Drury Lane Theatre was dark, the play having let out already, but tight knots of gentlemen were still hanging about, some of them lounging in front of the theater, others making their way down Russel Street toward the mayhem on offer closer to the center ofCovent Garden.
Emma kept to the dark corners of the streets, her gaze darting this way and that. Where there were drunken gentlemen with coins to spare there would always be women, gliding through the darkness like spirits, smiling, whispering, luring. Offering.
There was no telling how long it would take before Helena turned up, but Emma would keep searching for her until she did. All she had to do was stay out of sight, and pray to God noone would see—
“Tempting fate again, I see. Was the Dark Walk not dangerous enough for you, Emma? Whatever ugliness you might encounter there is, admittedly, nothing in comparison to the dangers lurking in Covent Garden at night.”
Emma froze at the low hiss in her ear, the voice much closer than it should have been. If she’d been paying proper attention to her surroundings, she would have heard footsteps approach well before he got close enough to be heard in whispers.
Covent Garden at night was not the place to become distracted, but she knew this voice, recognized the touch on her arm, and before she could forbid it, relief flooded through her, so profound her kneesshook with it.
“Is that sinister coachman of yours in the habit of letting you wander about the London streets at night, without protection?”
He was not. Emma had been obliged to argue herself hoarse to get Daniel to agree to head north, toward Long Acre, then loop back on Drury Lane. If it had been anything less than Helena’s life hanging in the balance, there wasn’t a chance he’d have left her side. “Don’tblame Daniel.”
Samuel dragged a hand down his face, sighing. “Why are you here, Emma?”
“I might ask you the same question, my lord. Didyou follow me?”
“Of course I followed you. I’ve made quite a habit of it of late.” He took her arm, as if he were certain she’d attempt to flee, and was determined not to let her slip away from him this time. “Let’s try this again, shall we? What are you doing in Covent Garden, alone, at night?”
Emma hesitated. Samuel was already much deeper into this business than she wanted him, but once again, she couldn’t quite bring herselfto lie to him.
Or perhaps it was just that she didn’t want to do thisalone, and he…
He hadn’t lied to her yet, or pretended to be someone he wasn’t. To another person his honesty might have been of little consequence, but to her, itwas…everything.
So for the third time in as long as she could remember, Emma toldhim the truth.
Not all ofit, but enough.
“Helena went missing from the Pink Pearl last night after an incident with Lord Peabody. It wasn’t her first offense, and Madame Marchand isn’t a patient woman.” Nor a forgiving one. God knew Madame hadn’t forgiven Emma for escaping her clutches five years ago, and now Helena was being made to pay for Emma’s sins.
“Madame Marchand has parted ways with Miss Reeves?” Samuel’s tone was grim. For all that he was an aristocrat with a grand townhouse in Mayfair and an estate in Kent, he was under no illusions about how an unprotected woman fared on theLondon streets.
“If by parted ways you mean Madame has tossed Helena onto the street without any means of protecting herself, and doubtless without a shred of remorse, then yes, my lord. They’ve parted ways.”
Emma sucked in a breath of the cool night air to steady herself, but she could hear the fear in her own voice, the bitterness that always lurked under the surface, like a sour aftertaste.
It could have been me, so easily…but for Lady Clifford, it would have been me.
“Is that why you followed Lord Peabody into the gardens tonight? What did you hope to accomplish?” Samuel spoke calmly, but anger vibrated just beneath the surface. “Did you think you could force an apology from him, or make him sorry for what he’d done? Men like Peabody aren’t ever sorry for anything, Emma.”
“I didn’t followhim.” Not precisely, anyway. “I was following Clarissa, one of the courtesans whowas with him.”
In truth, Emma hadn’t taken any time to reason it out before she’d slipped away from Samuel. When she saw Lord Peabody drinking and laughing without a care in the world while Helena was wandering the streets, prey to every blackguard in London, she hadn’t thought at all. She’d simply reacted. “I thought she could tell me if anyone had seen Helena. At the moment, that’s all thatmatters to me.”
He gazed down at her with some emotion Emma couldn’t read in his dark eyes. She thrust her chin up, expecting him to argue with her, but he only said, “Very well. Where do we start?”
Emma opened her mouth, but any protests she might have made withered on her tongue. It wasn’t that shetrustedhim—she didn’t trust many people, least of all a haughty nobleman. It was just that the overwhelming bulk of him, his commanding presence were…reassuring.
“On Drury Lane, behind the theatre. Clarissa told me another one of the courtesans from the Pink Pearl saw Helena here earlierthis evening.”
He nodded, and together they ducked around the corner of the theatre, his hand still wrapped firmly around her upper arm, but aside from a few drunken noblemen wandering about, there was no one there.
Emma wandered from White Horse Yard down as far as Blackmoor Street, peering into every shadowy alcove and around every corner, her hopes dimming with every step. Helena might be anywhere by now, and with each moment that passed, she was in greater danger.
Please, please let us find her…
