“So the old hag wasn’t out in the open to find, and she was traveling under several tales. In Dusseldorf she claimed to be a widow on her way to visit her daughter. In Weisbaden, she was gentry on the way to meet her husband. In Milano she was a lady seeking her son, who was on a grand tour, to give him the sad news that his sister had died.” He shook his head. “And she changed her look with each stop like some master of disguise. It made it damned difficult to track her.”

“I can imagine,” Robert murmured and asked curiously, “How did you manage it?”

“To tell the truth, I don’t think we would have managed it had there not been one thing that stayed the same no matter where she went,” he said dryly.

“What was that?”

“She’s a right old cow,” Smithe said grimly. “Raised a fuss everyplace she stopped, demanding better service and complaining about this and that and whatnot. Made everyone who met her hate her with a passion. In the end, all we had to ask after was a ‘difficult Englishwoman.’ She made enemies everywhere she stopped,” he said dryly.

“Hmm.” Robert sat back, and then asked, “But you did catch up to her?”

Smithe nodded. “Always get my man, or in this case, nasty old harridan,” he said with amusement.

Robert smiled faintly at the words, but asked, “Did she tell you who this suitor was?”

“It took some persuading. For all that she’s a bitch, she was scared of the fellow,” he said solemnly. “But when we shackled her to bring her back, she started singing. Your man is one Lord Charles Findlay.”

Lisa shifted nervously on the carriage seat, trying to prepare in her head for what she would say to the Bow Street runner. She had no desire to tell him everything. How embarrassing would it be to explain about unknowingly taking tea with a brothel owner, and getting herself drugged, locked up, bathed and dressed for a man? Too humiliating. She had no desire to tell the tale. On the other hand she had to give some sort of explanation for her need of a bodyguard or guards to replace Robert.

Perhaps she could just leave out the bit about the brothel and tell him about the attack in her room and on Pembroke’s excursion, she thought. Of course, any Bow Street runner worth his salt would wonder why she had come to see him on her own and why a man of the house wasn’t hiring him.