Page 10 of I Never Forget a Duke (The Night Fire Club #1)

A dele alighted from the Sweeney carriage and gave instructions for where the driver should meet her in an hour, figuring that was how long it would take to buy a few things for the countess and walk to the bookseller to hunt through Debrett’s for the right family name.

She took care of the countess’s tasks first. Then, on the walk to the bookshop, something in the window of a newspaper office caught her eye.

She paused to look at a newspaper headline, which said, Swynford Missing, Presumed Dead .

Around the newspaper were a series of drawings of a man who looked very much like her house guest. She read the first few lines of the story and saw that Hugh Baxter, the Duke of Swynford, had disappeared on the same evening a mysterious man had turned up on her street.

She raced to the bookshop and found Mr. Ross, who owned the shop. She was out of breath.

“Are you having some kind of literary emergency?” Mr. Ross asked.

“I need your help.” She was reluctant to tell the whole story because she did not want it to become widely known that the Duke of Swynford was likely in her house at that moment, so she paused to consider how to phrase it.

“I found an object with this coat of arms imprinted on it, and I need to know the family it signifies.” She handed Mr. Ross the sketch Smith had made.

Mr. Ross squinted at the sketch and then led Adele to a corner of the store. He opened a large book that clearly had all of the coats of arms of the families in England, listed in alphabetical order.

“There was also an S imprinted on the object,” Adele said. “If that helps narrow it down.”

“It does. I thought it looked like the Swynford crest, but I wanted to be certain.”

He opened the book to a page that showed a drawing that showed a coat of arms very similar to the one Smith had drawn. “Swynford” was written across the bottom of the page.

“Does this answer your question?” Mr. Ross asked.

Adele nodded. “I believe I have something that belongs to the Duke of Swynford. Could you tell me where he lives so that I can return it to him?”

Mr. Ross raised an eyebrow. “Have you not heard that he is missing?”

“Oh dear. Missing?” That sounded like a poor stage performance, so she added, “That is, I saw something in a newspaper in passing, but I did not make the connection.”

“I believe your best course of action is to call on Larkin Woodville, Lord Waring. He is a friend of the duke’s and has been doing a poor job of being discreet while making inquiries about the location of His Grace.”

Adele recognized that Mr. Ross had made a joke, so she smiled and said, “This Lord Waring would not be a good hero for the mystery stores the countess likes, then.”

Mr. Ross laughed. “Indeed, no. He thinks he is the soul of discretion, but there has been gossip around town for a few days that His Grace never made it home after the Rutherford ball last week.”

“Does anyone have an idea for what became of him?”

Mr. Ross shrugged. “I’ve heard he ran off with some woman he was sweet on, that perhaps they have gone to Scotland to elope, but I do not know if I give credence to such rumors.

His Grace is a regular customer here and has always struck me as a thoughtful man not prone to acting rashly.

He has the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, and he takes his family duties very seriously. ”

Adele nodded, feeling somewhat validated in her opinion of Smith. Or Swynford, she supposed.

“Oh the other hand,” said Mr. Ross. “He is a rather large man. He would be difficult to abduct.”

“Perhaps not if he were hit on the head.”

“There is that.” Mr. Ross barked out a laugh. “Have you ever met the duke?”

“I can’t say that I have,” she said, which was true enough.

“Perhaps Lord Waring will know what to do with the object you found. What was the object?”

Searching her mind, she said, “A handkerchief.”

Mr. Ross nodded. “Yes. Swynford would of course have the family crest embroidered on his handkerchiefs. Yes, I do believe you should show it to Waring. Let him know where you found it. Perhaps that will help him locate the duke.”

“I sincerely hope so. His family must be so worried.”

“I imagine so, although the dowager duchess would never admit as much publicly. I am certain if you asked her right now where the duke was, she would tell you he is home, safe and sound. Nothing to bring dishonor on the family.”

That sounded intimidating. Adele wanted to ask more about that, but she understood that Mr. Ross was speaking off the cuff, and besides, it suddenly felt like time was of the essence. She could not wait to return home and tell Smith that he was very likely the Duke of Swynford.

Which of course meant that there was no way he would ever court Adele. As an earl’s daughter, she was perhaps eligible, but even Adele knew that the Swynford name was one held above reproach. The duke had never even breathed near a scandal.

Adele was not naive. She was a spinster, her father was a politician of dubious reputation, and thus she was clearly below the Duke of Swynford in social standing.

“Thank you for your help,” she said. “Before I go, the countess was looking for something new to read. Do you have any suggestions?”

“As it happens, I do. We have some new novels.”

Adele let Mr. Ross show her what he had in, and she picked out and purchased a novel for the countess.

Mr. Ross tried to entice her into something for herself, too, but she wanted to get to Lord Waring with all possible haste, so she promised to come back in a week.

Perhaps by then, she would have overcome the unbearable sadness seeping into her body now that she knew the man she’d been spending time would leave and likely never see her again.

As she paid for the book, she considered stalling, going straight home and telling Smith she’d found nothing. That would keep him with her for longer. But perhaps it would be better to end this now, before she fell in love with him.

“Let me give you Lord Waring’s address,” Mr. Ross said. He walked into the back room and returned with a piece of paper displaying an address in Mayfair.

“Thank you, Mr. Ross. If you could keep this between us, I would appreciate it. I merely found a handkerchief. I wouldn’t want people to get the idea that I know the duke’s whereabouts.”

“Of course, my dear. Do visit soon. I’ve heard there will be a new book by the anonymous author of Emma soon.”

That was good news. “Please hold a copy for me if it comes in before I can next see you.”

“Of course, my lady. Have a great evening.”

*

“Are you in to female callers?” asked Kelly, Lark’s butler.

Lark was in his study, awaiting word from Mr. Hogarth and pretending to check his ledgers. He cleared his throat. “That seems highly unusual. I was not expecting any female callers. Who is it?”

“Lady Adele Paulson.”

The name didn’t ring a bell. “I do not think I know her.”

“She claims to have information on the Duke of Swynford.”

A hundred thoughts flitted through Lark’s mind. Was it possible Hugh had absconded with a woman after all? How did the woman at his door come to have knowledge about Hugh? Was she Hugh’s mistress? Did she know Hugh’s abductor? “Please show her to the blue sitting room. I will be there momentarily.”

He did not know the woman he encountered a few moments later, although his mind registered a few things about her.

She was pretty, albeit plain; she had the sort of understated beauty that clung to women who could not be bothered to fuss over their appearance but had been nonetheless blessed with familial good looks.

She also seemed old for a debutante, so he ruled that out as a possibility. Lark was at a loss.

He cleared his throat. “I am Lord Waring.”

She turned toward him. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

“And you are?”

“Yes, apologies. I am not quite myself, as I’ve had a shocking few days. I am Lady Adele Paulson.”

“Paulson.” Lark tossed around the name in his head again. It was the last name that finally clued him in. “Canbury’s daughter.”

“Yes.”

“A pleasure to meet you. Please sit down.”

She did not sit. Lark stared at her for a long moment, now wondering how Hugh had gotten tangled up with the Earl of Canbury and what his daughter could possibly be doing here. Since she insisted on standing, he remained on his feet as well.

She cleared her throat. “My lord, your name was in an article in the Gazette about the disappearance of the Duke of Swynford. I hope you won’t think me forward, but I acquired your address because, if you are looking for him, I believe I may have some information.”

Oh, lovely. Canbury was broke, so of course he sent his daughter to sniff out reward money.

Lark’s heart fell. For nearly a week, he’d been looking for Hugh and had come up with nothing.

Worse, that newspaper article had sent him on more false leads and goose chases than he had imagined possible.

It was like Hugh had simply disappeared into thin air.

And here was the Earl of Canbury’s daughter to send him on one more.

He tried not to betray any emotion as he spoke. “Indeed, I am looking for him. If you read the article, you know he vanished a week ago.”

“Yes. Who is His Grace to you, if you do not mind my asking?”

Lark was losing patience. What an odd question. “He is a dear friend. We grew up together. I love him like a brother. Please sit and tell your tale, my lady.”

She finally relented and perched herself at the edge of a settee, so he sat in the armchair across from her. She said, “You do not believe my inquiry is genuine.”

“I have spent the last two days speaking to people just like you who claim to have information on Hugh’s whereabouts but are really in search of financial compensation.

Some lordling came by yesterday and gave me the address of where to find Swynford, and it turned out to be a brothel.

His Grace was not at this brothel. And I saw things I wish I could unsee. ”