guests. If you gentlemen will wait here for a few minutes, I'll be right back.”

“Oh, we do not need to be taken somewhere else,” Trent heard a familiar voice say from behind the man he assumed to be Swinton.