The Groom Says Yes (20 page)

When a strongbox was found missing at the local milliners, Sabrina had reasoned out who had taken it based upon clues she’d learned one afternoon spent trying on hats. She’d caught the apprentice in his lie. The milliner had been so thankful for Sabrina’s help, he’d created a special bonnet just for her.

A week later, upon hearing a tale of a missing boy, Sabrina had asked a few discreet questions and learned of the lad’s last movements. She’d taken Rolf to that section of the city, and with the hound’s keen nose, they’d found the boy, trapped in a well that someone had covered. The lad had thought to hide there and had been too clever for his own good. Sabrina, Lady Ballin, was hailed as a heroine for saving his life.

Then, a few days later, while Sabrina was enjoying her afternoon cup of tea, Cormac appeared in the doorway. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

Sabrina liked surprises. “What is it?”

Cormac held out his hand. “Come.” He took her downstairs. “Now, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Please, wife, don’t argue.”

“But I argue so well,” Sabrina protested.

“You do,” he agreed. “Now, close them.”

She did as he asked and he led her outside. He turned her so that she faced the house they rented. “Open them,” he whispered in her ear.

Sabrina wasn’t certain what to expect. She didn’t know if he’d had the door painted or placed some other embellishment on the house.

For a moment, she didn’t see what he’d done.

The entrance of their home also served as the doorway for his surgery. There was a sign beside the door with the name Ballin and the picture of a surgeon’s knife and forceps.

Below this sign was another. It said,
DISCREET INVESTIGATIONS AND INQUIRIES
. The symbol was crossed andirons.

“What is this?” Sabrina asked.

“A challenge for you,” he said. “I know you have had too much time on your hands. The city offers too many comforts for a country lass like yourself. One of my patients, Lady Dinwiddie, suggested that such a service would be of benefit to people of her class. She suggested that having someone with your sense of discretion could be of service to someone like herself. She was very impressed with the tale of how you found that lad.

At first, Sabrina didn’t know if she liked the idea. She considered it a moment. “Discreet Investigations and Inquiries.” She looked at her husband. “Exactly what does that mean?”

“It can mean whatever we wish.”

“Would you help?”

“When I could. I would not like your running off alone, like you did the day you searched for the boy—”

“I had Rolf with me.”

“I would prefer you had
me
with you. Nor do I believe you should have all the fun.”

Sabrina looked back at the sign, and the sense of ennui that had plagued her lifted. He was giving her permission to do whatever she wished. It was a wonderful gift. She ran her fingers over the sign plaque.

“I like this,” she said. “I do. But I won’t push it. I mean, I have responsibilities here.”

“You do,” her husband agreed, opening the door for her to go inside.

“I can’t go traipsing all over the place the way I did looking for that boy.” She started up the stairs to their living quarters.

“Or to find that strongbox,” he agreed.

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “However, it would be nice if those who had inquiries to be made would come to me instead of my having to search them out.”

“I thought you would find it easier,” he murmured.

“And it would be a service,” Sabrina allowed.

“It definitely helps those who need help.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs and faced him. “Do you realize, I’m excited. This is the most intriguing thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Cormac smiled. “I thought you would be pleased.”

“And you will help?”

“I will insist upon it.”

Her mind danced with possibilities, but then she said, “Who will need such a service? Truly? I mean it is a fine idea, but . . .” She let her voice trail off, aware of a strong disappointment.

“We’ll see,” her husband answered, and placed a kiss on her cheek. He started to return to his surgery, but Sabrina couldn’t let him go without a proper kiss, which led to the bedroom, where they celebrated her new venture with enthusiasm.

However, he had planted a seed, one Sabrina hoped would bear fruit. Whatever happened with “Discreet Inquiries and Investigations,” it was a lovely thought that she was married to a man who was so aware of her, he would allow her to contemplate such a thing.

T
he next day, Sabrina was in her husband’s surgery, writing accounts in the ledger, when a woman of middling years and a sad, worried countenance entered the office.

“Excuse me,” she said to Sabrina, “I saw the sign on the door. Is this the place where one can find help?”

For a second, Sabrina couldn’t think of what she’d meant. She’d almost forgotten the existence of the sign.

“Discreet Inquiries,” the woman repeated to prod her memory.

“Yes, yes, it is,” Sabrina answered, coming to her feet.

“I need help,” the woman said. “And I don’t know where to turn. Lady Dinwiddie suggested I speak to you.”

From the other room, Cormac had heard the woman. He came to the doorway.

Sabrina glanced at him, wondering if he had put this woman up to making this call. It would so like him to do anything to please her, including hiring an actress to pretend to be in distress.

“I read how you found that lad in the well,” the woman asked, as if she, too, wanted to ensure that Sabrina was genuine in her intentions.

“I did.”

The relief that crossed the woman’s face could not be feigned. She pulled a chair over to where Sabrina sat. Sinking down into it, she said, “Then please help me. My baby’s missing, and I am half-mad with worry. Perhaps you have heard of her? Lacy Fletcher.”

Everyone knew of the missing child. Six months earlier, the baby had been in the care of her nanny when both of them had disappeared. Mr. Fletcher was a well-respected academician from a highly respected family. Mrs. Fletcher had been an heiress. Her money came from her father’s shipbuilding firm. “Mrs. Fletcher?” Sabrina guessed.

“Yes, I am, and I’m desperate, my lady,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “I will pay any price to find my child. My father has hired men to search, but they have discovered nothing.”

This was no ruse.

Sabrina glanced at her husband, and her heart filled with a love she could never have imagined. She’d not known that a man could love her enough to let her pursue what made her happy.

His was an unconventional solution but one that pleased her. He would support her in this endeavor. He would let her be the woman she wanted to be.

And that was a priceless gift.

Sabrina stood. “Please, let us go upstairs where we can be private, Mrs. Fletcher. Would you enjoy a cup of strong, black tea? While we share a pot, you can tell me everything you know about your child’s disappearance.”

CATHY MAXWELL
spends hours in front of her computer pondering the question, “Why do people fall in love?” It remains for her the great mystery of life and the secret to happiness. She lives in beautiful Virginia with children, horses, dogs, and cats.
Fans can contact Cathy at www.cathymaxwell.com or PO Box 1135, Powhatan, VA 23139.

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The Brides of Wishmore

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