Another girl stood with Nancy. Her skin was the color of cream-laden coffee, and her hair, shiny black, cascaded from under a broad-brimmed hat in a riot of fantastic curls. She'd dressed herself in an emerald green, high-waisted gown, and wore a hat with a long green feather.
As I neared, both of them grinned at me, the black-skinned girl with a gap in her teeth that was very fetching. She had chocolate-colored eyes that skimmed up and down my body, a narrow face, high cheekbones, and arched brows. Her smile widened when I bowed to her, and she dropped into the perfect imitation of a fashionable lady's curtsy.
'This is Felicity,' Nancy said. 'A fine lady and a fair friend. This is him, Felicity.'
Felicity looked me up and down, again with a bold gaze that made me want to blush. 'I've seen him about,' she said. 'You are right, Nance. He is a fine one.'
I was used to the game girls and their teasing banter, but Felicity's gaze seemed to burn. She was a little older than Nancy, perhaps twenty, and her greater experience showed in her eyes. She knew about men's desires and how to stir them.
Black-skinned girls were common in London. Some came to England from Jamaica as slaves, freed when they arrives; or they worked their way over as free women; or they were the daughters of former Jamaican slaves. They became servants if they were lucky, and if they were unlucky, they plied Felicity's trade. Black mistresses were quite sought after, and a clever girl could become a rich man's paramour.
Grenville had once had such a mistress-Cleopatra, she was called-whose origins had been obscure. I'd never met her, she and Grenville having parted ways before he'd befriended me, but apparently, she'd taken London by storm. She'd gone from Grenville to the Prince Regent and then married a country squire with whom she'd fallen in love. Grenville apparently had assisted in pulling off that wedding, and he claimed she now lived in wedded bliss surrounded by fat children.
Felicity, on the other hand, would likely remain on the streets unless she happened to catch a wealthy man's eye. That is, if she were not unfortunate enough to be abducted and transported to the West Indies. It happened from time to time that a person wanting to make quick money kidnapped free black women and boys to sell to plantation holders in Jamaica and Antigua. This was highly illegal, but it still went on. My reforming friend, Sir Gideon Derwent, wanted to stop this deplorable practice, and it had slowed, but they still had much to fight.
'At your service, madam,' I said to Felicity.
'Don't I wish,' Felicity answered, her smile brash.
'Felicity never saw the yellow-haired wench,' Nancy said. 'But she might a' seen the other one. Name of Black Bess.'
Felicity folded her hands across the sash that hugged her bosom, a fair imitation of a debutante at her first ball. 'Black Bess is rather a friend of mine. Haven't seen her in a while, and her lad's been around looking for her. I thought maybe she'd taken up with a protector, but Nance says maybe not.'
Felicity spoke with a more cultured accent than Nancy's, as though someone had taught her middleclass English, or she'd carefully learned it herself. There was nothing to say, however, that Felicity was not a middleclass girl in truth. White fathers bore children with their black servants, sometimes raising the sons and daughters alongside their legitimate children. Felicity's father could have come from any background from small farmer to royalty.
'No,' I said. 'Pomeroy thinks she might have been kidnapped.'
'Pomeroy the Runner?' Felicity asked, suddenly alert. 'That's interesting, Captain. Last time I saw Black Bess, she was in the company of Pomeroy of Bow Street. And they weren't simply having a chat, if you know what I mean.'
Chapter Seven
'Well,' Nancy said, eyes bright. 'Ain't that a turn up?'
It was indeed. Pomeroy had neglected to mention this fact. 'How long ago was this?'
Felicity shrugged. 'Week and a half, I'd say. Bess liked to turn Mr. Pomeroy up sweet, so that he wouldn't take her in. She let him kiss her if he liked, no coins changing hands. Last time I saw her, in fact, she was there.' Felicity pointed to a small gap between stalls in the middle of the square. 'It was late and dark, and she was with him, laughing in her way. Couple of days later, Bess's man comes through Covent Garden, looking worried. But I hadn't seen her since then.'
I would definitely have to speak again to my former sergeant. 'Are you certain the man with her was Pomeroy?'
'No mistaking the Runner, Captain. Tall and big man, bright yellow hair, laughs like 'haw haw haw.''
Her mimicry of Pomeroy's bellowing laugh was so exact that I couldn't help smiling. 'Where does Black Bess live? With her lover?'
'She and her Tom have rooms in a passage between Drury Lane and Great Wild Street. Not much, but clean, and their landlady doesn't cheat them.'
'Is he still there?' I asked.
'Likely. I'll take you if you wish.'
'I do wish,' I said. I wondered why the devil Pomeroy hadn't mentioned that he'd known Bess, although he might not have wanted to admit such knowledge in front of Thompson.
'Tom won't be there now,' Felicity said. 'He labors for a builder, moving bricks and such. Tonight, you come here, and me and Nance will take you down.'
Nancy grinned her compliance. I was not certain Louisa would be pleased at Nancy lingering in Covent Garden until dark, but I did need her help.
'I'll see you home, then,' I said to Felicity, 'and meet you later.'
Felicity's grin widened. 'I can take care of myself, Captain. Have done so for ten years.'
'If young women are disappearing from Covent Garden, I do not want to risk you disappearing yourself, especially now that you've offered to help me.'
'Told you he were a gentleman,' Nancy said, giving me a wink.
They laughed at me, but my concern was genuine. No one cared much for prostitutes who plied for trade in the streets. Rich men's courtesans and women like Marianne fared better, but even so, when gentlemen no longer had interest in them, they had nowhere to go, unless they'd been prudent with the money their protectors had given them. Even the much-celebrated Lady Hamilton, mistress of Lord Nelson, had lived in near poverty after Nelson died, waiting for the pension Nelson had asked be given her, which never came.
I pondered where to take them. Mrs. Beltan would never forgive me for bringing game girls to my rooms. Likewise, having them sit in her shop, with its respectable clientele, would also be out of the question.
'Well,' I began, but Nancy was staring in a puzzled way at some commotion behind me, and I turned to see what she looked at.
A young woman hurried through the crowd, pushing people this way and that, blindly running, earning curses from men and women alike. One matron caught her arm, shouting at her to watch her manners, but the girl twisted away and continued her journey.
Without a word, I left Felicity and Nance and pushed my own way through the market. With my longer stride and more forceful nature, I managed to move in front of the young woman and halt directly in her path.
Gabriella was sobbing. Her red face ran with tears, and her eyes were screwed shut. She tried to push past me, but I remained solidly in front of her, and she had to open her eyes and see who was in her way.
'No, not you,' she cried. 'I do not want to see you. '
'Gabriella.' I caught her elbow as she tried to sway away from me. 'You cannot run pell-mell through Covent Garden market. Come with me. I will find you coffee.'
'I do not want to go with you.'
Her vehemence drew attention. Fortunately, I was well-known in the market, and no one made to dash off for the Watch.
'Stop,' I said sternly. 'Do not make a scene. Come with me and tell me what is the matter.'
She seemed to realize she could not fight me, not in the crowd. She jerked from my grasp, but allowed me to
