Page 49 of A Sham Engagement

In a few crisp sentences, Jack told her what they knew, which wasn’t much, and about the ill-written note pinned to Edward’s scarf.

Elenora clasped her chilled hands, suppressing the desire to hold them out to the heat of the fire. “We have to get him back. Jack thinks you might be able to help us.”

Mrs. Sharpe sat down with a thump on one of the other chairs. “How can I do that? I would if I could, but I don’t know how. Have you sent for the Runners? The Watch? Tell me what you need from me. You know I owe you my life and those of my children, too.”

This was dramatic stuff. Had Jack really saved her life? And her children’s?

Jack caught Mrs. Sharpe’s hand in his own. “You have connections from your old life. I know Benjamin still has dealings with his father—your husband. And, due to his father’s… affiliations, he would be able to find out what whispers there might be of a sailor intent on stealing a child from Portland Place. And where he has that child hidden.”

Mrs. Sharpe’s brow furrowed in concern. “You well know I have nothing to do with that vagabond no more.” Her grammar had noticeably slipped. It must be a learned thing, a deliberate abandonment of her roots, in an effort to improve herself and distance herself from them.

“It’s my child we’re talking of.” Jack stood very still, staring down at the woman. “I’ve helped enough children in my time for it now to be the time for others to help my own son.”

“Please,” Elenora said, not quite sure what she was pleading for. “You’re our only hope.” Was she? London was a huge place and how could one woman hold the key to finding a veritable needle in a haystack?

Mrs. Sharpe hesitated a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Very well. Let me get Benjamin. I’ll send him to find his father. As you say, he still keeps in touch with him.”

As soon as she’d departed in search of this Benjamin, Elenora turned to Jack. “What does her husband do that is so bad she doesn’t want to see him? And how did you save her life?”

Jack tapped his cane on the side of his boots. “He was a cruel and violent husband to her, as many men of his type are, but he was and is also part of the criminal underworld, in a well known and powerful gang. The most powerful gang in the rookeries. I came to her aid quite by chance and saw what he was doing to her. And what he would do to their children. She escaped him, with my help, when she realized he was about to coerce her children into his world of crime. She’s raised all of them to be better than him, but Benjamin, her oldest and the only boy, who now works in the docks, found it hardest to break the link with his father.”

Elenora started at the sound of the door opening again, as Mrs. Sharpe returned with her son.

Benjamin was nothing like his mother. Whereas she was short and round with an apple-wrinkled face and kind brown eyes, Benjamin must surely have favored his father. Tall, spindly and narrow faced, with nondescript mouse-brown hair, and eyes that could have been described at best as shifty, he was the sort of young man you might pass on the street and never notice but who might pick your pocket of all you possessed. He wore what must be his work clothes still, and carried a soft cap clutched in both his bony hands.

“Milord, Miss.” He executed a somewhat wary bow, as his mother prodded him further into the room and closed the door behind them.

“I’ve told him what’s happened,” she said, folding her arms across her ample bosom.

“You wants me to go find my pa,” Benjamin said, his voice lacking any hint of the enforced refinement his mother had acquired. “To get him to find out what’s become o’ your lad.”

Jack nodded. “And I want you to take me with you.”

The boy’s rather too close together eyes narrowed, much as his mother’s had done, but with cunning rather than intelligence. He gave a snort of clear disdain. “I ain’t takin’ you into St Giles. T’ain’t no place for a nob like you. Someone’d slit your throat soon as look at you, just to steal your fancy boots.”

“You’ll take me with you,” Jack snapped, “and help me find my boy.” He patted his coat pockets. “And I’m not going unarmed.” He looked over his shoulder at Elenora. “I can’t sit here and wait. I have to be doing something. And whoever has him means to keep him, I’m guessing, after what he wrote in that note.”

Mrs. Sharpe leaned toward her son, keeping her voice too low to be heard. The young man shook his head, she muttered again, and as if in anger, he finally nodded. “Be it on your own head, milord.” His gaze ran over Elenora appraisingly, lingering on her bosom.

Her hackles rose.

“I’ll take you to The One Tun, milord, my pa’s dive. And good luck to you if he’s in a bad mood. He’s never forgot how you took my ma from him, I’d best warn you now. Tells me about it ev’ry time I sees him. And as fer the lady—she ain’t coming, that’s for sure. She’ll have to stay here with Ma, or I ain’t goin’.”

Elenora opened her mouth to object, but Jack got in there first. “Agreed. She will stay here with your mother and sisters, where she’s safe.”

“I won’t,” Elenora managed to get out, indignation rising. “If you’re going, then I’m coming too.”

Jack glared at her. “Your personality has its good points, Elenora, but stubbornness is not one of them. You will stay here in safety. This boy is correct. If he’s taking me into the rookeries, and in particular to The One Tun, then it’s no place for a young lady of your upbringing. Mrs. Sharpe will look after you. Wait here for me.”

Mrs. Sharpe laid a hand on Elenora’s shoulder. “Best do as milord says, Miss. For your own sake. Women’re not safe on the streets of St Giles in daylight, never mind after dark. We’ll wait here for news together.”

Frustrated, all Elenora could do was nod agreement.

In Portland Place, Robert, Aunt Penelope’s footman, Robert, had by now arrived on the doorstep and been greeted by the harassed Alcock, who had just come upstairs from the kitchens where Cook and Miss Wetherby’s maid had been attending to the wounds of Miss Douglas. There’d been a heated discussion as to whether a doctor should be called, which Miss Douglas had won, in insisting that apart from bruises, she was perfectly all right. A right trooper, that one, as Alcock’s father, who had served in the army, would have said.

He opened the front door to find a rather annoyed Robert on the doorstep. He’d not wanted to traipse round to Portland Place in the dark on a rather embarrassing errand as he was certain it would be pointless and only serve to annoy Miss Wetherby, who all the servants had already classified as ‘an odd one.’ If she wanted to spend long periods in the company of her betrothed, then who was he to stop her?

Alcock, on being informed why Robert was here, found himself suddenly bereft of words. His lordship had certainly gone out, as he had said he would, and he had also certainly taken Miss Wetherby with him, without her maid as chaperone. And he, Alcock, should perhaps have taken the liberty of pointing out how improper this was. As his lordship did seem to have a rather loose grasp on what was or was not proper where young ladies were concerned. But he hadn’t, because he’d been caught up in the care of poor Miss Douglas, whom he rather liked, and he’d allowed his lordship to slip out of his grasp. With Miss Wetherby.