Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (147 page)

Scott

'Well, if you thought it would help,' Paine drawled, sending the last of his quick missives.

Men!' Julia stamped her foot in irritation.

No, that wasn't nearly strong enough for what she was feeling. How could he be so calm when Oswalt could be out in the streets

for them already? Men had

no sense of righteous, warranted, fear.

Paine came around from his desk. 'I am sorry, Julia.

I shouldn't have joked. It was poorly done of me.' He drew her into his embrace. 'Go to the The

coachman is hitching up my travelling team. You can get in and arrange the luggage.' Paine kissed the top her head. 'I'll be there in a minute.'

Julia nodded, offering Paine a tremulous smile. He was doing his best to be strong. She should do the same.

But she knew Paine was worried too. She'd felt the hard steel of a pistol at his waist when he'd held her. She didn't have to be told that it would be a mad dash to the Cotswolds and a dangerous one at that. It was at least two hours until dawn. Thank goodness for the full moon. It would be the only thing keeping them on the road instead of in a ditch. But, Julia rationalised, any head start would be valuable.

Sam Brown gave his boss the news over breakfast in the 'white room' of Oswalt's London town house. In the five years he'd served in Oswalt's employ, he'd never come to the house or any of the man's residences. All their business was done in the dock offices. He wished they were there now. He much preferred the plain plank

124

Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady

floors and the inevitable dirt to the starkness of this room. The room made him overly conscious about the city mud on his boots.

The use of so much white was an odd choice for in a city well known for its abundance of soot. But he'd heard talk among the other men about Oswalt's unusual penchant for purity. This was the first time he'd seen actual evidence of it.

He stood at attention, making his report and trying not to worry about what was on the bottom of his boots while Oswalt cut into the thick sirloin with relish. 'The club she was last seen at is owned by a cove named Paine

I saw him last night. He's a right handsome ladies' man. I wouldn't be surprised if-

'What did you say?' Oswalt's fork stopped halfway to his mouth, his eyes going hard.

'I said the girl was spotted at a club operated by a Paine Ramsden,' Sam repeated hesitantly, shocked by the vehemence of Oswalt's response. He had not thought his boss would take the news so poorly. All the others had reported nothing. He had a lead to offer. To his way of thinking, the boss should have been jubilant to have some news at last, a place to begin the search and a name to go with it.

Oswalt's fork clattered on to the white china plate, the sirloin forgotten. 'She's with

he growled.

'I don't know that, sir. My informant said only that he saw her the night in question.'

'Who's the informant? Anyone we know?'

'None of the usual.' Sam Brown knew the boss was

Scott

referring to the regular snitches they bought information from when the need arose. 'This was a blue-blooded buck who'd lost his father's allowance. He was scared and ready to talk. I found out his name is He saw her go into the back room with and she didn't come out. But that doesn't mean she's still with him.'

Oswalt brought his fist down on the white tablecloth.

'Of course she's with him, you dolt. Where else could she be? She went into his office and didn't return. No one else has reported a sighting. He's probably spirited her away somewhere.'

'It's just that he was with a different woman last night at the club and no one has seen the girl since,' Sam Brown said nervously, twisting his cap in his hand. He seldom had to argue with his boss to make a point. But he'd yet to see his boss so upset over an individual that logic risked being overlooked.

'Who? Who was he with last night?' Oswalt shouted, his eyes glinting.

'An actress, Eva St George.' Sam Brown was doubly grateful he'd been astute enough to pick up that information last night.

'She had black hair and didn't match the description of your girl. She was definitely not a debutante. Her gown was cut low, she wore cosmetics and she and were quite affectionate in public.' He shifted his feet, awkwardly remembering the very passionate, very public

had given the woman and

how the woman had responded whole-heartedly, clearly