A Scandalous Winter Wedding. Marguerite Kaye

was a very honourable man.

      ‘I was angry, of course I was, but I can’t blame her,’ he said, unwittingly echoing Kirstin’s own thoughts. ‘She’s desperate. Not only to find Philippa, but to keep her daughter’s disappearance quiet. When I suggested getting the Bow Street Runners involved she almost had a fit.’

      ‘Why? Surely publicising her daughter’s disappearance would make finding her easier.’

      ‘Aye, but it would also mean that everyone would know, and Mrs Ferguson isn’t sure that either of them would recover from the scandal of it—whatever it turns out to be.’

      ‘So she turned to you, knowing you would help, knowing that you had the means, as you call it, to do whatever was necessary, and knowing that you’d have no option but to be discreet, being unknown to any of her family and friends?’

      ‘My desire for discretion in this matter has nothing to do with my social circle or the lack of it,’ Cameron replied tersely, ‘and everything to do with my desire to protect the reputation of an innocent young girl, her maid and her mother.’

      ‘My own desire is to understand the circumstances of this case. It was not my intention to upset you.’

      ‘You did not,’ Cameron retorted. Though it was clear that she had.

      ‘It is in the nature of these contracts that the client—in this case yourself—is forced to reveal a good deal of his life and his personal circumstances,’ Kirstin continued carefully. ‘Sometimes things which he would prefer to keep to himself.’

      ‘I am aware of that, and I am doing my best to be candid with you. I am also very much aware that the obligation is not reciprocal.’

      ‘For very sound reasons. You can have no idea of the circumstances under which my—’ Kirstin broke off, astounded to detect a quiver in her voice. ‘It is a very necessary term of all The Procurer’s contracts,’ she repeated coolly. ‘My—our—The Procurer’s aim is to protect the women whom she employs from judgement, from assumptions, from any sort of knowledge which could be used against them.’

      ‘Are they always women?’

      When Kirstin remained silent, Cameron rolled his eyes.

      ‘Fine, forget I asked.’

      ‘Yes,’ she answered, surprising herself, ‘The Procurer chooses always to employ women. Those in need of a blank slate, deserving of a fresh start, who have been judged and found wanting through no fault of their own. I dare say there are many men in such a situation, but it is her experience that woman have fewer opportunities to re-establish themselves.’

      ‘I had no idea that The Procurer was a philanthropist.’

      ‘She is not,’ Kirstin snapped, confused by having confided even this much. ‘In her view, women don’t want charity, they simply want the opportunity to earn a second chance.’

      ‘And you clearly agree with her?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘It’s an admirable ethos. You are fortunate to work for such a like-minded woman, though I must admit I’m surprised that you work for anyone. When we first met—’

      ‘As I recall, I was not specific at all about my plans.’ She waited, allowing the silence to serve as her rebuke, before continuing. ‘What was the purpose of Mrs Ferguson’s trip to London?’

      ‘To purchase her daughter’s trousseau. Philippa has, I understand, made a very good match, one heartily approved of by her family.’

      ‘And one which would be endangered if it were discovered she had run off—if she has run off. Has it occurred to you that the two might be connected?’