Jacqueline hadn’t slept for two days. Sick with worry, she had finally dozed off when word came that Northington had returned to London.
Sitting up on the lounge where she lay, she burst out, “Where is Celia? Oh, Jules, tell me he has her with him and that she’s all right…Oh no, don’t shake your head at me, when you know I want the truth—”
“My love, be strong,” Jules said, crossing to her and going on one knee beside the low lounge. “He claims not to know where she is. The Runners say they cannot find her, that she was last seen with him, but they cannot be certain it was really her.”
A choked sob hung in her throat, and she shook her head wildly. “But the note…it just doesn’t sound like her to go off without telling me. I don’t believe it! I just don’t believe it! He has to know—he was with her. I saw them at the opera together…Oh, and there was another man, if only I could remember his name.” She stared beseechingly at her husband. “Do you think this has anything to do with the robbery?”
“It’s possible.” Jules squeezed her hand tightly. “We have to have faith she’s all right, my love. She did send a note—”
“No, no, it wasn’t right, it just wasn’t right! Oh, won’t anyone listen to me? Celia wouldn’t have written it that way, wouldn’t have just disappeared like that unless there’s something terribly wrong.” She drew in a shaky breath. “No one seems to think the robbery that took place while we were at the opera is important since nothing of value was taken. But Lily says that Celia’s trunks were searched, and that Janey is no doubt part of the blame. Oh God.” She bit her lip, stared at her husband as if he could magically produce Celia and whispered, “I have a terrible feeling that, despite what the police say, the two things are somehow connected.”
Jules didn’t believe her. Oh, he didn’t say it aloud, but it was plain from his distracted patting of her hand and murmured comfort that he thought she was wrong. Despair was an ache. She’d failed Celia, failed Léonie. Northington must know where she was. Why wouldn’t he tell anyone? She had to know—and she intended to know.
Lying back on the lounge, she murmured, “I’m distraught and need to rest, Jules. Please be kind enough to send Hester to me with a soothing drink.”
“Yes, yes, my dearest, I will. Right away!”
Once Jules had left the room, Jacqueline rose from the lounge and went to her cherry writing desk. She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, dipped a new pen into the inkwell and began to scrawl a note, pausing twice to think before she continued.
When Hester arrived with a cup of hot milk and butter, she was told to post the note at once by messenger.
“Give him a coin to assure its swift delivery,” she added, and the maid nodded as she left with the sealed note.
Tomorrow, Jacqueline thought, she would ask Northington herself.
“My lord Northington is not in,” the butler said once again, his face impassive as he regarded Jacqueline with an air of polite curiosity, “as I have told you, my lady. Please leave your card and I will—”
“No. He may not wish to speak with me, but I wish to speak with him, and I will not accept a refusal.” She peeled off her gloves with abrupt, angry motions, eyeing the butler with determination. “I have faced much worse things than an irate viscount, and I will not be intimidated. Tell your master that I will not go away until he answers my question. He’ll see me.”
After the barest of hesitations, the man inclined his head and withdrew, leaving her standing in the entrance hall instead of showing her to a parlor. She would not be shunted off to wait in a closed room, but intended to remain visible until he relented.
A few moments later, Northington descended from the upper floor, an expression of mild interest on his handsome face.
“My lady Leverton, I’m afraid your visit is futile. I cannot answer your question because I have nothing to tell you.”
“Yes,” she said firmly, “you do. I am not a child, sir, and will not be fobbed off. I hear things, and I know that you are not quite what you seem.”
“How intriguing.” His smile did not alter, but a sharp light glittered in his eyes. “Come into my study with me and I’ll try to explain to you again that your cousin is not with me.”
“But you know where she is. Do not deny it.”
Once they were in the study and the door closed behind them, Northington seated her opposite his desk. He leaned back against it, long legs crossed at the ankles, his stance negligent but his eyes wary.
“Your note mentioned a missing purse. Why would you think I want it?”
“Because that’s what those men were searching for when they broke into my house the night of the opera. I have it.” She smiled when his eyes narrowed dangerously, and leaned forward. “I don’t know why you want it, or why those men want it, but I do know it must be important or no one would go to so much trouble to find it. I ask you again, does Celia know the importance of what she has?”
“Ah, so that’s what you meant. A rather cryptic query, and I had no idea how to answer.”
“You prevaricate, my lord. Shall I tell you how I know it must have some value? The footpads who robbed us that day in Berkley Square cared not only for our jewels, but for our reticules, as well. I wore an emerald ring and a diamond pin that should have interested any self-respecting thief. But my reticule? I began to wonder about it later, once the shock had worn off, and came to the realization that they had seemed far more interested in the papers I happened to carry that day. Now, shall you tell me if this has anything at all to do with my goddaughter’s disappearance? And more importantly, is she safe?”
Silence fell between them. After a moment, he said softly, “I can tell you she is well and safe. That’s all you need to know. I warn you, if you truly hold something that’s already spurred men to violence, you’d best put it into the proper hands.”
“I thought you might say that. But I have never thought it very fair to make an uneven exchange.” She leaned forward to stare at him intently. “It will all come out that Celia has been compromised, then any hope of a good match for her will be ruined. You’ve tread dangerously close to ruining her yourself and don’t think I haven’t noticed. It’s been by God’s own grace that her name hasn’t been dragged through the gossip mills by now.”
“I perceive that you wish a bargain,” he said wryly, but there was a taut set to his mouth. She had the sudden thought that perhaps she had gone too far.
“Yes, I do.” She hesitated, but could tell nothing from his face. “In exchange for restoring Celia’s good reputation, I will tell you where to find what you’re looking for, sir. That’s my proposition.”
“And if I agree?”
“Then you’ll secure what others are willing to kill for, it seems.”
“How do I know you have what I’ve been looking for?”
She drew in another deep breath, then made a decision. With a swift tug, she opened the strings of her reticule and drew out a city directory. She held it out to him, and knew from the sudden opacity of his eyes that she was right.
“Well, my lord,” she asked, “do we have a bargain?”