by Amy Sandas
Despite some aggressive snooping on Portia’s part, the girls had not been able to determine what had their sister wound so tight. There had to be more to their situation than Emma was letting on. Lily had suggested earlier in the day that they should just ask Emma what was wrong. But Portia convinced her it would be a useless endeavor. Both girls knew Emma would go to great lengths to protect them and could be infinitely stubborn if she believed it justified. That she had not discussed the cause of her increasing worry already proved she had no intention of disclosing anything.
The carriage rolled to a slow stop at their destination.
Emma exited the vehicle first, then assisted the footman in helping Angelique to the ground. Portia followed next.
As Lily attempted to step from the vehicle, her heel caught in the hem of her gown. It took a moment to free herself, and by the time she started toward the house, the others were already up the front steps and nearly to the door.
A light drizzle had begun to fall, and Lily bowed her head and lengthened her stride to catch up. As she reached the bottom of the steps, she felt an unexpected shift in the darkness behind her. A chill seized her breath, but before she could turn, a heavy arm looped around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides and jerking her to a rough stop. The scent of damp wool and woodsmoke assailed her nostrils.
“Don’t be scared, little dove,” a rough masculine voice muttered next to Lily’s ear.
Every muscle in her body froze. Panic clutched at her heart. Though she wanted to scream, Lily found herself unable to let out even a weak little sound.
“You’ve got until midnight in two days’ time to repay your father’s loan. With interest. There is nowhere you can go where I will not find you, so you best pay up.” The arm around Lily’s shoulders tightened painfully. “I’ll have my blunt. Mind my words, little dove.”
She was released with a shove that sent her stumbling forward.
Heart racing, Lily brought a hand to her chest and spun about, instinctively wanting to get a look at the man who had accosted her. But whoever he was, he had already disappeared into the misty shadows.
She stood there a moment in shock, catching her breath. A carriage pulled up in front of the house, but other than that, the street was quiet. Not even a footman stood nearby as witness to what had just occurred.
Her unsteady breath and shaking knees told her she hadn’t imagined the swift assault. And the message in his threat had been very real.
Two days left to pay her father’s loan. With interest.
Of course she knew Edgar Chadwick had left a mountain of debt upon his unexpected passing. But Emma had never spoken of a loan.
There is nowhere you can go where I will not find you.
The stranger’s growled warning echoed forebodingly through Lily’s head. Spurred into action by another wash of fear, she lifted her skirts in both hands and turned to run up the steps to the Mawbrys’ front door. With her gaze lowered and her thoughts in turmoil, she didn’t see the gentleman stepping out of the house until he was directly in front of her and it was too late to stop her momentum.
Lily collided full-on into Lord Harte.
With uncanny reflexes, he grasped her upper arms to keep them both from tumbling down the stairs.
And something incredible happened.
In one flashing fraction of a second, Lily felt the explosion of the white-hot awareness she had experienced the first time she had seen him, but this time, it was multiplied a hundredfold. Her arms where he gripped them felt inordinately hot from his touch, sparking a fierce reaction that spread throughout her limbs. The surface of her body where it pressed against him was branded with sensations she barely understood. It was as though she had been ignited in a conflagration of sudden life. Like a phoenix being birthed from flames.
The earl immediately set her away from him with more force than was necessary.
Lily stumbled, fighting for balance after the abrupt loss of support. With a gruff sound of annoyance, he reached out to grasp her elbow again until she reclaimed her equilibrium. As soon as she did, he released her as though even the minimal contact was offensive to him.
She looked up…and sucked in a swift breath at the hostility in his dark eyes. The heat left her body in a sudden whoosh. Her thoughts whirled. She could only gape at him.
“Watch where you are going, Miss Chadwick.” His voice, rich and decadent, cut effortlessly through her jumbled senses.
He remembered her name.
For some absurd reason, that acknowledgment ignited a sharp point of pleasure in her chest. Before she could reply—or arrange her thoughts into any sort of organized pattern—he stepped around her and continued down the steps to his waiting carriage.
Lily watched him go.
Since her coming out, Lily had danced with dozens of young gentlemen. She had been annoyed by roaming hands, too-tight grips, and clumsy feet. She had been treated gently, carelessly, and, on occasion, a bit improperly. But she had never experienced the insane rush of sensations she had felt when her body made contact with Lord Harte’s.
Now, as before, he seemed to dismiss her completely from his mind as he strode down the Mawbrys’ steps to his carriage. But she noticed something interesting.
His hands.
They stretched tensely then curled into tight fists before extending again, the pattern repeating over and over as he walked away. After he climbed into the darkness of the vehicle and waited for the footman to close the door behind him, he looked up at her from the deep shadows.
The angles of his face were hard and forbidding, his mouth set in a firm line, but his eyes… They focused in on her, consuming her despite the distance between them.
Lily’s lips parted to draw a swift breath. The flame inside her fanned to a full blaze. She could swear she saw a sort of hunger in his eyes.
Hunger, and a poignant suggestion of pain.
* * *
Lily’s first opportunity to talk to Portia about what had happened did not come until later that night as the sisters met in Portia’s bedroom. The younger woman listened with rapt attention to Lily’s description of the gruff warning muttered by the unknown assailant.
When Lily finished, Portia stood from the bed and started circling the perimeter of the bedroom as she went over the facts.
“It is obviously in reference to some personal debt Father incurred before his death. Two days,” she murmured to herself. Then she glanced up at Lily. “Emma must be aware of it. It would certainly explain her preoccupation.”
“I thought the same,” Lily agreed. “But I believe she has a plan.”
Portia stopped. “You do? Why?”
“Her distraction, if you think about it, seems less uncertain than it does anticipatory. I took the time to observe her tonight, and I swear I could practically see her brain at work, sorting through details and organizing ideas.”
“Hmm. You may be right.” Portia came back to sit on the edge of the bed. “So what should we do about it? Clearly, this is not a small matter, or the man would not have felt it necessary to issue such a threat.”
Lily took a slow breath. “We need to talk to Emma.”
After a moment, Portia nodded.
“Agreed. Time for dear sister to fess up about what we are truly facing.” Portia bounded up from the bed and marched to the door. Lily followed behind resolutely as they made their way down the hall.
Their oldest sister was dressed in her nightgown, but she was not abed. She was pacing about her bedroom as furiously as Portia ever did.
“We need to talk,” Portia announced.
Without waiting for Emma to respond, the young girl mutinously took a seat on Emma’s bed, her manner direct and unyielding. Lily sat beside her, folding her hands in her lap.
Emma stood facing them, her calm expression failing to conceal the
tension riding her petite frame. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, we do.”
“You can start by telling us about Father’s loan. The one we have been notified is due for repayment in two days.”
Emma had clearly not been expecting that. She looked at Portia in surprise. “How do know about that?”
“Lily had a rather thrilling encounter this evening.”
“What?” Emma’s face paled as she rushed forward. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Not wishing to cause unnecessary alarm when Emma already had plenty to worry about, Lily did her best to assure her. “I am fine, really. It was a brief incident outside Lord Mawbry’s town house. I never even got a look at the man. He approached me from behind and issued a rather urgent reminder that we have two days remaining to repay Father’s loan.”
“Tell us, Emma,” Portia insisted curtly. “Who is this shady character, and how much do we owe him?”
Emma joined them on the bed. Exhaustion and worry were evident in her expression. “Just before his death, Father accepted a personal loan from a Mr. Mason Hale in the amount of ten thousand pounds.”
“My word,” Lily whispered. It was a fortune by any standards. There was no way Emma could have managed to come close to accumulating such a sum with her earnings to date. “What do you know of this man? Is he truly dangerous?”
“Good question,” Portia agreed. She pinned Emma with an unwavering stare. “Just what would Hale do if he does not get the money?”
Their sister hesitated before replying. “I do not know.”
Portia leaned forward. “What is your plan, Emma? We know you have one, and we intend to help.”
There was another hesitation as Emma straightened her spine, and Lily had to bite her tongue against the trepidation that flooded her system.
“I am going to gamble for the money.”
The declaration was a shock. Emma had often been called upon by their father to play cards with him late into the night. He needed the practice, he had always said, but no manner of practice ever seemed to help him out at the tables.
Emma had come to abhor gambling in any form. They all had. But there was no denying Emma had developed significant skills when it came to card play. Still, there was so much risk. A gambling hell was no place for a lady, even one as pragmatic as the eldest Chadwick. Bentley’s club might be relatively safe when the business was closed to its members, but to actually join in on the high-stakes play…
On the other hand, if anyone could succeed in the scheme, it would be Emma.
“It’s brilliant,” Portia declared confidently after a few moments.
Emma relaxed in palpable relief.
Lily kept her misgivings to herself.
Five
Mason Hale stood by the window of his second-floor office. The day was coming to an end, and the dark of night had begun to take over the sky.
He had not heard from Molly in two days and had no idea where she was.
Last night, after issuing his little warning to the Chadwick chit, Hale had gone straight to the flea-ridden brothel in Covent Garden where Molly had most recently taken up residence. He had wanted to assure her he would be getting the money to help her settle into a different life. A better life for her and their daughter.
But she had moved on again. Just like that, she was gone. He was getting damned sick of chasing the woman from one house of ill repute to the next. At this point, he would do anything to get Molly far away from the world of prostitution and opium use she had gotten twisted up in.
When he had first met her, he never would have suspected she would allow herself to fall so low—and that she would drag their innocent babe along with her.
As he had so many times since his daughter’s birth more than two years ago, Hale questioned his decision to leave the girl with her mother. He had never expected to become a father and still didn’t think he had it in him to play such a role in someone’s life. His father had certainly not given him anything to emulate. Hale had no idea how to care for a child.
If he could just get Molly on a better path, he had to believe she could be a good mother to their girl.
Overwhelmed, Hale gave in to welling rage and fear and smashed his fist into the wall beside him. The plaster crunched and crumbled to the floor, but the destruction gave him no satisfaction. Not when Molly was out there somewhere doing God knows what.
He had to find her before she did anything stupid.
Hale knew London’s underworld as well as anyone and had people out searching the most likely spots for her. Still, fear had him by the balls. It was not a feeling Hale managed very well.
He heard the quiet knock at his door but ignored it. He was in no mood to talk to anyone. His anger was too powerful at the moment, too unruly. He knew what he looked like when he was in a rage, what people saw in him.
But the knock came again, more persistent this time.
“Fucking hell,” he shouted. “What is it?”
“Someone is here to see you, sir,” his annoyingly meek clerk replied.
Before Hale could respond, the door opened, and a familiar voice said caustically, “Oh, for God’s sake, just let me in.”
Molly pushed past the young clerk and into the room. Every muscle in Hale’s body ached with anger and disgust. If he had his way, he would never have to see the woman ever again. But they shared a connection he could never sever.
At least she looked better than she had when he’d seen her a couple of days ago in Covent Garden. She was dressed properly for one thing, and she looked clean enough. She took a few steps into the room and looked at him with a gentle sneer.
“You just can’t keep yourself from destroying things, can you?” she asked, looking pointedly at the dent he had just made in the wall.
Hale did not answer. He glanced at his clerk, who had peeked his small head in through the open door, and gave a nod. The man backed away and closed the door behind him.
Only then did Hale acknowledge Molly’s presence.
He eyed her warily, like an opponent in the ring. She may have the general appearance of a proper young woman, but it was easy to detect the glassiness of her stare and the slack movement of her limbs.
“I have been looking for you,” he said.
She smiled, and Hale caught a glimpse of the woman she had been a few years ago, before opium addiction had wound its smoky tendrils through her. “Did you need a tup, Mason?” Her voice slid with syrupy sweetness, and she put a deep swing in her hips as she sidled up to him. “Like old times?”
Hale looked into her baby-blue eyes, glazed over and flat. His gut seized with guilt. If things had worked out differently between them, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten so lost.
She tipped her head and gave him a coy smile, then boldly cupped him in her hand. She giggled, a grating sound, when she found him soft and unresponsive.
“Well, that’s not like old times,” she cooed as she began to rub her palm against the front of his trousers. “I bet I can still get a rise out of you—but I’ll need the coin up front.”
Hale felt sick. He grasped her wrist and shoved her away. She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t still had her in his grip.
“What do you want?” he growled between clenched teeth.
Giving up her little seduction, Molly tossed her head back to glare at him. “Money, Mason. I need money. Tonight.”
Hale released her and walked to his desk, needing space between them. “I will have your money by the end of the day tomorrow. More than enough to set you up in a nice place.”
“No. I need money tonight, before dawn.”
Something in her voice made him uneasy. “Why so urgent? What have you gotten into, Molly?”
“My life is none of your business. Bring the money to me at the Green Hen by dawn.”
H
ale shook his head. “I will have it tomorrow night.”
“Dawn. Not a minute later,” she insisted again, her eyes narrowing to hard slits. “If the sun comes up and you are not there…you will never see your daughter again.”
Rage blasted through him. His hands fisted as he took two long strides toward her. “You bloody bitch.”
She threw up a hand to stop him and laughed. “You would not dare to hurt me, Mason, because only I know where Claire is, and I’m not telling you her location until you bring me what I need.”
Hale stared at her in disbelief. The violent rage was blown away by a frigid wind. His heart iced over in terror. She couldn’t mean it. She wouldn’t be so callous, so selfish.
But addiction could make people do terrifying things. Heinous things.
Knowing she had him cornered, she laughed again and sashayed carelessly from the room.
Oh God.
His stomach lurched, and he swallowed back the bile pushing up his throat. How was he going to come up with the money in such a short time?
Hale braced his hands on the surface of his desk and dropped his head between his heavily muscled shoulders. He could not give in to the panic making him light-headed. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on his fury, allowing it to well inside him and overtake the feeling of impotence.
Molly would do as she threatened. He couldn’t doubt it.
There had to be a way to get the money tonight.
And dammit, he was going to make sure Molly never again had the power to use their daughter as a means of extortion.
Six
The Sherbrooke dinner party was a grand event, with several courses, musicians, and dancing that would likely go far into the morning hours. It was the perfect setting for the younger Chadwick sisters to further the interests of their potential suitors.
But Portia and Lily had something else on their minds.
Tonight was also the night of the anniversary celebration at Bentley’s gambling club—a masked event—and Emma was in attendance.
