Luck Is No Lady(100)

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.





Thirty-two


Roderick sat behind his desk. His work was spread across the surface, but went unattended. He had turned his chair around so he could stare out the window. It was a rare day that sunshine gilded the streets of London, but he couldn’t bring himself to admire the view.

He was distracted.

Or rather, he was fixated on one line of thought, one repeating question. He hadn’t been able to shake it for more than two weeks. He feared he never would.

“Mr. Bentley.”

He grimaced. He did not want to be bothered. He had intended to shut his door, but didn’t make it much past the thought to implement the act. And now Bishop had decided to intrude upon his private contemplation.

If Roderick ignored him, he would have to go away. Eventually.

“Mr. Bentley,” Bishop stated more loudly. “Oy, someone’s here to see you.”

“Direct them to Metcalf. He can handle any club business.”

“This is a personal matter.”

At the sound of his half brother’s perfectly cultured voice, Roderick was forced to acknowledge the end of his reverie.

He stood slowly and turned to face the Earl of Wright. “What a delightful surprise,” he stated in a dull tone.

The earl may or may not have snorted in response. The sound was so quiet and refined, Roderick couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a small hiccup.

His duty carried out, Bishop swung around and left the two men alone.

They stared at each other for a moment, both of them measuring the other with sharp blue eyes.

Roderick had been in a dismal mood already, but the sight of his half brother always managed to send him a few rungs lower.

The earl spoke first. “The club is quite impressive.”

“You should come back some evening and enjoy the play.” Roderick’s smile was tight.

“I do not gamble.”

“Of course you don’t.”

The earl did not respond. Instead, he turned and closed the double doors of the office, ensuring a private conversation. When his half brother turned back again, Roderick thought he detected the same edge of discomfort he had noticed at the Michaels’s party.

The earl had stated then that he wished to speak with Roderick about something. His manner now suggested it would not be a pleasant conversation, but Roderick suspected the earl would hound him, in his oh-so-elegant way, until he stated his piece.

With a sigh of resignation, Roderick came around his desk and gestured toward one of the chairs before the fire.

“You may as well take a seat. Something to drink?”

“I do not indulge in spirits so early in the day.”