Luck Is No Lady (26 page)

Even when the larger man lifted his head to pin Roderick with a hard glare, he did not feel himself in any particular peril, though the experienced ex-fighter certainly looked as though he could still take a man down with his signature left jab.

Continuing into the room, he said, “I am Roderick Bentley. We have met on a few occasions.”

“I don't give a good goddamn who you are. Get out.”

Undaunted, Roderick approached the desk with an unhurried stride until he was close enough to see the scattered pile of charcoal sketches strewn across the surface and the black smudges on Hale's fingers. He got only a brief impression of the sketches—portraits of some sort—before Hale noticed the direction of his gaze and quickly swiped the drawings into a pile and flipped them over.

Ignoring a spark of curiosity, Roderick met the man's angry gaze. “Trust me, Hale. You want to hear what I have to say.”

“No,” Hale growled. “I don't.”

The man was growing angry, and if the empty liquor bottle on the desk was any indication, it was likely he was also quite drunk.

None of that mattered. Roderick was not leaving until he got what he came for.

“You kidnapped a young lady tonight and sold her to a house of ill repute.”

Hale did not respond, just glared at Roderick with violence in his bloodshot gaze.

“She was auctioned from that house. Do you know where she is now?”

“Don't know. Don't care.”

Roderick hadn't expected any differently. It had been worth a shot, but it was not the reason he was here.

“Now, this is where you will start to see things differently. You will care about the young lady's fate, Hale, because if she comes to any harm, you will be held responsible. You realize your crimes are worthy of hanging.”

Hale gave a raw laugh and leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his solid, muscled weight. His expression as he spared Roderick only a passing glance while he reached around to grasp the neck of another bottle from the table behind him indicated he couldn't have been less concerned about the threat.

Roderick's features hardened. Hale knew well enough the kidnapping wouldn't be reported. Not when such a thing would ruin Lily Chadwick completely. Hale expected no consequences from his actions tonight. He would have to be set straight on that.

Roderick watched patiently as the other man opened the fresh bottle and tipped it back to guzzle several healthy swigs.

He sensed something in Hale he hadn't noticed initially. It was not something he saw very often, but on occasion a man would wander into the club with a particular air about him. A fundamental recklessness that indicated he had absolutely nothing to lose.

These men were more dangerous than those who were desperate to prove themselves.

These men were entirely unpredictable. Entirely without boundaries or limitations to what they may attempt. With nothing to lose, there was nothing to prevent them from achieving total destruction—their own or someone else's; it didn't often matter which.

No. Threats would accomplish nothing with this man. Nor would an offer of financial compensation, he suspected.

What, then?

Roderick relaxed his gaze and studied the former fighter from a new perspective.

After a few moments, he said simply, “You will vow to leave the Chadwicks alone.”

Hale nearly snorted his liquor and set the bottle down to sneer at Roderick. “Why should I do that?”

“Because you do not have an issue of concern with them anymore. They were a means to an end, and though I can see it did not result in the way you wished,” Roderick added, unable to resist prodding the man's obvious wounds. He noted the way Hale's countenance darkened considerably, and he flicked a haunted glance down at the overturned sketches on his desk before he continued, “You know as well as I it has nothing to do with those three women.”

Roderick paused.

He had heard Mason Hale was a shrewd man with a surprisingly sharp mind for business. He decided to trust in that being true.

“We run in some similar circles, you and I,” Roderick continued conversationally. “Share many acquaintances, some clients perhaps,” he added with a lifted brow. Though he doubted they truly had much in common by way of clientele, he understood Hale to be an ambitious man. “How would people react to the news that Mason Hale did not honor payment of a debt in full?”

Hale's gaze was wavering under the influence of the alcohol, but was no less fierce because of it.

“I would say the Chadwicks have more than compensated on what you were owed, wouldn't you agree?”

With a rough harrumph, Hale took another swig of his bottle before leveling a heavy-browed glare at Roderick.

“You are a hard man, Hale, but you are no villain. I would guess you have your share of troubles, but if you do not cut the Chadwicks loose, I vow I will become one more.”

Hale's glower would have terrified a lesser man. “I don't like you, Bentley.”

“I understand.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then Hale reached to his side to pull open a desk drawer. He withdrew a piece of paper, wrote something across it in a slashing hand, and thrust it toward Roderick.

“Now get the fuck out of my place.”

Roderick took the paper. After a brief review of its contents, he gave a nod of his head, then turned and left.

He would have to arrange for Bishop to keep a close eye on the former prizefighter turned bookmaker to ensure he held to his word. But something told him Hale had bigger problems to worry about than the Chadwicks. He did not expect him to pose any further threats.

The light of dawn covered the town in a gray mist as the hackney drew to a stop in front of the town house. Roderick stepped to the curb just as another carriage was pulling away. A frisson of awareness snaked down his spine.

The front door was ajar, and he entered the house quietly just in time to spy a petite female figure in the doorway to the parlor at the same time that he heard Portia Chadwick's bold voice exclaim, “Lily!”

The woman stepped into the parlor and out of his view. Roderick remained in the hall, tense and alert—unwilling to interrupt, yet unable to leave until he was assured the young woman was well.

He heard Emma's voice next. “Tell me you are unhurt,” she said sternly.

“I am fine, Emma,” came the gentle response.

Relief flooded Roderick's body. There was no need for the Chadwicks to know what he had done for them tonight. They were safe—that was all that mattered. With a long breath, he turned and left the house, securing the door behind him.

“Thank God.” Emma's relief was nearly overwhelming as she took Lily in her arms.

She, Portia, and Angelique had spent the last hour and a half going over strategies and plans for combating the repercussions of tonight's events. And all the while, it was obvious the discussion was just an excuse to keep their minds off their fear and worry while they waited for news from Nightshade.

And now, miraculously, her sister was home.

Emma could feel the tension in Lily's body as she embraced her. Drawing back, she assessed her sister's appearance and noted that she did not seem injured or in any inordinate distress. In fact, Lily returned Emma's intent stare with a soft smile before shifting her gaze aside.

The slight evasiveness gave Emma pause, but she shoved back her concern, focusing on the fact that Lily was home. It was all that mattered just now. Anything else could be managed.

“Come sit,
ma petite
,” Angelique said brightly, waving Lily forward, “have some tea. It may still be warm.”

Lily removed her cloak and took a seat on the sofa. Her gown was smooth and devoid of creases, but her hair was held back by a single ribbon at her nape. That was not how she had worn it at the start of the evening.

Lily's hands trembled when she accepted a cup of tea, and Emma bit her lip against the words of concern that rose from her tight throat.

Portia leaned forward from where she sat at Lily's side. Her face was bright with curiosity.

“Tell us what happened, Lily. You must. I have been frantic with worry all night and cannot wait another moment to learn how you managed to get home.”

“Give her a few moments, Portia,” Emma said sternly. “She has likely been through quite an ordeal. We can be patient.”

“Maybe
you
can,” Portia muttered.

Some of the chill that had invaded Emma's being since receiving Portia's note warmed at the sight of Lily and Portia seated closely together on the sofa across from her, their hands tightly linked. No matter what differences separated them, or what tragedies befell them, the girls would always be there for each other.

As Emma settled back into her seat, Angelique rose from hers. “I am off to bed, darlings.”

“How can you leave now?” Portia exclaimed. “We are finally going to learn what happened to Lily.”

“When you have had as many adventures as I have, one becomes much like the last. You girls catch up. I need my beauty rest.
Bonsoir
.”

“I will walk you up,” Emma offered, producing a groan from Portia.

“
Non
, you stay—I shall find my bedroom. I assume it is where I left it this morning.”

Once the older lady left the room, the attention turned to Lily, who suddenly looked rather small. At least the tea seemed to have braced her a bit. She appeared more relaxed. More herself again.

Emma was relieved. There had been something in her sister's manner when she had first entered the parlor that had concerned her.

“Now, let us get to it, shall we?” Portia insisted. “What in bloody hell happened? How did you escape the brothel?”

Lily's gaze swung to Portia in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

“Angelique and I have been on a mission to find you all night.”

“You have?” Lily asked.

“Of course.” Portia's tone softened. “Did you think I would just watch you get carried away and not do anything to save you? It so happens Angelique knows of this mysterious man in the East End they call Nightshade. We hired him to help us. He tracked down Hale and learned the despicable monster had you auctioned off at a brothel. But he lost you after that. Nightshade is even now still trying to learn what happened to you.”

“You have to stop him,” Lily said. Her eyes were wide and her tone sharp.

Portia shook her head in confusion. “What? Why?”

Emma wondered the same. She looked at Lily more closely. Her sister's fingers were tense around her teacup as she lifted it to take a sip. For a moment, it seemed as though she were stalling.

“Are you certain you are unharmed, Lily?” Emma prompted.

Her sister took a long breath and set her teacup down. “I cannot say I wasn't frightened. I was, terribly so. There was a woman at the brothel. I thought maybe she would help me. Instead, she gave me something to drink that made me feel quite strange.” Her voice faltered and she clasped her hands together.

“I do not know much of what followed. It is all muddled and foggy in my head. I remember a room…with men. Laughter and talking. It wasn't until later, after the drug started to wear off, that I learned what had happened.”

Portia wrapped her slim arm around her sister's shoulders, adding her support and strength.

Guilt and anger swept through Emma. To imagine Lily so vulnerable, so alone, tore at her heart. At least she was home now. She was safe and Emma was never going to let her out of her sight again.

“I am fine, really.” Lily offered a tremulous smile. “One of the gentlemen recognized me. He knew I should not have been there, and he rescued me.” She lifted her gaze to meet Emma's directly and then looked to Portia. “His only request was that his identity remain entirely unknown. His reputation—his family—would suffer if anyone knew he had been present at such an establishment.”

She grasped her younger sister's hand. “Please, Portia, you must stop any further investigation. I would not betray this gentleman after he saved me from what could have been a disastrous fate.”

“But the information would be revealed only to us. We could keep it from becoming known any further.”

“No,” Lily said. Her voice was hard and insistent. “I would betray this man to no one. Not even you.”

Portia stared at Lily in stunned surprise, then glanced at Emma.

Emma could see her sister's confusion, but she could also see the determination in Lily's tense posture and firm gaze.

“I think we must honor Lily's wishes, Portia. Can you send a message to this Nightshade to call off any further investigation?”

The stubborn young woman scowled, her dark brows drawing low over her eyes. “If that is what Lily wants, yes, I can contact him.”

“Thank you,” Lily said with relief evident in her tone. “Now, I wonder if I might retire. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Emma nodded. “I think we could all use some sleep. Come, I will walk you up to your room.” All three sisters rose together. Emma stepped forward to link her arm with Lily's before turning to Portia. “Perhaps you should send off the note to Nightshade before you retire.”

Portia hesitated, something in her gaze still showing a hint of rebellion. After a moment, she gave a nod of agreement. “Yes. I will do it right away. Good night.” Then she gave a strained grin as she gestured toward the front window, which showed the gray light of full morning. “Or should I say good morning?”

Emma smiled, but the momentary lightness faltered under the reality of what her sisters had gone through. “I am so proud of how both of you handled the events of last night. I will never forgive myself for not being here.”

“You could not have known Hale would preempt his deadline,” Lily argued.

“Speaking of,” Portia said, sending Emma a curious look, “how did you fare last night?”

Emma sighed. The party at Bentley's seemed ages ago. “I won more than enough to pay Hale. If he had just waited until tonight, as he had indicated he would…”

“Please, Emma, there is no changing what happened. I am home safe. Can we not put this all behind us and move forward?”

“I agree.” Portia gave a sharp nod. “Once Hale is in custody, facing the full consequences of his crimes, we need never think of it again.”

“No.” This again, from Lily. The force of her denial was entirely unlike her. “We shall not report Hale to the magistrate.”

Portia stared at her incredulously. “You must be joking. He deserves to be hanged for this. Kidnapping is a capital offense. He sold you to a brothel, Lily.”

“I know. I was there.” Though the words were spoken in a quiet tone, there was a thread of stubbornness buried within. “What do you think will happen once the
ton
discovers this little tale? The minute we report this, everyone will know where I was tonight. There will be no coming back from that.”

Emma peered intently into Lily's face. She was right. The scandal of such a thing would be catastrophic. She would be ruined.

Emma's stomach tightened with dread as her heart broke all over again for her sister. Even without reporting the incident, such could still happen. Though one gentleman had seen fit to bring her home, there were others who had not. Lily would never be completely free from the threat of exposure.

“Please, Portia,” Lily said, “I do not fear Hale. He has his money and no further cause to threaten us. But I do not think I could bear it if this ignoble adventure were to become common knowledge. I am home. I am unharmed. Can we please let the rest of this go?”

Emma heard the desperation in Lily's plea. She would not allow her own guilt or Portia's stubbornness to add to her sister's burden. “Of course, Lily. We can talk more about what we plan to do after we have had a chance to restore ourselves.”

She gave Portia a quelling look, expecting her youngest sister to keep any further arguments to herself. Then she led Lily from the room, but not before giving Portia another firm reminder. “Do not forget to send that note.”

Portia waved them off, “Go on to bed. I will take care of it.”

Her youngest sister's tone was still contrary, but Emma knew Portia would respect Lily's wishes.

After seeing Lily settled, Emma went back downstairs. Portia had already gone to bed, and the house was quiet, despite the sound of maids starting at their duties. Finding her way to the butler's closet, she hoped he would be up and about.

He was, and when she asked if he could have a few footmen dedicated to watching for any unusual visitors or atypical activity, he replied that the countess had already arranged for some men to be on alert night and day in case there was any further trouble.

Emma was grateful and surprised by her great-aunt's forethought.

Leaving the butler, she went to the study and sat at the desk. Drawing out a piece of paper, she started a note to Hale. Despite her emotional exhaustion, she managed to pen a stern and authoritative message. She would not have the man thinking his criminal behavior had intimidated the Chadwicks. He would know they would not accept such treatment.

In the letter she alluded to Lily's abduction and sale at the brothel in as elegant terms as possible, then stated unequivocally that their debt was paid in full and should he make an attempt, in deed or threat, to obtain even another halfpenny, she would immediately alert the magistrates and have him arrested on charges of kidnapping and slave trading.

Though she hoped Lily was right and the moneylender would be of no further danger to them, she was not beyond issuing a threat of her own. If the man made even the slightest move toward the Chadwicks again, in word or in deed, Emma would not hesitate to see him brought up on charges. Scandal be damned.

The Chadwicks would find a way to manage whatever might come.

After setting the letter to be taken with that day's post, Emma finally made her way up to bed.

Only when she was tucked under her bedcovers, with the sun rising higher in the morning sky, did she allow herself finally to shed the tears of frustration, fear, and loss she had been holding back over the last hours. The heavy sobs were wrung from the center of her soul and did not stop until she fell into an exhausted sleep.