Silk and Shadows

by Mary Jo Putney

  * * *

  The girl was mute with terror, her blue eyes huge in her white face. After locking the chit in a bedroom, Mrs. Kent came downstairs and scowled at the two men who had delivered her. "That ain't the girl the master wanted, you loobies. He's going to be furious. What if she's some rich man's pampered daughter?"

  The two men exchanged an uneasy glance. "She fit the description," one of the men said. "I think she's just a maid. Ain't dressed like a swell, and she was walking alone."

  Mrs. Kent considered. It was true that the clothing was respectable, but not extravagant, so the girl was probably a servant. Weldon would still be mad that it wasn't Jenny, but maybe it would mollify him to know the girl could be used in the house. She was just the right sort, young and pretty and scared. She would be worth at least fifty pounds this very night.

  They didn't usually abduct girls—no need to—but in this case, it would be best to keep the chit. If they let her loose, she'd raise holy hell. Even though the girl would never be able to find her way back to the house, it was bad business to get the police looking for kidnappers.

  Mrs. Kent sat down and wrote her employer a note, explaining that they had the wrong girl and suggesting that they keep her.

  Within two hours, Weldon sent a reply saying to put the new girl to work that very night, and not to send the guards back to Haddonfield House until the next day. Mrs. Kent smiled with satisfaction, glad that a mistake had turned out so well. The new girl was exactly the type one of her best customers, a rich merchant, always asked for. She'd send the merchant a discreet note, and he'd be around this very night.

  Chapter 27

  Peregrine was received politely at Haddonfield House. He hoped that was a good sign, but probably it meant nothing. Sara would never give orders for servants to be rude.

  When he asked to see Lady Sara, the butler inclined his head and said, "I will see if her ladyship is in."

  It was all horribly formal for visiting one's wife. One's estranged wife.

  Rather than taking a seat in the receiving room, Peregrine stayed on his feet, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. He wished he could speak to Sara somewhere other than under her father's roof. Perhaps she would consent to go for a drive, or even go back to their house where they could talk more freely. Probably she would be reluctant to do that, for fear that he would try to seduce her.

  She was right; he would try. Even though he knew their differences must ultimately be resolved with the mind rather than the body, he craved her physical closeness as an opium eater craved his drug.

  When the door opened, he turned swiftly, his body braced for confrontation, but it was the Duke of Haddonfield who entered. The men regarded each other in silence. They had always been civil for Sara's sake, but there was no love lost between them.

  The duke spoke first. "Sara is not in."

  "Is she really out, or is that a polite excuse?"

  The duke raised a brow at such bluntness. "Really out. Visiting friends, I believe. I imagine she will be back sometime this afternoon, but I don't know just when. I've hardly seen her since she arrived."

  "I see." Peregrine considered waiting, but he would go mad with nothing to do for hours. Besides, Slade wanted them both to go to a magistrate to present the evidence on Weldon. A warrant would be issued for his arrest this very day, and the long nightmare would be over. "Please tell Sara I wish to see her. She can send a message to me at the town house. If I don't hear from her today, I will call again."

  Haddonfield gave a faint, sardonic smile. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

  "A request." Then, though he knew he should not, Peregrine asked, "Has Sara said anything to you about us?"

  The duke shook his head. "No, though I gather you are having problems. Would you care to enlighten me?"

  "Philosophical differences," Peregrine said tersely. Deciding that it was time for a change of subject, he said, "Yesterday I received a draft for eighty thousand pounds from Charles Weldon, in payment of notes that I hold. He implied that you gave him the money primarily to thwart me. Is that true, or did he blackmail it out of you?"

  The duke blanched. This was bluntness with a vengeance. For a moment his expression fluctuated between anger and guilt. Then he sighed and sat down, his face weary. "One could call it blackmail. It was equally a form of self-punishment."

  "Why? For promoting a marriage between your only daughter and Charles Weldon?" Peregrine's voice was edged. "That certainly merits self-punishment."

  "I knew that Charles Weldon had his little peccadilloes, but what man doesn't?" the duke said defensively. "I thought that he would make my daughter a good husband."

  "For Sara's sake, you should have made it your business to learn what Weldon is. But because he was above suspicion, it was easier and more convenient for you to wear blinders."

  Unable to refute the charge, Haddonfield's gaze dropped. "I see that now. I didn't then."

  Following his intuition, Peregrine continued, "What did Weldon know about you? Are you a patron of one of his more disreputable brothels? He owns a number of them, in case you didn't know."

  "He is the owner?" Haddonfield's eyes widened with shock, his aristocratic hauteur entirely gone. "After my wife died, I felt—half-dead. No longer a man. Charles suggested going to a place where they were expert at... bringing men back to life. I found myself going back again and again. I couldn't stop myself..."

  His voice trailed off. "Charles never made any blackmail threats. If he had, I would have refused. He just made it clear how much he admired Sara and hoped she would accept him. He didn't have to threaten to expose me. It was enough that he knew my weakness. As a result, I used what influence I had to promote a marriage."

  Peregrine wondered which of the whorehouses had appealed so much to the duke. A normal brothel would not have inspired such shame. Guessing, he said, "Which was it, Mrs. Kent's house for children, or Mrs. Cambridge's whipping establishment?"

  The duke looked horrified. "Children? Such places exist, but surely Weldon couldn't be involved in anything so despicable."

  "He is indeed," Peregrine said dryly. "Being an English gentleman doesn't mean that there are depths to which one will not stoop. I don't think there is anything that would shame Charles Weldon."

  Haddonfield shook his head, looking ill. "What I did was shameful enough. I went to—the other place you mentioned."

  So the noble Duke of Haddonfield enjoyed whipping, or being whipped. At a guess, his preference was the latter. One could see why the duke would not wish his taste to become public knowledge. "So in return for silence about your charming little vice, you gave your daughter to a monster. May the saints preserve us from English gentlemen."

  Haddonfield flinched. "I deserve your condemnation, but remember, the idea of marrying Charles was not distasteful to Sara. I swear I would have endured public humiliation sooner than let her be hurt. I did not know what he was, though perhaps I should have."

  "Indeed you should." Peregrine was about to continue in that vein, for chastising his father-in-law relieved some of his restless anger. He abruptly shut his mouth when he realized that this conversation had similarities to his argument with Sara. He had claimed ignorance of the repercussions of his actions then, just as Haddonfield was doing now. They were both culpable.

  It had taken courage for the duke to admit his shameful weakness and the way he had failed his daughter, and Peregrine had no right to continue haranguing him. If he wanted mercy from Sara, he should show it to her father.

  Deciding that enough had been said, he crossed to the door. "Tell Sara that she can send a message at any time, no matter how late she comes in."

  The duke nodded and got to his feet. With difficulty, he said, "Will you tell Sara about... what I've done?"

  "I see no reason why she should know." He hesitated, his hand on the knob. "In turn, I hope you will not encourage Sara to ask for a permanent separation."

  Haddonfield said, "I will not try to come bet
ween you." After a long pause, he said, "You're a better man than Charles Weldon. A better man than I am. I hope you and Sara can resolve your 'philosophical differences.'"

  "Thank you." As Peregrine left Haddonfield House, he realized that he and the duke had moved to a different level of relationship. They might never be great friends, but there was a beginning of mutual understanding. He hoped it was a good omen.

  * * *

  It was the middle of the day before Eliza was missed, for everyone assumed she was somewhere else. Lady Batsford thought that her niece was with the governess, while her daughters supposed that their cousin would not be taking lessons because she was only staying for a few days.

  When Eliza did not appear for luncheon, more time was lost looking throughout the house. Only when it was clear that the girl was nowhere to be found did Lady Batsford confront her daughters. Her voice stern, she asked, "Was Eliza up to some mischief? If you are withholding information, I will hold you responsible for any trouble that results."

  Her three daughters exchanged uneasy glances. As oldest, Jane usually spoke for all three, so she said, "Truly, Mama, Eliza didn't tell us anything." Remembering the conversation of the afternoon before, she went on, "But yesterday I told her how we had seen Lady Sara, and how her ladyship is staying in town with her father. Eliza was awfully interested."

  Anne, the youngest, piped up, "Eliza has told me several times that she really wanted to see Lady Sara, to tell her that she wasn't angry with her even though her father was."

  Lady Batsford bit her lip indecisively, thinking that it was exactly like Eliza to slip off to visit Lady Sara, whom she idolized.

  She sighed with exasperation. Though she was very fond of her husband's niece, there was no denying that the girl had a willful streak. Lady Sara would have brought the chit back immediately if she suspected that the visit was illicit, but Eliza had a quick tongue. She might have convinced Lady Sara that she had her aunt's approval.

  Charles Weldon would be furious if he found out that his daughter had called on his former betrothed.

  Better not to notify him that his daughter was missing unless she was still gone at dinner. But Lady Batsford did not expect that; likely Eliza and Lady Sara were having a fine time together. She herself thought it cruel of her brother-in-law to forbid the acquaintance, though she understood his hurt pride.

  Lady Batsford was an easygoing woman, not inclined to expect the worst. With no particular sense of urgency, she sent a note to Lady Sara to ask if Eliza Weldon was at Haddonfield House, and if she was, to please send the girl back by the end of the afternoon.

  * * *

  Sara was exhausted when she returned to Haddonfield House in mid-afternoon. Though she was keeping busy in the hope that activity would save her from breaking down, trying to behave normally was an overwhelming strain.

  Ironic that she had consciously chosen to marry Mikahl in the belief that she was strong enough to survive the inevitable pain. Obviously she had badly overestimated her own strength, for her present anguish was greater than anything she had ever known.

  The butler gave her two notes when she came in, and Sara carried them up to her room to read. The first was in her father's hand. She expected that he was only informing her that he would dine at his club or some such. He did say that, but went on to write that her husband had called and was most desirous of speaking with her. The prince had asked her to notify him when she came in. If he did not hear from her, he would call again.

  Shaken, Sara sat down. So Mikahl wanted to see her. She reread the note, but her father gave no hint of her husband's mood.

  She shut her eyes, praying that Mikahl wanted a reconciliation as much as she did. If he was willing to try, surely something could be worked out? She didn't expect him to turn into a plaster saint, simply not to commit murder. To stop heedlessly wrecking people's lives.

  Sighing, she rubbed her temple with numb fingers. Perhaps that was too much to ask of a man who had lived for revenge.

  "Is something wrong, Lady Sara?" a concerned voice asked.

  Sara opened her eyes to find that her maid had entered the room. "Nothing's wrong, Jenny."

  Fingers trembling, Sara refolded the paper. Wanting to cover her emotions, she opened the second note. She frowned. "This is odd. It's a note from Lady Batsford, Charles Weldon's sister-in-law. Apparently Charles's daughter Eliza has been staying with her aunt, and Lady Batsford is under the impression that Eliza might have come to visit me. It isn't very far. Do you know if a little girl might have called here today?"

  Jenny had been folding Sara's shawl, but at the question she looked up, startled. "What time would she have come?"

  Sara glanced at the note. "This doesn't say. Sometime this morning, perhaps. I believe the butler said that Lady Batsford's message had arrived earlier in the afternoon. Do you know if Eliza came and was turned away?"

  Ignoring the questions, Jenny asked urgently, "How old is the girl, and what does she look like?"

  "She's eleven, a little tall for her age, with light blond hair. About the same height and coloring as you."

  "This morning when you were eating breakfast, I saw a girl on the street who looked like that. Then a couple of men took her away." Jenny's hands worked nervously on the shawl. "It seemed strange, but I didn't exactly see what happened, and they were gone before I could think of doing anything."

  Sara was beginning to feel alarmed. "Do you think that the men might have abducted Eliza?"

  Jenny bit her lip. "I thought there was something familiar about the bloke I saw, but I wasn't sure. But I just realized that I saw him once at Mrs. Kent's house, acting as guard when the regular one was sick."

  Sara's brows drew together as she tried to puzzle out what might have happened. "It doesn't seem possible that Charles could have known that Eliza was coming here to see me. And if he did, surely he would have stopped her himself or sent a servant, not brought a man from the other side of London."

  "What if it wasn't Miss Eliza they were after?" Jenny asked miserably. "You said she and I are about the same height and coloring. What if they thought she was me? I always knew Weldon would be furious that I ran away, but it didn't seem likely he'd ever find out where I'd gone. But maybe he did and sent a couple of his guards to bring me back. Mrs. Kent would know they had the wrong girl, but would probably keep her anyhow. She's always looking for new girls."

  The maid swallowed hard. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Weldon's daughter."

  Sara stood. "Come. We must go to my husband. He will know what to do.''

  Neither Sara nor Jenny spoke during the ten-minute ride to the house on Park Street. Even though Sara didn't want to believe that Eliza had been taken to Mrs. Kent's house, she had a horrible intuition that was exactly what had happened. The girl would not be the first innocent victim of the struggle between Mikahl and Weldon.

  In spite of their estrangement, Sara did not doubt that Mikahl would rescue Eliza. Though he hated Weldon, he had already decided not to punish the child for her father's crimes.

  She was so sure that her husband would solve the problem that it was a shock to arrive at the house and learn that he was not home. Neither was Benjamin Slade, who had returned to the city with his employer. The men had gone out together some hours earlier, leaving no word of where they had gone or when they would be back.

  After a moment of feverish thought, Sara drew Jenny into the drawing room so they could talk privately. "Do you know exactly where Mrs. Kent's house is?" When Jenny nodded, Sara continued, "Then I'll go and bring Eliza home if they have her."

  "You can't go there, Lady Sara!" Jenny said, horrified. "It's in one of the worst parts of the city."

  "I must go, Jenny," Sara said, her voice calm. "I can't allow Eliza to be held captive in such a place. She has been there for hours, and the longer she stays, the greater the chance that something dreadful will happen to her." She bit her lip, unable to say out loud what might happen to the girl.


  "But we don't even know if she is there," Jenny said desperately. "Really, my lady, you mustn't go."

  "I won't go alone. I'll take one of the guards." Sara had a happy thought. "Better yet, Kuram. Didn't you say that he was there the night Mikahl took you from Mrs. Kent's house?"

  "I suppose he could find it, but it's just too dangerous a place for a lady," Jenny said stubbornly.

  "My cloak is plain and has a hood, so no one will know that I'm a lady," Sara said, impatient to be off. "A brothel is in the business of making money, so I'll take plenty of gold and ask to buy Eliza free. With Kuram along, I'll be safe enough. But there is no time to be lost. It's almost dinnertime, and I assume that evening is when a brothel is busiest."

  Jenny nodded with reluctant agreement. "I'll go with you."

  Sara considered the offer, for certainly Jenny knew more about such places than her mistress. But Mrs. Kent might recognize the girl and try to prevent her from leaving the house. The risk was too great to take.

  "Stay here and explain to Mikahl what happened if he returns before I do," she said. "If something more needs to be done, he will know what." It was odd, Sara realized, to trust her husband to help her in spite of their estrangement. But trust him she did.

  Though Jenny still looked unhappy, she agreed to stay. Kuram also had grave doubts about taking his master's wife to such a spot, but soon capitulated to Sara's urgency. Ten minutes later, Sara was heading for dockland in a small closed carriage, with Kuram and a driver outside on the box.

  As the wheels rattled through the darkening streets of the city, she prayed that she would be in time to save Eliza from the horrors that Mikahl and Jenny had suffered.

  * * *

  Killing Peregrine was the key. Once the bastard was out of the way, Weldon could bluster his way out of any accusations that might be leveled against him. He would claim that the foreigner had forged evidence out of jealousy against a man who had been his wife's former suitor. Weldon still had enough influence to make sure that an investigation wouldn't go far.