“What? No. We have to figure out how to get her back!” Caroline sat down. She wasn’t going to hurry back to her tower like some spoiled princess. These were her people. She would help find a solution.
“I went to see the Abbess today,” George said.
“The Abbess?” Caroline asked.
“The woman who runs the place. Told her I was takin’ Alice back. She said I could have Alice back for no less than twenty guinea! What with the money she’d be losing by letting her go. Then she laughed and slammed the door in me face.” He laid his forehead on the table again.
Caroline knew that twenty guinea was more than George would earn in a year. It would be a small fortune for him. The cruelty of the situation incensed her. And Alice only fifteen. She had been just two years older when someone had tried to steal her innocence. Caroline’s hands trembled, but not with fear at the memories she worked so hard to bury, but in rage that women were so often abused like young Alice—sold off for coin like chattel. Well, she wouldn’t let it happen!
“How long ago was she sold to the…” she stumbled, trying to find the right word, “to the brothel.”
“Last week, my younger brother came to tell me straight away. Yesterday was my first day off to go try and fetch her.” George’s response came out muffled by his arms.
“Don’t worry, George. I am going to go get her back,” Caroline promised.
George’s head popped up. All of the other three gaped at her, mouths open.
“How exactly do you plan to do that?” Winston asked.
“I will simply go to the brothel and pay the vile women what she wants.”
“Y-you will simply go down to the brothel? Absolutely not.” Winston slammed a hand down on the table. “No, no, no.” He shook his head vigorously.
“I can get the money easily enough. And I am very persuasive when I want to be. I will go in the morning, not during business hours or anything.” Caroline’s mind turned over the idea, assessing the best angle of approach. How did one go about negotiations with a brothel madam? “Perhaps I should wear a domino for additional privacy? No, that would look silly during the morning hours…”
“How would you know anything about when the business hours of a brothel are?” Winston asked.
“Well, I assume it’s busiest at nighttime, yes? Anyway, I will not stand by while Alice is trapped at that brothel! If you won’t go to the duke, then you will let me take care of it.”
Winston, outraged, turned to the others for support. But Mrs. Bloom, Susie, and George were all staring at Caroline with thoughtful expressions.
“Do you think you could get her back, milady?” George asked.
Caroline reached across the table and lay her hand on George’s. She stared right into his startled eyes. “I promise I will get her back, one way or another.”
She then turned to Winston. “Will you help me? I need someone to come with me as a bodyguard of sorts. Who shall I take? They needn’t know the particulars. Just someone to keep me safe in case of trouble.”
“No, miss, I cannot be a part of encouraging you to go anywhere near such a place. It’s no place for a lady.” Lines of disapproval furrowed Winston’s brow.
“You can take William. He is a brute of a man but sweet-natured. He works for Mr. Gregory, in the stables.” Apparently, Mrs. Bloom decided to approve of the plan.
“I’ll help you figure out what to wear, miss. What about the dark green cloak? It has a deep hood to keep your face shadowed,” Susie said.
Winston’s mouth hung open as his gaze swung back and forth between the two women. Then he laid his forehead into his hands, elbows propped on the table.
“Your brother is going to kill me. I’ll be sacked for sure.”
Caroline grinned. “Don’t worry, Winston. He doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell him, and you won’t tell him. We have to get her back. We have to help.”
Winston raised his face, still grim. He met her eyes and nodded once.
Chapter 5
“Thank you for meeting me here at the club.” His Grace leaned back in the cognac-colored armchair.
Cage settled back into his chair across from the duke. “No problem. I’m happy to help your family. Jack has been a good friend to me over the years. Fill me in on the situation.”
A fire burned cheerily next to them. The private room, decorated with the hunting enthusiast in mind, featured paintings depicting bucolic outdoor scenes. Interspersed between the artwork hung the heads of several stags, pheasants, and one very ferocious looking boar. The duke had offered him brandy, but himself drank a steaming cup of cider.
