“Yes, my lady?”
“Perhaps if you mention my name, she will not give you trouble when you apprehend her.”
“It is worth the effort. Thank you.” He shooed her back inside, pleased when she ducked into the carriage and closed the door.
Spinning around, he collided with a woman hidden in the shadows. “Pardon me, madam.”
She pulled the hood of her cloak higher to cover her graying hair. “It was my fault, sir. Forgive me.” She slipped past him with her head lowered and hurried in the direction of the dock, stumbling over something on the path.
“The ferry doesn’t stop running for several hours,” he called. “Don’t worry. You will not be stranded here.”
She kept her current pace and disappeared into the dark.
Sebastian dug a few shillings from his pocket to pay for his and Fergus’s admission, then they started down the dimly lit path toward the statue of Handel, the gravel crunching under their boots. The orchestra was playing in the distance and had drawn the crowd away from the Grand South Walk. Reaching their destination, Sebastian dropped the purse he’d filled with pebbles earlier at the base of the statue, and they took up positions among the trees and waited.
“Here comes someone,” Fergus hissed.
Sebastian stole a peek. “It is a couple.” The pair made their way down the walk at an agonizingly slow saunter. The woman’s happy chatter carried on the air and eventually faded as they continued deeper into the gardens.
There were several similar incidents of people passing the statue without a glance, but no sign of anyone behaving suspiciously. After what seemed like an eternity, Sebastian leaned against the rough tree trunk. His legs were tired and his stomach had begun rumbling with hunger. “What time is it?” he asked Fergus. “I misplaced my watch.”
The Scot pulled a watch from his pocket and stepped onto the path to check the time in the glow of a lantern. “Ten till one.”
“The damned extortionist is late.”
Fergus shrugged and returned the watch to his pocket. “I think it is fair to say the lass isna coming.”
Sebastian blew out a breath, stirring the hair on his forehead. “Then we will go to her. I want this settled tonight.”
Twenty-nine
Helena stayed close to Sebastian’s side as they searched the alley behind White’s Butcher Shoppe for a door leading directly to the living quarters abovestairs. Fergus was ahead of them by several steps with a lantern.
Waiting close to an hour for Cora to arrive at the gardens had left Sebastian in a bit of a temper. She wasn’t any happier about the wasted evening, but…
“Perhaps she had a change of heart.”
His gaze cut to her. “Or became spooked and fled. Either way, we will know in a moment.”
Fergus stopped in front of a battered door with peeling green paint and tried the handle. The door swung inward with a loud creak. “I found a staircase.”
He held the door while Sebastian took the lantern and led the way. Helena’s heart pounded as Sebastian knocked on Cora’s door. It was an ungodly hour to disturb anyone, and she didn’t know if Mr. White would be the type to answer with a rifle in his hand.
There was no response. Sebastian knocked again, this time louder.
“You are going to wake the children,” she admonished.
A bump sounded inside then footsteps padded across the wood floors. Locks tumbled and the door flew open. “Thomas, where is your—”
Cora squeaked and slammed the door. The lock tumbled again.
With a sigh, Sebastian drummed his fingers against the door. “Mrs. White, we are not leaving until you speak with us.”
“I—I am not decent, sir.” Her voice was muffled as if she spoke through the crack.
“Cora, let us in so we may put this business behind us,” Helena said.
“But it’s the middle of the night.”
“Cora,” Sebastian said on a growl.
“Very well. Wait a moment.”
Footsteps receded followed by a rattle before Cora returned to the door.
Sebastian urged Helena to stand back and handed Fergus the lantern as the metal clicks of the lock echoed in the small space. Cora ripped the door open and flung a cast-iron skillet above her head. Sebastian’s hand shot out and grabbed the skillet. She flailed as he wrestled it from her hands. Her bare foot shot out and connected with his thigh, almost hitting his groin.
“Take this,” Sebastian barked and thrust the skillet at Fergus.
Cora kicked again. Sebastian twisted to the side, and her foot slammed into his leg.
She released a painful cry and began hopping on her other foot. “Ow! Ow! Ouch! Oh, blast it all!”
Sebastian reached a hand toward her sister.
Cora slapped it away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Enough.” Sebastian scooped Cora in his arms and stalked into the apartment. He deposited her none too gently on a kitchen chair and held her in place. “Stay.”
Her chin hitched. Icy daggers shot from her eyes. “Who are you to order me about in my own home?”
“I am Sebastian Thorne. Your sister’s betrothed. And most people get to know me first before wanting to bash my head with a skillet.”
Helena came into the kitchen with Fergus trailing close behind. “We didn’t mean to frighten you. Didn’t you recognize me?”
Cora shook her head. Her face was pale and glistened in the lantern light. “I thought he sent you.”
“Who?” Sebastian asked.
Cora reared up. “How dare you try to manhandle me? Lord or no, you’ve no leave to—”
Helena shushed her. “Let’s not wake the children.”
“They could sleep through the Battle of Waterloo,” Cora said with a flip of her wrist.
Sebastian turned one of his charming smiles on Cora, although it didn’t reach his eyes like his true smiles did, and pulled the blackmail letter from his pocket. “Explain the meaning of this.”
When she didn’t take the letter, Helena did. “I will read it.” Their mother had taught them to read as young children, but Cora had always struggled with words.
Fergus held the lantern high to shine light on the page.
“Dear Lady Prestwick, unless you want everyone to know your sister is a whore and your husband won you gambling, come to the pleasure gardens at midnight tomorrow. Leave 130 pounds in a bag—”
Cora gasped. The hand covering her mouth trembled.
Helena continued. “Leave 130 pounds at the foot of the Handel statue. If you do not meet my demands, your story will be sold to the gossip rags.” Helena’s arm dropped to her side, the letter dangling from her fingers. “Cora, what do you know about this?”
She shook her head, her hand still over her mouth. “I swear, I know nothing. Where did you get it?”
“Someone delivered it to the town house while I was visiting Pearl.” Helena came closer to her sister. “You must know something. Lord St. Ambrose said you had asked Lavinia for this same amount.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “This is the first time I have seen that letter. You must believe me, Helena.”
“I believe you didn’t do it,” Helena said, ignoring Sebastian’s soaring eyebrows. “But the amount is bizarre, and it happens to be the amount you need. Why 130 pounds?”
Cora’s gaze darted toward the door and landed on Fergus. He could be an intimidating presence. “I owe someone that amount.” She shifted to the edge of her chair. “Please, Helena, my husband cannot know. I made a mistake.”
“How could you possibly owe that much? Cora, are you in trouble?”
She shrugged, tears filling her eyes. She swiped at them angrily. “Mr. Zachary says he will start dragging our belongings from the apartment—the furniture, our clothes, the dishes, everything—unless I pay my debts.”
“Who is Mr. Zachary?”
Cora sniffled. “H-he runs a dice game in the alley. I’d been watching for days, figuring out the patterns
. I know the dice are loaded, but I thought I could beat him.”
“Gambling?” Helena’s stomach turned and she slumped into the chair closest to her sister. “After you saw what gambling did to our family, you still bet on a game of dice?”
Cora reached for Helena, her eyes earnest. “I thought I could win. I was going to use the money to pay my bill at the dressmaker. Thomas never would have known I had charged more than I should have. Now I don’t know what I will do. My husband doesn’t have the money to pay my gambling debts. If we lose our belongings, he will be humiliated.”
Sebastian scowled. “What type of man tricks a woman into gambling and takes her money?”
“The kind that smells like fish.” Cora sniffled again and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “He is a fishmonger, and I don’t think my gender matters one bit to him. He takes everyone’s money.”
The lantern flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Helena couldn’t believe her sister would be so foolish as to follow their father’s example. Had she learned nothing from their ordeals?
Helena suppressed a sigh. She was very put out with Cora, and she would like to leave her sister to correct her own mess, but she couldn’t. “I will pay your debt, but then you must promise never to do anything like this again.”
Cora’s eyes widened. “Do you have that sort of money? I saw you leave in a hack the other day. I thought widows’ pensions barely amounted to anything.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Helena, do you recall your conversation with St. Ambrose? You are not likely to help your sister by making this problem disappear. Another will rear its head soon enough.”
Helena refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on her sister’s somber expression. She saw a flash of the troubled young girl who had lost a mother, and then slowly watched her family deteriorate, beginning with Helena leaving home. It wasn’t right that her sister should lose her belongings and have her marriage ruined over a foolish choice.
“I have the means to cover your debt. I will help you.”
A smile lit Cora’s face as she sprang from her seat to toss her arms around Helena’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you! I will repay you. I promise.”
Helena eased from her sister’s tight grip. “You don’t owe me anything. You are my sister. I only ask that you never gamble again.”
“Pfft!” She flicked her wrist. “I don’t gamble that often. I’m not like Papa. I told you I only wanted to pay my dressmaker, and I could have won if I hadn’t been distracted and lost count.” She offered a smile to Sebastian and Fergus. “Goodness, I should make some tea. Where are my manners?”
Helena grabbed Cora’s hand before she flitted away, her fingers encircling her sister’s dainty wrist. “I must have your word. If I cannot trust you to pay your debt and not get into a similar situation, I cannot give you the money.”
Cora’s eyes hardened like a frozen lake and she jerked free of Helena’s hold. “Are you accusing me of being a liar?”
“She did no such thing,” Sebastian said, moving to stand at Helena’s side.
Cora ignored him. “How dare you pretend you are better than me? How dare you believe you suffered more?”
“I never said—”
Cora slammed her palm against the table. “Do you truly think you are so honorable because you went off and married some bleeding toff with a castle and wealth, and now ye’re a lady?” Her sister sneered the last word.
“That is enough,” Sebastian said.
“I’ll damn well decide when I have said enough.” She punched her fists down to her sides and held them there, trembling. “You think you saved our family by leaving with Prestwick. And Lavinia? Good Lord, she reeks of martyrdom, giving up her virtue like she did. Well, what about me? What about my sacrifice?”
“We all suffered, Cora. I cannot deny the truth of that.”
“Well, your suffering is over now, isn’t it?”
The door swung open, and Mr. White froze in the threshold when he spotted them in the kitchen. Cora didn’t see him, however. Her face was bright red, and Helena knew she could be as difficult to stop as a runaway team of horses when she lost her temper.
“Cora.” She tried to alert her sister to Mr. White’s presence.
“Do not ‘Cora’ me.” She stomped her foot, reminding Helena of the young girl she had known long ago. The girl who had beat her fists against Wickie and demanded he leave her sister alone. “No one ever thanks me for my sacrifice! Have you seen the man I was forced to marry? He’s old. And I had to throw my life away just so our sisters could have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. It isn’t fair! I gave up everything for them.”
Mr. White’s complexion drained of color, and his mouth hung slack. His mother stood behind him and elbowed her way into the room. Her face was a molten mask. She marched to Cora and slapped her. The crack rent the air. Helena bolted from her seat with a sharp cry of surprise.
Mrs. White snarled in Cora’s face. “After everything Thomas has done for you, and you repay him by squandering his money and disparaging him? He should toss you on the streets where you belong. You ungrateful little cow.”
She drew her hand back to strike Cora again, but Mr. White lunged and caught her arm. His shock had given way to outrage, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Mother, if you ever raise a hand to my wife again, you will be tossed on the streets.”
Mrs. White gawked. Her lips moved, but no sound came. She struggled free of his hold. “How can you take her side? Didn’t you hear what she said about you?”
He smiled apologetically at Cora and rubbed the back of his neck. “I am old, at least in comparison to my wife. And it is true I chose her and not the other way around. I cannot fault her for speaking the truth.”
“Oh, Thomas.” Tears filled Cora’s eyes, and she flung herself into his arms, burying her face against his chest. “I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. You aren’t too old. You are decent and kind. And the best husband. I do not deserve you.”
She burst into sobs. Helena didn’t know what to make of her sister’s display. As Mr. White stroked her hair and whispered soothing words, Helena began to fidget. She felt like a voyeur and retreated to a respectful distance at the edge of the room with Sebastian and Fergus. Fergus shifted his weight from foot to foot, appearing as uncomfortable as she did, but Sebastian watched the exchange with his keen gaze.
“Ask her what she has done,” Mrs. White said. “Ask her how much money she owes that blackguard, Zachary.”
Mr. White drew Cora under his arm and fished a handkerchief from his pocket. “Whatever Cora has done, it is none of your concern. We will sort it out between us.”
“You stupid man. It is my concern. If she loses the roof over our heads, where will I go? And the embarrassment she will bring on this family… You are as hopeless as your father.” Mrs. White yanked the tie holding her cloak together and slipped it off her shoulders.
Sebastian stiffened, his eyes darkening. “I know you. You were the woman at Vauxhall.”
Cora’s mother-in-law balked. “Y-you are mistaken. I have been here all night.”
Fergus held the lantern aloft, squinting in her direction. “You were there, all right. And in a mighty rush to make the ferry once you bumped into us.”
Mr. White’s forehead wrinkled. “Do you know what they are talking about?” he asked Cora. She lifted the letter from the table and passed it to him. He scanned the page, then lowered it, his lips thinning. “You weren’t coming to retrieve me from the tavern just now, Mother. You were arriving home after extorting money from Lady Prestwick. What has gotten into you?”
His mother looked down her nose at him. “I never took a shilling from the lady. She wasn’t going to meet my demands, so I did the next best thing for this family.” She shoved her hand into a pocket sewn into her cloak, pulled out a stack of pound notes, and shook them at Cora. “I am saving my son and grandchildren from ruin. The Informer pays well for wicked little
secrets. Enough to hold Zachary at bay for now.”
The Informer? The floor tilted beneath Helena and her legs wobbled. Sebastian wrapped his arm around her to bear her weight and helped her to a chair.
“Helena!” Cora’s eyes were wide as she hurried to her side. Her sister’s voice sounded far away.
“I am all right.” Except she wasn’t. All her dreams were crumbling around her. Her wish to give their youngest sister a respectable life vanished. Her own reputation would be shattered the moment The Informer went to print. The room blurred as tears welled in her eyes. And Sebastian couldn’t marry her now, not without ruining his family and himself.
Cora spun on her mother-in-law. “You bitch,” she hissed. “No one disrespects my sister. Get out of my house.”
“I am not leaving. I live here, too.”
With a low growl deep in her throat, Cora pounced, but her husband caught her around the waist and lifted her feet from the floor. She shook her fist at the older woman. “I said get out.”
“Quiet,” Mr. White snapped. “Both of you. Cora, sit and don’t say another word.”
He set her down and Helena’s sister did as he commanded, hatred blazing in her eyes as she glared at Mrs. White.
The woman lifted a haughty brow.
“And you, Mother.” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “I have never been ashamed to call myself your son until now.”
“This isn’t my fault. It’s all hers. She—”
“Stop! Tomorrow you will pack your belongings, say good-bye to the children, and leave for Agatha’s home in the country.”
She gasped. “I can’t stay with your sister. She treats me worse than an animal.”
“You cannot stay here either. What you have done is deplorable. I cannot imagine a poorer example to set for the children.”
Reality must have hit the older woman, because her face fell and her shoulders slumped. “Who will help Cora with the children?”
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