Eight

“We must be practical about this.”

At the sound of Emma’s firmly controlled voice interrupting the momentary silence, Portia stopped her pacing and turned toward her sister. Anticipation lit in her center. This was the response she had been waiting for.

Emma had arrived home a short time ago—and not alone. Her employer, Mr. Bentley, had arrived at her side. Emma’s slightly disheveled appearance may have caused Portia to suspect her very proper sister of engaging in a bit of improper behavior tonight.

Of course, the idea of Emma doing anything of that sort was near ludicrous.

Portia had always known her oldest sister to be unfailingly capable. Sensible in everything, Emma possessed a sort of ingrained assuredness. She could manage any crisis, calculate a solution to any problem, and had always been there when either Lily or Portia needed a guiding hand.

And so her initial response to the news of Lily’s abduction had been disconcerting. For a few moments, Emma had appeared at a total loss. The tension and fear was obvious in the way Emma sat stiff and unmoving on the sofa. As was the self-blame.

But now, it seemed Emma had regained herself.

She lifted her shrewd gray eyes to meet Portia’s then gave a pointed look toward Angelique as well, who had been sitting quiet and solemn in her chair before the fireplace.

“You have faith in this Nightshade?” Emma asked.

Portia thought of Turner and the competence he embodied in his strength of purpose and plain-speaking attitude.

She nodded readily. She trusted the stranger more than she trusted anyone outside her family.

Then Emma turned to Mr. Bentley, who had stated earlier during Portia’s explanation that he knew of Nightshade and his work.

The tension between these two was fascinating in its intensity. The way the gambling-hell proprietor looked at Emma, with so much depth in his gaze, made Portia feel like an intruder upon an intimate scene. But Emma, typically so self-contained, had barely glanced at the man until now, which told Portia her sister either had less than zero interest in the man or she was feeling far more than she believed herself capable of concealing.

Portia suspected the latter.

At Emma’s questioning look, Mr. Bentley gave a nod as well. “He is highly regarded and has been reported as accomplishing tasks no one else would dare to attempt.”

Emma’s expression did not change, but Portia saw a shift in her sister. Emma’s initial shock seemed to be wearing away, and her characteristic fortitude, which had gotten the Chadwicks through the last several years, lit fiercely in her eyes.

“Then I shall endeavor to trust in his abilities as well, which means Lily will be returned to us,” Emma stated in a tone that allowed no room for dissent or doubt. “We must consider every contingency to protect Lily from whatever may follow after tonight.”

“Yes,” Portia agreed wholeheartedly. Finally, something to do beyond the endless pacing. “That is exactly what we must do.”

“An excellent plan, my dear.” Angelique also appeared relieved to have something to focus her thoughts on.

“I am afraid I must take my leave.”

Portia looked at Mr. Bentley in surprise. She honestly hadn’t expected him to stray far from Emma’s side tonight, not with the intent way he had been focused on her sister. Emma looked up at his words, and Portia had to glance away from the strange and awkward intimacy that passed between her sister and the gambling-hell proprietor.

Something very interesting had occurred between these two this evening.

“I wish I could stay,” he continued, “but there is something I must see to without delay.”

“Of course, Mr. Bentley.” Emma rose from where she had been sitting on the sofa. “I am sure you are anxious to return to your club. I imagine there is much you will have to do after last night’s celebration. Please allow me to show you out.”

Though they both said all the right things, Portia got a strong sense they wished they could be saying something else.

Mr. Bentley turned to Angelique and Portia. “If there should be anything I can do to assist your family, on this matter or any other, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Angelique lifted her opera glasses from the folds of her skirts to study the gentleman through the viewer before replying in a silken tone, “Thank you, monsieur. Do not be a stranger.”

As soon as Emma and Mr. Bentley quit the room, Angelique turned toward Portia and practically leaned out of her chair as she whispered in a voice far louder than it needed to be, “That man can grace my parlor any day. He is far more fun to look at than the drapes.”

Portia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth in an attempt to restrain the urge to giggle. It seemed Angelique, at least, was rather taken with the man. Leave it to the old lady to shift the mood with such a salacious comment.

“Tell me you do not think he is handsome,” Angelique insisted as she tucked her opera glasses back into the deep pocket of her skirt.

“I am not sure this is very proper conversation, Angelique.”

The aged lady gave a snort and waved her slim hand in a dismissive gesture. “If a lady cannot discuss such things in the privacy of her own parlor, where can she?”

Portia had to admit there was no good argument against such logic.

When Emma reappeared, her usual determination had been relit in her eyes. She came forward to sit beside Portia. The three women looked around at each other for a moment, then Emma said, “There is no telling what Lily might have endured by the time she is returned to us. There is much to discuss if we are to properly manage whatever might come after this night.”

“Where do we begin?” Portia asked, trying not to focus on the worst of her thoughts.

Emma took a heavy breath. “I thought we might start by taking a critical look at each of her suitors. Who might have the fortitude to withstand a scandal? Whose loyalty is most in question? And so on.”

Portia nodded. It was as good a place as any to start.

As more hot tea was fetched and the minutes ticked away, it helped to feel they were accomplishing something as they waited for word from Nightshade.

Nearly an hour later, as she and Emma argued the character of one particular gentleman, Portia felt a silent shift in the room. A tingle passed over the back of her neck. She glanced away from Emma and lost her breath at the sight of Lily standing silently in the doorway.

“Lily!” she shouted before she jumped to her feet and rushed across the room to wrap her sister in a fierce embrace. Relief flooded her system as Lily hugged her back. Portia dreaded letting her sister go again, but she did and stepped back to allow Emma and Angelique to assure themselves that Lily was truly home.

“Tell me you are unhurt,” Emma said sternly.

Lily’s smile was small but genuine. “I am fine, Emma.”

“Thank God.”

Emma enclosed Lily in a firm embrace while Portia took note of several pertinent elements of Lily’s appearance.

Her sister did not give the impression of being in any particular distress. She did not move with any hesitation or discomfort and did not appear to have suffered any injuries that Portia could see. Her clothing was pristine, her manner calm, though perhaps a bit awkward.

What struck Portia most was the fact that Lily’s brunette hair was tied with a simple ribbon at her nape, the long tresses falling free to her hips. It bothered Portia to know she had suffered even that minor indignity, and she looked harder into Lily’s face, hoping to be assured her sister had not endured worse.

It was then she noticed that for all Lily’s smiling composure and apparent relief in being home, she seemed reluctant to meet Portia’s gaze for longer than a brief moment at a time. Such avoidance did not sit well with Portia. Something was definitely off. She could feel it.

“Come sit, ma petite,” Angelique suggested. “Have some tea. It may still be warm.”

Portia managed to contain her curiosity only long enough to allow Lily to remove her cloak and take a seat beside her on the sofa. Once Lily had a cup of tea in her hands, Portia could wait no longer.

“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 insisted. “She has likely been through quite an ordeal. We can be patient.”

Portia really detested that word. “Maybe you can.”

She tried to distract herself by soaking up the physical proof that Lily was home safe. She would never admit out loud that there had been moments through the night when she had feared it may not end so happily.

Angelique rose slowly from her chair. “I am off to bed, darlings.”

Portia looked at the older lady in stunned surprise. “How can you leave now? We are finally going to learn what happened to Lily.”

Angelique smiled. “When you have had as many adventures as I have, one becomes much like the last. You girls should talk. I find myself desperately desiring the comfort of my bed. Bon soir.”

“I will walk you up,” Emma offered.

Portia groaned at the thought of further delay. Thank goodness Angelique waved Emma off.

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

And then it was just the three sisters in the parlor.

Portia sat beside Lily, holding one of her hands tightly in her own. “Now, let us get to it, shall we?” she blurted rather abruptly as she sat forward. “What in bloody hell happened? How did you escape the brothel?”

She was rewarded for her bluntness by Lily’s shocked expression. “How do you know about that?”

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

“You have?”

Her sister’s surprise irked Portia. “Of course. 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,” Portia explained. Lily’s eyes widened even more. “But he lost you after that. Nightshade is even now still trying to learn what happened to you.”

“You have to stop him,” Lily interrupted, turning to lay a hand on Portia’s arm.

“What? Why?” Portia asked, alarm and suspicion spiking. Why on earth would Lily want to halt Nightshade’s investigation?

Emma leaned forward, entering the conversation. “Are you certain you are unharmed, Lily?”

She seemed to have noticed some of Lily’s oddness as well.

Lily’s eyes darted between them for a moment, giving Portia the sense she was choosing her words carefully before she replied.

“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.”

Lily paused and looked down at the teacup in her hands, as though trying to remember. “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 suddenly felt terrible. She slid closer to Lily and put her arm around her shoulders. Here she was, growing suspect of her own sister, when Lily had obviously been through a horrendous experience.

“I am fine, really,” Lily continued in a lighter tone. “One of the gentlemen recognized me. He knew I should not have been there, and he rescued me. 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.”

Lily looked pleadingly into Portia’s eyes. “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.”

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

“No. I would betray this man to no one. Not even you.”

Lily’s tone was firm in a way Portia had never heard before. Warning bells sounded again in her thoughts. She glanced to Emma for assistance.

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

Portia frowned. Lily’s insistence on protecting her rescuer’s identity struck Portia as exceedingly odd. That she chose to keep this detail to herself made Portia uneasy and suspicious. She wished she could come up with a good argument for Lily to reveal the full truth, but found none at that moment.

“If that is what Lily wants, yes, I can contact him.”

“Thank you.” Lily’s shoulders drooped a little in her obvious relief. “Now, I wonder if I might retire. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“I think we could all use some sleep,” Emma said as she rose to her feet, essentially signaling the conversation over. “Come, I will walk you up to your room.”

Portia did not follow them right away. Something was not right. She could not let it go.

Before leaving the room with Lily, Emma turned back again. “Perhaps you should send off the note to Nightshade before you retire.”

Portia had a better idea.

“Yes. I will do it right away,” she replied. “Good night. Or should I say good morning?”

Portia smiled and glanced toward the front window where the brightening dawn was displayed.

Emma shifted her gaze between Portia and Lily. Her sigh was quiet but weighted. “I am so proud of how both of you handled the events of last night. I will never forgive myself for not being here.”

Lily quickly tried to assure her. “You could not have known Hale would preempt his deadline.”

Which reminded Portia of Emma’s plan to win the money to repay the loan. “Speaking of…how did you fare last night?”

“I won more than enough to pay Hale,” Emma replied with another sigh. “If he had just waited until tonight as he had indicated he would…”

“Please, Emma,” Lily said, ever sensitive to the distress of others. “There is no changing what happened. I am home safe. Can we not put this all behind us and move forward?”

Portia planted her hands on her hips. “I agree. Once Hale is in custody, facing the full consequences of his crimes, we need never think of it again.”

“No.” Lily’s denial came swiftly. “We shall not report Hale to the magistrate.”

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

Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “I know. I was there. 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.”

Portia hated the logic of her argument. She would much rather see the man responsible for Lily’s trauma properly punished, but her sister was right. The lack of justice was infuriating.

“Please, Portia,” Lily continued, “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?”

“Of course, Lily.” Emma entered the fray to support Lily once again, which essentially closed the discussion, much to Portia’s frustration. “We can talk more about what we plan to do after we have had a chance to restore ourselves.”

Both women turned to leave, but not before Emma issued another reminder about Nightshade. “Do not forget to send that note.”

“Go on to bed,” Portia replied. “I will take care of it.”

And she would. Just not in the way Emma had instructed.

She waited until her sisters reached the second floor, then she rushed across the front hall. She knew exactly where Emma kept a handful of pound notes in case the cash was needed in a hurry. Portia had come across the stash a couple of weeks ago when she had begun to snoop around for more information about their financial situation.

Portia took just a few notes from the desk drawer in the study, along with some loose coins, before she went back into the hall. Luckily, her cloak was still draped on the hook by the door where she had left it. Securing it quickly about her shoulders, she stuffed the money into the pocket, then slid silently from the house and strode down to the street.

Though it was morning, it was still quite early. Portia’s impatience led her down the street for a while as she scanned for a hired hack. Not many people were about at that time as the gray sky of dusk gave way to a golden sunrise. Though Portia continually scanned her surroundings, taking note of those she passed, her mind was occupied with what she intended to say to Nightshade.

She had agreed not to allow Lily’s so-called rescuer to be identified, and she would not go back on that promise, but there was more than one way to ease her suspicions.

After walking a few blocks at a swift pace, she managed to hail a passing hack. The driver looked as if he wished to refuse when she gave the address she had memorized earlier in the night—just in case—but the man accepted her fare nonetheless. Within minutes she was on her way back to the East End and Mr. Turner.

A smile curved her lips at the thought of how annoyed he would be to see her again.