March 1825
Two months, and Mallory has visited Harrington on several occasions. Not once, however, have I observed Mallory visit Jenkins again. In the meantime, I began investigating Harrington. Thus far, the information is much like that of so many in the House of Lords, mainly, the taking of bribes for judgments in the favor of the party offering the bribe.
September 1825
When two months passed and all remained quiet with Mallory, I decided to focus on Jenkins. Another month passed and Jenkins didn't appear, so I took a look inside his home. It appeared he hadn't been there for some time; therefore, for the next three months I split my time between Jenkins, Harrington, and Mallory. At the end of the third month, Jenkins returned home. On the night he returned, I arrived to his street with the intention of stationing myself in the alleyway across the street, but I observed another man watching Jenkins’ establishment from that spot. I continued around the block to the rear of the alley and watched from there.
At four a.m., Jenkins returned home and the waiting man closed in on him and stepped inside the doorway just as Jenkins shut the door. I hastened to the window I had previously used to gain entrance into his home. As before, the window was not locked. I—
A knock caused Phoebe to jerk her head up as the door opened and Molly stepped in.
“Miss Wallington,” she said, “Lord Redgrave is here to see you. Gaylon informed His Lordship you weren't accepting callers, but he insisted you would see him.” Molly gave a derisive snort. “It’s almost as if he knew exactly when you returned.”
Damn him, Phoebe silently cursed. That is precisely the case.
Molly reached for the towel Phoebe had discarded on the bed. “You’ve scarcely finished your bath, and not even a morsel of food for your stomach, and already folks are demanding to be entertained.”
Phoebe folded the papers, then gathered the envelopes laying beside her. She picked up their envelope and slid the papers inside.
“Tell His Lordship I will be down directly,” she said.
Molly scrutinized her. “You’ll need help dressing. I’ll tell Gaylon you’ll be down, then come back and help you.” She started for the door, but paused beside the bed and lifted a lock of Phoebe’s hair. She tsked. “You’ve let your hair dry all helter-skelter. It'll need combing, then we’ll put it up.”
Phoebe raised a brow. “You have no compunctions about Lord Redgrave waiting to see me?”
The maid’s face remained composed, but the flicker in her eyes gave her away. “You can't entertain a gentleman looking anything but a lady.”
CHAPTER TEN
Half an hour later, Phoebe opened the parlor door. She looked into Lord Alistair Redgrave’s brown eyes as he rose from the settee at the window.
She closed the door behind her. “Lord Redgrave.”
“Phoebe.” He smiled and started toward her.
Phoebe warmed to this man who had been her father's friend, then her friend and mentor after her father disappeared. As a young girl, she had fancied herself in love with Alistair. It wasn't uncommon for women to marry men twenty years their senior, and Phoebe had fantasized about their life together. In some small way, she had—did—love him. The impulse to confess Stafford’s letters surfaced. Steady, she told herself. Finish reading them before sharing secrets. That was a precept Alistair himself had taught her.
“Alistair.”
He clasped her hands in his. “Phoebe.” He kissed her cheek, then held her arms out to her side and surveyed her. “You look well.”
“Do I?”
“Indeed.” He released her. “It's been too long since I’ve seen you. How have you been?”
Phoebe scowled. “You know very well how I've been. You received my letter?”
“I did, so you need not worry. The duchess is safe. There have been no attempts on her life. Come, tell me everything that happened.”
“Must I?”
"You have never before hesitated to give a report," he said.
The report had never been so…personal, she thought, but said, "It has been a long journey, my lord."
A speculative glint appeared in his eyes, but he said nothing more until they sat in the two chairs placed before the fire. “I am curious as to exactly what happened.”
“Curious? I had hoped for concern.”
A hint of amusement lit his eyes. “I admit to a moment of uncertainty.”
Phoebe raised a brow. “How is that, sir? I have never known you to be uncertain of anything.”
“It was the two days between your disappearance and my discovery of your whereabouts that befuddled me.”
“My God,” Phoebe cried. “I was still at the Green Lady Inn at that time. Why didn’t you free me then? It would have been an easy piece of work.”
He lifted a brow. “What happened, Phoebe? What prompted the marquess to kidnap you?”
“He mistook me for someone else.”
“Miss Ballingham?”
“Yes. I borrowed her carriage.”