by Lisa Kleypas
“What sort of demands?” Knox asked. “Forgive my bluntness, but did he ask for your personal favors, my lady?”
“No. Although he did make advances that I found intolerable, it was even worse than that. Count Gavazzi threatens everything I have, my home, my marriage, my social position, because of some ludicrous ambition of his to become a member of the beau monde!” Lily hid her satisfaction as she saw that Knox’s face was wiped clean with astonishment.
“I can scarcely credit that,” he managed to say.
“It’s true.” She lifted a lace handkerchief to the corner of her eye, pretending to blot a tiny tear. “He approached me at Lady Lyon’s birthday celebration last night, arrayed like a straggly peacock, in front of hundreds of people! He demanded that I introduce him, and become his sponsor so that he would become accepted into the elite circles. Oh, Mr. Knox, you should have seen the dreadful spectacle.”
“The fool!” he burst out angrily, paying little heed to how odd his sudden fury must have seemed.
“He was witnessed by several people, including Lord Lyon and my own husband. When I managed to coax him to a private corner, he revealed his bizarre ambitions. He said that he would return my daughter back to me soon, but first he wants my influence to gain him a position of social consequence. The idea is quite unsupportable. He’s known in Italy as a scoundrel, a criminal! How could he imagine he would be well-received here?”
“He’s nothing but foreign scum,” Knox said grimly. “And now it seems he’s not only worthless but unstable.”
“Exactly, Mr. Knox. And unstable men tend to betray themselves—and their schemes—with foolish mistakes. Is that not so?”
“You’re correct,” he said with a sudden and unnatural calmness. “In all probability he will become a victim of his own greed.”
There was a cold flatness to his gaze that chilled her. His grave face had taken on a reptilian expression—sinister and predatory. There was no doubt, Lily thought, that he intended to put an end to Giuseppe’s dangerously unrestrained behavior. If Knox truly was involved with Giuseppe and some rookery gang, his fortunes were tied to theirs, and the wagging of loose tongues was untenable.
Earnestly Lily leaned forward and touched his arm. “I pray you will find my Nicole,” she said softly. “Mr. Knox, I can promise you a significant reward if you succeed in this.” She placed a delicate emphasis on significant, and he visibly savored the word.
“This time I will not fail you,” Knox said firmly. “I shall resume my investigations this very morning, Lady Raiford.”
“Please, use discretion in notifying me of your progress. My husband…the necessity of secrecy…”
“Of course,” Knox assured her. Replacing his hat, he bid her good day and left the carriage, his weight causing the vehicle to lurch slightly. He walked away with the brisk stride of a man with a destination in mind.
Lily’s appealing expression vanished as soon as he turned away, and she watched him through the carriage window with cold, dark eyes. “Go to hell, you bastard,” she whispered. “And while you’re at it, take Giuseppe with you.”
After telling Alex and Sir Nathan the details of the meeting with Knox, and placing every possible construction on his words, there was nothing to do but wait. Henry had gone to the British Museum with his tutor to study Greek vases and antiquities. Although none of the servants understood what was going on, they were all subdued, aware of the tension that permeated every room of the mansion. Lily longed to go for an invigorating ride, but she was afraid to leave the house in case something occurred while she was away.
Half-wild with the need to do something, she attempted a bit of needlework, but she kept accidentally pricking her fingertips until the handkerchief she was embroidering was spotted with blood. She couldn’t understand how Alex remained so maddeningly calm, attending to paperwork in the library as if this were any other day.
Drinking endless cups of tea, she paced, read, and endlessly shuffled cards in a rhythm that had become second nature to her. The only reason she managed to swallow a few mouthfuls at dinner was because of Alex’s bullying and his sardonic comments that she would be of no use to anyone if she starved herself.
Finding the privacy of her room unendurable, she seated herself in the corner of one of the settees in the parlor, while Alex read aloud from a book of poetry. Lily thought he had deliberately chosen the most tedious passages. His deep voice, the ticking clock, and the wine she’d consumed at dinner combined to make her eyelids heavy. She settled deeply against the brocaded cushions of the settee, and felt herself drifting into the quiet gray mist of sleep.
What could have been minutes or hours later, she was aware of Alex’s voice close to her ear, and his gentle but urgent hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. “Lily. Sweetheart, open your eyes.”
“Hmm?” She rubbed her eyes and murmured groggily. “Alex, what are you—”
“Word from Nathan,” he said, picking up her slippers from the floor and shoving them onto her feet. “The men Nathan planted on Knox have followed him to the St. Giles rookery. Nathan and a dozen officers have cornered him in a nethersken. We’re to go there immediately.”
“St. Giles,” she echoed, snapping awake. It was arguably the most dangerous place in London, a slum riddled with thieves’ kitchens and nicknamed the “Holy Land.” Even police officers did not dare venture past its borders of Great Russell and St. Giles High streets. They knew it as a criminal stronghold, where thieves and murders could mine the riches of the West End and escape into the murky network of yards, narrow alleys, and crooked lanes. “Did the message say anything about Nicole? About any children—”
“No.” Alex fastened a dark cloak around her. He led her outside to the waiting carriage before she had time to ask more questions. Lily swept a quick glance at the half-dozen armed outriders, realizing that Alex was taking no chances with their safety.
The carriage hurtled through the streets with a violent clatter. Two outriders traveled far enough ahead to clear the way of pedestrians or slow-moving vehicles. Clenching her hands together, Lily tried to calm herself, but she could feel her pulse throbbing in panic. The streets and courts they passed became older and progressively filthier, the buildings crammed together so tightly that they allowed no air or light between them. The people slinking around the decaying areas were withered and ghostly white. Even the children. The rank smell of thousands of uncovered cesspits drifted inside the carriage, causing Lily to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She caught a glimpse of the distinctive spiral tower of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, a church which had begun as the chapel of a medieval leper hospital.
The carriage stopped in front of a nethersken, an old, crumbling lodging house. Alex got out of the carriage and conferred with one of the outriders and the driver, telling them to guard his wife carefully. If necessary, they were to drive the carriage away at the first sign of danger.
“No!” Lily exclaimed, trying to leave the vehicle, but Alex barred the doorway with his arm, preventing her from climbing out. “I’m going in there with you!” Her blood rushed with agitation and excited fury. “You wouldn’t dare leave me outside!”
“Lily,” he said quietly, giving her a hard stare. “I’ll give you leave to come in soon. But first I’m going to make certain it’s safe. You’re more precious to me than my own life. I won’t risk you for any reason.”
“The place is swarming with officers,” she pointed out heatedly. “At the moment it’s probably the safest place in London! Besides, it’s my daughter we’re searching for!”
“I know that.” He swore underneath his breath. “Dammit, Lily, I don’t know what we’re going to find in there. I don’t want you to see something that may hurt you.”
She stared at him steadily and made her tone very soft. “We’ll face it together. Don’t protect me, Alex. Just let me stand by your side.”
Alex looked at her a long moment. Abruptly he slid his arm around her waist and swung her from the ca
rriage. She slipped her hand in his as they walked to the doorway of the nethersken, where a battered door had been removed from its hinges and set aside. Two officers waited for them, greeting Alex respectfully. They looked askance at Lily. One of them murmured that there had been some deaths during the invasion of the building. Perhaps she wouldn’t care to go inside.
“She’ll be all right,” Alex said curtly, and preceded Lily into the nethersken, still retaining her hand. The air in the building was stifling and fetid. They climbed a few broken steps and proceeded down a narrow, garbage-littered hall. Insects crept busily up and down the walls. The repulsive odor of burnt herring came strongly from one of the rooms they passed, where someone must have toasted fish in the blackened fireplace. There was little furniture except a few bare tables and pallets strewn on the floor. Straw was stuffed in between the shards of glass at the windows. As they went deeper into the nethersken, toward the sound of voices, Alex felt Lily’s hand clench tighter on his until her fingers had formed a crushing vise.
They approached a large room crowded full of officers. They were engaged in subduing outraged suspects and reporting information to Sir Nathan. Wailing children were ratted out from the corners of the building and brought to him. Nathan stood in the center of the room, surveying the scene calmly and giving soft-voiced orders that were obeyed with alacrity. Alex paused as he saw three piled-up bodies before them in the hall, ragged men from the rookery that must have been killed in the fray. He heard Lily’s soft gasp, and he looked more closely at one of them. Nudging the lifeless body with his boot, he turned it over. Giuseppe’s glassy eyes stared up at them.
Lily recoiled from the sight and whispered his name.
Alex surveyed the blood-soaked body without emotion. “Knife wound,” he observed with detached interest, and pulled Lily with him into the crowded room.
Upon seeing them, Nathan signaled for them to stay there, and he made his way to them. “My lord,” he said, and gestured to the bodies behind them. “The plan worked only too well. Knox made his way here as soon as night fell. It was only through the efforts of our man Clibhorne, a specialist on the rookery, that we were able to follow him through the area—roof, yard, and cellar. By the time our forces arrived, Knox had already killed Gavazzi out of fear that he would betray the entire scheme. Knox has confessed to us that afterward he intended to return the child to Lady Raiford and collect the reward money she had promised.” Nathan gestured to the sullen Knox, bound and seated on the floor in line, his back to the wall. He was lined up with four other men, all of them captured gang members. Knox glared at Lily with hatred, but she was too anxious to notice. Her gaze traveled frantically over the half-dozen children in the room.
“What of these children?” Alex asked Nathan.
“All belonging to well-heeled families, according to Knox. We’ll try to return them to their parents—without accepting reward money, since these crimes were perpetrated with the aid of an officer.” Nathan glanced at Knox with cold disdain. “He’s brought shame on all of us.”
Lily stared at the gathered children. Most of them were blond and fair, sniffling tearfully and clinging to the officers who tried in vain to comfort them. The little group was a heart-wrenching sight. “She’s not here,” Lily said dazedly, her face white with panic. She wandered forward, trying to see through the crowd of men. “Are these all the children?” she asked Sir Nathan.
“Yes,” Nathan replied quietly. “Look again, Lady Raiford. Are you certain none of these is your daughter?”
Lily shook her head violently. “Nicole has dark hair,” she said desperately, “a-and she’s younger than these children. Only four. There must be more, she must be here somewhere. Perhaps in one of the other rooms. I know she’s afraid. She’s hiding from all these people. She’s very small. Alex, help me look for her in some of the rooms—”
“Lily.” Alex’s hand clenched on the back of her neck, silencing her frantic babble.
Trembling, she followed the direction of his gaze. A Learie’s bulky form crossed before them, blocking her view. Then she saw the small figure in the corner, half-hidden in shadow. Lily froze, her heart thumping so hard that it seemed to drive the air from her lungs. The child was a wrenchingly perfect little replica of her mother. Her eyes were dark and somber in her small face. Her tiny arms were clutched around some rags that had been knotted to resemble a doll. Standing in shadow, she solemnly watched the milling adults before her. No one had noticed her because of her quietness, like that of a mouse peeping from a secret corner.
“Nicole,” Lily said in a choked voice. “Oh, God.” Alex let go of her as she moved forward. But the little girl shrank back, staring at her cautiously. Lily’s throat ached, and she wiped clumsily at the tears that slid down her face. “You’re my baby. You’re my Nicole.” She crouched before the child. “Sono qui,” she said in a voice that shook with suppressed emotion. “I’ve waited s-so long to hold you. Do you remember me? It’s your mama. Io sono tua mama, capisci?”
The child looked at her alertly, responding to the Italian. “Mama?” she repeated in a tiny voice.
“Yes, yes…” Sobbing uncontrollably, Lily rushed forward and snatched her up, holding the child’s precious weight against her. “Oh, Nicole…you feel so good, so good—” Crooning against the tangled black hair, she ran her hand over the small head, the frail length of her daughter’s spine. Nicole rested passively in her arms. Lily heard herself speaking in a frayed voice that didn’t seem to be her own. “It’s over now. It’s finally over.” She drew her head back and looked into the brown eyes so like her own. Nicole’s little hand came up to Lily’s cheek, then moved curiously to her forehead and the shining dark curls that dangled at her temples.
Lily tried to stifle her sobs as she pressed tearful kisses against her daughter’s dirt-smudged face. All at once the waking nightmare was gone. The icy stranglehold on her heart had melted away, softly, magically. Lily had never known such peace. She hadn’t remembered what it felt like to be free of bitterness and grief. All she had ever wanted in the world was here—the warmth of her daughter’s body, the pure, perfect love that could exist only between mother and child. For the moment, nothing existed but the two of them.
Alex watched them until his throat was uncomfortably tight. He’d never seen Lily’s face so tender, so maternal. It was a side of her he had never seen before, nor yet imagined. His love for Lily was suddenly altered by a depth of compassion he hadn’t been capable of until now. He had never suspected it would be like this, that someone else’s happiness would mean so much more to him than his own. Awkwardly he turned to hide his own emotions.
Nathan stood nearby, observing the scene with satisfaction. “Alex,” he said in a businesslike manner, “this seems a good opportunity to mention Lord Fitzwilliam’s new crime bill, which proposes the opening of three new city offices I’m in dire need of—”
“Anything you want,” Alex said hoarsely.
“The bill is facing great opposition in the House—”
“You’ll have them,” Alex vowed, his face averted. He passed his sleeve over his damp eyes and continued huskily. “If I have to twist every arm in Parliament, I swear you’ll have them.”
Chapter 14
Alex looked up from the newspaper in surprise as Burton announced the arrival of Mr. Craven. They had spent a pleasant morning so far, Alex reading the Times and occasionally joining Lily and Nicole on the parlor floor as they stacked wooden building bricks into precarious towers.
“Oh, do show him in,” Lily said to Burton, and threw Alex an apologetic smile. “I forgot to mention that Derek intended to call this morning. He wanted to allow us a few days of privacy before he came to see Nicole.”
Frowning slightly, Alex stood up from the sofa, while Nicole went to chase the baleful cat, Tom, around the room. Whenever the poor animal settled in a patch of sunlight, Nicole was drawn to the inviting flick of his tail. Lily gathered some of the toys that were scattered across
the parlor floor. She thought with a rueful smile that Alex had bought too many toys, a multitude that would have overwhelmed any child. The sight of the pitiful knot of rags that served as Nicole’s doll had been too much for him. He hadn’t rested until he had bought every kind of doll available at the Burlington Arcade shop…dolls with real hair and porcelain teeth, dolls made of wax and china, complete with their own tiny trunks and trousseaus. The nursery upstairs was crammed full of toy theatres, a rocking horse, a grand doll house, balls, musical boxes, and to Lily’s dismay, a painted drum that could be heard throughout the mansion.
It had not taken long for them to discover Nicole’s disconcerting habit of playing hide-and-seek, spontaneously disappearing and then grinning at their anxious faces when she was found beneath a sofa or end table. Lily had never encountered a child who could move so stealthily. Alex would sit down at his desk in the library and work for an hour, and discover that at some point she had quietly crept underneath his chair.
Gradually Lily’s fears that Nicole might have been abused in Giuseppe’s care subsided. Although she was a cautious child, she was not fearful, and in fact possessed a sunny nature. With each day that passed she became more vocal, and soon her enchanting giggles and ceaseless questions, spoken in garbled Italian and English, rang through the house. She developed a particular attachment to Henry, frequently demanding to be held by him, yanking at his thick blond locks and gurgling with laughter at his reproving frowns.
Derek came to the parlor, his green eyes falling upon Lily. She rushed to him with a pleased laugh, discomfiting him with a quick embrace. “Here now,” he said in a mock reproof. “Not with your husband looking on, gypsy.”
“What marvelous h’s,” she observed with a grin.
Derek moved forward and shook hands with Alex. “Good morning, milord,” he said, smiling sardonically. “Quite a day for me. I’m not usually received in such high-kick parlors.”
