by Wendy Vella
“I slid down the banister, and the footman caught me, Charlotte.”
“What wonderful fun.” Charlotte forced a smile onto her face.
He lowered his head briefly before looking at her again, and she knew the signs. He wanted to ask her something that he thought she would not want to hear.
“Tell me,” she said.
“They offered me a position here, but I don’t want to leave you.”
Charlotte wanted to rub the pain his words had caused from her chest. Instead, she smiled as widely as she could, and then stood to hug him.
“But you must take it if you want it, Fred. I shall settle nearby, and we will see each other every day, and you can call for tea on your days off. We shall have grand fun exploring London and all the places we have not yet seen.”
“Really? Do you promise?” He looked up at her, eyes hopeful.
“Of course,” she lied. “This is a wonderful opportunity for you, and you must take it.”
“They offered Dandy a place in the kitchens too.”
Dear Lord, she was losing them both.
“Now my day is complete,” she cried, hugging him once more when inside she wanted to cry.
He left her then, happy with her words and unaware she was raw and aching inside. Washing her face, she composed herself before she left the room.
“Can I be of service to you, Miss Radley?”
The butler approached her as she reached the front door.
“No, thank you, Chadley, I have a few errands that need my attention, and will return in time for the evening meal.”
“I shall have a maid accompany you.”
“No, I have no need of company, but thank you.” Charlotte smiled as he opened the door for her and didn’t start running until she had walked out the gates and into the street.
She would visit her old home first, see if anything was left behind after the fire. Perhaps something could be salvaged? Something hidden in the charred remains of the life she had led for so many years? Thimble Lane may not have been the most desirable location in London, but it had been her first home, and she would miss it.
With no money for a hackney, Charlotte walked, and as she did, thoughts tumbled through her head. Visions of last night, visions of Fred and Dandy and the times they had shared together. Nothing stayed the same, she knew that, but she’d wanted it to just this once. She would miss them dearly.
“Dear Lord, Charlotte, you are a fool,” she whispered, turning into Thimble Lane. “Surely by now you have realized that happily ever after is not something that happens to you.”
The smell of smoke was strong, and the lane, which was usually filled with people and noise, was quiet today. Lifting a hand as she saw one of the girls who had often spent time in her house, she moved on, and minutes later, she stood before the charred remains of her home.
It had not been much, but it had been hers and hers alone. Charlotte was proud of what she’d achieved there, and while she’d lived there no one had had control over her. Her decisions had been hers alone.
Lifting her skirts, she placed a foot on the blackened remains, but before she took another, a hand had gripped her arm, and Charlotte could do nothing to stop the cloth covering her mouth.
Marcus was still in his study four hours later, simply because he did not want to see Charlotte, coward that he was. He had not meant his proposal to sound as if he were asking her to be his mistress, but in hindsight realized it had sounded exactly like that. Considering her mother had been her father’s mistress, he knew he had insulted her.
He wanted to protect her and nothing more. Wanted her to finally have some security in her life, and instead, he had hurt her. She did not deserve that from him. Charlotte had given herself to him last night and he had shown her how much that meant to him by yelling at her and then offering her an insulting proposition. One moment he felt like he was standing on his head, the next his feet when he was with her. He had no idea how to communicate to Charlotte how he felt.
“What the hell do I do with her now?” Marcus said to the empty room.
What do you want to do?
He didn’t want to let her go, he realized in a rush of honesty. The thought of never seeing Charlotte again terrified him. Not having her anger turned on him, seeing the sparks of irritation in her eyes or having that sweet mouth under his was not something he ever wanted to contemplate.
“I will talk to her,” Marcus muttered, getting to his feet. Before he could open the door, a knocked sounded. Hoping that Charlotte would be standing there, he opened it quickly.
“Fred has just informed me that Miss Radley has not returned, my Lord, and he and Mr. Dandy fear she has met some trouble.”
“How long has she been gone?” Marcus felt his body go cold as he looked into the solemn face of the boy.
“Many hours, my lord.”
“Why did you not inform me sooner, Fred?” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice but saw the boy flinch. “Forgive me, I did not mean to upset you.”
“No, ’tis all right.” The boy swallowed. “But I was in the stables helping out and learning my new position.”
Marcus nodded. It was Chadley who had approached him about taking on the boy and Dandy, but he had not spoken with Charlotte yet about the matter.
“And you have looked in her room, and questioned the staff, Chadley? No one has seen Miss Radley?”
“They have not, my lord.” His butler looked grave.
Going back to his desk, Marcus dashed off three notes and handed them to the butler. “Deliver these to the Lords of Night Street, and then have my horse saddled.”
“I shall head out now,” Fred said, preparing to leave.
“Not alone, you won’t.” Marcus stopped him and the boy turned and gave him a steady look.
“I lived on the streets for many years before Charlotte took me in, my lord. I know them better than most.”
“She will kill me if I let anything happen to you,” Marcus said. “So you can come with me.”
Someone knocked on his front door, and Chadley hurried to open it. All of them hoped that Charlotte would be waiting when he did so, and Marcus would be the first to yell at her for scaring him.
“Dolly!” Fred hurried to stand beside Chadley when he saw the woman who stood there.
“Oh, Freddy, something terrible has happened to Miss Radley.”
“What has happened?” Marcus spoke the words over Fred’s head, his eyes fastened on the woman.
“A man, he drugged her and took her away before any of us could stop him.”
Marcus listened as the woman explained what she had seen.
“I’m going with Dolly,” Fred said, but before he could step out the door, Marcus had stopped him.
“If you go with Dolly, you’ll take one of my footmen with you.”
The boy nodded reluctantly.
Selecting the youngest and fastest of his staff, he sent him with Fred and Dolly.
“I need a jacket, Chadley,” Marcus said, running back into his office, where he pulled out his pistol and a bag of money before returning to the entrance. Seconds later, he was on his horse, galloping through the streets of London.
He arrived in Night Street as Leo and Jacob did. Nick was already there.
“Charlotte has been abducted,” Marcus said. “She was drugged and taken before anyone could intercede.”
“From your house? Jacob asked.
“No, Thimble Lane. A woman who lives there saw it happen but could not get there quick enough to help.”
“All right, let’s work out what we know and go from there.”
“We don’t know anything!” Marcus roared in response to Jacob’s words. “She left the house four hours ago after we argued, and no one even realized she had not returned.” He started to pace as the fear gripped him. His chest felt tight, palms sweaty.
“Argued?” Leo looked at him, and Marcus turned away, wishing he’d kept his mouth closed about that. Ignoring him,
he said, “Fred, the boy who lived with Charlotte, has gone looking for her, with the woman who alerted us to her kidnapping, and one of my footmen is accompanying him.”
“Sit, Marcus, we shall work out what is the best action to take.”
“I don’t want to sit, Leo. Don’t you understand, I want to find her!”
“As do we all,” Jacob soothed.
Dear Lord, he loved her. Marcus stopped suddenly, then stumbled to a seat as the news hit him hard. “Dear Christ,” he rasped.
“You’ve remembered something?” Jacob said, watching him.
“I don’t think it’s his memory that’s returning, I think it’s something far more painful that he has become aware of,” Nick said slowly.
“What?”
“He’s in love you idiot,” Leo said.
“We have to find her.” The words felt as if someone had ripped them from Marcus’s chest; suddenly, he was struggling to breathe, the pain so intense.
“I believe that’s two down,” Nick said softly. “Two to go,” he added, looking at Leo and Jacob, who both raised their hands.
“The Duke,” Marcus said, trying to think. “We discussed his involvement in what has happened to Charlotte, and how she believed it was her father’s steward that attempted to grab her that day. He must be involved in this.”
“I’ve been giving the idea that her name has been brought to his attention some thought,” Nick said. “The Duke is of the old guard, cannot stand any change, and believes those he sees as being of inferior birth should never rise above their station. He may have heard of Miss Radley’s house, and not wanting to suffer the embarrassment of that connection ever raising its head, he decided to take steps to have her removed.”
“All the time she was invisible he was happy to leave her, but now,” Leo continued, “someone may have seen her and remembered that he has a daughter… a daughter who ran away after humiliating him by reneging on her betrothal to Squire Lorne.”
“I’ll kill him for that alone,” Marcus snarled.
“We need to question him,” Leo said.
“I’m going to his house now.” Marcus made for the door. “I’ll beat what I need out of him.”
“You are not going alone in that mood,” Jacob said. “You’ll probably end up shooting him and then have to flee to the continent, and that will be no good for you or Charlotte.”
“I have more control that!” His friends all looked doubtful.
“I will come with you,” Nick said. “I know the man, as he was my father’s friend. They are cut from the same cloth. Ill-mannered, arrogant snobs, who believe themselves better than everyone else simply because they were born titled and wealthy.”
“Leo and I will send out word to every informant we have that we need to find Miss Radley and that Marcus will pay handsomely for any information about her.”
“I would give my fortune for her safe return,” Marcus said, before he could stop himself.
“Love does strange things to people,” Leo said, shaking his head.
“I never mentioned love.”
“You didn’t have to.” Leo sighed. “It’s written all over you.”
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte woke slowly. Her head hurt, and her mouth tasted dry. She realized she was lying on a bed in a room she had never seen before. Mirrors ran the length of one wall; the other had cupboards and hooks, from which hung an assortment of colored clothing and leather straps.
Easing herself upright, she tried to move, but her hands and feet were bound, so she had to roll across the bed and wriggle until she was sitting upright. Taking a couple of deep breaths helped to steady her head.
“Good, you are awake, and just in time as there is much to be done.”
Charlotte watched as a woman appeared through a door in the mirrored wall. Behind her came two men carrying a bath, and several woman carrying towels, clothing, and other items.
“Who are you?”
“It matters not who I am, Miss Radley, only that tonight we will finally see the last of you.”
The woman was tall and wore a black satin dress that was fitted to her slender body. Her hair was black and swept high and decorated with red silk roses.
“What have I done to you?”
“Several girls have left my establishment due to your interference, and there are plenty of other brothel owners who are equally as annoyed with your little house.”
“Everyone has the right to choose how they live their life,” Charlotte said outraged, as the woman drew closer.
“No, Miss Radley, they don’t. They’re born into poverty, and this is how they can rise out of it.” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “There is no other option, and people like you need to understand that. Prostitution serves a purpose.”
“It serves a purpose when the woman goes willingly into that occupation, but not when it is forced upon them.”
“Wives do not like to be subjected to the more carnal natures of their husbands. Therefore we brothel owners are doing our duty in offering them an alternative, so that all parties to the marriage are kept happy.” The woman waved the men from the room.
“You don’t seriously believe that,” Charlotte said, pulling on her bonds in the hopes that one would break and she could slap the woman for her ignorance.
“Oh, but I do, Miss Radley, and tonight you will find out just how far a man wants to go when faced with a pretty woman he can control.”
“Like you did?” It was a guess, but Charlotte realized she’d been accurate as the woman’s smile faltered before re-forming.
“Yes, like me, Miss Radley. Interfering do-gooders like you appear every so often feeling they need to reform people, but unlike others, you don’t appear to be going away. Therefore, when I was alerted to the fact that your dear father, who just happens to frequent my brothel regularly, wanted his embarrassment of a bastard daughter removed from London permanently, I agreed to take care of the matter—after a small monetary inducement was suggested.”
Charlotte put her head to one side as she studied the woman. She would not show fear, fear made her weak, and she would never allow this woman to see how scared she was.
“Oh, now I see the connection,” she said calmly. “You and my father are indeed kindred spirits, madam. The lowest form of life that can survive in this wonderful city we call home.”
The woman’s smile slipped. “I do what I must to survive.”
“No, madam, selling young girls is not a must, it is depraved, and your motivation is greed and exploitation, so please do not fool yourself into believing otherwise.”
The hand that slapped her jerked her head sideways, but Charlotte righted it and even managed to smile as she studied the woman once again.
“No amount of money will ever erase the shame and stench from you, madam, and it’s my hope that when you arrive in hell, your stay is an extremely long one.”
“You will not be so talkative, Miss Radley, when I put you up for sale in a few hours time.”
“I-I don’t understand.” Charlotte’s heart thudded hard in her chest.
“Why, tonight I will sell you to the highest bidder, my dear. I have great hopes that a lady of your birth, who is still innocent, will fetch my highest price so far.”
“Are you behind those missing girls?”
“Indeed I am, and, until your interference, everything was going very well indeed.”
“You are selling women!” Charlotte was horrified. “How dare you do that to your own kind!”
A hand shot out and grabbed her neck; the long fingers squeezed hard. “Oh, I dare, Miss Radley, believe me. And tonight you will add handsomely to my purse, and I will hand you over to your new master readily.”
Just when she felt her head swim as she struggled to draw air into her lungs, the hand eased and Charlotte took a breath.
“Now we must get you ready, as the men will be arriving soon.”
She tried to fight the woman, but others held her and in
minutes, they had torn her clothes from her body and forced her into the bath, where they washed her body thoroughly. Her hands were still bound, but her feet had been released.
“You will not get away with this!” Charlotte cried, falling back on the strength of her anger at the indignities she was suffering.
“But who will stop me?”
“They will come,” was all Charlotte said, wondering who she meant. No one knew where she was, and while Marcus would wonder where she had gone, would he even care enough to look for her? Fred and Dandy would worry, and she would put her hopes in them being concerned enough to get help.
“They?” The woman laughed. “Who are they, and why do you think they care where you have gone, Miss Radley? In fact, I doubt anyone is even looking for you.”
Charlotte couldn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe that.
“Dunk her under the water again. I want that hair smelling as sweet as the rest of her.”
Charlotte spluttered as hands pushed her head under the water. She came up spitting mad, and the only way she could retaliate was to kick out, splashing water everywhere. She didn’t achieve much but found a small amount of pleasure in the fact she had covered the woman’s dress and face.
“Bitch!” The woman reached for her.
“Don’t mark the goods, Cécile.”
Charlotte watched a man walk into the room. He was tall like the woman, and she recognized him instantly.
“Mr. Hollander?” she whispered, trying to cover her body. This man had been her father’s steward for years. He had whispered foul and lewd words to her as he often meted out the punishment the Duke had ordered. “What are you doing here?”
“I own this place along with my sister,” he said, stopping to look down at her. “You have grown into a beautiful young lady, Charlotte. I may even bid for you myself.”
Charlotte scrambled out of the bath and into the drying cloth another woman held out for her. Clutching it with her bound hands, she glared at him.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“It’s quite simple, my dear. Your father heard of your endeavors to help prostitutes and decided that he could no longer suffer the embarrassment of having his name linked to yours. He charged me with making you disappear. My first attempt failed, but I think the second one holds more promise, don’t you, Cécile?”
