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“ T hank you,” Patrick said as he joined Stephen inside the carriage once Sophie had entered the Monmouth town house. “However, I would have been grateful had you backed me up about her staying here,” he added.

Stephen waved his words away, instantly understanding what Patrick’s gratitude had been for. “What she did tonight took courage, Colt. I have no fears confiding in her. I like her, and believe she will keep you on your toes.”

“How so?” Patrick queried. He did not bother to deny his feelings or intentions toward Sophie. Stephen was no fool, and while Patrick wasn’t sure what the future held for them, he knew that she would be in it, even if she didn’t.

She’d run to you tonight. That, to him, was telling.

“Sophie has lived with fear for years. There has probably never been a point in her life when she was without it. Of course, now she has Lady Carstairs and wealth, but she still has the fear of exposure,” Stephen said.

Patrick nodded.

“It is my belief that when she is wed to you, she will finally feel safe, and her natural nature will surface.” Stephen laughed as Patrick scowled at him. “You will wed her, my friend, and she will finally be happy and live without fear. Sophie will heal you, as you will heal her.”

“I am not broken,” Patrick said.

“Of course you are. Your parents were horrid people who taught you not to trust others. Even though you were loved by your aunt and sisters, I’m the only person you truly let in, Colt, so don’t deny it.”

“I always felt bad for hating my parents,” he said softly. “But I did.”

“Understandable, and for what it’s worth, I hated your parents, too, for the pain they caused you.”

“Thank you, but my life wasn’t bad. As you say, I had my sisters.”

“And a father who drove you hard so you would be his replica when you took his title. He never let you be anything but a future earl, Colt.”

Patrick nodded because the words were the truth.

“I could not have chosen a better person for you to live your life with, my friend.”

“As we barely know each other?—”

“I’ve never seen you with anyone like you are with her.”

“Perhaps” was all Patrick was willing to add to that.

Looking out the window, he watched Sophie slip outside the door once more, and he climbed out to meet her.

“Did you leave a note?” he asked when she reached him. She wore a bonnet now, the same cloak, and boots.

“I did and left it by the front entrance. Doddy was not pleased when I told him he was staying.”

“Because he is a protector,” Patrick said. “Now, in you get, then.” He lifted her into the carriage.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the carriage rolled away from the Monmouth town house.

“To a place where we know a man who used to be an informant years ago. It’s our hope he is alive and also still drinking there, as he used to every night,” Patrick said.

She didn’t answer that, just turned her eyes to watch the buildings as they rolled through the dark London streets.

“We will find him, Sophie.” He laid his hand on top of her gloved ones that were clenched in her lap. “I promise.”

“He could be anywhere,” she said to the window.

“We are very good at finding things,” Stephen said. “Trust us.”

She didn’t answer that.

He watched as they entered one of the seedier areas of London—St. Giles. The carriage slowed and stopped. He pulled the curtains shut.

“Stay here, Sophie. Stephen and I will be back soon. This place is filled with men who have drunk too much and would think nothing of taking advantage of a woman, no matter what her standing in society may be.”

“I will do as you say,” she said.

“Good girl.” Patrick squeezed her hand before moving toward the door.

“Please be careful,” she whispered.

Nodding, Patrick could do nothing more to reassure her, and he and Stephen left the carriage.

The Fiddle was a small building pressed up beside two others with a facade that was as unappealing as what they would find inside.

Pushing open the scarred front door, they were greeted with dim light and raised voices.

Smoke from pipes and the scent of ale thickened the air as they pushed their way through patrons to the bar.

“My lords,” the innkeeper said, recognizing them even though it had been years since they’d entered his establishment.

“Toad,” Stephen said with a slight inclination of his head as he moved to lean on the counter, heedless of the ale and filth on the surface that now seeped into the sleeve of his overcoat. “We need some information. Is Bailey here?”

Toad scanned the room with the ease of familiarity. He would know the names of most who were in here. “There,” he said, jerking his head to the left. He then poured ale into glasses that he had wiped with a filthy cloth, setting them before Patrick and Stephen.

Paying for the drinks, they made their way to a booth to the left, where Patrick saw the man they were looking for. They’d paid him a considerable amount of money over the years for information.

Patrick lowered himself onto a seat beside Bailey, who was face-first in the ample bosom of a laughing woman. She was patting his head as if he were a child.

“Bailey,” Patrick said, reaching over the table and tugging the straggly gray tail that hung at the base of the man’s head.

“Ouch!”

“I see you have not slowed down in your old age.” Stephen sat beside Patrick.

“My lords!” The man’s eyes bulged as he looked at them. He immediately tipped the woman off his lap and shooed her away without a second glance.

“We need information, and we need it fast,” Patrick said, getting straight to the point of their meeting. Bailey, if allowed, tended to waffle.

“Of course,” he said, licking his lips as he eyed the pouch of coins Stephen tossed around in his hands.

“A man named Jack Spode kidnapped a child and his nanny tonight from his family home, and we want to know where the child is being held,” Patrick said, keeping his eyes on the man across from him.

Small, with bright blue eyes and, some would say, a sweet smile, the man looked harmless…

but he was far from that. Bailey had his ear to the ground and knew most underhand things that were taking place in London because he was often involved in them.

“This child is important to me, Bailey. I will pay handsomely for his recovery.” It was small, but he saw the twitch in his eye—a sign he knew something.

“This boy is a member of society, and his mother and aunt are distraught. Neither woman will rest until he and the nanny are safe,” Stephen added.

“I have heard nothing,” Bailey said, looking anywhere now but at them.

Patrick saw the fear in his eyes as Jack Spode’s name was mentioned. He’d seen that same fear in Sophie’s too. Spode must indeed be a powerful man if Bailey feared him. “Tell me what you know, Bailey.” Patrick’s tone was steady.

“He will kill me. Slit my throat and throw me into the Thames,” Bailey said, his eyes going from left to right.

“And I will have you imprisoned, which you know I have the power to do,” Patrick added. Bailey had a fear of imprisonment.

“I can’t, my lord,” Bailey said, looking cornered.

“You can, and it will go no farther than us,” Stephen said.

He leaned across the table, his eyes still moving to see who was nearby.

“’E is a bad ’un, this Spode,” Bailey said.

“How so?” Patrick asked.

“Been in London two months and is already causing trouble. Leaves a trail of wounded and dead in his path. Don’t have any morals.”

Stephen coughed loudly, and Bailey looked at him, his expression hurt. “I may have done some bad stuff, but I ain’t never hurt anyone.”

“We’ve established you are a pillar of society. Now, tell me something useful,” Patrick said. He needed information before Sophie got restless and came looking for them, which he was fairly sure she’d do in a heartbeat.

“Wait here.” Bailey slid from the booth and returned minutes later with three men.

“These lads were part of the Bramble gang. They worked from here, east,” he said.

“Thieves who big Baldy Bramble gathered together. They were the best on the streets. Never harming anyone, you understand,” Bailey put in as he caught Patrick’s eye.

“But they stole plenty and usually sold it to gullible nobs for a pretty penny.”

“Us being the gullible nobs, as I understand it?”

“Never labeled you like that, my lords,” Bailey said in answer to Stephen’s question. “Just the ones dumb enough to know no better with plenty of pennies to fleece.”

“Excellent, my mind is relieved. Please continue,” Stephen added.

Nodding to one of the men, Bailey said, “Fred will continue from here, my lords.”

Fred, however, had other ideas. He just stood there silent as a statue, looking at his feet.

“I am not a patient man, Fred.” Patrick felt his temper simmer.

Sophie’s little brother was out there somewhere with only his nanny to keep him safe, and he was no closer to finding him.

“The woman I care for is suffering because her child is missing, believed kidnapped. If you do not start talking, I will start extracting the information I need in whatever manner it takes. Is that understood?”

“Talk, idiot!” Bailey said, kicking Fred in the ankle. “He’ll follow through. I’ve seen him hand out a few beatings,” he said, nodding to Patrick.

“Jack Spode told Baldy he was taking over his business. Said how there was no room for the both of them,” Fred said, his eyes now darting between Stephen and Patrick.

“Baldy told him to go to hell, and Spode, he just pulled out a knife and plunged it straight into his heart.” Fred swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“He said he’d kill us if we tried to escape and that we now worked for him. ”

Stephen and Patrick sat there for a further ten minutes listening to stories from the men, some worse, and some so horrific that even Patrick winced.

They left minutes later with the location of the area Jack Spode frequented and the knowledge that they were dealing with a man who would do whatever it took to build his empire—including harming a child.