Did she take her pin money with her?”
“She must have. She took her reticule.”
“She asked me for next quarter’s allowance yesterday afternoon,” Lord Rummery added. “I assume she has that, too.”
“Is she still friends with Lady Amy Warren, and Miss Paula Bickford?”
Lady Rummery nodded. “They seem even closer since Jenny’s death. They’re together constantly.”
“One more question,” Nick said. “What event were you planning to attend tonight?”
“The Buntingdon ball. But we can hardly go out now.”
“Yes, you can. You need to appear happy and carefree, as if nothing is wrong. And if anyone asks where Elizabeth is, tell them that she wasn’t feeling well and stayed home.”
“Do you think you know where she is?” Lord Rummery asked.
“Possibly. But I’ll have to be discrete. We don’t want anyone to know Lizzy’s missing yet, in case she’s simply done something foolish and is afraid to face you.”
“I don’t care what she’s done, Nicholas,” Lady Rummery said as more tears spilled from her eyes. “I just want her to come home.”
“I know, my lady.” Nick squeezed his aunt’s hands, then rose. “I won’t know anything until tonight, but I’ll bring her home the minute I find her.”
“Thank you, Nicholas,” Lord and Lady Rummery said.
Nick walked from the room, then out the door. When he reached the street in front of his uncle’s townhouse, his heart weighed heavier than he thought he could stand.
Every instinct he possessed told him Lizzy’s disappearance had something to do with The Soiled Dove . The place drew innocent females like bees to honey. His first reaction was anger. Hadn’t Lizzy and her friends learned from what happened to Jenny Belden?
His next reaction was fury. How many more lives would The Dove ruin before he could shut them down?
. . .
Winnie made her way through the crush at the Buntingdon ball. She wanted to make herself invisible, and the only place she knew to go was outside on the terrace. If she was lucky, no one would find her there. Especially more of Lord Montroy’s friends.
Winnie knew Anne was behind the plan, but so far Winnie had danced every dance, and her partners had been friends the Earl of Montroy was usually seen with. She knew Anne had encouraged them, if not outright begged them to dance with her.
Winnie couldn’t stand to be the object of Anne’s matchmaking any longer. She needed to escape.
She made her way to the open French doors on the far side of the room and stepped through the opening. The air was warm and fresh. When Winnie walked to a secluded corner of the terrace, she leaned her hands against the railing and breathed a sigh of relief. She only had to endure this one Season and she wouldn’t have to return next year. She only had to wait for the Earl of Montroy to speak with her father, and Anne would be safely married.
Then, perhaps she would hire Mack Wallace to discover who was blackmailing her and make them stop. And by then she would be twenty-one, and would have the trust her grandmother left her. That would be enough to keep her mother at Saint Christina’s forever.
Winnie closed her eyes and thought how simple her life would be then, compared to how complicated it was now.
For the first time since she’d decided to let the world believe that her mother was dead, the weight of that decision was almost more than she could bear. For the first time since she’d discovered the horrific things her mother had done, tears that she’d held at bay threatened to surface.
She wrapped her arms around her middle and lifted her gaze to the star-filled heavens, hoping that the wetness that filled her eyes wouldn’t spill down her cheeks. But her attempt was futile, and the first tear spilled over her lashes and streamed down her face. She brushed it away, but stopping them was useless. Another followed. Then another.
Winnie didn’t hear anyone approach her, but silently, a hand reached around
“She must have. She took her reticule.”
“She asked me for next quarter’s allowance yesterday afternoon,” Lord Rummery added. “I assume she has that, too.”
“Is she still friends with Lady Amy Warren, and Miss Paula Bickford?”
Lady Rummery nodded. “They seem even closer since Jenny’s death. They’re together constantly.”
“One more question,” Nick said. “What event were you planning to attend tonight?”
“The Buntingdon ball. But we can hardly go out now.”
“Yes, you can. You need to appear happy and carefree, as if nothing is wrong. And if anyone asks where Elizabeth is, tell them that she wasn’t feeling well and stayed home.”
“Do you think you know where she is?” Lord Rummery asked.
“Possibly. But I’ll have to be discrete. We don’t want anyone to know Lizzy’s missing yet, in case she’s simply done something foolish and is afraid to face you.”
“I don’t care what she’s done, Nicholas,” Lady Rummery said as more tears spilled from her eyes. “I just want her to come home.”
“I know, my lady.” Nick squeezed his aunt’s hands, then rose. “I won’t know anything until tonight, but I’ll bring her home the minute I find her.”
“Thank you, Nicholas,” Lord and Lady Rummery said.
Nick walked from the room, then out the door. When he reached the street in front of his uncle’s townhouse, his heart weighed heavier than he thought he could stand.
Every instinct he possessed told him Lizzy’s disappearance had something to do with The Soiled Dove . The place drew innocent females like bees to honey. His first reaction was anger. Hadn’t Lizzy and her friends learned from what happened to Jenny Belden?
His next reaction was fury. How many more lives would The Dove ruin before he could shut them down?
. . .
Winnie made her way through the crush at the Buntingdon ball. She wanted to make herself invisible, and the only place she knew to go was outside on the terrace. If she was lucky, no one would find her there. Especially more of Lord Montroy’s friends.
Winnie knew Anne was behind the plan, but so far Winnie had danced every dance, and her partners had been friends the Earl of Montroy was usually seen with. She knew Anne had encouraged them, if not outright begged them to dance with her.
Winnie couldn’t stand to be the object of Anne’s matchmaking any longer. She needed to escape.
She made her way to the open French doors on the far side of the room and stepped through the opening. The air was warm and fresh. When Winnie walked to a secluded corner of the terrace, she leaned her hands against the railing and breathed a sigh of relief. She only had to endure this one Season and she wouldn’t have to return next year. She only had to wait for the Earl of Montroy to speak with her father, and Anne would be safely married.
Then, perhaps she would hire Mack Wallace to discover who was blackmailing her and make them stop. And by then she would be twenty-one, and would have the trust her grandmother left her. That would be enough to keep her mother at Saint Christina’s forever.
Winnie closed her eyes and thought how simple her life would be then, compared to how complicated it was now.
For the first time since she’d decided to let the world believe that her mother was dead, the weight of that decision was almost more than she could bear. For the first time since she’d discovered the horrific things her mother had done, tears that she’d held at bay threatened to surface.
She wrapped her arms around her middle and lifted her gaze to the star-filled heavens, hoping that the wetness that filled her eyes wouldn’t spill down her cheeks. But her attempt was futile, and the first tear spilled over her lashes and streamed down her face. She brushed it away, but stopping them was useless. Another followed. Then another.
Winnie didn’t hear anyone approach her, but silently, a hand reached around
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