"Her?" Ambrose said in surprise. "The suspect is a female?"
Sir Coyner gave a grim nod. "Not only that, but a baroness no less."
Ambrose's gut turned to ice.No, it can't be—
"Your assignment, Mr. Kent, is to track Lady Marianne Draven."
13
It didn't take morethan a sennight for Kitty Barnes to crop up in London. With Black's assistance, Marianne secured a meeting with the former bawd. The appointed location was the backroom of a scents shop, and as Marianne waited for Kitty to arrive, her eyes swept over the shelves of glass bottles that lined the windowless room. Mingled notes of musk and florals clung to her nostrils as she tapped her foot impatiently against the leg of the wooden chair.
Kitty Barnes came through the door minutes later, and Marianne found herself surprised by the other's appearance. In her mid-thirties, Mrs. Barnes was a handsome woman with smooth russet hair and light grey eyes. Her tastefully trimmed gown of dove grey showcased a well-kept figure. If one didn't know better, Mrs. Barnes might be mistaken for a gentlewoman and not the cold-hearted whoremonger she truly was.
"Lady Draven," Mrs. Barnes said in a cultured voice as she curtsied.
"Mrs. Barnes." Marianne inclined her head. She did not rise from the chair. In this exchange, she must retain the position of power. She'd dressed accordingly in a bold navy and ecru walking dress styled à la militaire. "Thank you for coming."
Mrs. Barnes' lips bent in a wry curve. "It seems I did not have much choice in the matter. You have powerful friends, my lady."
"You know why I summoned you," Marianne said. "Where is my daughter?"
In response, a muscle twitched alongside the other woman's mouth. Ice percolated through Marianne's veins, numbing her already cold hands.
Mrs. Barnes cleared her throat. "Lord Draven and I had a deal. He promised me fifty pounds a month to care for the girl. And I held up my end of the bargain. I looked after her like she was my own—"
"Where is she, Mrs. Barnes?"
"Out of the blue, the payments stopped coming. I tried to contact Lord Draven, but never heard back."
"He died," Marianne said flatly. "The only evidence that the blighter had a heart was when it failed him. Now where is my child?"
Mrs. Barnes' throat bobbed. "I had my own troubles. For reasons you already know, I couldn't afford to dally in Town." She licked her lips. "And I couldn't afford to keep the girl with me."
"You sold Primrose." Marianne said the words without inflection, though inside, oh inside… After Corbett's warning, she'd thought herself prepared for this eventuality. For one of the worst nightmares a mother could know. Yet fear eviscerated—and the grief made her wild.
The bawd took an instinctive step backward at what she must have seen in Marianne's gaze.
"To whom?" Marianne said in a frigid voice.
"I don't know his name—"
"To whom, you bloody bitch."
Marianne was on her feet in the next instant, her pistol aimed between the other's shocked eyes. Bottles of scent rattled as Mrs. Barnes cowered against a shelf. "I n-never met the gentleman," she whimpered. "The transaction was completed through his solicitor—Leach was his name. Reginald Leach."
Marianne's breath burned in her lungs. "Where can I find Leach?"
"H-he has offices near the Inns of Court." The bawd's voice wobbled. "He said his client meant to take good care of Primrose. That she would have a good home."
"What kind of depraved lecher wouldpurchasea child? Did you have any doubt as to what the pervert intended?" Bile rose in Marianne's throat. "Not that you gave a damn, did you? Because you got what you wanted. A handful of coins for selling my daughter to the highest bidder."
"I-I had no choice. I couldn't keep her. My debts—"
Rage splintered Marianne's vision. For one blazing moment, she considered putting a hole through the madam. To make Kitty Barnes suffer for what she'd done.
But that would not help Rosie. Last night, Marianne had dreamed of her daughter in the garden again. Only this time, Rosie had been playing a game of hide-and-seek, her laughter merry, her corn-silk ringlets bobbing just out of Marianne's reach. Then Marianne had seen the stormy skies ahead, and helpless fear had climbed in her as she'd watched her daughter skip heedlessly toward the descending darkness.
Come back, Rosie!she'd shouted.Don't go! Wait for Mama...
