Page 2 of The Viscount of Shadows

“I am. And my sister is about to marry the Duke of Chellenham. But we are still running our agency.” The duchess pointed to the cane leaning against the table. “At the moment, Althea does not move around as well as she used to, and we have more clients than we can possibly take on. It is why we approached you. We need the assistance.”

Well, you could knock Mary over with a feather. Dukes? How fascinating. “Don’t you want to know anything more of my past?”

Althea shrugged. “Not particularly. That is your business. If you take this job, we would prefer that you leave the life behind—it is a condition of employment. We require all your energy and focus to be on the investigative work. Your street smarts will be invaluable in this regard.”

The wheels in Mary’s mind turned the information over, examining it thoroughly. Leave the life behind? Not a problem. She tapped her fingers against the table. “You don’t know me. Yet you both are willing to take me on. Why?”

“Because Olivia recommended you, and I trust my friend implicitly. And sitting here conversing, I can see you are frank, confident, intelligent, and perfect for our needs. If you prefer a trial period to see if you would like the work, we can arrange it,” Althea replied.

Mary took a sip from her pint mug of bitter. “Can I get back to you? I need to think this through. I want to speak to the owner and my compatriots before deciding.”

“That is satisfactory,” Eleanora responded.

“Let me tell you a little about myself, for ’tis best you know this now. My name is not Mary O’Toole. I’m twenty-six, the illegitimate daughter of a duke, and I’ve been alone and on the streets since age sixteen. And though you may hear a slight Irish accent, I’m not from Ireland. Although I lived on Eaton Place the first years of my life, as soon as my so-called duke father tired of his mistress—my mother—we were turned out.” Mary dropped the accent and spoke in perfect upper-crust English. “The succeeding addresses made their eventual slide into abject poverty.”

The sisters exchanged astonished looks.

“Do not tell me your father was the Duke of Chellenham, my fiancé’s late father. He was a disreputable rake of dubious morals,” Althea whispered. “He left children in all corners of London and beyond.”

“No, my birth certificate states Claudia Ellingford. My mother put my father’s last name on the certificate because she thought it sounded posh, even though my father is not legally designated on the official documentation.”

“Whinstone,” Althea Galway whispered. “My God.”

“The very one,” Mary replied. “I see Whinstone’s reputation precedes him.”

“Olivia’s case,” Eleanora Galway interjected, “Whinstone was the villain, her husband’s stepfather. He planned Olivia’s abduction. What are the odds?”

“It is a small world in the scheme of things. And I am not surprised by his villain status.” Hell’s bells, her so-called father was worse than she had initially supposed. So, he was behind Olivia’s terrible ordeal? Miserable bastard.

“Whinstone is currently in prison, and plans are in motion in the House of Lords to have his dukedom stripped from him,” Althea Galway added.

“A good place for him. May he rot.” Mary frowned, thinking back, going to her father on bended knee, begging for a couple of pounds so she could find clean lodgings to care for her sick mother. The cruel man had her turned away without even granting her an audience. Good riddance to him.

Mary stood and extended her hand to the women, and they shook it. “I will send word to the address on your card. Give me at least ten days to mull this over.”

“Very well. And if you agree, we will have a more comprehensive interview and discuss the agency and the cases you may be involved in,” Althea Galway replied.

Mary pulled her shawl across her shoulders and strode from the pub with her head held high. The ladies could pay for her lunch.

Mary did not examine fate closely or believe in the “everything happens for a reason” declaration. But she could not ignore this strange and unexpected twist in her life journey.

It may be time to become Claudia Ellingford again.