“Go to the Pink Pearl, and, ah…engage Helena’s companionship for the evening. You can be certain Madame Marchand will be delighted to accommodate you. Once you have Helena alone, tell her Lady Emma wants her to come to the library, then return to your carriage at once and wait for us. I can persuade Helena to come with me, but we’ll need to leave quickly once she’s out. Will you help me?”
“That depends, Lady Emma, on whether or notyou’llhelpme. Once you free Helena from Madame Marchand’s clutches, I want to speak with her. I don’t mean her any harm, but I insist she tell me everything Caroline told her. The truth this time, and every word of it.”
Emma inclined her head. “She will.”
Samuel studied her, looking for any sign of deception. “Don’t lie tome, Lady Emma.”
“She will. I promise it, my lord.” She met his gaze without flinching, with truth in the deep, blue depths of her eyes.
“Well, then. It looks as if we’re paying another visit to the Pink Pearl.”
* * * *
Don’t lie tome, Lady Emma.
The words echoed in Emma’s head as she waited in the carriage after Lord Lymington had disappeared insidethe Pink Pearl.
Lord Lovell was wrong. Every word out of Lord Lymington’s mouthdidn’tsound like a command. He’d said those word to her in a soft, almost pleading voice, one that made Emma wish she could give him the truth he asked for.
But it was only that, a wish, destined to remain unfulfilled, no matter how much her heart urged her to tell him all she knew.
She now believed Lord Lovell was innocent of any crime, despite Caroline’s accusations, but she couldn’t be certain the real culprit wasn’t another member of Samuel’s family. What if Lady Lymington had somehow had a hand in it? And what of Felix Humphries? He had unlimited access to Lymington House. At this point she couldn’t even rule out Lady Lovell. It seemed unlikely she’d implicate her innocent son in a crime, but Emma had seen wickeder thingsthan even that.
After twenty minutes had passed, Emma left the carriage and made her way through the back garden to the terrace doors. She peered through the glass into the library, her hand on the latch and a prayer on her lips that Helena was there, and had unlocked the door.
She sucked in a breath, then let it out again in a heavy gust when the latch turned in herhand. “Letty?”
A shape detached itself from the deep shadows in one corner of the room. Helena darted forward and threw herself into Emma’s arms. “Emma? Oh, thank goodness you’re here. Caroline’s gone, and Madame Marchand is on a tear, and Lord Lymington—”
“Shh. I know, dearest, I know.” Emma stroked a hand down Helena’s back. “But it’s all right now, Letty. It’s going to be all—”
Emma was interrupted by a faint click, and both she and Helena jerked their heads toward the library door. Light spilled through the gap, illuminating a tall, spare figure. “You should know better than to make promises you can’t keep, Emma.”
Emma froze at the sound of that cold voice, dread overwhelming her at the sight of the narrow chin and sharp, beaky nose that hauntedher nightmares.
She was no longer the same helpless, frightened girl she’d been that awful night five years earlier, when she’d left the Pink Pearl behind her, but no matter how old she became, or how many years she put between that night and the present, Madame Marchand’s voice still had the power to make her shudder with horror. No sooner would she hear that harsh voice than the memories would come flooding back, as if some hidden lever in her brain had been wrenched, warning her to flee.
“How remarkable, Emma, that you imagine you can just stroll into my establishment and leave with one of my young ladies.” Madame Marchand pointed a bony finger at Emma. “I’ve already lost Caroline. Do you suppose I’ll let Helena go, as well?”
Helena’s shoulders hunched, and she shrank into herself. “I beg your pardon, Madame.We were just—”
“Such disloyalty, Helena.” Madame Marchand tutted. “I didn’t believe it when Clarissa told me you’d been sneaking in and out of the library, yet here you are, and after all I’vedone for you.”
“Madame, I—”
Madame Marchand cut her off. “Get out, Helena. I’ll deal with you later. As for you, Emma, this will be your last clandestine visit to the Pink Pearl. Charles won’t be available to assist you anymore.”
A hoarse gasp tore from Helena’s throat. “What do you mean? What have you done to Charles?”
Madame Marchand didn’t even spare her a glance. “I told you toget out.”
Emma’s stomach lurched as she stepped between Madame Marchand and Helena, but by some miracle, her voice was steady. “Go through the terrace doors behind me, Helena, and out to the front. Lord Lymington’s carriage is there, waiting for you.”
Light filtered from the open doorway behind her, leaving Madame’s face in shadows, but there was no mistaking the steely thread of menace in her voice. “Upstairs this instant, Helena. Don’t make me tell you again.”
Helena looked between Emma and Madame Marchand, her face a chalky white. Madame’s cold gaze remained fixed on Emma, but Emma met Helena’s eyes, begging without words for Helena to do as she said, and leave this place now, before she no longerhad the choice.
“The seed pearls sewn into that silk gown on your back were very dear, Helena,” Madame Marchand said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she had chests of seed pearls in her bedchamber upstairs, casks of precious jewels, and stacks of golden guineas secreted in every hidden corner of the Pink Pearl, and the loss of these were of little consequence to her.
