“We’re never going to get in front of this if I keep piping all my funds into buying girls.” Not to mention, Madam Dequenne was making a fortune off him.
“I realize that, but until we can gain assistance watching the carriage stops, I don’t know what else we can do.”
“There must be something.” Jasper scrubbed his face with his hands.
“You don’t mean to abandon them to their fate?”
“Certainly not,” he snapped. How could she think such a thing? He’d sell off everything he owned to keep even one more gently bred miss from ending up in a whorehouse. “They weren’t chaperoned?”
Clementine shook her head. “So far as our people can gather, they were put on a coach by their parents. An aunt and uncle awaited them here, but the girls disappeared from the stop before they could be claimed.”
“Do we know the aunt and uncle? Are they family to whom we can return the girls?”
Clementine nodded. “It wasn’t difficult to find them. They were quite agitated in their search. Our men learned who they are but didn’t contact them.”
Jasper nodded. Clementine knew what she was about. Best to return the girls with a cover story. It would be up to the girls whether or not to tell anyone the truth of what had befallen them.
He settled back against his seat. “You have men and unmarked carriages ready?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Good. Let’s go get them back before any actual harm can befall them.”
Chapter Three
Madelina stood in her chamber, dazed. William and Lanora had bustled her from the ball so quickly after Mister Mclintock’s defection, it made her head spin. The scandal sheets would be full of the tale tomorrow:Lady M, dropped by Mister M, flees first ball after being stranded with no dinner partner, when Mister M’s mistress beckoned.
Who else could the woman in the doorway have been? Madelina certainly didn’t believe his claim that the woman who’d called him away was his business partner.
Her lips curled in bitter amusement. So much for Mister Mclintock’s assertion that he preferred honesty. Or maybe he simply didn’t feel the need to reciprocate it.
She’d never seen anyone look so totally and completely like a man’s mistress as the woman who’d summoned Mister Mclintock from the ballroom. Only a mistress would exhibit such an extravagant collection of lush curves, auburn tresses, and clinging violet silk. Yes, the woman had a decade on Madelina, but those years didn’t diminish her allure. The evidence of her age added confidence, strength, and a knowing look. Imagining that look called forth a blush.
The woman in the doorway made Madelina feel like a lamp post by contrast, and she didn’t enjoy the feeling. She’d always been pleased with her body. Proud of muscles honed by hours of training with pistol and sword, gymnastics, and riding. Still, curves exaggerated by dampened silk filled her mind. How could Madelina expect any man to choose her over that? It was like asking if one preferred to dine on a ripe plum or a stick of rhubarb.
“I don’t care,” she muttered under her breath. “Finding a husband is a façade for the real reason Aunt Aubrey and I have returned to London. And who would want a man so eager to run to his mistress?”
Footfalls in the hall, coupled with the familiar thunk of a cane, caused Madelina to whirl to face her bedchamber door as it slid open. She shook her head. She should have heard Aunt Aubrey’s approach sooner.
“Woolgathering already?” Aunt Aubrey asked. “After mere moments at a ball?”
“Hardly.”
Aunt Aubrey’s lips pursed skeptically. She marched to one of the armchairs before the fire and sat, hands resting on the top of her cane. “You’re home early.”
“Some gentleman asked me to dance, and then left halfway through the set.” Madelina permitted no inflection in her tone. “William and Lanora felt we must leave after that.” Her brother had angled a piercing look at his wife, and Madelina had taken in Lanora’s nod.
“Some gentleman?” her aunt prodded.
“A Mister Mclintock. Do you know of him?” Could her aunt shed light on why the whole room stared, and why her sister-by-marriage and Miss Birkchester had seemed so alarmed by his approach? Madelina should have made time for more of the scandal sheets than the nearly daily reports on Lord Lefthook.
“Mclintock?” Her aunt’s expression grew thoughtful. “One line of the family holds the Dukedom of Aspen.”
Madelina shook her head. No title had been supplied when William introduced them. “Not the one I met.” Though Mister Mclintock exhibited the bearing of near royalty that one expected of a duke. Like as not, the actual Duke of Aspen paled in comparison to the man she’d met that evening.
Expression intent, her aunt studied her. “Tired after your ball, girl?”
Madelina shook her head, a spark shooting through her. “No, not at all, and it’s early still.” With how late balls began, it was already nearly midnight, but that was not late by society’s standards, and certainly not too late for Madelina to begin the work that had brought them to London. “Is this the night, then? You’ll permit me to begin?”
