for a moment before he leaned past Doris Ann, opened a small square hinged door and recited the Cavendish Square address.
Regina thought about her aunt, who adored her only daughter. “It’s that terrible? You know who took Miranda?”
“If I knew the who, Miss Hackett, I would have handed you over to my coachman and sent you on your way, and damn your problems with your respective parents when they discovered you’d been at the masquerade. But I only learned a possible why, I believe, which makes the where immaterial.”
Thoughts no well-bred young lady should know enough about to even consider went flashing through Regina’s head. But her father owned a shipping company, and he had told many stories at the dinner table about mysterious cargos, human cargos, being shipped off to foreign parts, where the men and children were sold into slavery and the most comely women paraded about on stages, for sale to the highest bidder. He seemed to delight in the telling, probably because each only served to make his wife ill and to seek ever more comfort in the contents of a wine decanter.
How she hated her father.
How she feared for Miranda.
Regina put her hand on Mr. Blackthorn’s forearm. “We must find her. We must.”
He covered her hand with his own. “And I will.”
“No,” she corrected him. “We will. This is my fault. I should have said no. Miranda’s incurably silly, but she wouldn’t have gone if I had refused to accompany her. I should have known better. If you will not assist me, I will investigate on my own. I will. Really.”
He looked at her for long moments, saying nothing until the coach drew to a halt outside of Number Twenty-three.
“Very well. Your uncle will call in the Bow Street Runners, I’m sure, but we two can conduct our own investigation if it will make you more comfortable, which it very well may not, not once I’ve said what I have to say to your uncle. Still, if you’re of the same mind tomorrow, I will meet you in Hyde Park at eleven. Come on foot, with only your maid.”
“And you’ll be there? You’re not just saying that now to fob me off? Because I know I have been something of an annoyance to you.”
“Miss Hackett … Regina. It is precisely because you have been, in your words, such an annoyance to me that I can safely promise you that, yes, I will be there. Pour mes péchés.”
“For your sins?”
He stroked one long finger along her cheek and over her mouth, stealing her breath.
“Both committed and contemplated, yes,” he said softly. And then he did something that took her totally by surprise—he reached behind her neck and unclasped her pearls, sliding them into his pocket. “You’ve been robbed, remember? I’ll return them to you tomorrow, when you come to the park.”
“Were you thinking I might not come? That I’ll change my mind?”
“The possibility presents itself, yes.”
“Well, I won’t! I’m going to find Miranda, and since you’re the only person who knows we needs must start with what happened at the ball, you’re the only person who can help me.”
A groom opened the door and put down the steps and Mr. Blackthorn eased past Regina and hopped to the ground before turning to hold out his hand to her. “And we begin….”
CHAPTER THREE
THE FIRST THING PUCK noticed once they’d been escorted into the drawing room at Number Twenty-three was the general shabbiness of the place. He would do some investigating of the Earl of Mentmore in the morning, but for now, he believed he could safely assume that if a ransom were demanded for Lady Miranda, the family would be hard-pressed to comply.
Strange. The family had the name but not the money. He and his brothers had the funds but not the name. Of the two circumstances, he believed he preferred his own, and yet, Society looked down its nose at him and accepted Mentmore and his offspring everywhere. A day would come, he felt certain, when one side would have to compromise with the other, and if he were to project a winning side, he would wager on money over birth every time. For one thing, it kept you warmer at night.
“His lordship and my lady will be down shortly,” the starchy butler pronounced from the doorway as Regina, who had been pacing the carpet in front of the fire these past five minutes, mumbled a brief thank-you to the man she called Kettering, then quickly found herself a chair and collapsed into it.
“Wonderful,” Puck pronounced, as if complimenting the man on some lofty achievement. He walked over to the butler and put an arm around the man’s shoulder confidingly. “Kettering, you look an intelligent man. Can I trust you? Your employers are, I fear, about to suffer a great shock. I say this because I am convinced you will know just how to handle the situation. I would suggest wine for the lady, and perhaps some burnt feathers. Brandy for his lordship?”
“He favors gin,” the butler whispered, frowning to show his own distaste for such a lowly spirit and, it would seem, his employer, as well. “Does this concern Miss Miranda, sir?”
“Oh yes, it does, it does,” Puck said, shaking his head, his sorrowful expression saying more than his words, drawing in Kettering as if he were a fish on the hook. “It will be left to a fine man like you to keep body and soul together under this roof, I’m afraid. But if there is anything, anything at all I can do to assist you, please do not hesitate to contact me. In fact, I all but insist upon it.” He then handed the man his card and a small but heavy purse.
Kettering slipped both into his pocket, one eye on Regina, who sat contemplating her shoe tops, blissfully unaware of what Puck was about. “It would be my pleasure, sir,” the butler said. “I will see about refreshments for you and the young lady, as well.”
“Again, wonderful. But no gin for me, if you please. Horrid, bitter stuff.”
“There’s a bottle of wine in the cellars his lordship has been saving. He’ll never know.”
Puck patted the man’s back and then asked his question. “I only met Miss Hackett this evening and, unfortunately, under trying circumstances. Do you know her well?”
Kettering looked about, to make sure no one was listening from the foyer and that his employers weren’t on the stairs. “She’s fine enough, sir. Not that it means anything. The mother is sister to the viscount, but the father?” He leaned closer. “In trade. Owns ships. Bought himself his bride, and now he’s trying to sell the daughter to a title. The family’s that embarrassed, sir.”
Puck kept his smile with some difficulty. The butler looked down on Regina Hackett? What a strange world they all lived in. “And yet she’s welcome here?”
Now Kettering looked positively evil. “It’s like I said, sir. The family’s that embarrassed. If you take my meaning.”
“Yes, I think I do. Pays for all of this, does he?”
The butler seemed to realize that he’d been speaking out of turn and to a complete stranger. “Was there anything else you wanted, sir?”
“Thank you, no. You’ve been extremely helpful.” A gold coin appeared in Puck’s hand and also quickly disappeared.
Kettering looked about himself once more, wet his lips and confided, “The mother, Lady Leticia? Poor thing is nearly always three parts over the windmill, and the father is a nasty piece of work. I’d steer clear if I was you, sir. There’s better pickings out there for a fine, set-up young gentleman, such as yourself.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Again, thank you, Kettering. Ah, and I believe his lordship and his lady wife are about to join us. And you have some refreshments to organize. Remember, I’m counting on you to keep me informed. Most especially, I think, about the actions of your master concerning this entire affair.”
“Indeed,