Adam started down the final flight of stairs to the foyer. He seethed behind the composed face he had put on for those who awaited him in the dining room.
He wanted to leave the Clarendon.
He wanted to be alone and try to forget that Gilbert Chillworth was his father.
In a pocket inside his coat he carried the papers entrusted to him, papers that explained Gilbert’s motives for wronging him. They were twisted and cruel—
“Chillworth!” Verbeux’s shout stopped Adam. “Vite,” Verbeux broke into a run. From his appearance he had been outside without his coat. Alarmed, Adam met the other man just as he was about to mount the staircase.
“Is she…” Verbeux looked toward the upper floors. “If only you tell me the Princess came to you and that she is in a room here, I will bless you and promise to keep your secret.”
“Desirée? What are you saying about her, man?”
His eyes wild, Verbeux grabbed Adam by the neckcloth and he overbalanced on top of the frenchman. They sprawled together, scrabbled on cold tile and even as Adam pushed to leap up, Verbeux hit him. He might be much larger than Jean-Marc’s henchman, and stronger, but the frenchman had surprise on his side. They struggled to their feet and Verbeux launched a second blow to Adam’s jaw before he struck back, a punch to the gut delivered with mounting, black foreboding.
Women screamed and men shouted.
Several fellows with determination in their eyes threw themselves between Adam and Verbeux, and Adam stood off at once, raking his hair back from his face. “Get out of my way,” he told the intruders through his teeth. “It’s all over.” Looking around at the gawking bystanders he said, “Away with you. The sideshow is closed.”
Verbeux threw up his hands and nodded vehemently. “Yes, yes,” he said, and people drew away, pretending to go about their business whilst keeping an eye on the two of them. “My apologies,” Verbeux said, picking up his eyeglasses and replacing them, but his eyes were wild and his breathing hard. “I am beside myself. She isn’t…?” He inclined his head toward the staircase.
“No, she is not. No. In God’s name, what has happened? Quick, man.” Now was not the time to settle petty arguments.
Verbeux flung about, staring toward the door, then back at Adam. “Mon Dieu, I picked up the Times. I saw you leave with that rude man but your brother and the other one were still there and I saw no hint of danger. But I was checking the sailings. No more than a few minutes, I assure you.”
“Where is she?” Adam shouted. What felt like an iron hand closed on his throat. “She left the dining room? Alone?”
“With Miss Williams. By the time I followed, the manager said they had gone outside with some ragged boy who was crying for help. I followed but there was no sign. I returned in hope there had been some mistake and it was an elaborate plan between you and…I hoped both women had reentered the building by another door. Forgive me.”
“But the manager saw them go and did nothing?” Adam made a move toward the desk but Verbeux grabbed his arm. No man restrained Adam Chillworth. He wrenched his arm free. “My brother, and Spade-Filbert? Still in the dining room?”
“Spade-Filbert realized what had happened before I did and left. The other Mr. Chillworth waited for you. Now he’s gone, too,” Verbeux said. “But I have no faith—”
“Neither do I.” Adam ran for the door, all but colliding with Anne Williams. Wet and crying, she stumbled into the foyer to be swept against Adam’s chest. “What has happened? Where is Desirée? Take me to her now.”
“Don’t shout at her,” Verbeux said, his usually pale face turning a dull red. With amazingly gentle hands, he took Anne from Adam, who did nothing to stop him. “Anne,” Verbeux said quietly. “Hush, now, ma petite, and tell me what you know.”
Adam thought he would explode in the seconds while he waited for the girl to respond. His temples pounded and he couldn’t uncurl his fists.
“She’s not there now,” Anne said, choking on each word. “We went with a boy whose cat was hurt. We couldn’t find the cat but the Princess wouldn’t leave the boy. His name is Ben. She sent me back to let you know where we were.
“Then I couldn’t bear to leave her there alone so I disobeyed her and returned without coming here. She’s gone and so has the boy. I saw Mr. Lucas Chillworth and showed him the alley. He is in a state.”
“Please,” Adam said, flexing his fingers, “take us to this place.”
As Anne started to leave, Verbeux pulled up the hood that had slipped from her head and settled her hand beneath his arm. “Be calm. This is no fault of yours. If there is any fault, it is mine. I was careless.”
Frigid air and snowflakes laced with biting ice hit Adam’s face and he felt it as if his skin were Desirée’s soft skin and it was pierced. If something had happened…it could not be that Desirée was harmed.
Anne sped along the flagway, her halfboots soaked. Verbeux supported her and talked too quietly for Adam to hear.
She reached the entrance to a tiny, curving alley and looked back to make sure he was there. Adam nodded once, grimly.
“The Princess was here with Ben when I left her,” she said, and halted in front of a terraced hovel where snow piled against the walls. “The snow falls so fast it has filled in the hole she dug. You can’t see where it was anymore.”
“Dug?” Adam brought his face close to Anne’s. “What do you mean, dug?”
Anne trembled and her tears flowed freely. “Trying to find Joe, that’s Ben’s cat. It was hit by the wheel of a cart that passed and—”
“Yes, yes,” Adam said, cutting her off. “Verbeux, please take Miss Anne back to the Clarendon and ask for assistance—”
“I don’t need to be told how to look after this lady,” Verbeux said. “I shall see she’s cared for, but the Princess is my charge.”
“She is my charge,” Adam said, too reckless to temper himself. “Meg told me so, and so it is. I shall find her and if a finger has been set on her, I will kill the scoundrel who dared to touch the silly girl. Oh, how exasperating her sweet spontaneity can be. Go, go. And be on the lookout for the Princess. I shall go the other way. She cannot be far away.”
He didn’t wait for Verbeux to respond, but jogged on along the alley. All of it was the same, the same grimy houses on one side, the same sooty, ivy-draped wall on the other. If he had time he would be sick. If he couldn’t calm himself at least a little, the pain in his head would overtake him entirely.
He wanted to hurt someone.
Nothing, no sign of a scuffle, no wheel tracks, not that anything larger than a small cart could pass this way. At the end there was only one way to turn, left, and he faced a warehouse yard. Retracing his steps, he searched the virgin snow for clues until he arrived at the place where Desirée had supposedly last been seen. At least Verbeux had taken Anne away. There was nothing more she could do here and she was not a robust creature.
Desirée and the boy could have been invited inside somewhere to get warm.
He stood back and surveyed the house in front of him. Black paint peeled from its front door and the windows wore thick masks of dust. He rapped on the door and frowned when it swung slowly open. From the interior he heard voices, one male and coaxing, the other distinctly that of Desirée who was refusing to “take another step without Adam.”
Relief flooded blood back into his muscles. His calves, thighs, and shoulders ached. He didn’t care that he was achingly erect.
Moving cautiously, he edged along a greasy wall and deeper into the place that smelled of rancid, fatty food and unwashed bodies. He located the room he looked for and recognized Lucas’s voice at the same time. His brother was consoling Desirée. For a few moments, Adam hung his head forward and took deep breaths.
“Allow me to take you home,” Lucas said.
Desirée’s declaration made Adam feel he could wrestle dragons if necessary. He said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s just Adam,” and walked in.
Her pelisse was torn. Her bonnet wasn’t in sight and Desirée’s light brown hair hung loose about her shoulders.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Lucas said. “I got lucky. Kicked around in the snow a bit and heard a man shouting in here and a woman’s scream. When I hammered on the door, the blighter opened it and just about ran me over getting away. Couldn’t risk going after him when I had to see if Desirée was in here, her condition and so on. She won’t tell me what happened.”
Desirée watched Adam’s face as if Lucas were not there. Adam wished that were the case. He took a step toward her, extending his arms, and she threw herself against him, touched his cheek, his jaw and neck, pressed her face into his chest and grasped handfuls of his coat. She made not a sound.
Over her head, Adam looked at Lucas, who showed no inclination to make himself scarce. He should, Adam thought, be ashamed of himself for being too impatient to be with this girl to treat his brother well.
Lucas screwed up his face and said in a low voice, “I don’t think all is entirely well, if you know what I mean.”
Adam frowned and shook his head, no.
“Not all men are civilized,” Lucas said.
How well Adam knew this and how desperately he didn’t want to consider that the woman he loved had been damaged in some irreparable manner. “Are you ready to talk to me?” he asked her quietly. “Whatever has happened, I will make sure you have nothing to fear in future.”
“Not until we are alone,” she said.
“You shake so, Desirée. I shall carry you to the hotel and call for the coach.”
She gazed up at him, a little smile on her lips. “You may carry me anywhere,” she said, “take me anywhere.”
He felt his own smile fix and dared not check Lucas’s expression. These outlandish little comments of Desirée’s were becoming more frequent—or perhaps he was making much of nothing.
Desirée put her arms around his neck and sighed, gazed into his face with adoring eyes. When he picked her up she weighed too little. He must see what he could do to change that.
“You’re on dangerous ground, brother,” Lucas said evenly. “Have a care. I’ve heard that a certain gentleman is very protective and very conscientious about his responsibilities. If he were to discover—”
“There’s nothing to discover,” Adam told him sharply, grateful that Desirée seemed disposed to be quiet. At least, he hoped she was calming herself rather than about to faint. “I’ve known her since she was a child and she isn’t so much more than a child now.”
“Exactly,” Lucas said, looking at Adam from beneath lowered eyelids. “A child from a different world.”
“She is twenty,” Adam said, growing angered again. “Don’t persist with this.”
A babble of voices erupted in the minuscule front hall. Adam heard Jean-Marc, Count Etranger, and steeled himself for war.
Wrapped in Rolly Spade-Filbert’s arm, Anne came in first looking utterly miserable and frightened. A silent Verbeux followed closely and stood by, his hands loosely linked in front of him.
Jean-Marc, Latimer More, and Sir Hunter Lloyd jostled their way into the tiny room with the result that the group stood with only a foot or two between each of them. Argument ebbed and flowed, rushed and slowed, and Adam wanted only to make a path through the lot of them and get Desirée back to his attic. And to hell with what anyone thought about it. From now on he would find a way to know where she was at all times and be damned with some anonymous coward threatening him that she was a deadly menace.
Jean-Marc turned on him. “Why are you holding my sister like that?”
“She was faint,” Adam said. “And there is nothing in this room that is clean enough for her to lie on.”
“Put her down at once. A few words from me and she’ll decide she hasn’t the luxury of fainting. Do you hear me, young lady. On your feet at once.”
Desirée opened the eye nearest to Adam and appeared to send him some sort of signal. The other eye was squeezed shut in the most obvious manner.
“Set her down,” Jean-Marc demanded.
Hunter, blond and distinguished as ever, and as dashing, assumed what Adam took to be his barrister voice and said, “I say, Jean-Marc, easy does it. We all want what’s best for Desirée, always have. What do you expect Adam to do, drop the girl?”
Adam grew warm inside his stiff collar. “Is your coach nearby, Jean-Marc? What are all of you doing here, anyway? How the devil did you know to come?”
“We were lunching at Hunter’s club,” Latimer said with far too much enjoyment in his smile. “Verbeux recalled we should be there and sent a message about—”
“Dammit, More,” Jean-Marc said. “This ravager doesn’t need another word of explanation for our actions.”
“I say,” Hunter murmured.
“I’m the one who should bloody well say,” Adam snapped. He put Desirée down and wished he had the heart to stop her from leaning heavily on him. “Something happened to her here. Instead of leveling accusations—outrageous accusations—at me, why not help find out the truth of why your sister has been victimized by a scoundrel?”
Jean-Marc’s dark eyes, as dark as his almost black hair, narrowed and his flaring brows gave him the devilish look, which, once seen, was never forgotten. His fine features grew sharp and Adam knew the exact moment when the other man feared the loss of all control. He pounded his right fist into his left palm and circumnavigated the boxy space with measured steps.
Verbeux moved closer to Anne who had separated herself from Rolly and who only had eyes for her mistress.
“Take me to Number 7,” Desirée whispered. “I can’t bear it here any longer.”
“What did you say?” Jean-Marc asked. “Speak up, girl. And show some sense, and some respect. I have been entirely too lax with you and as of now, that is all over, all changed.”
“Go away, Jean-Marc,” Desirée said.
Latimer cleared his throat, coughed, cleared his throat again and simply convulsed with laughter. He bent over and slapped his knees and shortly Hunter’s chuckles joined it.
“You think this is funny?” Jean-Marc pulled gloves from his pocket. “My sister is taken advantage of—and I’m not diverted by your story of some nameless, faceless stranger, Adam—she’s taken advantage of, perhaps even ruined by, by, well perhaps ruined, and the best I get from my friends is laughter. You, sirs, are insolent and you’re no friends of mine.” He held the gloves in a threatening manner and Adam wondered how many of them Jean-Marc intended to call out.
“I say,” Hunter said.
“So far all you’ve done is promise to say something, Sir Hunter,” Jean-Marc said. “One wonders how you fare at the bench.”
Desirée let go of Adam and faced her half brother. “Listen to me.” She leveled a finger at him. “You sound like a pompous, egotistical…rattle. If you had any consideration for me, you would make sure I wasn’t exposed to more overtaxing emotion. You don’t care for me at all. Come Anne, we shall leave these, these, louts to argue among themselves and go home.”
“No!” Every man present joined the chorus.
Adam stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor.
“Well,” Jean-Marc said. He cast an apologetic glance at Adam and pulled on the gloves. “I’m thankful you’re safe, Desirée, and you, Miss Williams. Let us go to Number 17. You will get the Princess to bed, Miss Williams, and we shall assess the situation, gentlemen. Assess and act. Desirée’s reputation must be protected at all costs, and the villain must be found, of course. Since we have been in on this together, perhaps we should work together.”
Male agreement followed.
“What a marvelous idea,” Desirée said. She retrieved her mangled bonnet from behind a sofa of indeterminate color and from which tufts of its innards sprouted. She yawned elaborately. “I shall sleep for the rest of the day and through the night. I can feel that I shall.
“And I shall sleep peacefully knowing that you men will discuss what happened to me today, the manner of person who attacked me, what he did to me, what he said to me. How fortunate I am to have so many clairvoyant gentlemen to take care of me.”
It was Adam’s turn to feel like laughing. He swallowed the urge. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said to her, “but I think you need to tell your story quietly, and to one person who doesn’t make you feel threatened.”
“Fair enough,” Jean-Marc said, looking not a little chagrined. “We’ll use my study, Desirée, and I’ll make sure we aren’t interrupted.”
Desirée sniffed and shook her head.
“Dash it,” Jean-Marc said.
Latimer flexed his broad shoulders. “Well, it isn’t as if you’ve been really close, you two, is it?” he said with characteristic bluntness.
That bought him a Jean-Marc sized scowl.
“I’m the best equipped to watch over Desirée,” Adam blurted out, instantly shocked that he’d said any such thing.
“Really?” Jean-Marc’s silken smile wasn’t pretty. “Why would that be?”
“Because I am lower profile than any of you, bigger than any of you, and can carry out my business wherever I please, whenever I please—including in Desirée’s presence. Not one of you has the same luxury. And she is like a little sister to me, the sister I never had. I will defend her to the death.”
“I accept your offer!” Planting her feet apart and raising her chin, Desirée looked upon Adam with triumph, perhaps with…pride? “You will make me feel safe—till death do us part!”