“Do you know the history between himself and the lady?”
“No, but I could wager a guess.”
Damien met her gaze and arched a brow in silent query.
Lady Wentworth pursed her lips. “Women seldom embrace her trade willingly. They are coerced or even deceived, often by men of this one’s ilk. I cannot help but note that the arrival in London of the lady in question coincided with the start of the war.”
“And his appearance coincided with its ending,” Damien concluded. “I had noticed the same.” He considered that Miss Ballantyne must have begun her days or at least learned her trade in France, and that only the war had kept her safe from Jacques Desjardins. “Why would she cede any assistance to him with such a shared past?”
“I would guess that there is some detail he holds over her. A secret that puts her in his power, perhaps, or a possession she will pay any price to regain.”
Desjardin’s decision to leave the stolen gems in Miss Ballantyne’s house meant that she would be incarcerated while he was banned from England’s shores. She would not be executed for theft, though her time in prison would be unpleasant. Damien had done his best to appease that situation by giving money to Latimer, her butler, to be spent on improving her situation. Everyone knew that jailors were susceptible to bribes.
But this did not strike at the root of the issue. Miss Ballantyne was still imprisoned and Jacques Desjardins remained at large, if in France. Likely she would not be released before he could return to Britain.
He suspected that had been the fiend’s plan.
“I wonder where he might be found,” Damien mused.
“You would have to ask the lady in question,” Lady Wentworth said softly. She turned to consider him. “I must say that I am surprised to find you of all men taking an interest in this matter.”
“And why might that be?”
“Because your views upon such ladies has been ardently expressed on more than one occasion. I would have expected you to be gladdened by her fate, or at least content that justice had been served.”
Damien turned to meet her bright gaze. “But justice has not been served, Lady Wentworth. Indeed, it has missed the mark, because I erred in my haste. The only honorable solution is to correct the result of error.”
She smiled a little. “So, it is a question of honor.”
“You might say as much.”
“I am relieved, to be sure,” the baroness said, turning to watch the dancers again. “I had begun to despair that Constance’s influence upon you was rather less than might have been hoped.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your father was deeply concerned with principle and morality, to the point of being quite rigid in his views. Your mother, in contrast, was always one prepared to act in what she perceived to be the greater good, regardless of expectation. I had hoped that since Luke’s demise, Constance might have had greater sway over her surviving son.”
“You wish me to be inconstant?”
“I hope you might become the kind of man who is not bound by convention, but makes his own choices.” She smiled at him. “In this matter, I find great encouragement for your future happiness, Your Grace.”
Damien was startled. “I cannot see why that would concern you unduly.”
“Because I like your mother very much. It is one matter to lose a husband who is many years one’s senior, but quite another to also lose two sons, never mind in rapid succession. In such moments, I am glad to have no children myself, for the loss of even one might be too much to bear. I feel great sympathy for your mother.”
“I suppose you are also going to advise me to wed.” He knew he sounded weary.
“You suppose wrongly, Your Grace. I was advised to wed repeatedly but did not accept such counsel until I encountered a man I could not bear to live without. We wed late, we had no children, but we were aboundingly happy. That was well worth whatever sacrifices I might have made in not wedding at a younger age.” She granted him a pert glance. “And so, I advise to seize happiness wherever you find it. Pay no heed to those who criticize you or your choices. If ever a woman makes your heart sing with joy, let nothing keep you apart, certainly not your own assumptions and opinions. Such encounters are rare and should be cherished.”
Damien held her gaze for a long moment, seeing the truth in her advice. There had never been a woman who had so fascinated and stirred him as Esmeralda Ballantyne could. There had never been anyone who had challenged his opinions or dared him to reconsider them. There had never been a woman who haunted him as she did. And in so realizing, he knew that it was not merely justice at stake in the question of her unwarranted incarceration.
“I had thought to remain an anonymous benefactor,” he said, gripping his cane as he rose to his feet. “But I will visit her.”
“In disguise?”
“No.”
Lady Wentworth’s smile was brilliant. “Good,” she said, reaching out to pat his hand. “I fancy your mother will like her, whenever they meet.”
