A Lady in Hiding Read Online Free Page A

client.
    Firm mouth, square chin, and a short, straight nose. William instinctively liked the lad, feeling a sudden and surprising rush of warmth. He looked like someone’s younger brother, in trouble and manfully resolved to admit it. Although his clean features appeared very young, no more than eighteen, there was something in his gaze that made William think his client was older. Still, Sanderson’s narrow shoulders and slight build spoke of hardship and near starvation, as did the hollows under his stark cheekbones.
    Something caught suddenly in William’s chest in a ripping pang of sympathy.
    “So, Mr. Sanderson, what can I do for you?”
    Sanderson nodded sharply and fumbled under his smock for a moment before pulling out a worn leather purse. “Money’s always first. There is nearly a guinea here. I don’t carry more, but I can pay you an additional sum when the work is completed. Within reason.”
    William stared at him, trying not to appear surprised. A guinea? Mr. Sanderson obviously had no idea how much Second Sons normally charged their illustrious—and generally noble—clients.
    Still, business had been slow. And he had a desire to prove to Mr. Gaunt that he wasn’t just another bored boudoir bantam who thought working as an inquiry agent might be amusing.
    And William’s curiosity had been aroused.
    “And what would be reasonable?” William asked.
    “Five pounds. No more. That ought to be enough,” Mr. Sanderson said, his chin rising slightly.
    “Enough for what?”
    “There was a man murdered this morning.” Mr. Sanderson scrabbled about his person again before he pulled out a scrap of paper. He threw it into the middle of the desk.
    William picked up the note and read it over twice before raising his brows. “Did you kill him?”
    “Certainly not. I was to meet him this morning. He was murdered before I could.”
    “Then why come to me?”
    Mr. Sanderson’s remarkable eyes stared back. William thought he saw a flicker of disappointment and then fear, quickly submerged in their clear depths. “I want to know what he knew.”
    William leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes studying Sanderson. That brief glimpse of dissatisfaction in the lad’s eyes annoyed him. He had noticed it too many times before when others had seen only a handsome exterior and failed to note that William also had a keen wit, when he chose to exercise it.
    After a few years as an indolent rake, he had decided he was not cut out to be at the beck-and-call of every beauteous lady who wanted a handsome gallant with no opinions of his own to escort her when her husband was unavailable. The church and the military held equally small appeal, although his family had encouraged him to pursue one or the other. Those careers were appropriate for a younger son.
    William, however, failed to appreciate the suitability of either selection. So he ignored their gasps of horror and told them he had made a quite different decision.
    He had joined Second Sons.
    At first blush, it seemed to be a reasonable way to exercise his intellect. However, finding stray, light-fingered maidservants had not been the challenging sort of assignment he hoped to receive. And he spent considerably more time staring at the nymphs on the ceiling than doing anything even remotely interesting.
    He was beginning to wonder if this “career” was not yet another blind alley, leading nowhere but down.
    “About this 1806 fire?” William prompted his visitor.
    “Yes, sir. It was a fire down Longmoor-way. The Marquess of Longmoor’s place. Elderwood it was called back then, while it still existed.”
    “And what is this matter to you?”
    “I was orphaned by the fire.”
    “I see,” William said. “And you would have been, what? About nine at the time?”
    “More or less,” Sanderson replied. His glance moved restlessly, focusing on the bookcase on William’s right. There was a brief gleam of interest in the gray