Madelina didn’t care if her face gave away her emotions. She couldn’t hide how repulsive she found the idea of Miss White with Jasper.
“I suspect now you wish you’d left London,” Miss White said, her voice light with amusement.
Madelina nodded, but not in agreement with the statement. Rather at the confirmation that, “You wrote the letter.”
“I did.”
“And you…you must know who was there that night. Who else witnessed my father murder my mother.”
Miss White’s eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t you a clever little thing.”
Much as she didn’t wish to owe this woman anything, Madelina had to know. “Who? Is she still alive?”
“Not so smart after all, then,” Miss White said. “It was me, and I traded the information to Madam to gain favor with her. She never had the opportunity to use that bit of blackmail, so it’s only fitting that I be allowed to.”
Madelina stared at her in disbelief. “You would have been what, thirteen?”
“You’re too kind,” Miss White said, tone flat. “Fifteen. Your father preferred his women at a malleable age. Actually, I believe he was losing interest in me. We’d already been together for some time.”
Madelina squeezed her eyes closed. A deeper sickness even than Jasper’s betrayal of sharing her confidences with Miss White settled on her, bringing bile to her throat. This woman, this trader in human flesh, had born witness to her mother’s death. To Madelina’s worst moment.
“I don’t suppose it matters, but it was a shame to see such a beautiful, courageous woman die.”
Madelina opened her eyes to take in the wistful look on Miss White’s face.
Miss White felt something akin to regret over Madelina’s mother’s death? Anger stirred in her, clearing her thoughts, bracing her. Miss White had no right to feel anything for her mother. No right to any memories of her.
Vicious with anger, Madelina snapped, “So, you were a pawn in Madam Dequenne’s game. You probably had delusions of marrying my father, just as you now have delusions that you’ll wed Jasper.”
Miss White’s gaze flashed with anger. The pistol snapped back up, aimed at Madelina’s chest. “I was a pawn, true enough,” Miss White spat, “but you are wrong. No woman would willingly wed your father, may he rot in hell, and I will marry Jasper.” She let out a harsh laugh and lowered the pistol back to her lap, finger still on the trigger. “I will have whatever I want. I am Madam Dequenne now.”
The carriage began to bounce and jostle. They’d left the finer parts of London for uneven streets and missing cobbles. Madelina cursed inwardly, trying to guess how far they’d come and in what direction. She’d become distracted from watching out the window. She shouldn’t have let herself be drawn into conversation.
Miss White chuckled, regaining her humor. “No one ever came close to the truth. Not in all the years the Crown, or Jasper, or that thorn in my side, Lefthook, have tried to end Madam Dequenne’s reign. There is no Madam Dequenne. It’s a façade. It’s a mantle, passed down like a title, only better, because the chance of birth doesn’t decide who wears it. Only the best is chosen.”
The maliciousness returned to Miss White’s smile. “In fact, shooting your aunt was my final test. She’d come too near my predecessor. Aubrey offered me an education, a life in a shop, to turn over the madam. I almost accepted, but Madam Dequenne offered me the world.” She made a sweeping gesture with the gun.
“Where are you taking me to kill me?” Madelina asked, done providing amusement for Miss White.
“So dramatic.” Miss White sighed. “Then, you are somewhat young.”
“You deny you plan to kill me?”
“No, but I deny that I plan to do it soon. I need three weeks. Actually, a touch more.”
Madelina frowned. “Three weeks?”
“For the banns to be read, dear.” Miss White’s tone held false patience, as if she spoke to a young child. “I might be able to get away with killing you now and simply telling Jasper I’ll keep you until we’re wed, but I might need to bring you out a few times to be seen. He will, of course, be rather suspicious of me.”
Madelina stared at her, horrified anew. This wasn’t simply a kidnapping, or even an execution. She would be held for ransom, and the price was Jasper. “I’d rather die than see him wed to you.”
“How fortunate that I’m in a position to make certain of both.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jasper looked from the spread of papers on his desk to the closed door of his office. Thuds sounded down the hallway, the rhythm mingled with footfalls. He’d heard that combination of pounds and shuffles somewhere before but his mind, sluggish from lack of sleep, refused to tell him where. He’d already lost the effect of the coffee he’d had with breakfast an hour ago.
His office door slammed open. Miss Saint Lawrence stood framed by the dark wood of the hall. Behind her, several of the girls stopped and gaped. Jasper blinked, half certain his exhausted mind played him a trick, but Miss Saint Lawrence’s livid countenance didn’t disappear.
