Jules set his distrusting eyes on her companion. “You’re that gent what was shot outside the shop. You’re the devil who stole her box and left her sobbing for days.”
“I am,” Mr Chance said with some remorse. “But I am doing everything in my power to make amends.”
“I ain’t never seen her so afraid.” The bite of anger in Jules’ voice was unmistakable. “Do you know how hard she works? Sometimes she ain’t got time to eat and sleep. Then you bring trouble to her door.”
“Mr Chance is not entirely to blame,” she said.
Mr Chance exhaled deeply. “I give you my word. I’ll not hurt her again.” He looked at Eleanor and added, “When this is over, I’ll cook dinner and sort buttons. I’ll take care of all the menial tasks until you’re back on your feet.”
“Can you cook?” She tried not to picture him sitting beside her hearth, drinking wine and reading poetry, a kiss leading to a passionate romp on the fireside rug.
“I could rustle up a simple bill of fare.”
“I bet he ain’t never cooked a thing in his life,” Jules mocked.
“I was younger than you when I slept on the streets,” Mr Chance said, giving Jules a lesson in how not to judge by appearances. “Have you ever roasted a rat over a brazier?” He waited for Jules to wince. “Neither have I, but I have witnessed such desperation. Let me offer you some advice. Never refuse a helping hand when it’s offered.”
Jules glanced at the closed door. “I ain’t good at trusting folk.”
“Daventry would never hire an untrustworthy man. Besides, Miss Darrow can sniff out a liar from twenty yards. I think she’d know if O’Hare was a scoundrel.”
A brief silence ensued.
Eleanor avoided meeting Mr Chance’s gaze. After hearing his thoughtful words, the kindness in his eyes would overwhelm her tender heart.
“We need to ask you about the notes you delivered for me.” Eleanor had lost count of how many she had sent. Without her diary, she had no way of remembering the different locations. “To your knowledge, have you ever been followed?”
Jules scratched his head. “I don’t wait around long enough to notice. Not when the jobs are across town.”
“Have you ever been curious enough to wait and discover who came to collect them?” He had been curious enough to open one. Surely he had lingered in the vicinity, spying.
Jules did not reply.
“You’re not in trouble.” Mr Chance spoke like a concerned parent. “If it were me, I would want to learn everything I could. It’s the only way to protect Miss Darrow.”
Jules looked at him with a sense of camaraderie. “Miss Darrow helped put food on our table. The extra work she gave me paid our rent. It’s only right I look out for her welfare.”
Mr Chance agreed. “A man cares for those who matter most. You wanted to know she wasn’t unwittingly involved in criminal activity.” When Jules looked blankly, Mr Chance said, “That she wasn’t helping thieves and crooks.”
Jules puffed out his chest. “She shouldn’t have to deal with them things, not on her own. A lady needs someone to take care of her.”
Eleanor’s heart swelled. It explained why Jules asked her to dine with his family. Not wanting to waste their precious food, she’d used work as an excuse to decline his invitation.
“And so you watched to see who claimed the notes.”
Jules nodded. “Wait here.” He left the room and returned with a bent silver notebook. “I found this tossed in the gutter. There ain’t no name inside, or I’d have given it to a constable. I couldn’t sell it else I’d be dragged off to Newgate, so I used it to record what I saw.”
Jules sat and flicked to the first page. Eleanor could see no words written inside, only small pencil drawings.
“What did you discover?” Eleanor said, feeling a rush of pride. Jules couldn’t read but had overcome his disadvantage.
“I delivered the letters with the leaf seal to a doctor in St Martin’s Lane, hidden in a pair of nice new gloves. I followed him to a coffee house in Long Acre. He spoke to a woman sitting alone, and they both disappeared upstairs.”
“Yes. That would be Mrs Langdon. Hers is the laurel seal.”
“I asked about,” Jules continued. “They say the doctor cures mad women by looking under their skirts. He makes ’em scream till they can’t scream no more.”
Mr Chance looked at her and grinned. “He’s paid to banish the devil and leave her in a state of bliss.”
“Whatever he’s doing, the manager said he does it on the first Wednesday of every month,” Jules informed them before moving swiftly on. “I leave the notes with the rose seal with the landlord of the New Inn.” He consulted the odd array of drawings in his book. “A respectable gent from Berwick and Masters Land Agents collects them, though I don’t know more than that.”
The rose meant it was the letter the Duke of Farnborough’s daughter sent. The land agent likely worked for the duke.
Suspecting her other clients were doing nothing more than conducting illicit affairs, Eleanor was keen to discover more about Lady Lucille. “What about the notes with the green seal?”
Jules flicked through the dirty pages of his notebook. “That’s an odd one. I’ve sent four notes, but all to different places.”
“Yes, I recall one was to a baker’s shop on The Strand.” That had been the first note Eleanor had agreed to deliver. Lady Lucille had stressed the need for secrecy.
“I’ve delivered to a bookshop in Highgate, a perfume shop in Covent Garden. The last one was to the coffeehouse in the Bull and Mouth coaching inn. It’s always too busy to see who collects them. When I went back and asked the baker, he gave me a clip around the ear.”
Being a man who always rose to a challenge, Mr Chance rubbed his muscular thighs and said, “Then the baker’s shop will be our next call.”
“And we must visit Emily.” Eleanor wouldn’t rest until she knew why the girl had helped herself to the material. She turned to Jules. “Emily arrived with her father and removed bolts of silk from the shop. I pray her actions were not self-serving.”
The corners of Jules’ mouth sagged. “It ain’t her father. He’s dead. I saw Emily at the burial ground on Shoemakers Row, weeping at her mother’s grave. She said her father fell off a barge and drowned in the Thames.”
“When?”
