Free The Problem of the Missing Miss by Roberta Rogow

rolltop desk, and Mr. Dodgson looked about for somewhere to sit down.
    â€œMr. Dodgson, you must take my chair,” Mr. Upshaw offered, turning the wooden chair around so that the scholar could sit properly.
    â€œThank you.” Mr. Dodgson looked earnestly at Lord Richard. “I do not know how to tell you this, Lord Richard.…”
    â€œAs quickly as possible, Mr. Dodgson. My time is limited. I am needed in the House this afternoon,” Lord Richard said testily.
    â€œBut why you, Ricky?” Ned asked. “I mean, there are others …”
    â€œNo, there are not. Mr. Gladstone is out of office, after that disastrous vote in May, and he accepted the offer of a cruise on the Norwegian fjords. For all the use he is to us now, he might as well be down a crevasse in a glacier. Lord Salisbury is in the country and cannot be found. Lord Randolph Churchill … I do believe only the Lord knows where Lord Randolph is. Lady Randolph is canvassing for him, but that won’t help us in the House of Commons. A pity that women don’t stand for Parliament.”
    â€œSurely, Ricky, you don’t mean to give women the vote!” Ned exclaimed in real alarm.
    â€œI sometimes think that would not be such a dreadful idea, considering some of the men I have to deal with,” Lord Richard snapped. “After all, you got in.”
    Kinsale grinned. “Aye, that’s a laugh, eh? ‘Roaring Ned,’ M.P. But I stood, and I got the votes, and here I am.”
    â€œAnd well I know it!” Lord Richard leaned forward. “Ned, where do you stand? I should like to think I had at least one vote in my pocket on this matter.”
    Ned shook his head. “Ah, Ricky, you’re asking an Irishman to vote for a Bill that would make whoring and procuring a criminal offense, punishable by prison sentences?”
    â€œMr. Kinsale!” Mr. Upshaw nodded at the door, where Lady Pat stood. “Moderate your language, sir!”
    â€œPat’s used to it,” Kinsale said breezily.
    â€œAnd don’t try to play the Irishman with me, Ned,” Lord Richard said testily. “It may go over well enough in your constituency, but you and I both know that the Kinsales are latecomers, by Irish standards, brought in by King William to keep an eye on the rebellious tenantry.”
    â€œBut Mama was an O’Connell, and never let us forget it,” Lady Pat countered. “Ned, is Richard trying to corner your vote?”
    â€œOf course he is, darlin’, but whether he gets it or not depends on whether he’s willin’ to help me—when the time comes.” Ned grinned again.
    â€œIf you mean that Irish Self-Rule Bill, that comes up in November. The Criminal Amendment Bill is now, Ned!” Richard leaned forward. “I need your vote, and I am asking for it on Party grounds and as a Christian gentleman.”
    Ned unhitched himself from the desk. The amiable grin was replaced by a look of grim determination. “Then, Ricky, you’ll have a hard time getting it. Your Bill goes too far, my lad. Oh, I agree with raising the age of consent from twelve to sixteen for girls, but all the rest of it? That’s no business for gentlemen or anyone else. Let the police deal with the wh—that is, the Soiled Doves. What goes on in a bedroom is no concern of anyone’s but those inside it. I beg pardon, Pat, but you’re a married woman and know what I mean.”
    Lady Pat looked from her brother to her husband. “This is not the time or the place to debate this matter. Richard, Nanny Marsh is quite upset. Something seems to have happened to Mary Ann. She did not return last night as she was supposed to.”
    â€œProbably took advantage of the opportunity to kick up her heels in Brighton,” was Kinsale’s opinion. Lady Pat disagreed.
    â€œOh, no, Ned. Mary Ann is usually quite reliable. Nanny Marsh speaks well of her, and Alicia likes