“Yes, well, I’ve made different choices now.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Is that a cane?” Miss White asked, her voice regaining some of its usual surety.
“It is.” Aunt Aubrey’s cane thumped the floor. “They never could dig that ball out of my hip.”
Concealed between marble and wall, Madelina swallowed, her head spinning. Silence drew out. She resisted the urge to peek around the corner. Her aunt would see her. Even if Aunt Aubrey faced away from Madelina, Aunt Aubrey would sense her the moment she stuck her head into the room.
“You look old, Aubrey,” Miss White said, all traces of meekness and fear gone.
“I am old, girl, as I hope you live to be.”
“Is that a threat?” Miss White demanded.
“It was a well wish.
“You never wish anyone well.”
A new silence met Miss White’s statement.
“I have no notion why I’m squandering time speaking with a useless old woman,” Miss White declared.
Fabric swished. Footsteps sounded, drawing near. Madelina flattened her back against the wall. Miss White strode free of the room. Her head turned from side to side as if she sought something. Madelina, not daring to move, watched her stride down the hall.
Long after Miss White’s departure, Madelina remained hidden behind the statue. She waited until she heard her aunt thump her way deeper into the room. Until Madelina’s limbs stiffened from remaining still.
Why hadn’t Aunt Aubrey told her that she knew Madam Dequenne and Miss White? Her aunt retained connections, especially in the city. Was it coincidence that, on the first night Madelina followed Lord Lefthook, she’d stumbled on that auction?
Madelina shook her head. She wasn’t certain the answer mattered so long as good prevailed. Still, she’d feel a lot better if she knew the game her aunt played.
Chapter Eight
Jasper had never felt so tightly coiled in his life. His carriage rumbled to Greydrake’s townhouse; notably, not the ancestral residence of the Westlock line, where Madelina resided. Jasper wondered if her choice to live in the family home meant she’d had a better relationship with her father or if the years she’d been away had simply prevented the depth of dislike expressed by most who knew the late marquess. For his part, though loyal to his family, William Greydrake made no secret of how he loathed any and all things related to the previous Marquess of Westlock.
Would he also make no secret of his feelings about Jasper?
Jasper clenched his fists. Greydrake was a fair-minded man. Honest. Honorable.
He was also a member of the peerage and his sister, a lady.
Not as great a lady, Jasper suspected, as the one he’d met at the museum. His mother’s acquaintance, though veiled, had exuded wealth. So much so that Jasper doubted they’d met before, even when he’d been welcome in higher circles. Even had they, she’d kept her voice pitched too low to easily recognize.
Not that he cared one whit who she was. He only cared about the information she had, which was twofold. First, she claimed that Madam Dequenne was not one person. Rather, the name was used more as a title. Each woman who held it hand selected and trained her replacement. That was why her reign of abductions never slowed or ended, no matter the passage of years.
Perhaps more importantly, Jasper had learned the location to which Dequenne’s men took newly abducted women for inspection by the madam—her sorting house. Or, at least, where she had once taken them. His mother’s acquaintance had no notion whether the location remained the same. Even so, the next time a distressed chaperone searched the coach stops for a missing ward, Jasper knew where to check. If he was lucky, he would finally catch the madam herself. He planned to deliver her to the watch in chains.
Ending Madam Dequenne’s evil should be enough to hold his focus. Instead, he could think only of courting Madelina. He hadn’t even taken time to tell Clementine how the meeting with his mother’s contact had gone.
Not that he’d had the opportunity. He’d left her a note before heading to the museum, informing her that he had a lead, but he hadn’t seen her since. Usually, they would have discussed their next move at length…in her bed. He realized that much of the reason he hadn’t yet broached the matter with her stemmed from the desire to avoid such an encounter. How would he tell Clementine, a woman he’d once loved enough to offer for, that he wished to end their relationship?
Not that he expected her to hold his commitment to Madelina against him. After all, Clementine was the one who broke off their engagement when his father died. He rubbed his chest in remembered pain. No matter how he tried to pretend her defection hadn’t hurt, that he hadn’t held true affection for her, he couldn’t make truth of that lie. More than anyone else’s change in attitude, Clementine breaking off their engagement when he lost the influence of his father hurt.
Not that she’d used that reason. No, she’d let him save face, said she realized she didn’t wish to be tied to any man. That their business arrangement mattered too much to undermine with the silly institution of marriage. If not for that business relationship, he would have cut ties with her then, but he hadn’t, and she’d worked hard to make her decision up to him. Again, usually in bed, but in the realm of business, too.
His carriage rolled to a stop, jolting him back into the moment. He took a deep breath as he heard his footman drop to the ground. The carriage door opened and Jasper stepped out, then jogged up Greydrake’s front steps.
The door swung open and a butler bowed. “May I help you, sir?” he asked, perfectly deferential.
