Chapter Twenty-Seven (Enola POV, Autumn 1889)
The next time Viscount Tewkesbury appeared in her rooms without warning, Enola was less surprised by his presence and more concerned by the stressed look on his face that was drawing lines across his forehead. Putting down her bag, she crossed the room to sit beside him.
"Something is bothering you, Tewkesbury." She assessed, going through the many scenarios that would bring him to her in such worry.
"Yes," he answered even though she hadn't actually asked a question, "My, uh, an acquaintance of mine has gone missing."
"And you would like me to find this acquaintance?" Outwardly Enola studied him, as she would any potential client, but inwardly she smiled, glad that he would come to her for help.
"It is what you are known for, Enola." Tewkesbury appealed, looking at her through his thick lashes as if that would sway her.
Enola rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag, "Just as it should be, I'd hate to be known for being engaged to a nincompoop." she teased. "Now Tewkey, do you know where this acquaintance lives?" she asked, clearly excited about the coming adventure.
"Not exactly," her nincompoop of a fiancé answered awkwardly, "I know where she spends the majority of her time."
She shot him a look that clearly said: 'I can tell there is more to that story, what are you hiding?' through squinted features.
"It's a long story," Tewkesbury started to confess, "The acquai…" before he was interrupted by Enola grabbing his hand and dragging him out the door.
"Good," she declared, "You can tell me all about it on the way."
Five minutes later they were travelling down the winding roads of East London in the hansom cab Tewkesbury had hailed. Enola's brain busied itself with recollections of the last time they had been in a carriage together. Surely there must have been a time since their engagement when they had broken the rule of never travelling together without a chaperone? But no, somehow, she had never needed to express her disregard for rule following in this regard.
She was watching Tewkesbury worry his lip in thought, wondering if he too was recalling the secret kiss, when he reminded her of the task at hand.
"I said that I don't know where my acquaintance lives because officially, she has rooms somewhere near Kensington," Tewkesbury started, speaking slowly as if to make sure he used the right words, "Unofficially, the only place I have seen her is the private London-residence of the Duke of Montagu."
Cogs started turning in Enola's brain. A woman? One who has her own rooms but spends her time with a Duke. A woman Tewkesbury is clearly embarrassed to talk about. She had spent enough time investigating the lives of noblemen to know that they often loved women who were not their wives. But Tewkesbury? He was barely eighteen and from all her knowledge – attained while snooping - hadn't shown any more interest than was polite, in other women. Her brows started to knit together at the thought.
Tewkesbury once again brought her out of her thoughts, noticing the anxious look on her face. "Francis is a friend of mine, he was a few years ahead of me at school," He explained, "My acquaintance, Adelaide, she is…" He stopped, looking uncomfortable with his words.
"The girl you are asking me to find is a femme galante," Enola asked, swallowing the mouthful of bile that threatened to seek daylight, "That you have visited and are on a first-name basis with?"
At that moment, Tewkesbury realised his mistake, his mouth and eyes turning to saucers and then squeezing shut in self-chastisement. "No, Enola, no," he almost shouted, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible, "She is the Duke's kept mistress, I have never." He tilted his head to the side as if to say that she knew what he wasn't saying.
Still dubious of the explanation, Enola poked at him – metaphorically this time - "And what does that mean, Tewkesbury?"
"That she is a kept mistress?" Tewkesbury asked confused, but went ahead without waiting for Enola to answer, "She is a woman he is not married to, but provides financially for in exchange for marital companionship."
"Marital companionship?" She raised her voice as if she didn't know what that meant, "And you find that acceptable? How does his wife feel about that?"
"Like I said, Enola, it is a long story, and I am sure Francis will explain everything," Tewkesbury looked out the window of the cab, "Very soon, I suspect as we have just turned onto his street."
Enola wanted to keep asking questions, to yell at him, maybe even throw him out the window. But she was a detective, and her career demanded professionalism even when she was hired by her fiancé, who she was just finding out was okay with adultery. So instead of her angry thoughts, she focused on readying her mind for the investigation and ensuring she looked presentable. Luckily, she had been wearing a fashionable but serviceable combination of a pink striped blouse and grey skirt when Tewkesbury had called on her.
When the cab stopped, Tewkesbury almost jumped out, ready to help her down. Enola mentally called him a nincompoop but accepted his offered hand and nodded 'thank you' to him in the graceful way Julia had taught her. She walked on his arm to the front door, swinging the brass knocker before Tewkey could get to it.