Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords 3)

Mr Cassiel had said things no loving daughter wanted to hear.

Mr Cassiel had said that her parents were murdered.

Chapter Nine

A deep sense of foreboding left a hollow space in Valentine’s chest. Hours had passed since he parted ways with Miss Kendall, but he could still picture the harried look in her eyes when she spoke of her brother’s debts.

Rogues who ran organised dog-baiting events were the sort who made an example of weak-minded fools. A lost finger. A broken kneecap. A healthy tooth extracted merely to make a point. Jonathan Kendall deserved his fate. His sister deserved an end to her troubles.

A knock on the study door drew Valentine from his musings.

Hastings entered. “There’s a ragamuffin at the servant’s door demanding to see you, my lord. Apparently, it concerns a job in Park Street which you hired him to oversee earlier today.”

“Damnation.” Valentine jumped out of his seat behind the desk. He had paid the boy to watch Miss Kendall’s house and to report any suspicious activity. “Show him in.”

Hastings frowned. “Into the kitchen?”

“Into the study. And have Sprocket prepare my carriage.” Valentine would be ready regardless what news the boy had to depart. “And hurry.”

With a skip in his step, the butler hastened from the room.

Valentine paced the floor while he waited, his mind plagued by a host of hideous scenarios. His heart pounded against his ribs. Had Jonathan Kendall’s failure to pay brought the Maguires knocking on his sister’s door?

Hastings returned with the boy.

“There’s no need to hold me arm. I ain’t gonna steal nuffin’.” He shirked out of Hastings’ grip and came to stand before Valentine. “Evenin’, governor.” The boy doffed his dirty cap to reveal a mop of unkempt black hair.

“Good evening,” Valentine said, ignoring the vile stench of the streets that clung to the boy’s clothes. “You have news regarding the house in Park Street?”

“Aye, but I swear you ain’t gonna believe a word. I promise I’ll let the crows eat me eyes if I’m tellin’ a lie.”

Valentine inhaled a sharp breath. Nothing surprised him when it came to Aveline Kendall. “Is the lady unharmed? Is her house secure?”

“Aye. No one’s visited the whole time I was there.”

Relief settled in Valentine’s chest, though it only eased his fears temporarily. Something was amiss else the boy would not be here. “You’re going to tell me the lady has left the house, a

ren’t you?”

The boy nodded. “She left wearin’ gentlemen’s clothes.”

Bloody hell!

Panic charged through Valentine’s body like a mad bull at the fair. “Was she alone?”

“She was with an old man dressed all fancy like. I swear on me mother’s grave the man’s her butler.”

Valentine exhaled pent-up stress. At least Miss Kendall had the sense not to go out alone. “Did you follow her? Do you know where she went?”

“She gave me a half crown and patted me head,” the boy said, “and told me to wish her luck before climbin’ into a hackney. I ran as far as Green Park but couldn’t go no more.” The boy looked at his feet and wiggled filthy toes visible through holes in shoes that looked two sizes too small. “But I heard her tell the driver to head to Westminster. Orchard Street.”

“Westminster?” What business had she there? Valentine glanced at the mantel clock. “What time was this?”

The boy shrugged. “I came straight here. But there’s a fight on tonight at the Pit ’tween Samson and Raja. They reckon every swell in London will cram into the stalls.”

Every swell looking to fritter away their legacy.

Valentine turned his attention to Hastings. “Take the boy to the kitchen and feed him. If he so wishes, he may have a bed in the coach house for the time being. And send a footman out first thing in the morning to purchase new shoes.” Valentine retrieved a handful of sovereigns from his desk and thrust them into the boy’s grubby hand. “I’ll have another job for you tomorrow so get a good night’s sleep.”