Driscoll stood and tossed the box on the bed. “Something’s happened. Whatever or whomever she was running from has caught up to her.”
18
For as quickly and unexpectedly as Amelia had been bundled off from London to a place unknown, she was then whisked back to London the next morning.
She slept almost the entire trip since the two men had forced her to drink laudanum. Her gown was stained with it, since she spit it out, then refused to open her mouth until Lyons held her nose so she had no choice but to open her mouth to get some air.
At least they had left her alone during the night. Not once had she heard any noises coming from the other room, and the chair she’d placed in front of the doorknob never moved.
Amelia tried her best to stay awake, to think of a way to escape the two devils, but the drug had done its job. She was helped out of the carriage and then her arms were slung over the two men’s shoulders as they practically dragged her up the steps to Randolph’s house.
She cringed, knowing if anyone saw them they would assume she was drunk and ready to allow these two men to have their way with her. She was grateful that so few people in the neighborhood, even in all of London for that matter, knew her. On the other hand, Randolph’s reputation couldn’t get worse, so he wouldn’t care.
After dropping her ignominiously on the bed in her former room, the men left her after locking the door. She continued to sleep.
It was around dusk when she awoke. Her mouth felt like she’d drank from the Thames, and her body ached. No doubt they didn’t do much to secure her while she slept in the carriage, and the bumps along the way caused bruises in various parts of her body.
She climbed out of the bed and made her way over to the dresser where a fresh pitcher of water sat. It unnerved her to think one of the men might have brought the water while she slept. Hopefully, they’d gotten one of the housemaids to do that duty.
After washing her face and brushing her hair with one of the brushes she had left behind when she’d fled, she felt a bit better. And very hungry.
She pounded on the door until finally it opened. Randolph stood there, an annoyed look on his nasty face.
“I would like something to eat. Or is it your intention to stave me to death?”
He pushed his way in, and she walked to the other side of the bed, keeping her distance.
“No. Now that you’re awake, we’ll have something sent up to you.”
Amelia raised her chin. “Frankly, I prefer to leave and find my own meal.”
There was no doubt he was well on his way to being in his cups. He swayed slightly and waved his hand in the air, then quickly grabbed the bedpost to hang on. Yes, he was definitely feeling the effects of too much spirits.
He pointed his finger at her. “Let me make this clear, dear sister—”
“—I am not your sister.”
He bowed and again almost lost his balance. “Step-sister, then.” He burped. “You will remain here until the auction.”
Since they’d never discussed it in front of her, she feigned ignorance. “Auction?”
Randolph snapped his fingers, again, grabbing the bedpost for purchase. She had the feeling she could walk over and with one shove to his shoulder he would be on the floor.
Where was Lyons? If he wasn’t in the house, she could very well escape. Almost as if he’d read her mind, Randolph said, “Don’t think you will get out of here until we’re ready to release you. I have both footmen alerted that you are unbalanced, and they are not to let you leave the house.” He grinned and her stomach roiled. “For you own safety, of course. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my beloved step-sister.”
Amelia quickly glanced around the room, looking for some sort of a weapon to use on the two footmen if she managed to get past Randolph. Just as her eyes landed on the iron poker next to the fireplace, Lyons sauntered into the room. He appeared to be less inebriated than her stepbrother.
“Ah, our lovely prize has awoken.” He turned to Randolph. “Why didn’t you summon me? Have you told the lovely Miss Amelia what our plans are?”
“Was just about to, old friend.” He burped and closed his eyes briefly.
Lyons cast a reproachful glance in Randolph’s direction. “You need to cut down on the brandy if we are going to do this right. We must make plans and you can’t do that if you’re always reaching for the bottle.”
Randolph raised his arm to wave the comment off. He lost his balance, fell to the floor and immediately began to snore.
“Get him out of my room,” Amelia said.
Lyons grinned at her. “All in good time, my dear.”
“Don’t ‘my dear’ me. I have no intention of going along with your ‘plans’.”
Lyons walked closer to her and she backed up, stopping when she reached the wall. “Don’t come any closer or you will regret it.” She’d learned years ago how and where to strike a man to leave him crying like a babe.
“Hmm. It seems our little prize has a mean streak. That would make you more attractive to a certain sort of gentleman. We must remember that when we advertise our auction.”
“It won’t work.”
Lyons raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? And why is that?”
“Because I won’t go along with it. As I said, I know how to defend myself.”
He moved a step closer, and she tensed, getting ready to knee him in the groin.
“Ah. I can see you are preparing to harm me.” He tsked and shook his head. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
Abruptly he turned on his heel and walked to the door. “I will send dinner up to you and have one of the footmen remove Newton here.” With those curt words, he walked past the threshold and slammed the door.
Amelia slid down the wall and collapsed into a heap on the floor. She wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. For the first time since they grabbed her outside of The Rose Room, she cried.
* * *
Driscoll fisted his hair in frustration for what seemed like the hundredth time as he paced his office. He grew more frantic by the minute. According to his calculations, Amelia had been missing six days.
The first thing he did after Dante gave him the news was clip his brother on the chin. Hard enough to make his point, not hard enough to put him out of service. Then he went to Scotland Yard to gain their help.
Even before he arrived, he knew that it was most likely a futile trip. When the officer began to question him, he felt ridiculous. No, he wasn’t completely sure Miss Amelia Pence was her real name. No, he didn’t have any prior address for her. No, he knew nothing of her family. No, he didn’t know if she had friends.
He didn’t mention the necklace because he knew in his heart she didn’t take it. Dante was still working on that one.
The only time the officer seemed interested was when Driscoll told him she left all her belongings behind, even the money she was saving.
He took down the information, but he smirked when he said most likely the young lady disappeared because she grew tired of him. Only the thought of spending time in jail kept him from planting a facer on the officer.
Because of his time working for the Home Office, he was deeply behind in his work. Although he tried his best, he couldn’t concentrate long enough to get anything done. Finally, Dante hired someone to help with the ledgers.
Amelia. Where are you?
He spent every night wandering the club, looking at faces. Trying to see if anyone looked smug. Or uncomfortable. Listening for words in conversations he could question. Most of the time the club was open, he stood against the wall, a brandy in his hand that he rarely sipped, watching Amelia’s table. Marcus had agreed to take it over until they could find someone else.
It was on the eighth day after her disappearance that he got his first clue. He watched Dante make his way across the room, heading directly toward him. He gestured with his head and Driscoll followed him to a small room where they stored gaming
supplies. “What is it?”
“I just heard some rumors about an auction being held in two days.”
Driscoll shook his head in confusion. “An auction? Horses?”
“No. A woman.”
Driscoll felt all the blood leave his head to the extent he felt lightheaded. “What have you learned?” His lips were so stiff with fear the words barely made it past his lips.
“Apparently Lord Newton has a step-sister who he is auctioning off.”
The blood returned to his head, and on the way setting his heart to pounding. “Auction her for what?” His voice was so low it was a wonder Dante even heard him. It was either that or shout so loud they would hear it in Bath.
“I think you probably know.” He grabbed Driscoll’s arm as he meant to move past him. “Stop Brother.”
“It has to be her.”
“We don’t know that for sure. Since the event takes place in two days, I suggest we do some investigating and find out if it’s Amelia. Even if it isn’t her, we need to alert the authorities.”
“No. I don’t want the authorities involved. I don’t want this story to spread more than it has. I suggest the first thing we do is find out who Newton’s stepsister is. I don’t travel in Society much, but I never heard of a sibling belonging to Newton.”
“Apparently Lyons is involved in this, too.”
“Daniel Lyons? That cur?” Driscoll smacked his palm with his fist. “When this is over, I shall beat both of them to a pulp.”
Dante shook his head. “No. You won’t, because if this is Amelia, we need to keep it as quiet as possible. She is a viscount’s stepsister, and who knows what status to which she was born. She should have her place in Society and possibly even a Season to secure a husband. If any of this gets out, she is ruined.”
“Surely you are not serious?” Driscoll said, aghast. “Have you not been listening to me? I have every intention of offering for her as soon as she is found. I will protect her with my name. No one would dare cast aspersions on her. She will have the Earl of Huntington as a brother-in-law.”
Dante grinned. “And me, as well. Except I’m the bastard.”
“Stop. I always hate when you do that. You were raised right along with me and Hunt. Father treated you no differently.”
“Ah, but mama.”
“Was understandably upset by your arrival. But I think she did her best to overcome that.”
Dante remained silent. Despite being distracted by Amelia, he still noticed the shift in Dante’s manner.
Not wishing to delve into that right at the time, he said, “In any event, we have two days to find out more about this affair. If it is Amelia, we need to learn where it is to be held, and who can secure an invitation.”
“If it is her, we will not be offered invitations, I am sure.” Dante rested his hand on Driscoll’s arm. “She is an employee of The Rose Room. If she was indeed taken from here, we are the last people Newton and Lyons would want involved.”
Driscoll nodded. “I will go to a few clubs right now. See if I can pick up some natter. Since this is illegal, I am sure it is being kept confidential.”
Dante nodded. “I know you will be of no use to me or the club until you get this matter settled, so go on. I will be here for the rest of the night. If you need more time, I will prevail upon Hunt to step in for a couple shifts.”
Driscoll slapped Dante on the back and left the club. His first stop was White’s, by far the most popular club of the peerage. He took a seat in a small group of gentlemen, most of them known to him.
“Rose!” Lord Sterling offered a greeting. “Not used to seeing you here. Don’t you have a club to run?”
“I do. Everyone is entitled to time off.” He waved at a footman to bring him a brandy.
Sir Grant Johnson leaned forward. “I hear you have a woman working one of your tables.”
Driscoll’s stomach muscles tightened. “Yes. We did. She is no longer working for us.”
Sterling raised his brows. “Indeed? I was just there a couple weeks ago, and she was working.”
Driscoll shrugged, not wanting to put too much emphasis on Amelia. “Employees come and go. We’re used to it.” Which was, of course, a lie since they rarely lost an employee.
“I heard she was a fine piece of baggage.” Sir Grant wiggled his eyebrows and Driscoll had to squelch the desire to pummel his face. If he were to get any worthwhile information, he had to get off the subject of Amelia. All he’d accomplished was to increase his agitation.
They bantered for a while and despite his best attempts, when nothing was forthcoming that Driscoll could use, he excused himself and made his way to Brooks’s.
Once he joined a small group of men, he decided to be more aggressive about seeking information. He swirled the brandy in his glass. “I heard some rumors about an auction.”
Mr. Joshua Tilton leaned in and whispered. “Not supposed to talk about it. Illegal, you know.” He looked around as if expecting the authorities to swarm the building and haul him off. “I understand the invitations are hard to come by, but, if you want more information, talk to Lyons. Or maybe Newton. They’re running it.”
Bloody hell. He obviously could not talk to the two of them since he suspected they were the ones holding Amelia.
“Anyone know the chit?” Driscoll felt dirty even asking the question. The thought of a young girl, any young girl, not just Amelia, being auctioned off to the highest bidder was repugnant.
Mr. David Archer also leaned forward. “From what I’ve heard it’s Newton’s step-sister.”
Driscoll let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know Newton had a step-sister.”
“I saw her once,” Archer said, downing his glass of brandy. “Newton threw one of his parties. She was living there at the time. She made a quick appearance, but nippily left when she saw what kind of parties Newton runs.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.” He paused. “Pretty piece.”
Driscoll’s mouth dried up. He was close. Very, very close. As nonchalantly as possible, he said. “Oh? What does she look like?”
Then he sat there with his heart thundering in his chest and his head pounding while Archer described Amelia.
19
“What’s the latest count?” Lyons leaned over Randolph’s shoulder and peered at the list of auction attendees, which was only two days off.
“Eighteen, if we include Lord Ashley-Cooper. He hasn’t confirmed yet, but he has shown a great deal of interest,” Randolph said.
“He will be here, of that you can be sure. He’s an old lecher and would love to get his hands on some young flesh.”
Again, Randolph’s stomach roiled. The closer they got to the auction, the more he regretted getting involved with it. Truth be known, he also felt nothing but remorse for starting the whole thing by offering Amelia as a wager to Lyons. What had seemed like a good idea at the time in his drunken state had now awakened a long-silenced conscience that he thought was dead and buried.
What would his father think? He was quite fond of Amelia, thought of her as his own daughter.
Almost as if he’d spoken the words out loud, Lyons looked at him with a tightened jaw. “You are not thinking about reneging once again on our deal, are you, Newton?”
Randolph shook his head. “No. Not at all. I was just thinking of any others to whom we can extend an invitation.” He sighed. It didn’t matter how much it troubled him to auction off his stepsister, he didn’t have the blunt to pay Lyons and his credit with the usual moneylenders was nil.
“I just want to make sure Amelia goes to someone who won’t abuse her.”
Lyons straightened and glared at him. “You are having second thoughts, aren’t you?”
“Well, she is my sister. I mean stepsister. And my ward. It does make one feel a tad uncomfortable.”
Lyons slapped him on the back. “You will get over it when you see how much the chit brings in. If things go as I believe they will, you’ll have enough to continue your
lifestyle until you can find a wealthy wife. We have some pretty deep pockets on our list.”
Randolph nodded, knowing Lyons spoke the truth. He didn’t have a feather to fly with and if he wanted to find a rich wife, he needed the blunt to update his wardrobe, purchase flowers, theater and museum tickets. All the things young ladies expected when they were being courted.
If he could only push from his mind the image of a young Amelia when she first arrived at Newton Manor with her mother after the former Viscount Newton had married the woman. Amelia had been a pretty little girl, shy and quiet. As she’d stepped out of the carriage and looked up at him, she gave him a soft smile. She’d been dressed in a blue flowered dress, white stockings and black shoes. A blue ribbon had tied her golden blonde hair back.
His father had developed quite an affection for the girl, which Randolph was young enough and foolish enough to resent.
Assuming Randolph held the same fondness for Amelia, the former viscount had handed her guardianship and the responsibility for her welfare to him. He’d expected Randolph to give her a Season and find her a suitable husband with the dowry he left. Instead, his son had spent the dowry and was now auctioning her off as a mistress to cover the cost of his debauched lifestyle.
Another stab at his conscience, knowing the old viscount had depended on him to do the right thing.
He sighed. “Very well. I have no intention of going back on my word.” He looked up at Lyons with a self-derisive sneer. “You know I am an honorable man.”
* * *
Dante and Driscoll arrived at the drawing room in Hunt’s London townhouse to the sound of wails from a baby and sobs from its mother. They took one look at each other and turned on their heels to leave.
“Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” Hunt stood with his hand on Diana’s shoulder as she attempted to calm the screaming child in her arms.
“Isn’t there a nurse?” Dante asked, staring with wide eyes at the amount of noise coming from such a small body.
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