by Laura Landon
“That isn’t my intent,” he argued.”
“But that’s what will happen.”
He paused, then said, “What if I told you that I wouldn’t turn your mother over to the authorities?”
Winnie turned around to face him. She couldn’t have heard him correctly.
He stood with his feet braced wide, his stance rigid, his expression serious.
Winnie studied him for several long seconds. Then she shook her head. “I wouldn’t believe you,” she answered.
“What if I gave you my word?”
“You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise.”
“But Mack Wallace does.”
Her mind hurt as she tried to sort through what he was saying. “Assuming that my mother is still alive, and that I know where she is, why would you want to know her location if you don’t intend to turn her over to the authorities?”
“To protect your family. To protect you.” He took a step toward her. “Your mother is a murderer. She’s a danger to several in your family, as well as to you if she blames you for holding her against her will, which I’m sure she does.”
Winnie turned back to face the ducks floating on the water, although she hardly noticed them. She was trying to sort through what Nick was saying.
He came closer to her. So close that when he stood before her, her hem covered the tips of his boots.
Winnie had to look up to see into his eyes, something she seldom had to do. He stood so close she could see the flecks of gold in his ebony-hued eyes. If she reached up, she could trace her finger along the chiseled angles of his high cheekbones and rigid jawline. She could touch her finger to the spot where a crease deepened near the corners of his mouth each time he laughed.
But he wasn’t laughing now. His expression was serious. The look in his eyes filled with intensity. And his stance was as firm and unyielding as he’d been when she’d first met him.
“Tell me where your mother is, Winnie,” he said as a whisper. “Let me help you.”
Winnie felt as if someone were slowly ripping her heart from her breast. Nick was offering her the one thing she wanted more than any other, someone to help her. Someone to carry the burden that had been thrust on her. Someone to take the weight from her shoulders and tell her everything would be all right.
And who better in the whole world to do just that than Nick. And who more dangerous to her and her family than...Nick.
She hesitated, unsure of what to do. If she told him, he would discover who was blackmailing her. He could make that whole nightmare go away. He would make sure the Duchess of Townsend never hurt anyone ever again. He would make it so she never had to pawn another piece of jewelry, or play another game of cards. Nick could fix everything.
Winnie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
What if Mack Wallace insisted that they turn her mother over to the authorities? What if Nick’s assurances were empty promises? What if trusting in him destroyed her father’s reputation? Ruined Anne’s happiness? Destroyed her future?
Winnie stumbled back. Her hands went to her head as the pillars of the gazebo moved in dizzying circles.
“Winnie?” she heard his voice call out. His hands clasped her upper arms and he pulled her toward him. But the world around her refused to stop moving.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
He brought her down to the wooden bench in the gazebo and sat with her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her until the earth righted itself.
She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t move,” he said. “You need to stay seated a little longer.”
She relaxed back against him. “I don’t know what happened,” she said, pressing her cheek to his chest. His heart was beating faster than normal. But so was hers.
“I know what happened. You nearly fainted.”
“I can’t believe—”
“This has gone on long enough, Winnie. You have to let me help you. You have to tell me where you have your mother hidden, and let Mack Wallace decide what to do about her. I need to know why you are so desperate for money. Does it cost that much to keep her where you have her? Or is there something else? Tell me, Winnie,” he said louder that she was used to hearing him speak.
She shook her head. She was suddenly afraid. Not of Nick. Never of Nick. But of what might happen if she told him where her mother was hidden.
“I’d like to return to the house now,” she said, rising to her feet. She staggered, but Nick was there to help her.
“Take my arm,” he said, extending his arm. She took it and he led her back to the house.
“Do you need a doctor?” he asked when they reached the house. There was concern in his eyes. A worried expression on his face.
“No, I’m fine. I just felt faint for a moment. I’m fine now. I just need to lie down.”
Nick led her to her room.
“Will you be down for dinner?” he asked when the door opened and Tilly stood there.
“I’ll just have a tray brought up to my room, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” Nick shifted his gaze to Tilly. “Watch your mistress. She isn’t well.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Tilly fussed over her, and sent her straight to bed. Winnie pretended to sleep, but sleep was an elusive fantasy. Her mind was too occupied with what she would tell Nick. Of what, if anything she could share with him. And a voice deep down inside her warned her that there was nothing she could tell him. Nothing that she could risk sharing with him.
Still, she knew that her refusal to tell him where her mother was would destroy what little faith he had in her.
Would destroy any chance they had for a future together.
CHAPTER 17
Nick sat in his dark and empty room and stared out the window. The moon was full tonight, the sky clear enough to count a million stars. But he didn’t care much for counting stars. He didn’t care much for doing anything. His mind was too numb, his heart too broken to do anything.
The glass in his hand was empty again. He lifted a decanter of brandy from the floor beside his chair and filled it. He hadn’t had so terribly much to drink, only enough to dull the ache. And to decide what the best course of action would be.
They were leaving in the morning, and Winnie had ignored him since their conversation in the gazebo. She’d taken her evening meal in her room that night, and he hadn’t bothered her. She’d been visibly shaken from talking about her mother.
He didn’t know exactly what she was involved in, but she needed money for more than just to keep her mother wherever she’d put her.
If only she would trust him. If only she would confide in him. But so far, she hadn’t trusted him enough to accept his help.
Nick lifted the glass to his mouth and took another swallow. He hadn’t seen her all day. She hadn’t left her room, and even when he’d knocked on her door and asked to see her, her maid Tilly told him she was resting and didn’t want to be disturbed.
He missed her. He was worried about her. He wanted to talk to her, and assure her that everything would be all right. That he would take care of everything if she would just trust him to help her.
But, she’d not only stayed in her room all afternoon, she’d taken her evening meal in her room, too. Of which she’d barely touched anything on her plate, according to Cook, who was worried about her, too, and didn’t mind saying so.
Nick leaned forward in his chair and anchored his elbows on his thighs. He turned the glass in his fingers and watched the liquor ripple with each turn.
He didn’t know how it had happened, or when. But he’d come to care for her more than he ever thought he’d care for any female. Especially the daughter of nobility.
He thought of his mother and his father. Of the life they’d led. The choice his mother had been forced to make—life as she’d always known it, or happiness. He always swore that if and when he ever fell in love with someone, it wou
ldn’t be with someone whose father held a title. Yet, that was exactly what he’d done. He’d fallen in love with a lady whose father was a bloody duke.
He took another drink from his glass, then looked at the clock on the mantel. It was nearing two o’clock in the morning. Far too late to go to her. Far too late to disturb her. Far too late to try to convince her to let him help her. And yet…
He paused with the glass midway to his mouth when he heard a noise at his door.
Muted light from the candle she held illuminated her enough so he could see her fragile outline.
She stayed in the open doorway, neither stepping back out into the hallway, nor stepping into his room.
Nick knew if he didn’t invite her in, she’d turn and leave. “Come in, Winnie,” he said, standing beside his chair and turning to face her.
She stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her. With a shaky puff of air, she blew the flame out and they were in the dark.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked, then laughed softly. “Of course I’m disturbing you. It’s the middle of the night. I should go.”
“No. Don’t leave. Come here.”
He walked to her and took her hands. He placed her unlit candle on the nearest surface, then led her back to where he’d been sitting. She shivered in his arms, whether from the cold or from nerves he didn’t know, so he took a cover from the back of the chair, then brought her down with him when he sat. When they were settled, he draped the cover over them and held her on his lap.
“Here,” he said, handing her his glass of brandy. “Take a sip. It will calm you.”
She didn’t argue, but took the glass and brought it to her lips. She took a small sip, then handed it back to him.
She looked up at him with a frown on her face, then wrinkled her nose. “Do you like it?” she said after he’d settled her closer to him.
“The brandy?”
“Yes.”
“I do. Don’t you?”
She shook her head. “No. I could never understand why my father and brothers drink it. It burns going down, and tastes terrible.”
“You have to develop a taste for it. As you do most liquors.”
“Oh,” she whispered, relaxing against him. “Perhaps I should have another drink,” she said.
He smiled. “Are you trying to develop a taste for it?”
“No. I just like how it makes me feel.”
“How’s that?”
She took the glass from his hand and took another sip. “Warm. Different.” She took another sip, then gave the glass back to him. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” she whispered.
“Why are you here?” he asked, brushing his fingers through her loose hair that cascaded over her shoulder.
“Because I need you to hold me,” she answered. “Because this is the last night we’ll have together, and I want to spend it in your arms.”
A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. “You sound as if after tonight we’ll never see each other again.”
“That’s possible,” she whispered.
“Is that what you want?”
He felt the muscles in her body stiffen, and she reached for the glass in his hand and took another drink. “You know it isn’t,” she said, handing the glass back to him. “But sometimes what we want and what we get are two different things.”
“I know you’re in trouble, Winnie. Let me help you.”
“How?”
“Tell me where you’ve taken your mother and I’ll make sure everything works out for the best.”
“The best for whom?”
“For all of you. For your father, and your sister, and your brothers and their families.”
She was silent for a while, then she breathed a heavy sigh. He was certain she was going to ask for his help. Certain she was going to allow him to take the burden from her shoulders. Instead, she asked him a question he wasn’t expecting.
“What’s your connection to The Soiled Dove? Why are you going there?”
It was his turn to take a drink from the glass of brandy they were sharing.
He thought about not answering. His reason for going there wasn’t widely known. Only Mack knew the real reason he went. But he didn’t see a reason to keep it from Winnie. She, more than anyone would understand.
“My reason for going to The Dove is Lady Jenny Belden.”
Winnie sat forward. “Jenny Belden? Didn’t she suffer an unfortunate accident several months ago that killed her? A carriage accident? Or a horse riding accident? I can’t remember exactly.”
“Yes, she died several months ago. Almost a year, to be exact. Only she didn’t die from an accident. She took her own life.”
Winnie’s eyes filled with shock, then sadness. “Why? What would make a young lady with her life ahead of her take her own life?”
“Because of what happened to her at The Dove.”
Winnie lifted her hand and tenderly touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. Was she a special friend of yours?”
He shook his head. “Not of mine. Although I had met her several times. She was a special friend of my niece, Lord and Lady Rummery’s youngest daughter, Elizabeth. Lizzy. She and Jenny had been friends forever, and they were introduced to The Dove by several other young ladies and gentlemen of the ton. They didn’t know the risks they were taking by going to The Dove. Just like you. They only craved the pleasure The Dove provided, and thought the masks they wore the height of excitement. Until Jenny lost her money. Plus a great deal more.”
Nick swallowed past the lump that formed in his throat each time he thought of the innocent young girl Jenny had once been. “More than she could pay back without going to her father and admitting how she’d lost the money.”
“Which she couldn’t do,” Winnie answered for him.
“Which she couldn’t do.”
Nick took another drink from the glass of brandy. Winnie drank after he did.
“Lizzy and her friends combined their money, but they didn’t have enough to cover Jenny’s losses. Then, Ellsworth gave Jenny the choice of going to the third level, and earning back her losses.”
Nick closed his eyes to block out a picture of what it had been like for such an innocent young girl to stand before a crowd of jeering, drunken lechers, and have her physical attributes described in coarse and disgusting terms.
“Jenny didn’t know what Ellsworth meant when he offered to let her earn back her losses, so she readily accepted his offer. She didn’t think she could go to her father for the money, so she agreed to be auctioned off. Until she realized what was happening. But by then it was too late. The man who bought Jenny raped her, then left her.”
Nick took a large swallow from his glass. It was difficult to talk about what had happened to Jenny. She wasn’t the only innocent young lady Ellsworth and The Soiled Dove had ruined. Virgins brought the highest prices. They made them the most money.
“She took her own life because she couldn’t live with what had happened to her, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Nick rubbed his hand up and down over Winnie’s arm. He needed to touch her, needed to assure himself that he’d saved Winnie from being harmed in such a way. “A ferryman found her floating in the Thames. I doubt her parents will ever get over her death.”
“And you intend to make sure Ellsworth doesn’t get his hands on another innocent young lady,” she said, as if she could read his motives.
“Yes. And rumors are just surfacing that Ellsworth and Willard are involved in sex trafficking. They are kidnaping young girls off the streets, mostly from the East End where another innocent young girl losing her virginity is hardly noticed. After they’re ruined, they release them back to the streets, where they have no choice but to continue down the path Ellsworth and Willard have forced them to lead.”
Nick drained the brandy that was left, then reached down and picked up the decanter from the floor. Winnie took it from his trembling fingers and filled their glass, th
en Nick lowered it back to the floor.
“If you know what they’re doing, why don’t you shut them down and have them arrested?”
“Because I don’t know the identity of the third owner of The Dove.”
Winnie looked up. “There’s someone else?”
“Yes, and from what Jack and I have discovered, the third owner is a member of the ton. That’s the reason The Dove caters to the nobility. That’s how word travels concerning The Dove.” Nick lowered his gaze and looked at her. “How did you learn about The Dove?” he asked.
“I heard about it at Lady Winstead’s ball. It was the first ball of the Season, and everyone was abuzz with rumors of a new gaming hall that was open to anyone with ties to the nobility. It also allowed females—in fact, encouraged females―to be part of its clientele.”
“So you became a member,” Nick said, taking the glass from her hand and taking a sip.
“Yes.”
“Because you needed the money you could win at the tables.”
She stiffened at the mention of the money and the inference to her mother. He handed the glass back to her, then took her free hand in his and held it.
She grasped his fingers as if they were a lifeline that would save her.
“I know your mother is alive, Winnie, so there’s no use denying it.”
When she took a larger sip of brandy than her usual modest sips, he took the glass from her hand and placed it on the floor. He didn’t want her to have liquor as an excuse as to why she’d said things she hadn’t intended to say. “I won’t ask you where she is because I know you won’t tell me. But what I want to know, is how you managed to get her away.”
For several long seconds, Nick didn’t think she was going to answer him. Until she took a deep breath and released it as a sigh of resignation.
He continued to hold her hand, encouraging her to trust him.
“Even though Father told Anne and me to remain at the house when you and Mr. Wallace and my family went to meet with Mother that first time, I couldn’t. I followed. And I saw Mother shoot Ben.”
She lifted her gaze and looked at him. Tears in her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. When one spilled over her lashes, Nick brushed it away with his finger.
