Now she knew why everyone melted from Mister Mclintock’s path. Refused to meet his gaze. Whispered as he passed.
Now she knew, had seen firsthand, how they would treat her if they learned the truth. Even Lanora and Miss Birkchester. Everyone.
Except her brother. William had called Mister Mclintock his friend. Insisted on it.
Not for the first time, Madelina wondered if she should tell her brother the truth. Reveal what she’d overheard that night. The detail that had wrenched a gasp from her father’s unseen companion.
But to do so would reveal that William’s mother had been alive during his stay in Egypt. Madelina knew her brother. He would blame himself for not realizing, for not returning to England, though only a boy, and saving her. Madelina couldn’t add that regret to the burdens of guilt he already carried.
She reached down and slid a slender finger along that word, that label which defined her. Her mother’s words, hot with anger, roiled through Madelina’s mind.
“I’ll bed who I will, when I wish, just as you do, and there’s not a thing you can do about it, old man,” her mother had spat. “Every time you bring a woman like that into this house, I’ll go out and find a man willing to provide me the same service.”
Hidden in her bedroom, peering through that sliver between door and frame, Madelina had seen her mother’s face. Righteous and aglow, sparkling with candlelight from the great chandelier in the entrance hall. More lovely than the brightest day of spring.
Then her father had laughed. A hard, grating, unused sound. “Nothing to do about it? I’ll have you know, I can cast you aside whenever I choose. William’s mother still lived when I wed you. You, my dear, are no marchioness. No lady. You’re a bigamist and a whore, and your precious Madelina is a bastard.”
Someone gasped. That sound that stole her mother’s attention. Made her look away just as those two claw-like hands came into view, aimed at her mother’s chest. Madelina clutched her hands to her ears, even though experience told her the act wouldn’t block out the scream that ricocheted through her mind.
Why had she been so slow in her training? Why had the old marquess managed to die before she could come back and kill him? She’d been certain, so very sure, that his death would seal away that horrible scream forever.
She sucked in deep breaths, slowing the frantic pace of her heart. Her arms dropped back to her sides. Dimly, she heard a faint swish in the hall. The lightest of thumps. Composing her features, Madelina waited for her aunt to open the door.
Aunt Aubrey stopped in the doorway. She eyed Madelina a moment, nodded, then stomped into the room carrying a wrapped bundle under one arm. Her cane hammered a hard rhythm on the carpet until she settled into a chair by the fire and placed the parcel in her lap. She nodded at the table. “I see you’ve read the paper.”
“I have.”
Aunt Aubrey stared at Madelina, disapproval visible in her gray eyes.
“I am aware the evening did not proceed optimally. On many fronts,” Madelina added, for she’d explained to her aunt last night how she’d not only failed to remain an observer and follow Lord Lefthook, but also failed to secure the girls. “I’ll fix it.”
“How?”
Madelina had spent the night thinking on little else. “I will go to Mclintock’s establishment, likely all but empty by daylight, and almost certainly where he’s holding the young women. I will locate them and take them from him.” Hopefully, before they came to harm. “Then, this evening, I shall return to the warehouse to seek clues as to the identity of the auctioneer.” She’d seen the sweaty, nervous man leave with Mister Mclintock and the others. “Someone must have let them into the building, so someone there will know where to find the auctioneer. He will tell me how to locate this Madam Dequenne who is snatching up and selling young women.”
“Not bad, but you won’t be returning to the warehouse.”
“I won’t?” Madelina asked, surprised. A punishment for her failure to observe only?
“No. I’ll send someone to nose around. One of my associates.”
“They are in London?” Madelina remembered the men and women who had, at intervals, appeared at her aunt’s country manor to train her—fragments of a past about which Aunt Aubrey rarely spoke. Some had stayed for days, some for months, but none had given their real name or visited twice. “May I see them?”
Predictably, Aunt Aubrey shook her head. “We’re a secretive lot, we who swore oaths to the Crown. I can’t ask for much, but searching out a little information is a small favor.”
Madelina swallowed disappointment at not being permitted to reunite with old companions or return to the warehouse. Not that it mattered who went, so long as they learned all they could about Madam Dequenne. “Have it your way.”
“Certainly.” Aunt Aubrey tossed the bundle at Madelina. “You’ll need a different disguise for daylight.”
Madelina caught the parcel, which emanated a rank odor, relieved she’d be allowed to return to the street. “So, I may act? I am freed from my role as Lord Lefthook’s observer?”
Her aunt snorted. “Freed yourself, didn’t you, when you got involved. Someone has to save those girls. Either you do, or you go find Lord Lefthook and get him to.”
As Madelina both hungered for the chance to prove her worth and had no idea how to find Lord Lefthook in daylit hours, she turned her attention to the parcel. She unfolded a dingy brown shirt wrapped about equally nondescript breeches, a dusty leather vest, a rope belt, a cap, and a once-red scarf that would go about her neck, but could be raised to cover her face when necessary…if she could endure the smell.
“You’ll want to make sure your hair is pinned tight and get a good layer of dirt on your hands and face,” Aunt Aubrey said. “The trousers should be loose enough to hide your knives, but you’ll have to leave those pistols behind.”
“Thank you,” Madelina said, more in gratitude for the opportunity than for the clothing. She set the bundle on the hearth to prevent the rank odor from lingering on the sumptuous fabrics cladding her furniture. She started on the row of buttons on her day dress.
