The door closed again, plunging the library into darkness, then there was a hurried tap of ballroom slippers rushing across the carpet.
“I’m here, Letty,” Emma whispered into the darkness, trying not to flinch at the sound of Helena’s disembodied footsteps. She wasn’t timid, and she was accustomed to sneaking about darkened rooms, but everything about the Pink Pearl set Emma’s nerves on edge.
A small, warm hand encased in a fine kid glove landed on Emma’s sleeve. “I can’t understand how Madame Marchand hasn’t caught you and Charles out yet, given how suspicious she is.”
Charles was one of Madame Marchand’s kitchen boys. He had an adolescenttendrefor Emma, and was willing to see to it the terrace door was left unlocked for her when she required it. “I imagine Madame is rather taken up with emptying the pockets of London’s noblemen.”
Madame Marchand was a creature of habit, and never ventured from the drawing room during the evening’s festivities.
“Yes, well, there’s no shortage of pockets toempty tonight.”
Helena’s tone was light, but Emma heard the edge in her voice, and her shoulders tensed. “Is LordPeabody here?”
Helena threw herself into a window seat, heedless of her fine silk gown. “Here, deep in his cups, and growing more aggressive with every glass of port Madame Marchand pours into him.”
“Promise me you’ll stay away from him, Letty.” The man had a streak of cruelty in him a mile wide.
But cruel or not, someone would have to have him. Madame Marchand wouldn’t dream of turning away any gentleman. Certainly not one with pockets as deep as Lord Peabody’s, not even if it meant one of her girls would end the evening with a broken finger, or bruises shaped like bootheels on her legs or back. Nothing too obvious, of course—nothing too visible. Lord Peabody knew better than to damage Madame Marchand’s goods, and in return Madame pretended not to notice his violent tendencies.
Rather a tidy arrangement for all concerned, aside from the women who found themselves on the receiving end of Lord Peabody’s ill temper.
There was a reason his lordship preferred the smaller, daintier ladies at the Pink Pearl.
Helena was both, but she was a temperamental handful, for all her apparent fragility. Lord Peabody generally kept away from her, unless he was in a particularly ugly mood, and fancied a fight.
“He’s taken poor Lizzie upstairs already,” Helena said, a hard, bleak look in her eyes. “Last time she had him he tore a clump ofher hair out.”
Emma’s stomach lurched. “Stay away from him, Letty. Lavish your attentions on another gentleman instead. Is Lord Dimmockhere tonight?”
Lord Dimmock was neither young nor handsome, but he was a courtly old gentleman, and he wassafe. The choice between Lord Dimmock and Lord Peabody was like a choice between a plate of sweetmeats and a platterof rotted fish.
Helena sighed. “Yes, but you didn’t come here tonight to discussLord Dimmock.”
“No.” Emma glanced over Helena’s shoulder, her hopeful gaze on the library door. She willed it to open, and for Caroline Francis to stroll through it, but it remained firmly closed. “Since you’re here alone, I take it our plans have gone awry.”
Of course they had. Nothing was ever as simple as it should be.
“My dear Emma, a nobleman’s lust always takes precedence over everything else. Caroline was suddenly called away to attend a private engagement this evening,” Helena added, when Emma raised an eyebrow.
“An engagement?” Dash it, what blasted ill luck.
Helena hopped down from the window seat and grabbed Emma’s hand. “Now, don’t look like that. I’ll bring her to see you tomorrow night. She can tell you her lurid tale then. It’s as shocking as you couldever hope for.”
“No, tomorrow won’t do.” By this time tomorrow evening, Emma would be at Almack’s, posing as an innocent debutante on the hunt for an aristocratic husband.
Innocent. The thought brought a derisive snort to Emma’s lips.
“Why not tomorrow?” Helena asked, studying Emma’s face inthe dim light.
“I won’t be able to return to the Pink Pearl for some time, Letty.” Emma tapped her lip, thinking. “Do you suppose you could get Caroline to write down anaccount of it?”
“I don’t see why not. I can ask her, at any rate.”
“Good. Give it to Charles, and I’ll send Daniel to fetch it from him.” Emma reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out a small pouch of coins, which she dropped into Helena’s hand. “Here, take this,just in case.”
Helena hesitated before stuffing the pouch into the hidden pockets of her silk skirts. “Why can’t you come back? Whereare you going?”
“I’ll be in London, but I won’t be able to risk a visit. If anything happens, send word to Daniel through Charles. Daniel will make certain the information gets to me.”
