Midnight Pleasures with a Scoundrel

Chapter 12

She’s gone.”

It was the first time Swindler had voiced the words aloud since they’d begun echoing through his mind two days ago. Spoken aloud, they sounded incredulous.

“I beg your pardon?” Sir David asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Miss Watkins. She packed up her things and left her lodgings.”

“What do you make of that?”

Swindler sighed, the truth of the situation difficult to admit. “I may have been duped, sir.”

Sir David arched a brow. “The lady wasn’t with you that night?”

“She was.”

“Then maybe she was simply unsettled about the murder of Rockberry and being arrested.”

“There may be more to it than that, sir.”

“Explain.”

“In Rockberry’s library there were two glasses of unfinished wine, which leads me to believe Rockberry may have known his murderer.”

Sir David nodded. “Go on.”

“I went to the morgue to study the body. The dagger that killed Rockberry-I’ve seen it before. That night at Cremorne Gardens.”

“Did it belong to one of the swells who attacked Miss Watkins?”

“No, sir. It belonged to Miss Watkins herself. I’m afraid, sir, that she may have had an accomplice.”

“Damn it, man! How did you miss that?”

“I was focused on the lady. I believed as long as she was within my sight, Rockberry was safe. I believe it’s imperative that I find her, and my search may take me outside of London.”

Sir David stroked his thumb and forefinger over his mustache. “Could still be the brother. He could be the accomplice.”

“Possibly, but I know I must find the lady.” If not for the crime, then for himself. It made no sense to him that she’d leave unless she was trying to hide something.

“You have leave to do what you must, Swindler. Report to me when you have something.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned to go.

“Swindler?”

He glanced back.

“You don’t look yourself. Do whatever you need to do so you’re back to snuff. I need my best man at his sharpest.”

His best man. If Sir David knew how easily his best man had been duped, he’d have demanded that he leave Scotland Yard.

As though following his thoughts, Sir David added, “You’re not the first to be fooled by a pretty face.”

Swindler took no consolation from the words. It was more than her pretty face. It was everything about her that had fooled him.

“Viscount Watkins’s estate, you say?”

Swindler watched as Greystone’s brow furrowed. It didn’t sit well with Swindler that he’d needed to come to Frannie’s husband for assistance, even though he respected the lord more than he did most. Greystone had proved his worth by putting his life at risk for Frannie last year.

“Unfortunately, until recently I was so absorbed by my own wants, I paid very little attention to anyone outside my father’s sphere of influence. I can make some inquiries. Someone is bound to know where his estate lies.”

“The land wasn’t entailed, so that might make it more difficult.”

“Still, someone must know him.”

“Eleanor told me they lived to the north, by the sea. I suspect all or part of it is a lie.” What other lies had she told? Had her feelings for him been false as well? If not, then how could she have left?

“I could always ask the queen,” Greystone said.

“I’d rather not involve her majesty.”

Greystone gave a little shrug. “I can be most discreet.”

“You should have him ask, Jim,” Frannie said. “Now is not the time to be stubborn. If she were in London, you’d have already found her by now. No one can follow a scent like you can.”

“Where she’s concerned, I’m all turned about, Frannie. I can think of no logical reason for her to have left as abruptly as she did.”

“It can be quite unsettling to be arrested. Perhaps she was simply frightened.”

He shook his head. “She was with me. She had no reason to fear being arrested again.”

“Perhaps she simply wanted to go home.”

Swindler shoved himself out of the chair. “Without even leaving me a note?” He strode toward the window, stopped, plowed his hands through his hair. “My apologies.”

“It’s all right.” Frannie came up behind him and placed her hand on his back. “You grew to care for her. Even I could see how much during the ball. Come back and sit down. Tell us how we can help.”

He glanced back at her. “I’d rather pace.”

She smiled. “All right. So where do things stand?”

“I’ve had no luck finding the lads she hired to carry her trunk. I suspect she took the train. I tried to draw a portrait of her, to ask at the ticket window if anyone had seen her, but I’ve never been skilled at drawing people. I can sketch a room to the smallest detail to help me solve a crime, but Eleanor…I can’t draw her likeness to save my life.”

“Sterling can. He’s an artist. Do you remember her well enough, Sterling?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Her husband got up, went around to the desk, and opened a drawer. After pulling out some paper, he sat down and immediately began to sketch.

Swindler thought it might be the first break he’d had in two days. He gave his attention to Frannie. “Did you notice anything that might be helpful while you were visiting with her?”

“I’m afraid not. I only spoke with her in the parlor.” Her face suddenly brightened. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Agnes went to her rooms to alter the gown.”

Five minutes later a very nervous Agnes was standing in front of Swindler and wringing her hands.

“Did you notice anything?” Swindler asked.

“Like wot?”

“Anything unusual.”

The young lady shook her head, then scrunched up her face. “Well there was one thing I thought odd. She changed into the gown in her sitting room. The door to her bedchamber was closed. We didn’t go in there. But then, when I was finished with my sewing, she opened the door and went to look at herself in the mirror.”

“Did you see anyone else in there?”

“No, but…I could see a dress draped over a chair in the corner. The thing is, it looked exactly like the dress on the sofa in the sitting room-the dress she’d taken off to put on the gown. I thought maybe it was her favorite dress, so she wanted two of them.”

“You probably have the right of it. Thank you, Agnes. That’s all I need,” Swindler said. He walked to the window and gazed out on the night.

“What are you thinking?” Frannie asked.

“I don’t know what to think. Do you have dresses made that look the same?”

“Before I was married, when I spent my night at Dodger’s, my dresses were very similar.”

He remembered. Drab and blue.

“Jim, what if Elisabeth didn’t die as Eleanor claimed?” Frannie asked quietly.

He shook his head. “No, the grief over the loss of her sister was not false. I know true grief when I see it.” He’d seen it in his eyes often enough as a lad.

“Here you are,” Greystone said, holding out a sketch.

The likeness was uncanny. Swindler felt as though someone had reached into his chest and torn out the heart that had started to grow there. “Perfect,” he said, and he could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

“What are you going to do, Jim?” Frannie asked.

“I’m going to find her, if it takes me the remainder of my life.”