JAMES LEAPT OUT of the hackney and looked at the building in front of him. He had to admit, it was an improvement over the last one. There weren't whores lined up outside, but he could see a few pickpockets hiding on the roofs of some of the other buildings. Upon entering the building, he was immediately greeted by Baldwin.

They shook hands, "I'm pleased to offer my offices for your discussion, Your Grace."

James merely dipped his head and followed as Baldwin led the way. They entered a sparsely decorated office, but it had a sturdy table and two rather comfortable—but worn looking chairs. "I can see that you've made use of the blunt I gave you."

Baldwin's skin pinked but he nodded, "I will be forever grateful for that."

James didn't say anything as he settled into one of the chairs, throwing up his right foot over his left knee.

"Would you like a drink Your Grace?"

James nodded and Baldwin passed him a glass of port. He took a sip, trying not to wince at the bitter taste. It was quite different from the rich brandy he preferred but it would do for now. After all, his muscles were sore from sitting on horseback the entire day. All he wanted to do was return to his townhouse, but business called.

"Has the Bow Street Runner arrived yet?"

"I don't believe so Your Grace."

James shook his head in annoyance.

Unbelievable.

It was the Bow Street Runner who had sent him a message to plan a meeting, yet the man hadn't shown up on time. Just as he finished the thought, there was a loud tap on the window. James stood up, pushing it open and stepped back. Gilford, the Bow Street Runner James hired swung his legs in. Baldwin looked shocked at the man's appearance, but James was not amused. "The front door is always open."

The runner, a man with thin build but height that almost equaled James smiled. "Ah, but I prefer not to alert every street rat about my presence."

James shrugged his shoulder, "I couldn't care less."

"Careful Your Grace, the streets can be unforgiving here."

"Let them try me then."

Baldwin coughed lightly to bring them back to the topic. "Shall we start discussing why we are here gentlemen?"

Gilford poured his own drink and said in wry amusement, "Only one of us is a gentleman here tonight."

James stared at the man. For such a puny frame, he did open his mouth more often than it was required. The only reason why James hired the man was based on the recommendation of other peers in the realm who had rendered his services in the past. 

They all settled down in their respective seats. James didn't waste anymore time as he turned towards Gilford, "What have you learned?"

Gilford took a sip of his drink before placing it down on the table. "Quite a bit but not too much."

"Do not speak in riddles," James warned, glancing at his pocket watch impatiently.

Gilford followed his movement, "Somewhere else to be?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I don't normally spend my time in London conversing in places such as this."

"No, I don't imagine you do," Gilford replied.

"Gilford, just spit out what you have learned and let His Grace leave," Baldwin cut in.

James glanced at the solicitor, almost in approval. He was surprised the man had opened his mouth. Baldwin seemed timid most of the time, but it seemed he might possess a backbone after all.

Gilford leaned into his chair, "About your fiancé, I haven't learned much. She disappeared a number of years ago and has not been seen since. I said in my missive that the previous Earl of Westmorland had not been planning a trip to America. However, after speaking to a few servants that were in his employee during that time, I contradict myself. It seems that the Earl spoke about visiting America, but he died before his plans could come to fruition.

The previous countess was American. I presume Westmoreland wanted his daughter to see her mother's side of the family. I asked them when they had last seen Lady Selina, but most of them could not remember. One previous maid did recall asking the Earl where the little lady was, and his reply was she was gone on an extended trip. No further information on who had taken her on the trip or where was given."

James took in the information. He had not known about the American connection. Was it possible that the earl had carefully planned for Lady Selina's trip to America without him? Was his fiancé in America then? Or had she perished at sea? It seemed rather odd that the Earl had sent his daughter away, days before he was murdered. 

Had the Earl been involved in unfit business and sent his daughter away as a precaution? He could have also dragged James' father into whatever business it was—after all it seemed like the two of them had been close friends. There were many possibilities but no clear answer. The lack of clear connection deeply frustrated James.

"As for the town you asked me to investigate, it was ransacked by hired mercenaries, that much is evident. A tenant in a nearby village says he saw a figure in his fields one early morning but when he came closer to investigate, there was nothing there. It is possible that figure was the governess whom we are looking for."

"I assume that you looked in the nearby towns?"

Gilford nodded, "We were too late, she might have been there but is long since gone. Or, it could have simply been a mistake by the tenant."

"How is this all connected?" Baldwin asked. "Is it not suspicious that the Earl died, and his daughter went missing as well?"

"It definitely is," Gilford answered. "The unfortunate truth is that children go missing quite often. The new Earl did hire people to investigate but they couldn't find any traces."

James didn't feel better after hearing Gilford's account. Gilford had been right. James' best bet was to visit the Home Office and see if the previous Earl and Duke were involved in some investigation. If such a connection existed, it could provide more answers.

James finished his drink in one long sip and placed the glass back down on the desk. He picked up his hat and stood.

"I have a few more ideas that I have to check myself but between then, I hope all these conversations will stay between us."

Baldwin and Gilford both nodded. Satisfied with their response, James placed his hands on his thighs and stood up. He could not wait to return to his home and rest. It had been quite the long day, and he wanted a warm meal and comfy bed—and maybe some rich brandy.

Exiting the building, he looked up to see the sky had transformed into a deep blue colour. The stars could not be seen in London—it was quite a shame. At Chalcott manor, he would occasionally look up to see the night sky and it was always littered with hundreds of glowing lights.

He began his trek towards the main road. It was a surprisingly empty street, no hackney in sight. James continued walking and then paused for a moment, he felt eyes on him. Glancing around quickly, he tried to make out any figures, but it the darkness, there wasn't much he could see. Something told him not to linger here for long. He bent down to his boot to retrieve the knife he kept there. It was better to be safe than roughed up in the London streets.

There was a rustle and James turned around, only to be blindsided with a punch to his ribs. He cried out in pain but gained his baring a moment later. Thrusting out a leg, he kicked his attacker, who cried in response. Gripping his knife in one hand, he reached out blindly, to grab whoever had attacked him.

"Let me'e go!"

James frowned; it was a young boy's voice. He didn't let the boy go, instead gripped the front of his shirt and lifted him into the air so he could get a better look. Dressed in tattered clothing, grime on his face and body, there was no doubt he had been on the streets for quite sometime.

"That was some punch lad."

"I'll do 'it again if you don't le me go." The street urchin threatened.

James raised his knife, so it was visible to the lad in the small sliver of moonlight. The boy paled. "If you attack me again, I won't hesitate to use it, do you understand me?"

The boy nodded, even as he spat on the ground, near James' boot.

"Now, why did you attack me?"

The street urchin shrugged. "You was wearing fanc'y clothing. That means you must have blunt."

James sighed and dug into his pocket to retrieve a few shillings. The boy's eyes went wide. James set him down and pressed the money into his dirty fingers. "Here, now don't go attacking any other gentlemen. They won't be as kind as I have been tonight. If you keep this up, it could land you in the gallows."

The boy looked at James and he saw the desperation and hardness in his eyes. "I 'aff no choice. I 'aff to take care of me sisters. This is the only way."

James sighed and looked up at the sky. What a heavy burden this young boy carried, so different from his own and at such a young age.

"What's your name lad?"

The boy looked at him suspiciously. "I ain't telling you nothing guv. You will probably send the Bow Street Runner's 'fter me."

James found himself smiling, despite the bizarre interaction. "Boy, the Bow Street Runners have better things to do than chase a petty thief. Besides, I believe you might be quite apt at evading them," he added dryly.

The boy nodded, puffing out his small chest, "I'm the best."

"Well then, tell me your name so when you arrive at the docks tomorrow morning, my man will know that I've sent you."

"And why would I go there?"

"To make an honest living," James replied. "I own a shipping company and they are always looking for honest boys to work for them. They will pay you and it is much better than stealing from gentlemen and ending up in the gallows."

The boy looked at him suspiciously, but then said his name, "name's Tom."

"Well Tom, when you arrive at the dock tomorrow morning, inform a man called Sive that The Duke of Lennox told them to hire you. He will let you know what kind of work is required, but I warn you, thievery is not tolerated there."

"I ain't gonna do that," Tom said seriously.

Surprisingly, James believed him. "I'll send a letter to have it all arranged in advance."

Tom nodded and with a quick, thank you sir, he disappeared back into the alleys. James caught a hackney at the next street and arrived at his London townhouse where is butler awaited him. He handed Preston his coat and hat, wincing at the slight pain in his ribs. It would most probably leave a bruise, one that would ale him for quite sometime.

"Have both Lady Vivienne and my aunt retired for the night?"

The butler nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. Lady Torrington took a tray in her room while Lady Vivienne dined alone."

James was reminded that he had planned to call a physician to look at Lady Torrington's health. He would send a missive first thing in the morning. He turned his attention to the butler at the last tidbit of information. "And did Lady Vivienne seem pleased with the arrangements?"

He knew how excited Vivienne had been about coming to London. He was a tad bit regretful that he had missed the undoubted joy upon her face when entering the house for the first time. He could almost imagine how her green eyes would have widened as they drank in the scene.

"She did Your Grace. But if I might add..."

James paused in the hallway, "You may."

"She seemed rather melancholy at dinner. I believe it is perhaps because she was dining alone and had thought otherwise."

James' gaze wandered over to the dining hall. He could imagine her sitting alone and testing the dishes prepared by his talented cook. An unexpected wash of regret for not joining her filled his body but he ignored it. He had his business, and she had her own. He couldn't be expected to be at his house all the time, for goodness sake. As a duke, he had other duties, and it would be well for her to remember that. 

-----------------

Hmm, we are learning a bit more about the mystery. I'd love to hear your theories! Thank you so much for the 5K reads on this story! I'm hoping that you guys are enjoying it so far :)