Unlacing Lilly. Gail Ranstrom

assist women who wish to leave a dissolute life.”

      Albright coughed and glanced up from his writing. “Surely I did not hear you correctly.”

      “Surely you did.”

      “But you…”

      He raised an eyebrow, daring Albright to continue. After escaping the orphanage when he was eleven, he’d done many things to build his fortune, most of them illegal, some of them immoral, but he’d never made money off women’s backs. That one sin, at least, was foreign to him.

      Albright wisely bent his head to his notes again. When he was finished writing, Devlin continued.

      “Open a separate account at my bank for a thousand pounds under the name of Mr. Carson. I shall be making withdrawals over the next few weeks and I do not want them traced. During that time, you will not be able to reach me. If you need clarification or direction, meet with Haddon.”

      “He will know how to reach you?”

      “Aye, and he’ll be the only one.”

      “And meantime?”

      Devlin stood and went to the door. “Meantime, I have long-overdue business to take care of.”

      “Farrell! Here you are. I’d have come sooner, but I was tying up some loose ends on a case.”

      Devlin heaved a deep sigh and looked to the side to find that Jack Higgins had occupied a chair at the table next to his. He’d sent word this morning before his solicitor arrived that he wanted to see the investigator this evening. “About time, Jack.”

      Jack signaled the barkeeper to bring a tankard before he spoke again, scanning the barroom as if looking for trouble. “And as it happens, if you are about to offer me work, I have just had an opening.”

      Jack had been one of the best of the Bow Street Runners, knew the rules of the Home Office and knew how to break them. Too bad he hadn’t known how to avoid getting caught breaking them. Thus, Jack Higgins was no longer employed by the Home Office—he was a disgraced police investigator who now hired out to any man with the price. Men like Devlin.

      He stood and tilted his head toward the back passageway. After he unlocked his office door, he left it ajar for Jack. He sat at his desk, took two glasses and a bottle of port from the cabinet behind him, poured a measure in each glass, then sat back to wait.

      A few minutes later, Jack slipped through the office door and closed it behind him. “So, what do you need, Farrell? I know you didn’t ask me here just to pass the time of day.”

      Devlin shrugged, hoping the gesture would belie the importance of the errand. “I need you to do a little snooping for me.”

      Jack’s right eyebrow went up. “This is interesting. I thought you knew everything that went on in the rookeries. Why do you need me?”

      “Because this has nothing to do with the rookeries. It has to do with the ton.”

      “You could still find out whatever you wanted. Put one of your snitches on the case.”

      “I need finesse, Jack. I can’t have a heavy-handed gutter rat making a muddle of this. Or even getting himself noticed, for that matter.”

      “Ah, finesse. Discretion.” Jack grinned. “This has to do with a woman, does it not?”

      Devlin nodded and endured Jack’s inevitable chortling.

      “At last,” Jack said when he’d controlled his laughter. “Pierced by Cupid’s arrow. Oh, this will be the talk of the town. Well, certain parts of it, at least.”

      “Cupid has nothing to do with this.”

      “Do tell?”

      “I am offering you a job. I need to find someone.”

      “Then give me the particulars of the search.”

      “The family name is O’Rourke. They are from Belfast. A mother and her daughters. I believe they have been in town since May. Their lodgings will be a good address, but not extravagant. They are gentry, not nobility.”

      “Hmm. Not much to go on. When do you need the information?”

      “Tomorrow night.”

      Jack laughed.

      “Tomorrow night,” he repeated. “Twenty-four hours. And I have one other piece of information that should help you.”

      Sitting forward in his chair, Jack nodded. “Spill it, then.”

      “One of the daughters is betrothed to the Marquis of Olney.”

      The smile faded from Jack’s face. “Rutherford’s heir? Tell me you are not dallying with the fiancée.”

      “I am not dallying,” Devlin confirmed, wondering if Jack would see through the subtlety.

      “Rutherford. This puts a different light on the matter. He’s a nasty one. I wouldn’t put much past him. And if his cub follows in his footsteps, I’d watch Olney, too.”

      “Scared?” Devlin asked.

      The pause was just long enough to confirm the charge. “Why do you need the information so soon?”

      “Because the wedding is set for day after tomorrow.”

      “Do you think you’re going to rescue the girl?”

      Rescue? It hadn’t even occurred to him to use such a label, but he supposed his plan could have that effect. “This actually has very little, if anything, to do with the O’Rourkes.”

      “Then—”

      “A means to an end, Jack. And that’s all you need to know.” He removed a small stack of banknotes from his drawer and laid it on the desk. “Will you do it?”

      He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight with what I’ve uncovered.”

      Lilly stood at the French windows looking out on Rutherford’s back gardens, remembering her odd conversation there with Mr. Devlin. A shiver passed through her, and she had a sudden fear that she would never marry Lord Olney. That something would happen to tear them apart. What silliness. All Mr. Devlin had done was tease about improving her fortunes and wanting to marry a duke. He’d certainly meant nothing sinister.

      What an odd man Mr. Devlin was, a quixotic mix of brash impudence and unexpected chivalry. And certainly more complex than any of the men she’d met in London so far. Of course, she hadn’t met many. She’d only mixed in small groups for the past six weeks since her family had been in half-mourning.

      And tomorrow would mark three months since her oldest sister’s death, and official mourning would end. Her wedding was scheduled for the day after—the soonest Mama and Lady Vandecamp would hear of allowing the ceremony. And not a moment too soon! As the day approached, Lilly grew more and more anxious to have it done with. She grew increasingly worried that something would happen to ruin her dream.

      “So pensive, Miss Lillian?”

      Olney had come to stand behind her and his breath was hot on her neck. A little frisson of excitement passed through her with the sudden realization that her wedding night loomed ahead. “Just thinking,” she answered.

      “About the wedding?”

      She nodded, unwilling to turn and face him when she was certain she must be blushing. “Actually about Mr. Devlin.”

      “Who?”

      “Your friend. The one I met in the garden the night you proposed.”

      She noted Olney’s frown in his reflection in the window. “I do not believe I know a Mr. Devlin. Did you tell me about him?”

      “You returned with your father’s answer and I forgot all about meeting anyone.”

      He