The Regency Season: Passionate Promises: The Duke's Daring Debutante / Return of the Prodigal Gilvry

He tossed the man a silver coin. ‘Mind the horses. There’s another for you when we return.’

The man’s eyes brightened. He touched his forelock and went to the horses’ heads.

‘Will they be safe?’ she asked.

‘It’s a little late to be thinking of that.’

* * *

Freddy guided Minette through the narrow entrance to the court, surreptitiously checking the small pistol he had tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. He also had a dagger in his boot. Barker, who had been instructed to follow them, would be somewhere nearby. He doubted all these precautions would be needed—it was, after all, broad daylight—but it didn’t pay to take chances. Not if he wanted to survive. The contrast between the wealth of Mayfair and the poverty of this area was a stark reminder of the desperation of some of London’s people. He placed his hand in the small of her back, ensuring that anyone watching would know he took her safety seriously.

A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Minette thought she was in control. In the not-too-distant future she was going to discover he had no intention of involving her in the capture of Moreau. If Gabe knew he’d gone this far, bringing her to such a dangerous part of town, he’d be stringing Freddy up by his thumbs. No, after today, she would discover herself on the sidelines. He would not let her put herself in danger.

A small, ragged boy sitting on a step in front of one of the tenements leapt to his feet the moment they set foot in the courtyard at the end of the alley. He approached warily.

‘You are here for Madame Vitesse?’ His English was carefully spoken. Not the accent of the local people, but that of a well-tutored boy.

‘We are,’ Minette replied.

‘Follow me, if you please.’ The boy led them into the building and up a set of rickety stairs to the third floor. On the landing he opened one of several doors. He reverted to his mother tongue as he spoke to the occupant. ‘Maman, they are here.’

A woman of about thirty with hard eyes and a careworn face appeared in the doorway. The look she gave Freddy reminded him of an animal preparing to defend its young, then she turned her attention to Minette. ‘You are Christine’s mistress?’

‘I am.’

‘This is your fiancé? The Duke?’

‘I am,’ Freddy said.

‘Come in. We will discuss the matter between us.’

They sat down on a pair of rickety wooden chairs, while their hostess took a stool. She glanced up at the boy. ‘See we are not disturbed.’

The boy closed the door, shutting himself outside.

‘Christine said you might be able to help us in our search for a certain man,’ Minette said.

‘For a price,’ the woman said.

‘How much?’ Freddy asked. ‘And how can we be sure you have the information we need?’

Minette glared at him. He ignored it. If she thought he was going to sit here like a bump on the proverbial log, she should have known better.

The woman rolled her shoulders. ‘You cannot be sure, but this man you seek is as much my enemy as he is yours. If not for him and his like, my husband would be alive and I would be living in Paris.’

‘We understand, madame,’ Minette said gently. ‘You have lost much. I would like to help you as well as find the man we seek. We will pay what is reasonable for the information.’

The woman’s expression contained resentment. ‘I am not asking for charity, mademoiselle. The chance to make a decent living, to bring up my son in a good home, not this...’ she shuddered, glancing around her ‘...this rat-infested room, surrounded by criminals who are allowed to wander the streets.’

Many of the criminals were debtors, allowed the freedom of Borough as long as they did not step outside set boundaries, but there were other sorts of criminals here, too, as there were in all the poorer neighbourhoods of London.

‘Name your price,’ Freddy said. ‘And we will see if the information you have is worth it.’

‘I personally do not have the information you seek,’ the woman said.

Freddy looked up at the ceiling, a plea for divine intervention. None came. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Freddy,’ Minette said in a warning. ‘Who does, madame?’

‘My brother. He hides where you will not find him until our demands are met.’

‘Your brother,’ Freddy said. ‘His name is Vitesse?’

‘No.’

Of course not. The woman was a widow, using her married name. To find her brother he’d need her maiden name. No doubt the Alien Office would have collected that when they had permitted her to take up residence in England.

Minette also looked unhappy with the woman’s reply. ‘You told Christine you had information about Moreau.’

The woman tensed. ‘Henri is afraid. He wants to help, but if this man finds out...’ She pressed her lips together. ‘He needs to know, if anything happens to him, that I will be cared for. It is his duty as the head of our household. It is a small thing to ask.’

‘What is it you want?’ Minette asked with a very practical tone to her voice.

‘Christine says you are to be married. To this Duke.’ She nodded at Freddy. ‘You will need a trousseau of the finest.’

Freddy frowned, but Minette was smiling. ‘You are a seamstress.’

The other woman nodded. ‘I do fine work. You will see.’ She raised her voice. ‘Lilly!’

A girl of around eight peered around the open door. ‘Oui, Maman?’

‘Bring them,’ the woman commanded.

The child disappeared and returned a moment later, struggling to carry in her arms what looked like three dolls. Madame Vitesse took them from the girl and stood them up on the table. ‘This is my work.’

Dolls?

‘Oh,’ Minette breathed, fingering the fabric of the doll’s gown. ‘This is beautiful. I have seen nothing like it in London. Look, Freddy, isn’t it exquisite?’

Really? He narrowed his eyes at the doll. The dress was some fancy silky stuff, and it revealed quite a bit of the doll’s shape above the neckline. Revelation came like a flash. He’d seen something like it in his mother’s drawing room as a boy. ‘They are dressmaker’s dolls.’

Both women looked at him as if he was a dolt.

‘You see, mademoiselle,’ the woman said, ‘I was just beginning my business in Paris. I had left my old mistress to start on my own. I had one very important client, a woman at Court. She would have made my name but—’ She made a chopping motion with her hand. ‘There was nothing. No work. No food. Everything we had we left behind.’ Tears welled in her brown eyes. ‘Family. Money. Everything. Henri was positive we could start again. But for that I need a patron. I have no contacts here in England. No money for a shop. For fabric.’

‘So if we give you money to open a shop, you will tell us what we want to know.’

The woman’s face hardened. She shook her head. ‘That is only part of it. You will wear the gowns. Go to parties. Talk of my work. Then I will give you the information you seek.’