The Perfect Duke (8 page)

“No, you won’t, because I am accompanying you.” He held up a hand to stay her protest. “I agree, you can not have a duke poking around the school, but you could have the duke’s steward.”

“But you don’t have a steward.”

He stood and gave a slight bow. “Actually, I do, and would you believe he could be my twin brother?”

“How do I look?” Garret stood in the lamplight. He wore black boots and breeches, with a white shirt open at the neck. His thick, powder-free hair had been tied back into a cue.

Oh my
, he’s blond, just like in my dream.
Cara swallowed and croaked out, “Fine.” She should never have agreed to this.

“Remember, I’m Mr. Stone if anyone asks.”

Garret took the lamp and led her down one of the back hallways of his townhouse. Though it was the middle of the night, she still feared they’d be caught. “What will the servants do if someone comes to call?”

“They’ll say I’m not available. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tried to avoid the Ton. Stop worrying.”

“I can’t help it. Are you sure you want to do this?” Everything about Garret appeared different tonight. He had a sparkle in his eye and even his speech seemed more relaxed.

“Yes. Now hurry.” He led them out into the mews, where the secretary had saddled two horses.

Cara was glad to see Garret rode Storm, but she eyed her little mare with trepidation. “I hope she’s gentle.” The animal did a little sidestep and Cara moved away. What did Rachel see in horses? She now wished she’d taken more opportunity to ride in London. On the few occasions she’d needed to take a long journey, she’d always felt as if she were slipping down the horse’s side.

Garret had to help her, even with the mounting block, but she noticed he removed his hands as soon as she was settled. He’d kept his word about not touching her, but at times she would catch him watching her in a way that made it impossible for her to sit still.

They traveled in silence for almost an hour. Fortunately, the weather was warm and they didn’t need their hoods. It was difficult enough to find landmarks in the dark. At last, Cara spotted the familiar little house that had been her home for the last fourteen years.

Now that she was so close, she couldn’t wait to see Papa. Garret didn’t need to help her down. She slipped off the side of the horse, tethered her, and hurried up the short path.

Papa opened the door before she got there and stood with his arms open, his shock of white hair and crooked nose a welcome sight. She ran into the familiar shelter, loving the smell of cigar smoke and mustiness she associated with the man who’d raised her.

“Let me look at you.” The Vicar McClure squinted a bit, then broke into a smile. “I’ve missed you, Scheherezade.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Papa.” She backed out of her father’s embrace and turned to Garret. “Papa, this is . . . Mr. Stone.” Hopefully the Good Lord would forgive her for lying to Papa, but Garret had insisted no one know who he really was.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stone.” They shook hands. “I’m glad the duke saw fit to have someone escort my daughter home, but I have to admit to some surprise when she wrote you were also going to inquire into the disappearance of the children. He must be a decent fellow.”

“There are those who would question that vicar, but I have it on good authority that he does his best.”

“Come in. The Widow Carmichael brought over a stew. Would you like some?”

Garret stepped forward. “Yes, and after that I’d like to speak with you about the children. I have a plan.”

Cara didn’t like his plan at all. Garret couldn’t blame her, but as an instructor at the school he’d be able to keep an eye on Cara and watch for unusual activity. They faced the entrance to the old brick building that had been converted into The McClure School for the Betterment of the Mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cara gave him another of the searching looks she’d been using ever since he’d presented the idea. “These children aren’t like Rachel.”

“They’re still children.”

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She led him through the door, up the stairs, then down a musty hallway to the second door on the left. Tess had told Mr. Russell Cara would be resuming her duties, so the children were waiting for them.

When she entered the room, the younger ones swarmed forward to touch her, jumping up and down. The noise hurt his ears and it was several minutes before she could regain a semblance of order.

Amazement filled Garret as he watched the children crowd around Cara. She greeted each child by name, and asked several of them about their families or what had changed since she’d last seen them. Small things gained importance. One girl lost a tooth, while another presented a sampler with pride and each time a child had an accomplishment or a failure, Cara gave them encouragement. In that moment, he understood her concern for the missing students.

Unlike a normal school, there were no desks, simply long benches crowded with children of various ages. They all had one thing in common—their faces were gaunt and they wore rags. His plain clothing appeared rich by comparison.

“Students, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Stone. He’s going to be instructing in the finer points of working as a footman and the overall running of a household.”

Suspicious eyes turned his way. For the first time in his life, Garret was unsure how to proceed. He’d never been taught rules for dealing with street urchins. As he scanned the unfriendly faces, he drew himself up to his full height and gazed at them with his most aristocratic expression. Well, it couldn’t be that difficult. He was used to commanding servants. He should be able to command a bunch of children.

The pub stank of unwashed bodies, old ale, and other smells Garret had no desire to become better acquainted with. He located Lord Bradford and another man in a shadowy corner, then made his way through the crowded tables to their secluded spot. He took a seat and leaned forward in order to be heard over the boisterous clientele. “I apologize for the surroundings, but The Hawk is closest to Miss McClure’s home.”

Lord Bradford raised an eyebrow and motioned to the man beside him. “Lord Morgan, I’d like you to meet . . . Mr. Stone.”

The burly, auburn-haired man inclined his head. “It’s pleased I am to meet you.” Laughter lurked in Morgan’s eyes, as if he found life amusing. The expression reminded him of Edward. He, too, had laughed at the world, until his . . . death.

Garret turned his attention to Bradford. “There have been some new developments.”

“Obviously.” Bradford appeared to study his attire. “I didn’t think your taste in clothing normally ran to the provincial. And your missive surprised even me.”

“There wasn’t anything else I could do. Miss McClure was determined to leave.”

“I take it you’ve found her to your liking?”

“Yes.” It surprised him to discover he meant it. His life hadn’t been this entertaining since the accident. “But until this affair with the missing children is resolved, I can’t hope she’d accept my proposal.”

Bradford steepled his fingers, tapping them together in a slow rhythm. “There are several possibilities for their disappearance. They could have left on their own, but word on the street is that no one has seen them.” He sat back in his chair as a serving girl approached the table. Once she’d taken their order and departed, he leaned forward. “Or, they could have been sold into any number of groups operating in the city. However, I think that if they’d been coerced into a slit-purse ring or child labor camp, I would have discovered it. My guess is they’ve been sold into prostitution. Some houses keep their children under lock and key as a ‘precaution’ against losing their investment.”

Repulsed, Garret imagined the street-wise children he’d met being forced into that life. “If what you say is true, the practice should be stopped.”

“The king is aware of the situation.” Bradford glanced at his friend. The Irishman’s face expressed determination. “That’s why I asked Morgan to accompany me. At my request, he’s been delving into the affairs of our more illustrious nobles.”

Morgan waited for the comely serving wench to bring their drinks and smiled at her. “Thank you.” She seemed somewhat startled, then dropped her gaze and scurried away. Morgan’s laughing eyes grew serious. “‘Tis a firm believer, I am, that men of power should act responsibly. The noblemen I’ve been watching prey on the greed of the common folk. There are several in Miss McClure’s part of London who are willing to do their bidding.”

Garret shook his head. “According to the adults and children Miss McClure and I questioned today, there hasn’t been anything or anyone out of the ordinary at the school. But I intend to get to know the routine and gauge for myself.”

“How?”

“I have convinced Miss McClure to let me be an instructor.”

A loud burst of laughter erupted from Morgan, but Bradford’s cup only gave a slight pause on its way to his mouth. He took a sip, then set the tankard down. “You?”

“Why does everyone find that so surprising?” Garret took a drink of his ale. It had a bitter aftertaste, but he found it tolerable. “It’s the logical solution. There must be some connection to the school. I am hoping to convince the children to work with us.”

Morgan nodded. “That would be wise. But I’d like to be taking you around to some of the pugilist clubs. It seems boxing draws all manner of men, and a couple of the locations act as meeting places for those who involve themselves in the sale of children. It wouldn’t hurt you to be recognizing their faces if they appear near the school.”

Bradford tapped his fingertips against the edge of his glass. “Right. You should visit the clubs.” He inclined his head toward Garret. “I take it you’re in practice?”

“Yes.” With luck, he’d get the opportunity to ‘practice’ on some of the men who made their living off of children.

“Good. And as for your other situation concerning Miss McClure’s benefactor, we still haven’t discerned her identity, but I can tell you this”—Bradford sat back in his chair—“Your cooper’s brother-in-law didn’t act alone. He had a silent partner in every treacherous act he committed. Therefore, we can assume someone else knows of Miss McClure’s true identity.” Bradford’s pale eyes fixed on him. “The question is, what does he intend to do with the information?”

“Why do you call your daughter Scheherezade?” Garret also wanted to ask her father what he knew about Cara’s parentage, but that might be best in done in private. He had no desire to reveal Cara’s adoption with Mr. Russell, her father’s other dinner guest, sitting across from him.

The vicar smiled at Cara over the table, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my daughter has a fondness for stories.”

“I’d noticed.” Garret glanced at Cara, who blushed and averted her gaze.

“Even as a wee lass, she used to plead for me to listen to her tales. I’d sit in my chair and she’d settle on the floor or stand so she could act out her characters.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure where she heard most of them, except the selections from the Bible.” Pride entered his voice. “I think she was the only one at church who could recite all the parables Jesus taught.”

“Papa.” Cara smiled at him. “That was a long time ago.”

Mr. Russell set his glass down, his deep-set eyes gleaming with admiration. “You should not undervalue your talents, Miss McClure. The Good Lord makes us all special in our own way.”

Garret didn’t like the way he said ‘talents.’ The man must be about forty, way too old for Cara. She couldn’t possibly consider his pronounced chin and long face desirable. Yet Cara treated him with kindness and respect. Didn’t she see the way the pious hypocrite watched her?

He studied her innocent expression and shook his head. Of course she didn’t. Just as she had no inkling of the desire he’d seen in the eyes of the fresh-faced instructor he’d met earlier at the school. His jaw tightened. It was pathetic. The young man had barely been able to get out a coherent sentence around her.

Cara grinned at Mr. Russell. “I’ll have to remind the school’s benefactors how ‘special’ I am the next time we’re discussing monetary needs.” Her amusement faded. “They don’t know about the missing children. Do they?”

“I’ve tried to keep it from them, but recently I discovered they’ve heard the rumors.” Mr. Russell ran his index finger along the outer edge of his eyebrow. “I’m afraid they’ll withdraw their support, thinking the children are leaving on their own.” He gave her a rueful smile. “It’s a shame, really. You put so much effort into the school and it collapses the minute you take employment elsewhere.”

Garret leaned forward, Cara’s chagrined expression eating at his gut. “I hardly think Miss McClure’s departure would cause the school to falter. Aren’t you and her father responsible for the financial affairs?”

“Yes, however Miss McClure used to assist us with encouraging our wealthier parish members to share the gifts the Lord bestowed on them. She’s very persuasive.” He patted his lips with his napkin and set it on the table. “At any rate”—he gave Cara an encouraging smile—“she’s back with us now and I’m sure things will right themselves.”

His perceptive gaze returned to Garret. “I was surprised to hear the Duke of Kendal didn’t request your immediate return after seeing Miss McClure home. It is my understanding that the duke’s holdings are vast. As his steward, you must have much to occupy your time.”

“The duke values his servants, and Miss McClure is important to him.”

Cara choked on her tea and raised her eyebrows as she set her cup onto its saucer.

Garret brought his attention back to Mr. Russell. “His Grace believes she’ll return after she’s seen to the situation here. I’m to speed matters along.”

“How unfortunate.” Mr. Russell inclined his head at Cara. “I’d hoped you’d stay. It’s been quite dull here without you these past weeks.”

“Nothing’s been decided.” Cara picked up the chipped platter containing a selection of cheeses and shoved it toward Garret. “It was kind of the duke to allow Mr. Stone to stay, but he should not make any assumptions about my return. My first concern is for the children.”