Regency Romance: A Race Against The Lord (A Historical Romance Book) (COMPLETED)

09

Lydia jumped when the driver thumped on the carriage roof.

"This is the address you indicated, miss."

"Thank you," she said as he opened the door to let her out. "Will you stay while I conduct my business?"

The hired carriage driver snorted at her.

"Sorry, miss. If I stand too still, they're going to have me dragged off to the gaol as a beggar, here."

She looked around in surprise and realized he was right. The girl who dressed Lydia in the morning had procured a cab that was discreet and within reach of Lydia's meager savings. In this surprisingly wealthy neighborhood, the carriage, with its poorly painted sides and lathe-thin horses, looked dramatically out of place.

"I suppose I see your point," she said reluctantly, remembering her own run-in with the constables just the night before. "But will you return for me in, say, an hour's time?"

"I will do my best, miss, but if there are other fares to be taken, I got to take them, you see?"

"I do. Thank you for your help."

The neighborhood, as she looked closer, was well-kept, but it was livelier than she would have believed it should be for past the dinner hour. Even as she watched, two very well-dressed young women strolled down the street arm in arm, while a coach with silver chasings stopped to let an ethereally gorgeous woman disembark.

Lydia checked the address in her hand, made sure she was at the right place, and took a deep breath. She wouldn't be accused of skulking around the place this time. She would simply walk up and ring the bell.

When she did so, she could hear a sweetly musical chime ring behind the door, and then it opened to reveal a scowling butler.

"You're not meant to be at the front," he snapped. "Run around back, and Alyse will let you in."

He slammed the door in her face, leaving Lydia more than a little affronted. What kind of place was this that her brother had frequented? It must have been one of those gentlemen-only clubs that Nicholas had mentioned, and she hurried around the back.

This time, her knock was answered by a rather motherly-looking woman with an odd sadness to her, who nodded and brought her in at once.

"Excuse me, but I just have a few questions."

"I know you do, dear, but I'm not the one to be answering them. Unless you are here to cook and clean, I suppose?"

"No!" said Lydia in surprise.

"No, I imagine not, dressed up so neatly as you are. Well, come along. Madame Zephyr will answer all of your questions."

Lydia knew that she should stop the proceedings right then and there, but the idea of being taken to a woman who might give her answers about her brother's last days was too enticing. She allowed herself to be led along a set of twisting hallways and then after a quick rap to a door, allowed into a small room.

The room startled her; every surface was lined with ledgers, and the room smelled strongly of smoke. The cause was obvious; the older woman behind the desk had a cigarillo clenched between her teeth, and she eyed Lydia up and down as Alyse left quietly.

"Well, you're pretty enough, I suppose, and the dress is good. Do you have any others like it?"

Lydia blinked. Did the woman think she was some kind of odd salesgirl?

"No, I do not. Please, Madame, I am here to speak of—"

"Shush now. Don't talk while I am, I cannot bear it."