My heart thumped madly in my chest. It wasn’t the first sighting I’d had in the last year, but it had been months since I’d heard anything. “Bath?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Everything I’d worked so hard for had come to fruition. The shipping contract I’d signed had brought supplies from the orient that would make me the money I needed to be a proper lord. To get us out of debt for good. Yet, something was missing. She was missing.
I leaned back in my chair and looked out the window onto London. The rain had turned to ice. A dreary, dreadful evening. Most people would stay indoors. I should stay indoors. But I had the sudden desire to move. Go. Anywhere. I felt restless, a common occurrence as of lately. I had said I would give myself a year. One year to find her. Yet, a year and a month had come and gone, and I still searched.
“His identity?”
“Lord Whitfield”
Startled, I looked at him. “Whitfield? The earl?”
So much for a love match between Lord and Lady Whitfield. Annoyed, frustrated, I surged to my feet and paced to the fireplace. Perhaps his witnesses had been mistaken, and it wasn’t her. Or perhaps she had moved on that quickly with another earl. The idea seemed…
Ridiculous.
Even to my own ears. What did I know of Whitfield? Not much. He was loyal to his brothers, one of the richest men in England, and was married with a couple children. Had she been given a position in his household? Damnation, but I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, think of her as his mistress.
“My lord.”
I rested my hands on the mantel and stared into the flames. “Yes, Constable Jones?”
“The rumor around Bath was that…well…”
Curious, I turned to face him. “Out with it.”
“The word around Bath was that Lord Whitfield claimed her as his sister.”
My breath caught. I was sure I’d misheard him. Bemused, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Say that again.”
“Lord Whitfield claims she is his sister.” He shrugged, his hat in hand. “I don’t know how reliable these observations are, however they say Whitfield had a sister who vanished years ago. Apparently, your Ginny is that sister returned.”
My mind spun. Constable Jones was young, new, so very eager to prove himself, that he might have made a mistake. Could his information be wrong? “I see.”
But what if he was right? Ginny was Whitfield’s sister. I tried to picture the man, but had only glimpsed him a time or two. They kept to themselves, rarely headed to London. Did Ginny resemble the man in any way?
It took a moment for me to realize that Constable Jones still stood there, waiting. “You may go.”
He hesitated. “My lord, how much longer do you intend to search?”
I stiffened. Hell, I wasn’t used to people questioning my actions. Being a lord came with many benefits, respect and unwavering loyalty being two of them. “What does it matter? Do I not pay you?”
“Yes, my lord.” The blasted man actually blushed. “And as much as I enjoy the money, I feel it is my duty to tell you that the cause seems rather pointless.”
How infuriating the man had become. My jaw clenched. “In what way, do tell?”
“My lord, what will you do if she is found? Will you marry her? Make her your mistress? If she is truly related to Lord Whitfield, well…” He shivered. “The man doesn’t have the best of reputations. Nor do his three brothers.”
I gave him a dark look. What the hell was he getting at? That Ginny was suddenly out of my reach? Was he wrong? Mayhap, I’d always believed Ginny to be too good for me. Hell, perhaps deep down, I knew he had a point, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Four, my lord. Four large brothers who like to box and fight, and intimidate people, or so the rumors say.”
“How much faith you have in me, Constable.”
He shifted, uneasy. “My lord, no offense meant, but four against one…”
“You’ve said enough; you may take your leave.” No doubt he feared Whitfield would kill me, and he wouldn’t get paid. “Seek out Alfred for your wages.”
“Yes, my lord.” He bowed, then tugged his cap down over his head. I didn’t miss the relief in his eyes. “Thank you, my lord.”
I headed back toward the windows and gazed out onto London, the constable forgotten. Was it possibly true? I’d met Lady Whitfield only a year ago in the park. She hadn’t seemed to know of Ginny. Bemused,