“Now suppose you tell me about your new protector? Have you lost value while you traveled with him, I wonder?” Ned studied her closely and Julia felt her cheeks heat though her forearms chilled and goose flesh rose at the calculation in his expression. He rose and pulled on a cord against the wall. “I’ll have Kate check you over. Best be prepared if you need to fake a maidenhead.”
Julia’s heated cheeks chilled.
Fake a maidenhead?
CHAPTER 25
Tristan pulled a set of narrow tools from a kit in his coat pocket and selected one. One more glance around the alley, then a few deft turns and the door lock released. Before he eased the door open, he picked up a broken wheel spoke from the ground and gripped it firmly. Inside, he checked the narrow corridor at ground level before mounting the stairway that rose to his right. He hesitated at the first landing long enough to verify none of the gaming staff saw him, then climbed another level. Finished woodwork on the floor and along the corridor told him this floor likely held private gaming rooms and possibly office space. Ned had claimed Alice as his orphaned niece so the floor above was probably his residence. With Alice gone, he’d start with the office.
He took a step forward, then retreated when he heard footsteps ascending from the street level. He pressed back out of immediate sight as a statuesque woman of lush proportion and artificially red hair reached the landing and walked to the end of the hall where she gave a two short brisk knocks, then entered.
He waited and watched. Moments later the door opened and alarm sent a wave of shock crashing into his chest when Julia was led to the stairs by the titian-haired woman. Julia’s hands were bound behind her back and the woman had tight hold on Julia’s arm, but she appeared unhurt.
“Don’t fight me or make a fuss and it’ll be over and no harm done,” the woman said as they mounted the stairs. “No need to be shy. It’s just business.” Her voice drifted down the stairwell. “You’ll get used to it.”
Tristan gritted his teeth and fought the instinct to race up the stairs after them. A door opened halfway down the hall and a footman exited one of the private rooms, a tray of empty glasses in his hands. He turned away from the stairs, and pressed a lever against the wall. A panel slid open and he set the tray inside, closed the panel, then tugged a cord hanging from the wall. When he returned to the room he’d left, Tristan slipped silently up the stairs.
As he suspected, the top landing ended at a door with no corridors leading either left or right. Another deft application of his lock picks and he was inside Ned’s private lair. Clearly influenced by his master’s town house, the receiving room was formal, spacious, and impressive. He ignored the drawing room and followed the sound of voices to the left, Julia’s voice held protest, the woman’s voice undeterred. Julia’s voice protested again, just as he reached the closed door. When he heard a hand striking flesh and Julia’s cry of pain, he shoved the door open.
The red-haired woman spun around and her surprise gave way to shock as he lunged forward to pull her away from Julia whose wrist had been secured to a narrow bed post. He clapped one hand over her mouth and the other around her middle, locking her arms.
He looked over at Julia. A cord hung from the other wrist, but wasn’t yet tied to the opposite post. A handprint reddened her cheek. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.”
He glanced around the room and saw two more cords on a small table beside the bed. “Do not call out, madam,” he threatened, “I grew up in the stews of London and will not hesitate to knock you out.” He uncovered her mouth, reached for the cords, and tied her hands behind her, then secured her to a wooden chair.
“Alice is here,” Julia told him while he dealt with his prisoner. “Ned drugged her. She is being guarded somewhere on this floor.”
Tristan eyed the redhead. “Where?”
The woman glared at him. “How should I know?”
He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Where?”
Her eyes widened at the menace in his whisper. “Second room across the hall,” she muttered. “Two taps on the door and he’ll open it.”
“Stay here,” he told Julia. “Make sure she doesn’t get loose.” He lifted the woman’s skirt and tore a strip from the bottom that he tied around her mouth, then handed Julia the wooden spoke he’d dropped when he lunged at the redhead. ”If she tries anything, hit her on the head with this. As hard as you can.”
Julia took the spoke and moved to stand close enough to act as instructed. “Do not worry.” She touched the mark on her cheek. “I will do anything necessary. Now go get Alice so we can get her away from here.”
Tristan quickly located the room and rapped the door with two sharp taps.
The door opened and Tristan rammed his fist forward before the man on the other side could react. A second blow ended any opposition and Tristan stepped past the unconscious guard and scooped a sleeping Alice from the bed.
“Time to go,” He stopped only long enough for Julia to join him, then guided her quietly down the stairs and out into the night. “Keep your hand on my shoulder,” he warned Julia as they made their way back to the inn. “It is easy to lose your footing in the dark.”
Once he had Julia and Alice back at the inn, Tristan left for the Portsmouth military headquarters. He didn’t want to wait until morning lest Ned go into hiding again. With Ned in custody, Julia and Alice would be safe.
Once he returned, and Alice recovered from the drug’s effects, she told them how she had slipped out of the room when her guard was distracted by one of the women who dealt cards. “I was going to hide until morning, then go to the building where Papa goes when he comes to Portsmouth every month. I was going to sneak in and hide there until he came again. But Miss Dorsey came down the alley and we found each other.” She scowled. “Then Ned caught us.”
“You need not worry about Ned,” Tristan assured her, “He has been taken into custody. He will no longer be a danger to you or to the country.”
After Julia settled Alice for the night, she told Tristan what Ned had revealed about her sister. “Do you need to return to London immediately after we deliver Alice to her father?” She asked. “I know the chance of locating my sister is unlikely, but I should like to go to Portsea.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands together in her lap. “It is not a great distance from the Goodwin estates, and Ned said the woman who owned the brothel lives there.”
Tristan recognized her need to know more. He had been driven by the same need. His mother had sworn his father was a good man who’d not known Tristan existed. The questions had plagued him from the time one of his friends had first asked him, “Who’s your da?”
“We’ll go.” He nodded. “You deserve to know the truth.”
JULIA TRIED TO LISTEN to Alice’s happy chatter while they traveled that afternoon, but her mind never strayed far from Ned’s admissions. Could the answer to her questions be as near as the town of Portsea? Would the former brothel owner remember her sister? Did she dare hope that Beatrice had been the girl called Trixie?
They rounded a turn in the road and Alice went quiet and clasped Julia’s hand. Her tongue worried her loose front teeth and her lips trembled. Startled by her sudden change in mood, Julia noted several damaged shrubs and broken tree limbs and realized this must be where the accident had occurred.
“You will see your Papa soon.” She whispered. “You are safe.”
“I know.” Alice nodded, then added, “But I miss Mama.”
Julia wished they could have taken a route that had not reawakened the child’s pain.
But as they left the scene of the accident and drew nearer to home, Alice recovered enough to hope cook would make her favorite cream cakes to go with supper.
The manor came into sight and, when they pulled abreast of the house, the door opened and Lord Goodwin hurried down the steps.
“Papa!” Alice jumped down from the carriage as soon as it stopped and leapt into her fa
ther’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time.
Lord Goodwin clasped her tightly kissing her cheek and whispering endearments while tears rolled down his face. Giving her a fierce hug, he eventually lowered her back to the ground.
“Thank you, Mr. Sheffield. I am forever in your debt.”
“I am glad we were able to recover your daughter.” Tristan said as they shook hands. “But you should know that it was Miss Dorsey who delivered her to safety.”
Goodwin gave him a startled look, then bowed and invited them in for refreshments when Tristan introduced her.
In the drawing room, Lord Goodwin settled Alice beside him before thanking them again.
“Miss Dorsey is Summerfield’s cousin.” Tristan told him. “And has been as betrayed by his actions as much as you and Alice.”
“I was told I was protecting her from kidnappers,” she explained. “I did not know it was my cousin who threatened her.”
Tristan’s comment had referred to Julia’s childhood loss, but the quick glace she sent him kept him from correcting the reference. Further explanation served no purpose.
“You have my absolute gratitude.” Goodwin said. “If ever I can do you a service in return, you need only ask.”
Julia hesitated, clearly embarrassed “My cousin revealed information about a missing relative and I hope to confirm whether or not it is true, but once I return, I shall be in need of a letter of recommendation in order to gain employment.”
Goodwin returned her gaze and she saw dawning understanding of her position. “I do not know the degree of your dependence upon your cousin or of your other relative.” He cleared his throat. “But if the loss of Summerfield’s protection puts you in need of a respectable post, Alice will need a companion and governess. The position is yours should you need it.”
“Thank you, Lord Goodwin.” Julia curtsied. “Though I do not know how long I will be gone. Nor do I know what I may find.”
Tristan appreciated Goodwin’s grasp of Julia’s difficulty. Still, genteel as such a position would be, it was a drop in rank that pained him for her. She deserved a family of her own and a place in society.
“The offer stands at any time, now or in the future, Miss Dorsey.”
“Oh, Miss Dorsey,” Alice begged. “I should like that above all things.”
Goodwin turned to Tristan. “I shall resign my post at the king’s convenience. The Foreign Office need only inform me when my replacement has been selected.” He lay his hand on Alice’s fair hair. “As I told you before, I suggest he be a single gentleman.”
Lord Goodwin insisted they stay for dinner and the night. As they journeyed away from the Goodwin estate the next morning Julia asked, “Do you think this Mrs. Arbuckle will be of any help?”
“I wish I could say yes,” Tristan admitted, “But I cannot begin to guess.”
“A FRENCH GIRL NAMED Beatrice seventeen years ago?” The woman who had called herself Aphrodite chuckled and sat back in her chair. “Dearie, must have had a dozen or more girls with that name over the years. Back then, there were lots of French girls, too. Once, I had three at the same time. Changed their names right away, though. Can’t have a gent ask for Beatrice and send him the wrong girl.”
The former madam had greeted them with all the charm of a woman used to playing hostess when her housekeeper led them into the drawing room. The curves of her once lush figure had softened into aged flesh and her hair had been augmented with dye, but it was clear she had once been a beauty.
“My sister was just twelve years old... and spoke English.” Julia clarified.
“Twelve or thirteen is not uncommon, neither, my dear. I was thirteen myself.” Her forehead creased in thought. “Spoke English, you say? Several of the French girls spoke English.” Let me think...”
She poured herself a fresh cup of tea and added a generous portion of gin to the cup before taking a sip. “Seventeen-ninety-three... so many emigres,” she mused. “Ahhh, that was the year of the three Beatrices. And two of them could speak English from the start.” She tapped her finger against her chin while she reflected aloud. “Beatrice, Trixie, and Queenie. That’s what we called them.”
“Do you recall what happened to them?” Tristan asked.
She shot him an amused glance. “What happens to any girl in a brothel, of course.”
Julia hated that the telltale flush of that crept across her cheeks. She met the older woman’s eyes and strove for a matter-of-fact tone. “We are hoping you can tell us where each of them went.”
“The one who kept the name Beatrice died of the pox.” Mrs. Arbuckle said as she took another sip of her tea. “Queenie never learned her place—which is why we called her that—and one of her customers beat her pretty bad. Trixie said a customer found her and took her away.” She added a spoon full of sugar to her tea and gave it a brisk stir. “Bad as Trixie said Queenie was, I’d be surprised if she lived. I never saw her again.” She put down the cup with a clink and a frown. “The next week Trixie went to Poole with a merchant ship’s captain who took a fancy to her.” She shrugged. “Girls come and go all the time. Some come back, most find themselves on the street. Didn’t know when they had it good.”
Julia leaned forward. “Do you recall the captain’s name?”
“He was Irish,” I remember that. “Had a head of red hair you could see half a league away and smile to charm the birds from the trees.” She pursed her lips. “Doyle... Dougal—no, Donnelly That’s right. Captain Donnelly.”
“Thank you,” Julia said as she stood. “We have taken enough of your time and will be on our way.” She curtsied to the former madam who looked both surprised and gratified at Julia’s sign of respect.
“I hope Trixie is indeed your sister, Miss Dorsey.” Mrs. Arbuckle said as she walked with them to the door. “I must warn you, though, that society will not recognize you if she is. Families do not to acknowledge young women caught alone with a gentleman in a sitting room, let alone a woman who has been in the trade.”
“I have no other family,” Julia said before Tristan led her to the carriage. “And I do not take part in society. I’ll not deny her.”
“Before you ask, the answer is yes,” Tristan said Julia as he assisted her into the carriage. “I’ll take you to Poole. But we still don’t know if the girl Mrs. Arbuckle remembers is your sister,” he said as he flicked the reins, “So try not to become too hopeful.”
Julia nodded her head to show him she understood, but excitement bubbled through her. They had a name. They had a place. Surely they would succeed.
TRISTAN GLANCED TO the woman at his side as they were served their supper. Despite her agreement not to expect success, he could feel Julia’s anticipation. Her eyes sparkled and she had smiled the whole way back to the inn. He hoped she wouldn’t build fairy castles of happy endings. He hoped this wasn’t a wild goose chase.
“Do you think the captain married her?” Julia asked him during dinner.
Tristan’s food suddenly lost its appeal. So much for hope. He chewed his bite of food slowly and searched for a way to answer that didn’t sound as though Julia’s sister had no worth. “It is unlikely that he could keep her past secret from his shipmates.” He avoided her gaze by spearing another piece of meat. “Some of them might have even...” He hesitated.
“Used her services?” Julia finished his sentence softly. “I understand.”
He looked up at her, then. “I’m sorry, but if she remains with him, she will be his mistress, not his wife.”
“If she remains,” Julia’s face paled and her the sparkle left her eyes.
“Ship’s captains are at sea for months, even years, at a time. She might have found a protector on land while he was gone, or he might have tired of her and replaced her with someone else.”
She put her fork down and pushed her plate away. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and her lip trembled. “And she still might not be my Beatrice.”
Tristan said nothing and the s
ilence lay like a shroud over them both.
“I believe I shall retire early.” She stood, walked to the door, and then turned back to him. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Once she was gone, Tristan took a deep swallow of ale and cursed. Honesty made him feel like an ogre. Since learning that the woman known as Trixie might be her sister, Julia had almost glowed with joy. But instead of letting her enjoy her moment of hope, Tristan had caused her to leave the room dejected and fighting tears. He and his honesty had a lot to answer for... and it left him feeling disillusioned as well.
Before leaving the next morning, Tristan checked with the authorities at the naval yard and learned that a merchant captain named Donnelly still operated from Poole. He noted the difference in Julia’s silence this morning and hoped by all that was holy that the woman known as Trixie was Julia’s sister. He also hoped she still lived in Poole with her captain and had not been taken elsewhere by a new protector. With luck, the journey would end with the sisters reunited and in harmony. Luck however, rarely arrived when needed.
He knew Julia had come to the same conclusion when she broke her silence by asking, “What Mrs. Arbuckle said about the Beatrice who was beaten,” She twisted her gloved fingers in the folds of her woolen pelisse. “Does that happen often?”
He wished more than ever he had never told her he would not lie or sugarcoat the truth. “Not always, but more often than it should. Some men drink too much and take their physical release further than bedding.” And some men, he refrained from saying, believed a woman purchased for her body gave tactic permission for it to be used in any way the buyer chose... including fists and knives. He might tell her the truth, but he didn’t need to cause her additional distress by exposing it all.
She rode in silence again for perhaps a mile before she commented, “I find it odd that I can speak of such things with you. These are not topics I would ever have expected to share with a man other than a husband—If, indeed I spoke of such things at all—but I must know more about my sister’s possible experience if I’m to form a connection with her. I don’t wish to tax her with questions that might seem to be malicious curiosity, yet I can’t begin to comprehend what it would be like to be freely touched by strangers.”
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