“I had to do something with my time while you were out hearing Tate’s confession.” Caro waved a gloved hand in emphasis. “Though there was some truly excellent pastry. If ever you have the chance to poach the man’s cook, you should take it.”
Val sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Caro’s annoyance at his absence had been mollified by the presence of sweets.
“Are we to call upon the Duke of Langham now?” she asked. “I must confess to some curiosity about the man. His reputation for wildness is rather legendary, isn’t it? And he’s rumored to be handsome as sin, though I’ve never laid eyes upon him.”
Val bit back a sigh. Of course Caro would be curious about Langham, but he’d hoped to speak with him alone. Especially given that the man had lied to him. The conversation would not be an easy one, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted when he made his accusation. Much as he enjoyed Caro’s company, he was coming to realize how difficult a time he had concentrating when she was around. “I’ll speak to him later this afternoon. I know where he’ll be.”
“Well, that’s hardly fair,” Caro complained. “We’re supposed to be working together.”
“We are,” he agreed. “However, I suspect that like Tate, Langham will be more comfortable speaking about his interactions with Miss Warrington when you aren’t present.”
“Are men really so shy about discussing their romantic attachments?” Caro asked. Absurdly, he wanted to kiss her at the way she tilted her head. If she only knew how loath most men were to talk about such matters—him included—she’d lose what little respect she had for his sex. “Besides, Effie is betrothed to Mr. Thorn. There is probably a very innocent explanation for Langham having left her house at such an early hour. If Tate is to be believed at all. I would not be surprised if he invented the story about him in order to cast suspicion away from himself.”
Val suspected Tate might have lied as well, but suspicion didn’t equal proof. And the earl was not the only one to have pointed to Langham as a man invested in Miss Warrington. “Even so, I think it best if you do not come with me to see him.”
Caro made a rude noise. “If it were up to men, ladies would never be present for any interesting conversations.”
“I promise,” he said emphatically, “that when possible, I will make sure you are there for as many fascinating discussions as I can find.” She might think him determined to shield her from those matters society deemed improper for ladies, but he agreed with her that much of the restrictions were insulting to the female intelligence. He’d just have to prove to her through his actions that in this, as in so many other instances, their opinions matched.
“I only ask that you tell me the truth instead of shielding me from it in some misguided notion of chivalry,” she said pointedly. “And in that spirit, where will the Duke of Langham be this afternoon and please take me with you.”
“You are relentless, aren’t you?” Val couldn’t help laughing at her tenacity, despite his fear that she was wearing down his resistance.
“Nothing was ever gained by giving in.” Caro shrugged. Then, looking around them, she asked, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way back to Belgrave Square.”
“Half Moon Street.” Val was pleased to see her expression brighten. “I thought we might ask Mrs. Spencer if she knows why Langham was at Miss Warrington’s house. And since we’ve both been away from our homes for some time, perhaps she’s received word of Miss Warrington.”
Caro nodded with approval. “I hope with all my being that you are right and Effie has turned up unharmed. I have to keep reminding myself it hasn’t even been a full day.” She had gripped her hands together tightly in her lap. “But, Val, the more we hear about these men who were preying upon her—for really, there’s no other word for it—the more I fear for her safety.”
Val reached over and laid his fingers over hers, holding the reins in his left hand. “We’ll find her. There are too many of us determined to do so. And I know Frank won’t rest until she’s been brought home safe.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He wasn’t used to Caro sounding so dejected. Despite her interest in crime and darkness, she was a remarkably optimistic person. He feared how devastated she would be if the worst happened and they didn’t find Miss Warrington—or worse, if they only found her body.
Because he knew the revelation would cheer her up, he said against his better judgment, “Langham will be at a boxing match at Jim Hyde’s club this afternoon. It’s not usually the done thing, but since we are betrothed, I don’t suppose it would be too scandalous for you to attend with me.”
“Is that all?” Caro demanded. “I thought at the very least it must be a bacchanalian orgy the way you were carrying on.”
Val tried and failed to suppress the images his mind conjured at her words. Caro at an orgy would be a sight to behold.
“If you do not wish to attend—”
“Hush,” Caro interrupted as the carriage came to a stop. “I didn’t say that. I would be happy to watch sweaty gentlemen pummeling one another with you.”
“Hence my reluctance to discuss the matter,” Val said tartly.
Handing the reins to a waiting groom, he leapt down from the cabriolet and took Caro by the waist, deliberately letting their bodies slide against one another before he set her on her feet.
A little breathless, she asked, “Are you jealous?”
“Of course not,” he lied. He tucked her arm into his and drew her up the steps to Miss Warrington’s townhouse. He hadn’t found his way back to her only to have Langham come along and steal her away. He knew it was an absurd notion, especially given that Caro was nothing if not loyal, but the thought of Caro with someone else was one he wasn’t entirely convinced he’d recover from.
Soon they were being welcomed into Miss Warrington’s house and ushered into an entirely different parlor from the one they’d been in yesterday.
Mrs. Spencer rushed toward them as soon as the door shut. “Please tell me you’ve had news,” she said, accepting a hug from Caro. “I’ve barely been able to sit still imagining what my poor Miss Effie must be going through.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have any new information on her whereabouts, Mrs. Spencer,” Val said. “Not since her carriage was found yesterday.”
Her face, drawn with signs of a sleepless night, fell.
Caro exchanged a look with Val, then ushered the companion over to the sofa. “When was the last time you ate, ma’am?”
The older woman raised a hand to her brow. “I’m not sure. I had some tea this morning, I think.”
“That’s not food, Mrs. Spencer,” Caro chided. “Effie would be heartbroken if she knew you were sacrificing your health while she was away.”
Away was certainly one way to describe Miss Warrington’s absence, Val thought grimly.
Before Caro could make the request, he’d pulled the bell and asked the butler to bring up a tray.
Once the food arrived, Caro saw to it that the older woman ate a sandwich and a few biscuits, washed down with a cup of liberally sweetened tea.