Where The Heart Leads Read Online Free PDF Page B

shrugged and looked away. “In the evenings, I never am.”
    Of course, given the four missing boys, she’d now instructed that news of a guardian’s death be conveyed to her immediately wherever she might be. Next time there was an orphan to retrieve, she would take her brother’s carriage, and his coachman and a groom, and plunge into the East End regardless of the hour…but she saw no point in stating that in the present company.
    She’d known Adair was at the very least acquainted with her brother—and guardian—Luc; she could guess what he was thinking—that Luc couldn’t possibly approve of her going into such areas, more or less by herself. And certainly not at night.
    In that he was perfectly correct; Luc had little idea what her position as “house administrator” entailed. And she would very much prefer to keep him in ignorance.
    Glancing out of the window, she was relieved to see that they’d almost reached their goal; distraction lay to hand. “In this instance, three of the neighbors saw and spoke with the man who took Dick away the morning after Monger died. Their description of the man matches that given by the neighbors in the previous three cases.”
    The carriage slowed almost to a stop, then ponderously turned into a street so narrow the carriage could barely pass down it.
    “Here we are.” She shifted forward the instant the carriage halted, but Adair was before her, grasping the carriage’s door handle, forcing her to ease back to allow him to open the door and step down.
    He did, then blocked the exit while he looked around.
    She bit her tongue and battled the urge to jab him—sharply—between the shoulder blades. Very nice shoulders, encased in a fashionable overcoat, but they were in her way…she had to content herself with glaring.
    Eventually, unhurriedly—oblivious—he moved. Stepping aside, he offered her his hand. Clinging to her manners, she steeled herself and surrendered her fingers; no, the effect of his touch—of feeling his long, strong fingers curl possessively around hers—still hadn’t waned. Waspishly reminding herself that it was at her request that he was there—taking up far too much space in her life and distracting her—she let him hand her down, then quickly slid her fingers free.
    Without glancing at him, she started forward, waving at the hovel before them. “This is where Mr. Monger lived.”
    Their arrival had naturally drawn attention; faces peered out through grimy windows; hands edged aside flaps where no glass had ever been.
    She glanced at the building next door; a wooden table was set along its front. “His neighbor is a cobbler. He and his son both saw the man.”
    Barnaby saw a shabby individual peering at them from beneath the overhang under which the cobbler’s table was set. Penelope started toward him; he followed at her heels. If she noticed the squalor and dirt that surrounded her, let alone the smells, she gave no sign.
    “Mr. Trug.” Penelope nodded to the cobbler, who warily bobbed his head. “This is Mr. Adair, who is an expert in investigating strange occurrences, like Dick’s disappearance. I wonder if I can trouble you to tell him about the man who came and took Dick away.”
    Trug eyed Barnaby, and Barnaby knew what he was thinking. What would a toff know of disappearing urchins?
    “Mr. Trug? If you please? We want to find Dick as soon as we can.”
    Trug glanced at Penelope, then cleared his throat. “Aye, well—it were early yesterday morning, barely light. Fellow came knocking on old Monger’s door. Me son, Harry, was about to head out to work. He stuck his head out and told the bloke Monger was dead and gone.” Trug looked at Barnaby. “The bloke was polite enough. He came over and explained he was there to fetch young Dick away. That’s when Harry yelled fer me.”
    “This bloke—what did he look like?”
    Trug looked up at Barnaby’s blond curls. “Taller’n me, but not as tall as you. Nor as broad of