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“Would it be possible for me to speak with the viscount’s daughter?”
Lord Walton shook his head decisively. “The girl has been shamed. To speak with you, a stranger, of what happened to her would be impossible for her. All the information comes from the girl’s mother.”
“A pity,” said Rafael. “Does she recall where she was taken?”
“A house near St. Austell, off in some wooded area, she thinks. She was out walking her aunt’s dogs, had outstripped her groom, and was nabbed. She didn’t see anyone’s face, just heard voices.”
“Any other name besides Ram?”
“I don’t know, my boy. Bainbridge refuses to make the girl speak of it again. I suppose I do understand his feelings. Will you undertake this for us, Captain?”
“Were there any incidents involving other sorts of crimes? Murder? Robbery?”
“Not that I know of. If they hadn’t mistaken Bainbridge’s daughter, we wouldn’t now be involved. It is most distasteful that a man would sell his daughter’s virginity, but not against the law. Well, Captain?”
“Why not?” Rafael said, and stood. He shook Lord Walton’s hand and added, “Morgan is coming home as well.”
“Yes, I know. Unfortunately, he is coming home because of his wife’s health. She’s dying, you see.”
“No, I didn’t know. Morgan and I never spoke of personal matters.”
“Morgan is a private man and one of great talent. Well, there is naught we can do about it, Captain. You will keep in touch with me about this affair?”
“Certainly.”
The two men parted amicably. Lord Walton wandered to the window in his office and stared down at the street below. Carstairs was a young man to admire. If he managed to uncover the identity of the Ram, there just might be a title in it for him. He watched Carstairs stride across the street, tall and strong, a ladies’ man indeed, he thought, remembering the report he’d received on just how Carstairs had managed to discover a woman spy in the West Indies. Although the report was one of Morgan’s gems of emotionless dryness, much like the man himself, it had still been clear that the woman had told Carstairs all her secrets in his bed. This Hellfire Club business was another matter entirely, though. He wished Carstairs luck.
As for Rafael, the moment he left the War Ministry, his step lightened and he shucked off his fatigue. He didn’t question why, merely enjoyed the feeling of anticipation.
He felt more than anticipation when he first saw Victoria standing in Lady Lucia’s drawing room. My God, he thought, staring at her, she is exquisite. Her gown was new, of course, and suited her to perfection. It was a pale blue satin slip over a net frock. It was cut low over her bosom, with short sleeves decorated with small knots of blue ribbon. The skirt was trimmed with a flounce of blond lace and more judiciously placed knots of blue ribbon. Her breasts looked very white against the blue satin. Her hair, sparkling with red and deep brown highlights in the candlelight, was fashioned in a braided coronet atop her head with soft looping wisps framing her face and trailing down her neck. She looked elegant and not at all sixteen years old.
“Rafael, I’m so glad you’re here.” She gave him a mock curtsy and twirled about. “Do you like my gown? Aunt Lucia positively snarled at the woman until she agreed to alter this one for her immediately.” She twirled about again, laughing and saying over her shoulder, “Aunt Lucia ordered the woman to take off the rows of grape blossoms and cockleshells, but the lace is nice, don’t you agree?”
“You look fine,” he said finally. “You don’t look at all fussy. I’m glad there are no cockleshells.” He nodded toward Lucia, saw that the old lady was smiling benignly at him, realized what she must be thinking, and drew himself up.
He didn’t look again at Victoria, but seated himself beside Lucia and engaged her in vacuous conversation.
“It didn’t rain today.”
“No, my boy, it didn’t. There were several hopeful-looking clouds, however.”
“You did not overtire yourself, ma’am?”
“It was fatiguing to rid the gown of the cockleshells.”
He ground his teeth, aware that Victoria was looking at him like a wounded doe. “Victoria looks lovely.”
“Indeed she does.”
“Rafael,” Victoria blurted out, “what did you do today?”
“Stop twitching about,” he said shortly. “Ladies are to appear calm and not at all nosey.”
Victoria eyed him closely. He was behaving oddly. “Whatever is wrong with you? Didn’t your business go well? Did you suffer reverses? Isn’t that what it is called?”
He grinned at that. “No, no reverses. I shan’t tell you, Victoria. Search your mind for other conversation.”
“Very well. Will you take me riding tomorrow afternoon? In the park, so I may see all the fancy people? Aunt Lucia tells me it’s the thing to do.”
