Jacob wanted to ask more, in fact he even opened his mouth, and then shut it again. It was none of his business what she did.
"What address shall I drop you at, Miss March?"
She looked uncertain.
"Come, for tonight enjoy the comfort of my carriage." He felt ridiculous after saying that, like he was some benefactor bestowing a great gift on her.
"If you would have your driver drop me at Dingly Lane, please, my lord."
"Dingly Lane?"
"That is what I said." She nodded regally.
Jacob knew Dingly Lane. He also knew it housed two brothels and a gaming establishment.
"Miss March, are you sure that is the street you require?"
She nodded again, so there was little Jacob could do but give his driver the instructions.
"Now please ask whatever it is you need to, my lord."
"Why have you not returned to your family?" Jacob's mind was going in circles, wondering what she was doing in Dingly Lane.
"My parents have nine children, my lord. They do not have room for me, and surely this is not relevant to the investigation."
She was right, of course. The problem was, she intrigued him, and when he was intrigued he delved deeper. Was she a prostitute? The thought of her being forced into such a profession was not a pleasing one.
"Will you go through the details once more of the day you were dismissed, Miss March?"
He listened as she talked, her words precise and detailed, and Jacob made mental notes. His memory was such that once a fact was in there, he never lost it. When the carriage started to slow, Jacob had all the details he needed to start his inquires. His friends were still in town, as they had been concluding an investigation. He would speak with them tomorrow about the case.
"I believe that is all I need for now, Miss March."
"Thank you, my lord. Shall I call at your premises or will you send word when you have information for me?"
"If you give me your address I shall send word when I have anything I think you would be interested in hearing."
She gave him an address, not far from where they were but thankfully in a slightly better location.
"As to money-"
"We do not accept payment, Miss March, nor do any of us need it." Jacob moved to open the door when she reached for it.
"I see. Well, thank you."
"You're welcome." He jumped down and held out his hand.
"Thank you." She dropped into a curtsey and then started down Dingly Lane.
Jacob stayed where he was and watched until she disappeared inside a brothel.
"She went into Lady Saffron's."
"I see that, Hamley."
Climbing back into the carriage, Jacob let Hamley take him home while he thought about what he had learned tonight … or more importantly, why Miss March had walked into that brothel.
She was not meant to be a prostitute. She spoke well, had impeccable manners, and was raised a vicar's daughter. The thought of her even now leading a man into a room, to do.... "Christ." The vision was not a pleasing one. Pushing that thought aside, he concentrated on Lady Revel. She was his concern now, not Miss P. March and her occupation. Whatever that may be.
Poppy knew he was watching her, Lord whatever his name was. Lord Dangerous, she would call him, but only in her head. He had been softly spoken in the Hen and Duck, and she'd thought him slight of build, but then he'd stood and she'd seen that in fact he was big, with broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly too long, eyes intelligent, and dressed in that black coat he'd appeared big and forbidding.
Poppy had obviously seen noblemen before, but had spoken to only a few, and none like him, Lord Dangerous. There was a calmness about him that she thought a façade. A stillness that was almost unsettling. But all that had changed when she'd annoyed him.
Entering the brothel, Poppy suppressed the shudder. She loathed the place and everything it stood for. But most of all she hated him, the man who seemed to know when she arrived. Lord Kinsale. Lord, she hoped he had not come here tonight.
Poppy hurried past the women, all dressed in low-cut gowns of silk and satin edged with lace and feathers. She called out greetings, which most answered, but ignored the men who watched her as she walked.
She hated the men who came here. They leered at her, and some tried to engage her in conversation, but none were like Lord Kinsale. He touched her, and had once cornered her and kissed her. She'd spent five minutes washing her mouth that evening.
Reaching the second floor, she opened her cupboard and hung up her hat and bonnet, then removed her gloves. Dragging out her cleaning things, she headed for her first room of the night.