“I’m afraid he was quite nondescript, sir.”
Miss Darrow rose from the chair and showed Daventry how to open the drawer. The old blue pelisse she had found in Delphine’s armoire hung loosely from her narrow waist, and she had spent thirty minutes this morning adjusting the hem and sewing a makeshift belt. The teal boots were too big, and she had stuffed the toes with old stockings. Still, she could wear a grain sack and still look exquisite.
“Think, Miss Darrow,” Daventry said in his usual blunt way. “It may be a crucial piece of evidence. The villain who ransacked your shop may have deliberately targeted you.”
“Targeted me?” The lady frowned. “I don’t see how. It was my idea to deliver Lady Summers’ notes. Had she held her tongue, I would not be in this predicament.”
“Lady Summers knows how to use her title to her advantage. The subtle art of persuasion is her forte. And let’s be frank, you have not been entirely honest, madam.”
Theo suspected the same but had decided against forcing a confession. While he had persuaded Miss Darrow to face her fears, he knew she would rather leave London than tackle the culprit.
Theo leant across the arm of his chair and touched Miss Darrow lightly on the forearm. “We’re here to help you, but you must tell us everything you know. Hearing half-truths will hinder our progress.”
“Half-truths lead to flawed reasoning,” Daventry added, though grinned when he heard a click and saw the velvet-lined compartment pop open. “I’ll not risk an agent’s life. And I’m sure Mr Chance wishes to avoid taking another shot to the shoulder.”
A sad sigh escaped her. She stared at Theo, not Daventry, an almost apologetic look in her mesmerising eyes. “A man attacked me in the yard. It was dark. I did not see his face, but he grabbed me from behind and said if I did not deliver his letters, I would die.”
A knot tightened in Theo’s gut. There was nothing more despicable than a man who used his physical strength to suppress a woman.
His mind drifted to the night his mother died. Did she trip over her nightgown and tumble down the stairs? Had his father pushed her during another heated argument? Was it a coincidence that the devil’s first wife had suffered the same fate? He would never know.
Daventry placed the box on the desk and gave Miss Darrow his full attention. “You said you purchased the box at the fair. I assume that was last summer.”
“Yes, sir. In August.”
“And when did you offer to act as Lady Summers’ messenger?”
Miss Darrow tapped her finger to her lips as she considered her answer. Feminine vulnerability lay beneath her indomitable spirit. The contradiction proved more fascinating than seeing the hidden drawer in her sewing box.
“I cannot recall when exactly, but she instructed me to place the note in a bible and leave it on a certain pew in St Audley’s Church. It must have been February during Candlemas. People were taking candles to church to be blessed.”
“And you don’t know what was written inside the note?” Theo said. Being suspicious by nature, he would have waited to glimpse the recipient. “You weren’t curious enough to linger in church?”
“No. I assured Lady Summers I would deliver the note and leave. Besides, the less I know of her business, the better. A working woman cannot afford to anger her client.”
It had been that way when Aaron first opened a gaming hell, but he soon realised the lords of the ton liked the exclusivity of a members’ club. The night he refused Lord Bretton entrance was the most intelligent decision Aaron had ever made.
Once Theo had helped solve Miss Darrow’s problems, he would give her some sensible business advice.
“Hence you agreed to deliver notes for a host of other society ladies.” Daventry glanced at the three tiny missives visible in the secret compartment. “Have you ever opened a note?”
A blush touched her cheeks. “No, but the barrow boy has.”
“The barrow boy?” Theo inhaled sharply. Everyone knew a child could not keep a secret. “Someone else knows about your lucrative exploits? Why did you not say so before? I presume it’s the same barrow boy you were waiting for the day I was shot.”
She nodded but was quick to defend her position. “I needed help. Jules is twelve and provides for his ailing mother and younger sibling. Curiosity got the better of him. I don’t know why. He cannot read. Then he dropped it in a puddle. I had to forge Mrs Brampton’s handwriting and begin again. Thankfully, she was none the wiser.”
“What did the note say?” Theo was more than a little intrigued.
“Royal Oak. Seven. Wednesday.” Miss Darrow waved her hand impatiently. “Or something to that effect.”
Doubtless the message referred to an illicit liaison. If Miss Darrow wasn’t careful, she might be called as a witness to adultery. No lady in London would dare purchase her gowns then. The only person crossing her threshold would be the bailiff.
Daventry drew a piece of paper from the desk drawer and took up his ink pen. “We will need a list of those who paid for your services.”
Miss Darrow’s head jerked up. “Why? They paid in good faith. I will be ruined if word gets out. Surely the focus of our investigation should be the devil who threatened me in the yard.”
“In my experience, the obvious suspect is rarely the guilty party.” Daventry dipped the nib into the ink pot. “Their names, Miss Darrow. Whatever you reveal shall not be spoken beyond these walls.”
After mumbled complaints and an obvious wrestle with her conscience, she pulled back her shoulders. “Miss Fresson—though she has delicate sensibilities and won’t take kindly to being questioned.”
“I’m sure you will know what to say to her.”
“Lady Chapman. Mrs Langdon.” Miss Darrow mentioned three other names before pausing to catch her breath, but the list went on. “Lady Clementina Morley—”
“Daughter of the Duke of Farnborough?” Theo almost fell off his chair. Did the lady not know she was dicing with danger? Farnborough would slay an entire village to protect his daughter’s reputation.
Daventry’s expression turned grave. “Then we will add the duke’s name to the list of suspects. I shall need time to decide how best to proceed. The matter requires tact and diplomacy.”
Theo’s pulse rose a notch and he gestured to Daventry’s list. “This is more complex than I imagined. If any of these women discover we know about their notes, Miss Darrow will be driven out of town.”
Worse still, someone may seek to silence her for good.
One kind gesture had opened Pandora’s Box. According to myth, the only thing left inside was hope. It would take a miracle for Miss Darrow to survive this mess unscathed.
“Let us focus on the blackguard who attacked you in the yard,” Theo said. They would begin by questioning the barrow boy. A child desperate to feed his family could be easily bribed.
“There is another lady’s name to add to the list.” She met Theo’s gaze, her verdant green eyes losing their sparkle. Then she bowed her head and revealed the name that made his blood boil. “I—I delivered notes for Lady Lucille Bowman.”
