Good Dukes Wear Black (14 page)

“You have my abject apologies, your grace,” Hayes said sorrowfully. “But now that you are here, perhaps I can assist you?”

He was about a head shorter than Trent, and had hair of a color somewhere between brown and blond. His features were regular, but nothing stood out. It was almost as if he were making himself fade in deference to his noble visitor.

“My lady friend here,” Trent said with a wave in her direction, “you know how ladies are, I trust?” He asked the question as if it made all the sense in the world. As if there were an agreed-upon thing that ladies were, and he expected Hayes to know it.

If Hayes were confused by the aside, he didn't show it. “Of course, of course. Your friend … Oh dear, I'm afraid I do not know your name, madam.”

He said it as if the fault were his own rather than Trent's for failing to introduce her from the first.

Trent raised his quizzing glass once again and peered at the doctor. “Miss Dauntry,” he said with boredom. “Miss Ophelia Dauntry.”

“Miss Dauntry,” the doctor said with a nod. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable, Miss Dauntry. I'll ring for some refreshments.”

Trent sighed. “We already told the other fellow that there was no need of that. I really must insist you speed this along, Doctor.” He shook his head mournfully. “I've an important appointment in an hour or so and I must get Miss Dauntry back to her mother before I do so.”

He whispered, as if Ophelia were several rooms away instead of a few feet. “Gentleman's business.” He laid a finger alongside his nose, as if she were blind as well.

“Quite so,” Hayes whispered. Aloud to Ophelia he said, “How may I assist you, Miss Dauntry? Is it your nerves?”

She was startled from her amusement at Trent's charade by annoyance at the doctor's question. “Certainly not. My nerves are as sound as horses.”

“My apologies, Miss Dauntry,” he said hastily. “It's just that I see a number of ladies complaining of such things. Please tell me what it is you wish to consult me about. Perhaps you have a relative who is suffering from a temperament that requires them to be removed to somewhere more suited to their needs? I can assure you that it can be done quickly and painlessly. Without much fuss.”

But that only made her angrier. Of course his pockets were brimming with gold, she thought sourly. If he approached every visitor to his offices with the suggestion to lock away their relatives, then he likely was making a fortune.

“Is that what you told Mr. George Grayson when he came to you about his wife?”

At the mention of George, the doctor's eyes narrowed. “I've not had the pleasure. Is Mr. Grayson a relative, then? Or perhaps it's Mrs. Grayson to whom you are kin?”

“I find it difficult to understand how you might not be able to place either of the Graysons, Doctor,” she said, anger at his pretense coursing through her, “when I read your name just yesterday on a writ declaring Maggie Grayson insane, and ordering her to be taken to the Hayes Clinic.”

At Ophelia's words, the doctor's eyes narrowed. Gone was the fatuous smile he'd given Trent, and by association, her. In its place was a shrewd examination of both his visitors. “What is this about? I thought the duke was here to seek my assistance.”

“And so I am, Dr. Hayes,” Trent said, stepping forward to lend Ophelia his support. He was every inch the nobleman, and it had nothing to do with his quizzing glass. “I wish you to answer Miss Dauntry's questions about the bodily removal of Mrs. Margaret Grayson from a public establishment, which, according to the paper presented by the thugs who took her was sanctioned by you and her husband, George Grayson.”

“You deceived me,” Dr. Hayes said accusingly to Trent.

“I believed the ends justified the means,” the duke said with a slight shrug. “And that doesn't negate our reason for coming here. Did you even see Mrs. Grayson in person before you diagnosed her?”

But Dr. Hayes was not interested in answering questions. “I'm sure you'll both excuse me. I made time to see you specially but I'm afraid that I have much work to get to this morning.”

Ophelia almost shouted with frustration, but she needn't have worried. Trent stopped the physician's progress to the door with a few words.

“Not. Yet. Sir.”

As if a string had pulled him up short, Dr. Hayes stopped in his tracks.

“I would like an answer to my question,” Trent said in a deceptively casual tone. “And I believe Miss Dauntry is still waiting as well. What possible motive could you have had for declaring Mrs. Grayson mad sight unseen?”

“I would imagine,” Ophelia said softly, “it was a financial incentive.”

Hayes turned and glared at her. “If you were a man, Miss Dauntry, I could call you out for that.”

“That would require you to be a man of honor, Dr. Hayes,” she retorted coldly. “And we know by now that you have none. No man who would take money in exchange for a woman's freedom could.”

“For your information, Miss Dauntry,” the doctor said through clenched teeth, “I make sure the streets are safe for ladies like you by making declarations of insanity against those whose relatives have deemed them unbalanced. There is nothing dishonorable about it. If at times I have them taken up before I have a chance to see them personally, then it is always with good cause. And if I have made a mistake, which I beg to inform you that I never have, then that person would be set free as soon as it was discovered.”

It was what she'd expected, of course. Ophelia shouldn't be at all surprised. Even so, hearing him declare it so baldly, admitting that it took no more than the suggestion from a relation that the person in question was unbalanced, was terrifying. For who could be safe when there was such a practice? It would take only the word of a disapproving parent, or a jealous sibling, to see to it that their offending relation was removed from society indefinitely.

“And what was it that George Grayson told you about his wife's condition that deemed her worthy of committal?” Trent asked. “Or was it just his coin that spoke for him?”

The flush that rose in the doctor's face told the tale more eloquently than words could have done.

“I had a long talk with Mr. Grayson,” Dr. Hayes said defensively. “He was quite worried about his wife's condition. Quite worried.”

“When was it that you spoke to him?”

Ophelia had by now stepped aside to let Trent do the questioning, since he seemed to be making better headway than she had.

“Yesterday morning,” Dr. Hayes said. “Around nine. I remember because it was rather early in the day for a gentleman. I generally do not see members of the upper classes until later in the day.”

At the doctor's admission, Ophelia saw Trent scowl. “What did Mr. Grayson look like?”

“I thought you were acquainted with this couple,” Dr. Hayes said darkly. “If you've come here under false pretenses…”

“Just answer the question, Doctor,” Trent said in a tone that would brook no demurral. “What did this man who called himself George Grayson look like?”

“He was around your height,” Dr. Hayes said, dropping all show of defiance. “With light brown hair. And he had an eye patch. I assumed it was from a war injury. He did tell me he'd fought against the French at Waterloo.”

“An eye patch?” Ophelia asked, surprised despite herself. It certainly wasn't George he was speaking of. Not only did George not have an eye patch, but he was also quite fair-haired. Far too fair-haired to be called a brunet. She exchanged a look with Trent who looked just as shocked as she was. “Doctor, I don't know who you spoke with but it wasn't George Grayson.”

But Dr. Hayes was not convinced.

“Now see here,” he said sharply, “I have only your word that the man I spoke to is not the actual George Grayson. I take my authority as a physician seriously and would never declare someone mad on a stranger's word.” Once more he tugged the bellpull.

Before Trent or Ophelia could retort, two large men entered the room. But not the men who had taken Maggie.

How many of these giants did Dr. Hayes have in his employ? she wondered with irritation.

“See these two out, please,” said Dr. Hayes haughtily. “I have said all I care to say on the subject of your friend. And I have grown quite tired of your insults.”

When the guards made to put their hands on Trent, however, he held them off with a look. Then he turned and took Ophelia by the arm. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Hayes. I feel sure we'll be seeing one another again.”

Ophelia was quite sure he had the right of it.

 

Ten

“So this is what those bullies did to you?” Hermione, Countess of Mainwaring, asked, inspecting the bruise on Ophelia's forehead. “It's monstrous that anyone can simply be placed in manacles and led away without a by-your-leave. You must do something about this in the House of Lords, Jasper.”

“It's certainly worth looking into,” Ophelia said, grateful to be back among friends after the tense meeting with Dr. Hayes.

As soon as they'd left the physician's office, Trent had suggested they pay a call at the town house Lord Frederick Lisle and his wife, Leonora, shared with her aging father. Ophelia had agreed with alacrity. She badly needed to talk about what she'd found at the newspaper office that morning. Fortunately Hermione and Jasper were also paying a visit to the Lisles, which meant she could discuss Maggie's disappearance with all of them.

“My dear,” said Leonora, whose pregnancy was disguised by a generously cut gown, as she ushered Ophelia to a comfortable settee. “You must be exhausted. When I got Trent's note I was desperate to see you myself just to ensure that you are still in one piece.”

“I thought we'd put all this derring-do and grappling with ruffians in the past when Trent took over the Lords of Anarchy,” Hermione said with a speaking look at the duke. “To think that those horrid men actually struck out at you. It's getting impossible for respectable ladies to go about in public without being interfered with in some way.”

“I can assure you, Lady Mainwaring,” said Trent from where he stood to one side with Freddy and Jasper, “that this time the Lords of Anarchy are most certainly without blame in the matter. Though Mrs. Grayson, the friend whom Miss Dauntry was attempting to prevent from being taken, is married to one of the new members.”

“That has yet to be proved,” Ophelia said sharply. “While we can find no connection just yet, I am not ready to absolve the driving club so easily. It is entirely possible that whoever it was that approached Dr. Hayes pretending to be George Grayson was a club member.”

She felt Trent's annoyed gaze, but refused to meet his eyes. When they were alone together it was quite easy to believe that he and the club weren't involved. But she didn't wish to allow their new amity to cloud her judgment on the matter. So until she was convinced otherwise, the club would remain on her suspect list.

Ignoring the six feet of exasperated male in her peripheral vision, she related what had happened the day of Maggie's abduction and all she and Trent had learned since then. “At this point, I'm not sure who we should be focusing on. It is certainly damning that George Grayson has gone missing, but I found something in Maggie's notebook that might give someone else a motive.”

“You didn't share this with me,” Trent said crossly. “I thought we were working on this together, Miss Dauntry.”

“Oh, I think with all the time you've been spending together you can dispense with formalities, Trent,” Freddy said, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he crossed to sit on the arm of Leonora's chair. “Unless you object to that, Ophelia?”

Ophelia knew better than to believe that Freddy's suggestion was innocent. Her friend's husband had an impish sense of humor and didn't mind poking fun at his friends when he thought they needed it. Still, it was rather silly to continue addressing Trent as “your grace” or to expect him to call her “Miss Dauntry” when they were among friends. “I have no objection,” she relented. “What say you, your—Trent?”

When she looked over at him, he caught and held her gaze for a moment and Ophelia felt curiously breathless. It would be all too easy to allow herself to imagine that such intensity meant far more than it did. But she had seen enough ladies make fools of themselves over the handsome duke to know that he wasn't easily susceptible to flirtation. Still, it was hard to resist that pull between them when he looked at her the way he did now, as if they were the only two people in the room. “I'm agreeable to it, Ophelia.”

The way he said the words, it was difficult to know if he meant using their Christian names, or something far more dangerous.

Mainwaring clearing his throat let her know that she'd perhaps been staring a bit too long. “What were we talking about?”

“Maggie's notebook,” Leonora said with a broad smile. “I believe Trent was complaining that you hadn't shared finding it with him?”

Not daring to look at him again, Ophelia sank onto the overstuffed chair beside the fire. “Yes, it was the notebook Maggie used when she was investigating the story about homes for unwed mothers.”

“That sounds rather dark for a ladies' newspaper,” Freddy said with a frown. When Leonora, who wrote quite serious essays for several journals and newspapers, pinched him in the arm, he yelped, and amended, “Not that ladies' newspapers cannot be serious. I just thought you and your friend wrote lighter fare for the
Ladies' Gazette
. Nothing that would require you to visit the parts of London that might pose a danger to you.”

“That is actually quite true,” Ophelia said. “But both Maggie and I have been trying to convince our editor, Mr. Carrington, to publish more stories about the sort of things ladies care about. Like what happens when a girl bears a child out of wedlock.”