The Unexpected Wife - Jess Michaels Page 0,82

hardly knew the woman—I couldn’t even recall her name.”

“But you did know your brother. It will be easier to have someone with me who can at least attempt to fill in the gaps when it comes to that time in Montgomery’s life. And you might also be able to detect if the woman is being honest about her relationship.”

“I will try, yes.”

They were quiet a moment, and Owen felt how curious Leighton was by his intent stare. “What is it you have to say, my lord?” he asked at last.

“You’re a decent fellow,” Leighton said softly.

Owen wrinkled his brow. “I try to be, yes.”

“And I have come to think of you as a…friend, if that makes any sense,” Leighton continued. “You could have been many things when it came to my brother’s bad deeds. You have always been discreet, but more importantly, you’ve been kind. And I’ve appreciated that as I’ve attempted to navigate the nightmare Ras left behind.”

Owen shifted. “Thank you. I recognize how hard this situation is for everyone involved. Resolution is my only goal, not to create further harm.”

“Well, perhaps I can return some of that friendship to you,” Leighton said slowly. “You seem…troubled. One must assume that is because of Celeste. Would you like to discuss it?”

Owen sighed. “Not very professional of me, is it? Falling in love with one of the suspects in a case.”

“A suspect you dismissed with cause long ago,” Leighton said. “And love is a…complicated thing. I know that.”

“She’s angry with me,” Owen mused softly. “Because she doesn’t want Abigail to be the murderer.”

“Nor do any of us.”

“No, but I think it is in her nature to try to fix this,” Owen said with a shake of his head. “Even if that means destroying everything in her path. That kind of loyalty is admirable. I love her for having it. But I may have to hurt her even more before we’re through. And I hate it.”

Leighton stared out the window for a moment, apparently lost in his own thoughts. “Let us hope that hurting her, hurting any of them, doesn’t come to pass.” He cleared his throat. “There is the Stag and Serpent. So we’re going to Rosie’s old employer.”

“She might work there still,” Owen said as the carriage stopped and he pushed the door open to exit. “And if not, they may have the address of her residence or next employer.”

“A fine notion.” They both stared up at the building, and Leighton shrugged. “Decent enough place, I suppose. My brother went to far worse over the years.”

Owen led them inside and they took two seats at the bar. They ordered ales, and after they had been delivered, Owen pushed a coin across the table toward the barkeep, a thin man with a scar across his lip.

“Don’t suppose you might have any information on someone who once worked here,” Owen began.

The barkeep stared at the coin a moment. “What do you want, toff?”

“Rosie Stanton,” Owen said. “We’re looking for her.”

The barkeep sneered as he took the coin. “Rosie don’t work here no more.”

Leighton leaned closer. “You must have some information about where she lives or might have gone next to work.”

The man snorted. “None for you, Your Highness.” He turned then and walked away, Owen’s coin in his pocket and with no further information.

Owen’s heart sank. It wasn’t that the reaction was surprising. The bar wasn’t for those with uppercrust accents. It was for those who saw enough of those with money and supposed polish all day long in their jobs, in their businesses.

Still, he’d hoped one thing in this God forsaken investigation would be easy. Just this one thing.

They drank their ales in silence. Owen scanned the room, but there was no one else near who looked amenable to conversation. Anyone else who seemed to work here would no longer look at them. The patrons were few and didn’t seem any more interested.

“Dead end,” Leighton muttered as he set his empty mug aside.

“I’m afraid so,” Owen said. “I’ll get some of my connections on the hunt for her. But this would have been easier if we had the information now.”

Leighton grunted his agreement as they both got up and made their way through the glaring crowd toward the door. They stepped out into the busy streets of Cheapside. Despite the disparaging name, it was a good part of the city. The middle class had homes here, there was bustling trade and even the rich came to visit the shops.

Owen waved for