Page 36 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke
Leo half-rose from his seat, clearly alarmed by her action, but the Marquess placed a restraining hand on his arm, murmuring something that she could not hear.
“Excuse me,” Beatrice addressed the dark-haired maid, whose eyes widened with apprehension. “I couldn’t help but notice… Do you happen to know Anna Finley? We’re friends of hers, and we’re quite concerned for her well-being.”
The maid exchanged a look with her companion, who promptly made herself scarce.
“Don’t know anything about anybody,” she mumbled, attempting to edge past Beatrice toward the taproom.
“Please,” Beatrice persisted, her voice lowering. “We mean her no harm. Quite the opposite, we believe she may be in danger, and we wish to help her.”
Something in her earnest expression seemed to ease the maid’s wariness.
After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She was here, ‘bout a week ago. Looking for work, she was. Said she couldn’t go back tothe Gilded Lion.”
“Did she say why?” Beatrice asked gently.
“Said she was being watched,” the maid replied, her gaze darting nervously around the tavern. “Kept looking over her shoulder, jumping at shadows. Never seen anyone so frightened.”
By this time, Leo had approached, his presence both reassuring and somewhat intimidating as he towered over both women.
“Did she mention where she was going?” he pressed, his tone carefully modulated to avoid alarming the maid further.
She hesitated, clearly weighing the risk of further disclosure.
“She spoke of a cousin who lets rooms,” she admitted finally. “Out past the tannery, near the edge of town. Said it wasn’t much, but it was somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.”
“They?” Beatrice inquired. “Who was looking for her?”
“Didn’t mention the names.” The maid shook her head. “Just that there was a lord involved, and that he’d kill her if he found her. Said she knew something she shouldn’t, something aboutthe Gilded Lion.”
Leo pressed a coin into the maid’s palm, securing her continued discretion. “The cousin’s name?” he asked. “Or the exact location?”
“Mrs. Fairfax,” the maid replied, her fingers closing reflexively around the unexpected bounty. “On Crescent Street, past the old tannery. Small house with blue shutters, or so Anna said.”
“Crescent Street,” Leo murmured.
“But we already know that, don’t we?” the Marquess said from behind him.
Leo nodded once. “Yes. I wanted to make certain that the information was correct,” he said, his strides purposeful, and Beatrice followed without complaint.
His hand rested on the small of her back as they exited the tavern. The touch, though clearly intended as guidance, sent a frisson of awareness through her.
“We should make haste before darkness falls. These streets become considerably less hospitable after nightfall.”
The Marquess hailed a hackney cab, and soon they were traversing the increasingly modest streets of outer London.
The elegant facades of Mayfair seemed a world away from the narrow houses and workshops that lined their route, their facades darkening as evening shadows lengthened across the cobblestones.
“You were rather impressive with that maid,” Leo observed, breaking the silence that had settled over their small party. “A natural talent for extracting information, my Duchess.”
Beatrice felt his gaze on her profile, though she kept her own fixed on the passing scenery.
“People respond to genuine concern,” she said simply. “The maid recognized that our interest in Anna stemmed from friendship rather than malice.”
“Friendship,” he echoed, the single word carrying an unspoken question. “An interesting characterization of your relationship with a woman you’ve never met.”
“We share a connection through Philip,” Beatrice offered, finally meeting his gaze. “And now, a common adversary in Lord Westbury.”
Leo’s expression remained inscrutable, though something flickered briefly in his eyes. A reassessment, perhaps, or reluctant acknowledgment of her reasoning.