by Wendy Vella
“My colleagues and I have received information confirming your belief that girls are indeed being taken off the streets of London.”
“Did you doubt me, Lord Needly?” Her chin rose with her words.
“No, Miss Radley, I did not doubt you. If I had, I would never have considered letting the Lords of Night Street start investigating.”
She had the grace to look ashamed, but did not lower her eyes.
“Of course, please forgive me.”
“Perhaps in future I suggest you attempt to trust me, Miss Radley; it will make this investigation move along.”
She hesitated before reluctantly nodding. “I shall try.”
“Now, I would like to know who attempted to abduct you and why you did not think it something worth telling me.” Marcus reached for a scone as Miss Radley fell silent. “If you do not tell me, then I will ask one of the women seated in your parlor.”
Her finger tapped on the desktop impatiently for a few seconds, and a line formed between her eyebrows. “It has no bearing on the missing girls, my lord.”
“How can you know that?”
She dropped her eyes. “I just do.”
“Not a good enough answer I’m afraid, Miss Radley. Therefore, I must insist on another.”
She lifted her chin, and his eyes went to the dark bruise marring her pale skin. He would like to track down the man who gave her that and mete out some justice.
“A few weeks ago, Fred and I were returning from the markets when a carriage pulled alongside. The door opened, and I thought perhaps those within wanted directions. When I drew near, a man grabbed me.”
Marcus watched her swallow, and the finger tapped faster.
“I screamed, Fred leaped forward. Between us, we fought the man off, and the carriage door shut and then it fled.”
“Did you contact the authorities?”
“Lord Needly, the authorities believe I am a woman of little sense or worth, whose sole purpose in life should be to stitch, cook, and clean for a man. The fact that I live here is bad enough, but that I would actively take an interest in women who prostitute themselves to survive beggars belief. Therefore, I think it safe to say that had I been abducted they would have been quite happy with that fact.”
Marcus wondered what it would be like to have all that passion centered on him.
“Furthermore, the constabulary do not have the time or men to investigate the disappearance of a few prostitutes when there are other more important crimes, to their mind, needing their attention. Having approached them, and been sent on my way, I am fully aware of how they feel about the matter.”
“You may have a point, but had they the time and men available, I believe they would have started a search. My friends and I often have dealings with the constabulary and find them helpful.”
“And because you’re titled, wealthy, and a man, you are deserving of their attentions, Lord Needly. Do not try and convince me otherwise.” Her gray eyes snapped sparks at him from across the desktop, and he had the foolish urge to haul her over it and ravish her.
“Surely you do not hold a grudge against every titled man and member of the constabulary, Miss Radley?”
“Neither holds a favorable place in my esteem, my lord, and since living here, I have seen nothing to change that opinion.”
“And yet it is to noblemen you turned to for help?”
She didn’t drop her eyes or looked chastened, just held his gaze steadily, and he felt his admiration for the woman grow.
“Desperation forces us to do often what we would rather not.”
Marcus had the feeling that he could sit there and argue with her for hours and never win a point. He also believed he would enjoy every minute. She was refreshing in her honesty, and no simpering miss who would agree with his every word. He wasn’t about to acknowledge she was right and that men, especially some noblemen, did treat woman as beneath them. Marcus had a feeling that giving in to this woman would be to his detriment.
“Could you identify the man who attempted to abduct you?” A surge of anger rushed through Marcus at the thought of her struggling for release from whomever was in that carriage.
“He wore a scarf tied around the lower half of his face.” She’d lowered her eyes, which suggested she wasn’t telling him the complete truth.
“And you think there is no connection with the prostitutes’ disappearances because you are not of the same profession, and they were taken on horseback?”
She nodded, her eyes wary as she watched him. They were the color of the sky when a storm was brewing.
“So you walked through some of the most notoriously dangerous streets of London last night knowing that someone out there has already attempted to abduct you? Not a sound notion, one would think,” Marcus said. “In fact, it calls into question your sanity, Miss Radley.”
“I do not have use of a carriage, Lord Needly, nor servants to protect me. I did what needed to be done.”
“I shall send a footman to you. Until this matter is dealt with, please do not leave the house without him.”
“I do not need or wish for your footman.” She glared at him. “I have been taking care of myself since I was nineteen years old, Lord Needly, and will continue to do so.”
Stubborn wretch, Marcus thought, as his respect for the woman grew in spite of her stubbornness. She lived in a house located in an unsavory, dangerous street, with several prostitutes as guests and a young boy for protection. He had to admit that she had a strength of will he had not seen in many.
“Very well, but as my colleagues and I are now on the case, you will no longer need to venture out at night.”
“You… you will stay on the case?” He could see she had doubted he would, which annoyed him a great deal more than it should.
“That is twice you have questioned my integrity, Miss Radley, and I like it even less this time.”
“I am unused to relying on people, Lord Needly, and usually deal with everything myself.”
Not exactly an apology, Marcus thought.
“Everyone needs help at some stage in their lives, Miss Radley.”
“But not everyone receives it,” she added. “I have no money to pay you… well, very little,” she said, before Marcus could question her on who had not helped her when she needed it most.
“We do not work for money, but should we require your services in the future, we will then ask you to return the favor.”
She studied him and then nodded. “I doubt I could offer much, but, of course, should you need my help then it is yours.” She tapped her fingers again. “Please allow me to apologize if any of my words offended you. That was not my intention, Lord Needly. I do not interact with men of noble birth, and the few times I have it has not been a pleasant experience.”
“Are you the Duke of Marlton’s daughter?” She was a woman who understood straight talk. Therefore, he would deliver some. The color drained from her face as she looked at him.
“If you did not want the association known, Miss Radley, perhaps you should have changed your name,” Marcus said gently. “Many people knew of your mother.”
“I chose my mother’s name, so I had no association with the Duke, Lord Needly, and felt no need until now to use another.”
“Yet you are his daughter, Charlotte?”
Her nod was a quick jerk of her head. “I am his baseborn daughter,” she corrected. “And I would like you to keep that to yourself if you please, my lord.”
“I do not tell tales, Miss Radley. However, if my friends and I came to that conclusion, I’m sure if others tried, they would also.”
She shrugged. “I have never visited my father’s house in London, nor met any of his friends other than Squire Lorne. Nor did he acknowledge me openly to anyone other than servants. Therefore, my identity has been safe, and I see no reason for that to change, nor is there any reason anyone would need to seek me out.” She had lowered her eyes again.
“Your father was displ
eased with your departure and the broken betrothal you left behind, Miss Radley. Have you given thought to the fact that it could be he or Squire Lorne who attempted to abduct you?”
What little color she had in her face drained away, and Marcus felt uneasy that he had been the one to cause her distress.
“My father wants nothing to do with me, as is evidenced by the fact that he has had not tried to contact me.” Once again she lowered her eyes. “And it’s my fervent hope that Squire Lorne is dead.”
No emotion colored the words, but Marcus knew there was anger in each one, and he wondered what Lorne had done to her and why he cared so much.
“Miss Radley, it’s my belief you have not disclosed everything to me. If there is something you are not telling me because it has no bearing on the case, I assure you that often the leads that at first do not appear worthwhile usually are.”
She tapped harder on the desk, and Marcus thought she would say nothing more, until suddenly she sighed.
“I have not seen my father since the day I left his home seven years ago, but lately I believe someone has been watching me. I couldn’t be sure but…”
“But?”
She looked at him again, and Marcus couldn’t look away from those gray eyes.
“I cannot be certain, but the man who tried to abduct me could have been Mr. Hollander, my father’s steward.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte drew her cloak closer as she followed Fred down the narrow alley. Mist swirled, making it hard to see through the darkness even with the moon to guide them.
“The note said the woman was hurt, Charlotte?”
“Yes, Fred. It said she was beaten and left to suffer unaided, and that we were to come to Klipper House at once.”
The boy walked in front of her, and Charlotte had a hand on his shoulder. She was unsure how he could see, but he could and she trusted him to guide her.
“Lord Needly’s not going to be happy when he hears you’ve been out here again.”
“Lord Needly is not my keeper, Fred. He is also a nobleman, and I thought you had no liking for anyone born with a title.”
“I don’t,” the boy grunted. “But he seems a good one in a bad lot.”
“You’ve met him once. Surely you cannot have formed such an opinion already?”
“Not many would care about them missing girls, nor that you got home safe from visiting his house, Charlotte. I reckon that makes him better than them others.”
Charlotte was in agreement with the boy, and even though the man disturbed her greatly, she still knew he could be trusted. He had shown her that merely by believing her story. Her biggest problem with him was the awareness she felt in every part of her body when he was near. It was all very odd and uncomfortable, as Charlotte could not remember feeling that way before.
He was big and dangerous. Awareness filled the air when he was close, and she should not think about him as much as she did. He was a nobleman who had women fawning over him constantly. She would not be another one, Charlotte vowed. Yes, he was intelligent, and a man of strong character, both things she admired. He was also far above her on the social ladder, and why she was reminding herself of that she had no idea. Lack of sleep, Charlotte told herself. She needed a good long rest to revive her flagging spirits, and then she would not be enamored of the handsome Lord Needly any longer.
Buildings rose high above them, housing tenements that held hundreds of people, most of whom would be sleeping at such an hour. Pinching her nose, she tried to breathe through her mouth, yet the thought of what she was inhaling made her ill.
“Klipper House is not far now, Charlotte. It’s a hellish place, and as you’ve never set foot in a brothel at night, you should let me go in there alone.”
“You are a child, Fred, I cannot possibly let you go in there.”
“I’ve told you afore, I was bleeding raised in one and me ma was a lady of the night afore she died.”
“Yes, well, don’t curse, please,” Charlotte said, feeling ill at what the boy had seen and suffered. “It does not mean I have to let you go back into one again.”
Fred snuffled. “I’m going in if you are, and at least if you’re with me, I don’t have to worry about you standing about out here finding trouble.”
He made it sound like she was the child, Charlotte thought. Fred lived with her, along with their cook-housekeeper, Dandy. He was old and stooped, but for all that healthy, and could cook better than any person Charlotte knew. They were an odd group of three, yet they had formed a family, and she loved them dearly.
“We must find this girl who is injured, and, as Lord Needly has yet to find those missing girls, Fred, we can assist him in the search. Going into Klipper House may turn up some information,” Charlotte said, trying to sound confident when her knees were knocking together and her stomach clenching so tight it hurt. She always felt this way when she ventured out on the streets at night. These women needed her, as no one else cared if they lived or died. Charlotte knew just what that felt like, therefore she would do what she could to protect them.
“It’s only been two days, Charlotte, and the Lords of Night Street have a good reputation, for all they are noblemen.” Fred spat after this statement.
“I’m sure they do, but there is no harm in helping.”
Charlotte heard a scurry of movement and bit her lip to stop the yelp as something skittered over her foot.
“Hello, darlings.”
Charlotte squinted through the mist as a woman appeared before them.
“Fiona?”
“Lawks, Miss Radley, what you doing out ’ere at this hour?”
“We’ve had word a woman is injured in Klipper House.” Charlotte wanted to put her hand over Fred’s eyes, as currently they were level with a very large expanse of bosom, and not a lot of it was covered.
“You shouldn’t be going into Klipper House, Miss Radley. It’s not safe. Send in word and get one of the girls to check.”
“I told her that already, but she won’t listen,” Fred said.
“Yes, well, we are going in there as the note said she was in dire need of my help. So stand aside please, Fiona, and I thought I told you that you must be close to someone if you are standing out here at night.”
“Jenny’s only a shout away,” Fiona said, before she disappeared back into the mists. “You watch her in there, Fred.”
“Will do, now let’s go.” Fred started walking once more, with Charlotte’s hand on his shoulder.
“That door there,” the boy said minutes later, pointing to a wooden portal set into the wall of a building. “Not sure they’ll let us in, but we can try.”
“Surely you won’t be let in at your age?”
He gave her a look that was far older and more jaded than a boy of his age should ever wear. Then, lifting a clenched fist, Fred banged on the door hard three times. A few seconds passed before a face appeared through a small opening in the top.
“Who be you?”
“Fred, and I bring someone who wants to gamble.”
“Haven’t seen you around in a while, Freddy boy. You still working for Sal?”
“Moved on from Sal,” Fred said, and Charlotte wondered who Sal was and how the man knew the boy. Was this the brothel he’d been raised in? She kept her head lowered as they talked.
“She got money?”
“She has,” Fred assured the man.
Charlotte held her breath as neither man nor boy spoke for a few seconds, and then she heard a key turn in the lock and the door swung wide.
“Stay close,” Fred whispered.
Not needing to be told twice, Charlotte pressed herself into his back as they entered Klipper House. She heard the rumble of voices grow louder as they walked down a narrow hallway and into a room. Thick with the scents of alcohol, smoke, body odor, and something she couldn’t identify, it was cloying.
From the corner of her eye, she noted gaming tables, around which sat men and women, the latter dres
sed in scanty clothing that showed off a great deal of their flesh. One man had a woman seated on each leg, his hand down the bodice of one, and the woman was urging him to fondle her breasts. Averting her eyes, Charlotte wondered how anything could still shock her after the last few years of her life.
The walls were dark and stained with smoke, the floor felt sticky under her boots, and she thought briefly of the room she had left the night she had run from her father’s house.
Floors carpeted with soft rugs, a large comfortable bed, and pretty furnishings. The windows had shown vistas of rolling pasture and pretty gardens. It had become a jail to Charlotte, and one she never wanted to return to.
“We want the second and third floors. That’s where the rooms are,” Fred said. “Keep your eyes down, and don’t let anyone see your face.”
She did as she was told. “We shall need to check each room until we find the girl, Fred.”
He grunted his assent but said nothing further as they began to climb the stairs.
Charlotte had no wish to witness the debauchery that was no doubt taking place around her, but knew that to find the girl she would have to. She wasn’t a prude, knowing what happened between a man and a woman. However this, she knew, went a great deal further than just the act of making love.
“Are you sure you want to look behind those doors?” Fred said when they reached the second floor. “The girls usually come to you, or you visit these places in daylight hours. You’ve never actually had to search for them at night.”
“I’m an adult,” Charlotte said, trying to sound confident. “You are a child. It should be you who should not witness what we are about to see.”
“Charlotte, I slept in the same room as my ma when she had her customers.”
“Dear Lord.” Charlotte couldn’t help it, she reached for him, hugging him tight. He stiffened as he always did, but then relaxed and let her hold him. “I’m so sorry, Fred, for what you suffered.”
“It’s all right, ’cause I got you now,” he said, his words husky.
