it as though he cared nothing for fashion and had bought it because that was all his tailor would make for him. He had dark hair and eyes, a square jaw, and a chin blue with whiskers. He spoke with the faintest of Scottish accents, as though he secretly wished to speak broad Glaswegian but strove while in London to speak like a Londoner.
'Not got a leg to stand on, I should think,' the man said. He looked pointedly at my walking stick.
I did not rise to the bait, but Stacy looked uncomfortable. 'McAdams, this is a private conversation.'
'But I am here to rescue you, my friend. Is Mr. Grenville berating you because you enjoy spending time in Covent Garden?' McAdams made a tut-tut noise. 'While Grenville parades about with an actress who's little better than a whore? The captain, now, he's caught himself a viscountess. Very well done, I must say, Captain. Although I'd say the Breckenridge came after you with all flags flying, wanting to snare herself a cicisbeo. A feather in your cap, that is.'
Grenville twirled his quizzing glass in his fingers, his eyes flat. 'Crudely done, McAdams. Insults ought to be subtle.'
'What?' McAdams's eyes widened in mock surprise. 'You will not slap my face and call for your seconds? After I have spoken so of your lady?'
Grenville hid a yawn behind his gloved hand. 'You are hardly worth the effort of rising early and making my sleepy way to Hyde Park Green. Waste of gunpowder, as well. My lady, as you call her, has far better manners than you, albeit she is an actress from the gutter. As for Lady Breckenridge, she could flatten you with a single barb at twenty paces. She has a command of language and a true wit that you will never achieve in your lifetime, no matter how you strive. Perhaps she has disparaged you at some time, so that you feel it your right to speak so slightingly of a lady who is well beyond your reach.'
McAdams smiled coldly. 'Grenville, my friend, I do not fear your censure.'
'You are a fool then. I can make certain you never set foot in a respectable parlor again, let alone White's or any other club, just by putting about that you are a blackguard.'
The lines around McAdams's mouth tightened, but he would not back down. My own anger was up, but I took a step back to let Grenville fight it out. This was his world, with its own rules, and here, Grenville was master.
Stacy clenched the flask in his hand. 'McAdams, I have no need of rescue. Please go.'
'But you looked so distressed, my friend. If Mr. Stacy wishes to invite a girl into his carriage, that is nothing to do with you, gentlemen. Why do you harp at him for it?'
'Tell me, McAdams,' Grenville said, 'were you the one who put him on to it? Dragged him from the respectability of Mayfair to the dark of Covent Garden?'
'Perhaps.' McAdams shrugged. 'He wanted a bit of diversion, and I gave it to him.'
'And I am sorry you ever did,' Stacy said under his breath.
McAdams looked at us in disbelief. 'Good Lord, can three Englishmen be any more stifled? What is the matter with passing an hour with a gutter girl? That's what they're for. They don't expect you to give them houses and expensive presents, like courtesans do, and they don't cry when you beat 'em a little. They expect it.'
I made a noise of disgust. Grenville's brows rose in cold hauteur. 'Well, that has torn it for you, McAdams. You're out.'
'Over game girls?' McAdams laughed. 'I've always thought you a bit touched, Grenville.'
'It is not funny,' Stacy said. 'Some of them have gone missing, and one is dead. The Captain and Grenville think I had something to do with it.'
McAdams laughed again. 'Good Lord, so what if he did? They're not worth bothering about, gentlemen. Go look at the horses. They're far more important.'
I broke in. 'Murder is murder, Mr. McAdams. It is a capital offense, whether you are convicted of killing a game girl or your own brother.'
McAdams paled slightly but lost none of his bravado. 'A jury might not think so. Girls no better than they ought to be. They'd die soon enough of some disgusting disease anyway.'
'Perhaps you are right about a jury, but the kidnapping and murder of a respectable young woman is a different matter altogether,' I said, keeping my temper tightly reined. I might learn nothing if I gave in to impulse and knocked McAdams to the ground.
'A respectable young woman?' Stacy stared. 'What are you talking about?'
'My daughter has gone missing as well. She left a boardinghouse in King Street, presumably walked through Covent Garden, and has not been seen since.'
Stacy stilled. McAdams hooted a laugh. 'Better keep a rein on your offspring, Lacey. Such a comedown for a gentleman of standing, to have his daughter enter the world of the demimonde.'
'Now, for that, I will call you out,' I said, surprised I could say it so calmly. 'After I conclude this business, my seconds will make an appointment with you.'
'We duel over whores now?'
Stacy's voice went sharp. 'McAdams, for God's sake, shut your mouth.' Gentlemen under the colonnade turned to stare at us. Alvanley brought out his quizzing glass. Stacy stepped to McAdams. 'Shut up, I tell you. This is serious business.'
'For you perhaps,' McAdams said, though he shot me a wary look. 'I have nothing to do with it.'
'Yes, you do,' Stacy said. 'You told me to look up Black Bess in the first place. And now she's missing. It is bad for the both of us.'
McAdams raised his brows. 'Not for me. I haven't been to Covent Garden in weeks.'
I turned to Stacy. 'Both Bess and Mary spoke of a wealthy gentleman who'd soon do well by them. They went to Covent Garden to meet him, each of them, a week ago. Did they have an appointment with you?'
Stacy shook his head. 'No. I've spoken to neither of them in some time.'
'You never promised them money? Or to set them up well?'
'No, indeed, why would I? Spending an hour with them is one thing, taking them as mistresses is something else entirely. No, I never promised a thing.'
'Then who was the wealthy gentleman they so looked forward to meeting? He would settle them for life, they thought. McAdams?'
McAdams barked a laugh. 'Good God, no. Why would I spend more than a crown on a street whore? They wouldn't know what to do with money if they had it, except drink it up.'
I gave him a steady look. 'I look forward to shooting you.'
McAdams returned my look with mock dismay, but the wary light in his eye grew deeper. Grenville, on the other hand, ignored him altogether. Grenville was already cutting him, but McAdams was too self-important to notice.
Stacy looked at me in trepidation. 'The thing is, Captain, I believe I might have seen your daughter.'
My disgust at McAdams vanished in an instant. I brushed him away and advanced on Stacy. 'Did you? Where? When?'
'Was it yesterday? I was in Covent Garden in the evening, on my way to the theatre to meet my wife. I drove through to, um, decide.. '
He'd gone to survey the girls for his later visit. I waited.
'At any rate, I'd descended, because I fancied an orange, and I wanted to get it myself from the orange girl. After I purchased it and, er, chatted with her a few moments, I saw a young woman pushing through the crowd, looking a bit lost. I thought, you know, that she seemed out of place, and I asked if I could help her. She stopped, grateful, and asked the way to Russel Street. We were near to it, so I pointed it out. She thanked me and walked on, more cheerfully. I got back into my coach and drove away.'
'Did she reach Russel Street?' I asked.
'Have no idea. I was in the coach, and my coachman drove away.'
'Busy eating your orange, no doubt,' Grenville said.
'Yes, getting dratted peel everywhere and knowing my coachman would cut up rough. He's fond of the conveyances, treats them like they were his children. Anyway, he dropped me in front of the theatre, I met my wife and daughter, and I never saw the girl again. That is all I know.'
'What did she look like?' I asked, my throat dry.
Stacy considered, his eyes flickering nervously. 'Pretty, in a girlish sort of way. Light brown hair, cannot remember the color of her eyes. Wearing a nice enough frock, nothing that caught my eye. Definitely not a street girl, I could see. Daughter of respectable parents, I thought.'
