hiding. Amassing a list of potential names and checking them would be a tedious process, but he would have it done. Armed with all the possibilities, he had every confidence he would eventually deduce the identity of the man he sought.
But how much time would that require?
He begrudged every day he would have to wait while the necessary information was assembled. Each one he spent apart from her heightened the urgency of his desire to claim her, tightened the spiral of anxiety about her safety. Grimly he vowed that he’d give the search no more than a month. Regardless of whether the investigation was complete by then or not, he would return for her.
Now to set the search in motion. He rang a bell to summon his secretary.
The slender, sandy-haired man entered, smiling in welcome. “My lord, good to see you back! I trust this means Kit is recovering?”
“Good to be back, James, and yes, Kit is doing much better. Thank you for doing your usual excellent job to keep the dispatches coming. I believe I’ve perused all the latest. I see our sailor songbird is still chirping.”
The young man smiled grimly. “It appears he participated in bringing in several more cargoes on which the duty charged on the manifests exceeded the legal amounts owed, the excess being siphoned off into coffers other than those of the government. As you will have read, by covertly following the boasting sailor we’ve been able to definitely establish three other links in the chain. I assume, as usual, you intend to leave apprehension of the lower-level miscreants to other authorities?”
Beau nodded. He seldom concerned himself with apprehending petty criminals like the corrupt sailor. Instead, he felt it his special calling to track and eventually bring down their leaders. That men of birth and privilege who should consider it their duty to serve the nation should betray that trust inspired in him a loathing as deep as it was visceral.
“The evidence thus far does seem to point to Lord Wolverton as head of the operation,” his secretary continued. “Did your observations of him in the north support that conclusion?”
“Yes—the bastard.” Beau sighed. “Another page in the all-too-familiar story of a younger son outspending his means by indulging a weakness for gaming, women or vice. Though in my noble Lord Wolverton’s case, it seems to be a combination of all three.” With a grimace, he shook a finger at the secretary. “Promise me, James, if you ever develop such proclivities, you’ll come to me before doing something stupid.”
“So you can straighten out my warped thinking with a well-placed left hook?” His secretary gave a slight smile. “Surely you know, after what happened to my father, I’d be the last man on earth to—”
“I know, James,” Beau interrupted. “An attempt at levity to relieve my disgust at the pathetic circumstances.”
“I’m afraid I can’t find any humor in it,” the young man replied, bitterness in his tone. “Not when my father’s reputation was nearly destroyed by the false accusations of such a man. If not for you, he would have been disgraced—”
“None of that now.” Beau waved his secretary to silence. “I suppose I’m indebted to the villain. Had your father’s predicament not outraged me into vowing to uncover the identity of the real traitor, I might still be naught but an idle dandy playing at puzzles.”
“As if you were ever such!” his secretary scoffed. “I’m just glad your intervention in my father’s case brought you to Lord Riverton’s notice, and that his lordship succeeded in persuading you to continue the work. And as always, I’m honored that you trust me to contribute my small part. Speaking of which, what would you have me do now?”
Beau hesitated. “I need to investigate another matter. A personal and highly delicate one involving a lady, which must of course be conducted in strictest secrecy.”
“I hope you know you can rely on my discretion.”
“That I do not doubt. However, since I’m determined to tap my usual network in pursuit of wholly private concern, a some what … irregular practice, I admit, you may not feel comfortable being part of it. If you choose not to become involved, I will not hold it against you.”
“My lord,” the secretary replied, “since it is you who fund that network, I cannot see that there would be any impropriety in your using it however you see fit. And even if there were, after all you have done for my family, I’m hardly likely to question any contrivance of yours. Now, what should you like me to do?”
Beau smiled, gratified by the young man’s loyalty. “I need you to compile me a list of gentlemen who have, ah, ‘lost’ a wife sometime in the past two years. The woman will probably have been reported dead, although it might be claimed she is tending distant relatives or off on a lengthy journey of some sort. She might even have been declared insane. The lady would be of good family and should have been about three-and-twenty at the time of her … departure.”
Beau had the dubious pleasure of knowing he’d confounded his normally unflappable secretary. After staring a moment, with commendable discretion, James managed to swallow the curiosity he obviously felt. “Very well, my lord. How soon do you require the completed list?”
“As soon as possible. It’s a matter of considerable urgency.” Beau gazed out the window, seeing again Laura Martin’s small form hunched before him, fragile arms and puny fists braced against a blow. Anxiety twisted in his chest. He must persuade her out of Merriville, and soon.
He turned back to his secretary. “As you may have surmised, the husband in this case has violent proclivities. Try to determine if any of the prospects are rumored to be abusive. And, James …”
“My lord?”
“Your help in uncovering this shall more than repay any service I may ever have done your family.”
His secretary hesitated. “The … lady is that important to you.”
“Yes.”
James Maxwell bowed. “Then I shall begin the search immediately.”
A month later Laura Martin deposited her newly harvested herbs on the garden bench and wearily sat beside them, shivering in the tepid warmth of the fading late-afternoon sun.
Full winter would be upon them soon, with its inevitable complement of snow, sleet and drenching rain that would render the roads snow-drifted, iced over or deep in mire for indefinite periods until next spring’s thaw.
That irrefutable fact made her shiver with a chill that had nothing to do with the wind blowing over her chafed hands. For with her woman’s courses two weeks overdue, she had to face the frightening possibility that she might be with child.
Unfortunately, there was no way to know for certain—not until the child quickened, by which time the evidence of her indiscretion would be only too apparent to the entire county. But she’d never missed her time before, unless she was increasing. As she’d learned during her years of marriage, her cycles were most regular. Indeed, as a new bride, she’d counted the days, wanting to please her husband by offering him the possibility of the son he so desperately craved. But all too soon, she’d come to regard the advancing end of each cycle with dread, knowing the evidence that she’d not conceived would send Charlton into a fit of violent temper. At first, he’d been only verbally abusive, vilifying her as graceless failure of a woman, a disgrace to her normally prolific family he would never had deigned to marry had he
