Seven

W ill froze in place as Phoebe marched across the street with the kind of determination decorated generals spent a lifetime honing.

Who was this woman?

In so many ways, she was little more than a stranger to him, yet she remained hauntingly, relentlessly familiar. Though he knew next to nothing about how she spent her days or the path that had led her to this broken-down corner of London, there were still flashes of the impetuous girl she had been—not to mention the beguiling young woman he had been a bit of a fool for that fateful summer. Will had known her once, and he couldn’t ignore the growing need to know her now. To understand the person she had become during their time apart.

She had nearly reached those derelict front steps before he remembered to move. He hurried over with a speed he usually reserved for the ring of his boxing club. There was no need for a duke to hurry when everything was brought to him. But just as Phoebe lifted her skirts to take that first step, Will was beside her, offering his hand.

“Allow me,” he said as he braced one foot on the step. As she turned to him, he saw the hesitation in her gaze until her gloved hand slid against his waiting palm. Will’s fingers closed over hers and something like an electric shock jolted down his arm. If Phoebe felt it, she gave no indication.

She had not wanted his help, but Will would do his best to convince her he could be of some use. Together they gingerly ascended the steps and entered the building, where they were greeted by the choking scent of mildew and decay. The only source of light in the cramped entryway was whatever could filter in from a cracked window above the front door. Will squinted at the staircase before them. It looked even more hazardous than the one outside. There were broken planks and holes in nearly every step.

Will turned to Phoebe. “You came here alone ?” He couldn’t help his scandalized tone. It was scandalous.

She didn’t bother to respond and instead moved toward the stairs. “Her flat is on the third floor.”

Will followed closely behind, prepared to catch her the minute she took a wrong step, but Phoebe moved with a careful confidence that could only come with experience.

“Sunday wasn’t your first visit to this place.”

“Especially after Alice’s mother took ill,” Phoebe replied without looking back at him.

“That’s how the maintenance man knew you,” Will added. “And what you were doing here.”

To this she merely nodded. They continued on in silence, though they were surrounded by noise. The walls must be paper thin, as the din of conversations, the rattle of cookware, and the cries of a child filled the dank air. Will scrunched his nose against a particularly pungent aroma he couldn’t begin to place as they passed the second floor.

“Do you know where he is now?”

Since the man clearly wasn’t busy doing his job.

“His room is in the basement, but he drinks,” Phoebe explained. “I’m hoping he’s in a stupor. I… I wasn’t so lucky last time.”

Will was shocked that she spoke of such degeneracy so casually, and then annoyed with himself for being naive.

“Go on, then.” She glanced back to give him a wry smile. “Tell me how much you disapprove.”

Will rolled his shoulders. Like hell he would. “You’re a grown woman,” he said. “You can do as you like.”

“Yes.” Her smile turned into a grin as she turned away. “My thoughts exactly.”

Just as they reached the third-floor landing, an old man entered the hallway. Phoebe leaned closer to Will and the softest hint of her fresh scent kissed his nose.

“That’s Alice’s neighbor,” she whispered. “He wasn’t home on Sunday.”

Phoebe shifted away to approach the man, but Will caught her shoulder.

“Let me. He may be more willing to talk to a man.”

Phoebe looked primed to argue, then relented. “You’re probably right.”

Will’s mouth curved. “Can I get that engraved? Preferably on something small like a pen, so I can carry it around.”

She let out a dramatic sigh and tried not to smile. “Just hurry up.”

He nodded. “Pardon me,” Will called out as he stepped forward and the older man slowly lifted his head. His narrow shoulders were heavily stooped and his stiff movements betrayed the frailty of age, but he met Will’s gaze with a fierce directness that took him by surprise. “What’d you want?”

“I’m looking for your neighbor, Miss Alice Clarke.” Will smiled broadly but the man’s scowl only deepened.

“Why?”

Phoebe ducked around him and held out her hand. “I’m her teacher, Miss Atkinson.”

The older man eyed her hand for a moment before taking it. “Cartwright,” he replied.

“Mr. Cartwright,” Phoebe said with a smile. “A pleasure.”

The man seemed far more charmed by her than Will and his scowl nearly disappeared. “You work at that school for the young chits?”

Phoebe nodded graciously at the coarse description and Will felt a pang of jealousy. She had shown this man more cordiality in the last minute than she had toward him, well, ever. “Alice has been missing these last two weeks and I’m worried about her.”

Cartwright grunted in reply. “Just as well. Girls like her don’t need to be taught reading and the like. Gives them too many ideas.”

“On that I’m afraid we must disagree,” she said tactfully. “But I’d be so grateful if you could share the last time you saw her.”

The man grunted again. “Hard to say. She mostly kept to herself. Her and her ma. A good woman. God rest her soul.”

“Anything would be helpful,” Phoebe stressed.

Will was certain he would give them the brush-off but then Cartwright tilted his head in thought. “I haven’t seen Alice in a long while. But I did see another chit leaving her flat not long ago.”

Will glanced at Phoebe, who shot him a puzzled frown.

“Could you describe her?”

The scowl returned as Cartwright addressed Will. “She looked fast . The sort that has no business coming up here. This is a respectable place, and she’s naught but trouble.”

“Then you know her.”

Cartwright hesitated. “She hangs about at the music hall round the corner. Goes by Maude, I think. Only a certain type is seen there. Not ladies,” he added with a nod to Phoebe.

Will gave him a skeptical look. Cartwright seemed to know a fair amount about a woman he claimed to disapprove of, but Will resisted the urge to challenge his assertion.

Phoebe still managed that congenial smile even in the face of the man’s hypocrisy. “Can you tell me when you last saw her, then?”

“More than a week gone now,” he said with a shrug.

She met Will’s eyes. That was around the time Alice disappeared. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Cartwright,” Phoebe said. “I appreciate it.”

“And we would appreciate it even more if you didn’t mention this conversation to anyone.” Will pulled out a banknote.

Cartwright took the money while grumbling something about “useless toffs” before he shuffled down the hall.

Once he was out of earshot, Will turned to Phoebe. “Charming man. Shall we explore the flat?”

She balked. “You mean to break in?”

“I mean to try. No promises though. I haven’t needed to pick a lock in nearly two decades. I had a penchant for roly-poly pudding as a boy and our poor cook couldn’t keep up with my stomach,” he said, smiling at the welcome memory. “She had to start locking the larder so I wouldn’t go looking for a jar of her raspberry preserves. Desperate times and all that.”

Phoebe let out a laugh and gestured to the door. “Well, let’s see if you’ve retained the skill.”

But when Will reached out to inspect the doorknob, he found it unlocked. They exchanged a glance. Will pressed his ear to the door, but no sounds came from the other side.

“It’s empty.” He turned the knob and the door opened easily. Phoebe grabbed his arm just as he was about to enter.

“Careful,” she whispered, her hazel eyes wide with apprehension.

“It’s all right.” He patted her hand, then simply rested his palm on top for as long as he dared. It felt remarkably good. Together they entered the tiny room, which was just as dank and dim as the rest of the building. Phoebe immediately headed for the lone window and pulled back the threadbare curtain. The neighboring building blocked most of the direct sunlight, but they could now see a space that, while small, was quite clean. A cot took up one wall, while a table with two mismatched chairs took up the other. Phoebe moved around the cramped space, pulling back the patched bedspread and looking under the sparse furniture. Her worried frown deepened the more she took in.

“There’s nothing here,” she finally said. “Her clothes, her things, it’s all gone.”

“She must have left.” It was the only reasonable explanation.

Phoebe sat down hard on the cot. She looked defeated. “Then I failed her.”

His chest tightened. It wasn’t right seeing her without that confounding sense of determination. Like a crow that couldn’t fly or a lion tamer without a whip. Will shook his head. Those were terrible analogies, but the point remained: Phoebe couldn’t blame herself.

“Come,” he prompted. “We’re going to find that blasted maintenance man.”

Phoebe looked up. “What for?”

“I’ve a few questions to ask him.”

“He won’t cooperate.”

“Perhaps not, but we’re going to ask anyway.”

Phoebe stared at his offered hand for a moment before taking it. “So sayeth the duke,” she replied as he pulled her to her feet. A faint spark had returned to those hazel eyes and Will relaxed. All was right with the world again. At least for now.