The Mystery of Miss Mason (The Lost Lords Book 5) by Chasity Bowlin

Author:Chasity Bowlin [Bowlin, Chasity]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Romance, Regency, Historical, Fiction
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2018-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Davies had gotten back to the city late in the night, but he was up bright and early watching Number 27 Royal Crescent. He couldn’t be entirely certain that Hamilton was in there, but even if he wasn’t, he’d show up sooner or later. The mistress he kept there was a recluse, apparently, some sort of eccentric who never left the house, and if she did, she wore heavy veils that hid her face entirely. It was peculiar to the point that Davies had wondered if she had some reason to hide her face, a birthmark or some hideous scar perhaps. Whatever it was, he figured she’d have to be something special in other ways for Hamilton to tolerate it. The man was always coming and going from there. For such a posh address, there were dashedly few servants and not a single one of them could be plied with coin to gossip. He’d certainly tried. Never met a more tight-lipped, pinch-faced housemaid in my life, Davies thought.

No more had the thought crossed his mind than the door opened. Hamilton appeared, still wearing his evening clothes from the night before and looking fairly rumpled but quite pleased with himself. Davies allowed him to get several paces ahead of him before he emerged from his hiding place near the coal scuttle of a not quite as grand house on Church Street. Falling into step behind him, near enough to keep him in sight but not so near as to make the other man wary, Davies followed. Dressed in rough clothing, his face and hands smeared with dirt, he gave every impression of a workman heading for home or to the job, if he was on the slovenly side.

Perhaps, it was his certainty of his anonymity, his belief that a man as puffed up with his own importance as Hamilton would never stoop to notice the likes of him that made Davies careless. The coat he wore was the same one he’d worn when he followed the man two days earlier. The tune he whistled was familiar to Hamilton’s ear, as well. Those things, more than anything else, pricked the unease of his quarry. There was no other explanation for why Hamilton rounded a corner and cut through a small alley between two terraces. By the time Davies followed suit, the other man had simply vanished.

Cursing under his breath, Davies scanned the street ahead but could not make out anyone amongst the few people strolling about that might be the gentleman in question. Turning, he headed back in the direction he’d first come to once more take up his watch at Number 27. If he followed the mistress, he’d eventually find his way back to Hamilton.

He’d no sooner rounded the corner than an angry shove forced him back against the stone wall of a back garden. The street was still dark, the long shadows of the tall townhouses making it dim and quiet. There was no one about to hear the whoosh of his breath leaving him as Hamilton punched him in the gut.

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