Chapter Thirty-One
Con had a bit of a problem convincing Jemmy he could not accompany them. However, in the end, Jemmy finally agreed to remain at the hotel if Charlotte’s maid would find him an ice. The kittens were put in Charlotte’s bedchamber until they departed. It was almost strange to be traveling without the boy and the cat.
Their party arrived at the Hare and Hound shortly after ten that morning. Con had spent the journey considering how he and Charlotte should approach the landlord and his wife. He agreed with her that the pair would not be at all happy to see them again. How difficult would it be to convince the couple that they had been cozened by Miss Betsy? He also wondered if Charlotte had brought the letter that had been sent to the procuress. Perhaps he should have mentioned it to her.
Con moved his horse closer to Merton. “I suggest we take several of your men into the inn. Based on my previous experience with the bawd’s tools, they will be in the common room.” Merton nodded. “One or two should be in the stable in the event anyone attempts to escape or send a message. We still do not know what her arrangements for her customer were.”
“Would you like me to enter first? From what Charlotte said, the innkeeper and his wife might attempt to attack you for spiriting her away.”
“If they plan on harming us,” Con said ruefully, “it will be because we tied their daughter to a bed and gagged her.”
“There is that. I definitely think I should go in first with a few of my servants. Yesterday I thought we had them all. I hope today proves me correct.” Merton called Jeffers to him. “I expect there might be trouble either from the innkeeper and his people or from the blackguards who worked for that woman. Please have some of the men go into the common room. I shall want three of them with me before Lord Kenilworth enters the inn.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The man started to leave, but Con stopped him. “I do not want Lady Charlotte to leave the coach until we know the inn is safe.”
“We’ll make sure both ladies are safe, my lords.” Jeffers touched his hat, and trotted off.
He and Merton slowed their horses and rode into the yard. They waited for the outriders to take their places before dismounting. “We shall soon know what we are dealing with.”
A few of the servants who were dressed in everyday clothing entered the inn. Three others who were in Merton’s livery stood to the side of the door. Merton entered and Con followed.
“Innkeeper!” Merton called.
Mr. Wick hurried out from a room on the right of the hall. “My lord.” He looked past Merton and the man’s eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. “We don’t want your kind here. Take yourself off right away.”
Ignoring the landlord, Con took out one of his cards. “We have not been properly introduced. I am the Marquis of Kenilworth. My companion is the Marquis of Merton. I was here the last time for the same purpose I am here today, to rescue the person who was brought here under the instruction of a woman called Miss Betsy.”
Mr. Wick’s mouth gaped. “Rescue?”
As the man did not continue, Con went on. “Indeed. The woman is a flesh-dealer. The lady I rescued was abducted for the purpose of selling her to the man who requested the kidnapping.”
“I don’t believe you.” The innkeeper’s chin pushed out belligerently. “What proof do you got?”
“I am proof,” Merton said. “My cousin, the lady’s guardian, and I destroyed Miss Betsy’s brothel. She forced the women there into prostitution.”
Wick stuck out his chin belligerently. “So you says.”
“Perhaps a letter would help.” Charlotte spoke from behind Con. “This is from Miss Betsy to the man who paid her to abduct me.” She held the missive out so that the landlord could read it. After a few moments she said, “Now do you believe us?”
“We know what she told you.” Dotty stood next to Charlotte. “She said the same thing to another innkeeper and his wife. I am sorry to have to tell you that you have been taken in by a villainess who sells women and children.”
Mr. Wick opened his mouth, then shook his head and handed Con a key. “She’s in the same room as the last time.”
“Where are her men and how many are there?” Con asked.
“The coachman is in the stable,” the landlord replied, his Adam’s apple working furiously. “One of them is in the taproom, and the other is two doors down from the lady. They’re expecting Miss Betsy anytime.”
“You do not have to worry about seeing her again,” Merton said before glancing at Jeffers. “Take care of the coachman.”
Con signaled for the other two outriders to remain in the hall. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
When he entered the taproom, one of Merton’s servants was talking to a medium-sized man dressed in dark brown clothing sitting at a table near the bar. The man looked at Con, obviously decided he was not a threat, and turned back to his ale.
Strolling up to the table, Con waived the servant away. “I hear you work for Miss Betsy?”
The miscreant glanced up from his mug and stared at him. “Name’s Smith. Be you wantin’ to get a message to her?”
“That would be a bit difficult.” He smiled humorlessly. “She is dead. As you will be if you do not tell me what I wish to know.”
Right on cue, the blackguard lunged at Con. He struck out, slamming his fist into Smith’s jaw. The cur fell back, then came at Con again. He rammed his fist into the man’s gut, grabbed him by the hair, and planted the blackguard a facer. Blood and spittle flew over the table.
Grabbing Smith by his scarf, Con lifted him and shook hard. “There’s more home brew where that came from if you wish to continue, or we can have a conversation.”
“I ain’t talkin’.”
“In that case, you shall hang.” Con motioned to the outriders. “Tie him up. I shall find out who the magistrate is for the area. If Mr. Smith is lucky, his case will be heard here; if not, he’ll be taken to Newgate.” Con slid a glance to the man. “That is what the magistrate in Richmond decided to do, as the abduction took place in London.”
At the mention of Newgate, the man paled. “I just pick ’em up. I don’t know nothin’ else.”
Con raised a brow. “That is a pity. If you had more knowledge, you might be sentenced to transportation instead of hanging.”
“Wait, I might know somethin’.”
“Indeed?” The man nodded. Clearly this was not one of the bullies of St. Giles. He wondered briefly where Miss Betsy had found him. “Very well. What do you know?”
“She, Miss Susan, was right chatty. She was happy when we picked her up. Said someone called Sir Reginald was comin’ fer her, and they was goin’ to get leg-shackled.”
Sir Reginald? The only man Con knew by that name was not only at a standstill but wasn’t fit company for a young lady. As far as he knew, the man was not received in Polite Society.
“Do you happen to know where Miss Betsy was to meet him?”
“A hedge tavern not far from here. Called the Gray Horse.”
“You have been helpful. I’ll have more questions for you later.” A loud crash sounded from above them. “Please excuse me. There is something I must see to.”
He strode out of the room in time to see a big bruiser come tumbling down the stairs with Jeffers running after him, shouting, “Don’t let him get away!”
The blackguard landed at Merton’s feet and tried to get up, but Merton held a pistol to the side of the man’s head. “I wouldn’t if I were you. in general, I object to using violence around ladies. However, I will make an exception for you.”
The next thing he knew, a woman was screaming. “Sam! Did he hurt you?”
The woman bustled forward, and Charlotte whispered in Con’s ear, “Mrs. Wick.”
“This seems to be a family affair.” The landlady looked as if she was going to jump on Merton. Before she could act, Con drawled, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unless you want Sam dead?”
“You!” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll get the magistrate on you.”
“Please do call him. I believe he will be extremely interested in the part you and your family have played in a flesh-selling scheme.”
“Flesh-selling?” Mrs. Wick’s hands fisted at her hips. “I’ll have you know I’m a good Christian woman.”
Charlotte took in the vignette. Merton still had his pistol pointed at Sam’s head. Jeffers seemed to be frozen on the first stair tread. Mrs. Wick still looked as if she would like to fly at someone, but could not decide who. Two outriders stood in the doorway to what Charlotte assumed was the common room, holding a man whose hands were tied, and Constantine was surveying the scene through his quizzing glass. She could only think he was attempting to intimidate the landlady.
Standing to the side, Mr. Wick looked like a scared rabbit—although, hare might be more appropriate—ready to spring.
She decided to deal with the landlady first. “Mrs. Wick.” The woman’s eyes rounded as she finally noticed Charlotte. “The truth of the matter is that Miss Betsy was a procuress. She did not rescue women and children. She took orders from men just as you might order a bonnet, and sold them.” The older woman’s mouth dropped open. “I—none of us”—Charlotte waved her hand at Dotty, Constantine, and Merton—“believe that you were aware of her activities. As a matter of fact, based on the short conversation I had with your daughter, I am quite sure you did not know what Miss Betsy was doing.”
Mrs. Wick shook her head. “No, my lady. I didn’t.” She pointed her finger at Sam. “But I’ll wager my last penny if that blackguard didn’t know.” She speared him with a furious look. “And didn’t say a word to me.”
Sam, apparently, had the good sense to keep his mouth shut as he said not a thing.
“Well, then,” Charlotte continued, “my cousins and my betrothed came here to rescue the young lady Miss Betsy was to have collected.”
“She’ll make ye pay for interferin’, Peg,” Sam said.
Not so sensible after all. “She died yesterday,” Charlotte replied. Sam seemed smaller all of a sudden. “What we would like to know is how many times she brought women and children here, and if you can tell me anything about them.”
Mrs. Wick straightened and nodded slowly. “I’ll write it all down for you.”
“Thank you. We appreciate all the help you can give us. Your daughter might be able to help you.”
Constantine had lowered his quizzing glass sometime after Charlotte had begun to speak. “Nicely done, my lady. What made you decide to intervene?”
“The look on her face when you accused her of being in league with Miss Betsy. She was so furious I did not think she would listen to anything else you had to say.”
He drew out the room key. “I should tell you that the young lady may not believe she requires rescuing. Apparently she has been deceived by Sir Reginald Stanley. What I don’t understand is how he got anywhere near her.”
“Who is Sir Reginald? I’ve never heard of him.” Charlotte waited while Jeffers and another outrider removed Sam from in front of the stairs.
“Your brother would have put a bullet into him if he had come within a half mile of you or your sisters. A year or two ago, dear Sir Reggie tried to make off with an heiress who did not appreciate his efforts. Suffice it to say he is shunned. Not only that, but he’s been barred from his clubs for not paying his gambling debts.” Constantine held his arm out for her. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him around Town lately.”
“If he was able to deceive her, he must be very charming and handsome.”
“I suppose some women would think so.” He sounded disgusted. “He looks rather like Byron, but blond instead of dark.”
That was all that was needed. “Oh, dear. We may have a problem with her.” They climbed the stairs. “I suggest we not disagree with her about Sir Reggie. She may try to run away from us.”
“Her name is Miss Susan.” Constantine opened the door, standing back for Charlotte to enter the room.
A young lady whirled around from the window, a wide smile on her face. As soon as she saw them, the smile faded. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Her skin was clear for the most part, with only one spot on her wide forehead. Charlotte sucked in a breath. Miss Susan could be no more than sixteen at the most.
“Are you Miss Betsy?” she asked, remaining near the window.
“No. I am Lady Charlotte Carpenter.” Charlotte stepped into the room, a little at a loss as to how to explain that neither Miss Betsy nor Sir Reginald would be coming.
The girl brightened. “Oh, I dare say Sir Reginald asked you to come for me. I was a little surprised that he has not arrived.”
Constantine touched Charlotte’s elbow and left the room.
Charlotte drew her brows together slightly, trying to place the young lady’s tone. It was not quite as cultured as her sisters’ . . . Suddenly everything fell into place. Miss Susan’s family was not gentry, but most likely wealthy merchants of some sort. That would explain how Sir Reginald had managed to make her acquaintance, and the reason he wanted to do so. “Yes, that is it. Sir Reginald has some business to which he must attend. Miss Betsy had an unfortunate accident yesterday and is unable to come at all.” Charlotte studied the girl’s expression, hoping that she believed her story. At that age, the young woman was perfectly capable of making just the type of scene that would sink them all when they arrived at the Star and Garter. “We, my cousins and my betrothed, are visiting not far from here and have come to fetch you.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I must confess, my betrothed has a lamentable memory, and as Sir Reginald mostly referred to you as Miss Susan, I do not know your surname.”
“Merryville.” She smiled. “Miss Susan Merryville. My eldest sister is Miss Merryville.”
Charlotte would wager her high-perched phaeton that Miss Susan was not out yet and would not be for a few years yet. “It is very nice to meet you, Miss Susan Merryville.”
She curtseyed. “It is very nice to meet you as well, my lady. I suppose that when Sir Reginald and I are married I will meet many ladies.”
Charlotte doubted the girl was even old enough to wed in Scotland, and wondered what the rogue’s game was. But for the moment, that would have to wait. She must discover where the girl lived and decide upon the most expeditious way to take her home.
She smiled encouragingly at Miss Susan. “Tell me, how did you meet Sir Reginald? I have not seen him in Town of late.”
“Oh, we did not meet in Town, but in Bath, where my grandmother lives. I was visiting her and met Sir Reginald while I was running an errand for my grandmamma.”
Not only young, but confiding as well. “I am sure your grandmamma must have adored him, he is so handsome and charming.”
“She did at first.” Miss Susan took on a mulish look that reminded Charlotte strongly of her sister, Theo. “But she thinks he is too old for me.”
Charlotte tapped one gloved finger on her cheek. “I am not certain that I know how old he is, but surely not over two-and-thirty.”
“Nine-and-thirty.” Miss Susan’s voice was scarcely a whisper. “He thinks I am very mature for my age, and I dare say age does not matter when one is in love.”
“Oh, indeed. Love cures all sorts of difficulties.” If Sir Reginald was in love with this child, Charlotte would eat her bonnet. “But surely you did not come all the way from Bath?”
“Not at all.” Miss Susan giggled at the idea of being abducted from Bath. “I was at Gunter’s.”
“My love.” Constantine came up behind Charlotte. “We are ready to depart.”
“Thank you, my love.” She linked her arm with the girl. “I adore Gunter’s. Let us continue our conversation in the coach.”