Nick pulled Pamela closer to his body, enjoying her warmth and the delicate flowery scent coming from her. How he wished this situation over she he could work on convincing her to marry him.
That was where he knew he was headed. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted a woman before. And not just for carnal purposes. Pamela was someone he envisioned spending the rest of his life with.
Almost from the time he laid eyes on her as she clung to Westbrooke’s arm at the Assembly, he knew she was someone special. Despite his thwarted attempts to court her, he never gave up and was extremely happy that she turned to him when she needed someone to help her.
He liked everything about Pamela, including her stutter. Not that he didn’t hope that one day, when she felt secure and loved, it would leave her. But even if it never did, it would not trouble him. Plain and simple, he loved her.
He drew back and wrapped his hand around her neck and ran his thumb over her soft cheek. “We have to be careful because one never knows when Mrs. Fletcher will come barreling into the room and drag me off by my ear.”
She laughed, the soft tinkle of the sound causing his body to react. How he loved seeing her laugh since he’d always viewed her as sad and withdrawn. She spoke very little when in company, and it broke his heart to think she’d been made to feel inferior because of her speech.
He dropped his hand lest Mrs. Fletcher did come into the room. He sat back and leaned his foot on his bent knee. “I’ve been reading about Mr. Alexander Bell and his son, also Mr. Alexander Bell. They are Scottish but moved to Canada years ago.
“It seems the father designed something called Visible Speech that involved a code of some sort for the positions of the throat, lips and tongue in speech. It has helped some people who stutter.”
“R-really? I had always b-b-been told I couldn’t d-do anything about this.” She looked both hopeful and cautious.
He couldn’t help himself and reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Once we get this danger that you are in taken care of there are several things we need to discuss. I promise that will be one of them.”
“Wh-what other th-things?”
Before he could answer, which was a good thing since he didn’t want to frighten her with his determination to make her his, Mrs. Fletcher entered the room. “The young ladies are all settled in for the night. I put them together in the same room and Mrs. Davis just sent up a tray.”
Nick nodded and waved to the chair across from where he and Pamela sat. “Have a seat, Mrs. Fletcher. I want to explain to both of you what happened today.”
Both women sat at attention. Nick stood and leaned his arm on the mantlepiece. “The girls I brought home with me were working in a pub as prostitutes.”
Both Mrs. Fletcher and Pamela sucked in breaths. “Surely y—you are m-mistaken.” Pamela was pale as new milk, all the blood having left her lovely face. “Th-they are v-very young girls.”
Nick nodded. “I know. The woman who owns the pub offered them to me. I agreed, thinking I could get information from the girls. However, I was quite taken aback when I saw their ages. Not that I was unaware of girls that young being sold by family members into prostitution or taken off the streets and no one caring enough to search for them.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It was a common practice in London when I was growing up there on the streets. I guess it had been so long since I saw a girl that young that I’d forgotten how awful that practice was.”
“Wh-hy are th-they here? Did the owner l-let you t-take them?” Pamela twisted her hands in her lap, showing signs of unease.
Nick grinned. “No. I am afraid not. I paid the fee and took the girls upstairs and told them to wait for me. Then I left through the window, purchased coats for them and returned with a hackney. At my direction, they climbed out the window. I caught them and we made our way to the train station.”
“Won’t the pub owner be looking for them?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“Eventually, yes. But since I bought their services for the entire night the owner will not even look for them until tomorrow morning.”
Pamela stood, her hands wringing. “Th-this is t-t-terrible. We have to fi-find Lizbeth. I am so w-worried for her.” To his horror she burst into tears.
Casting a sympathetic glance at Pamela, Mrs. Fletcher was considerate enough to stand and leave the room. “I will check on dinner,” she said as she closed the door behind her. Then, apparently thinking better of it, she opened it about a foot. Always the chaperone.
Nick took Pamela into his arms and rubbed her back. She was still distraught from her injuries and probably in pain. He hated seeing her this way and wanted to make everything right for her. Only then would he be able to move ahead with making her his, to be sure that no one ever hurt her again.
He moved his hand up to her head and massaged her scalp. “The girls were too confused, and I also suspect drugged, to get any information from them. They mostly slept on the train ride home.” He pulled back and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I will speak with them tomorrow and see what information I can gain. But I also have several men scouring the streets of London, asking questions.”
“We n-n-need to be in London. I f-f-feel so helpless here.” Pamela looked up at him, her eyes red from crying.
“As soon as you are feeling better—”
She pulled away. “—N-n-no! We cannot wait. I f-feel fine to tr-travel. We must g-go tomorrow.”
He had his doubts that she felt well enough to travel, but at this point he was more concerned about her emotional state. He’d lived with the sense of having no control for years as a child, and even as a young adult, so he knew the feeling well. It was not something he wanted Pamela to live with.
“All right. We will leave tomorrow. But you must promise me you will let me know if you tire.” He studied her. “You are still not recovered and please excuse what I am about to say, but you look like you’ve been in a pugilist competition. And lost.”
Despite her anxiety, she smiled. “I s-s-suppose I do. All I n-need is a hat with a v-veil to cover my f-f-face and a cl-cloak with long sleeves to c-cover my wrist b-brace and I w-will look fine.”
He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “You always look fine.”
The next morning, Pamela, Nick and Mrs. Fletcher set out to the train station for their trip to London. Pamela had allowed Mrs. Fletcher to give her a small dose of laudanum to ease the pain she was sure to feel with the jostling of the carriage and train.
She smiled at how solicitous Nick had been, making sure she was well covered by her veil and cloak, and insisted on bringing a small pillow from the drawing room for her head in case she wished to sleep on the train.
“How d-did your interview with th-the girls go th-this morning?” Pamela adjusted the cloak around her body and winced as the carriage started up and her body reminded her of every bruise and injury she’d received. Thankfully, the veil hid her face well enough that Nick hadn’t noticed. She would not put it passed him to turn around and hustle her back to bed.
“I didn’t get as much information as I would have liked. Both girls had been sold to the pub by family members, so there was no name they could provide us with.”
Pamela’s stomach sunk at Nick’s words. Her family had been bad enough in forcing her out of the house, but at least they hadn’t sold her to a brothel. “How c-c-could anyone d-d-do such a thing?”
Nick shook his head and leaned back against the leather seat of the carriage. “For many reasons. Most of them involving money. Even though the girls did not have a name for me, I am quite certain there was someone involved in the sale. Someone who approached the family and waved enough money under their nose to have them agree to the deal.”
“Wh-what do you h-hope to accomplish in L-London?”
Nick looked out the window as the carriage grew closer to the train station. “As I said, I have contacts searching for me, but more importantly, I’ve learned the name of a man in the House of Commons who has been working on a bill to protect women and children from being kidnapped and sold. I sent him a missive, explaining the situation and asked for his help. I’m hoping if we put our heads together and share the information we both have it might lead us to Miss Davenport.”
“That s-s-sounds promising.” Pamela felt hopeful for the first time since Lizbeth had been kidnapped.
The carriage came to a rolling stop and the driver hopped down and opened the door. Nick stepped out and turned to help Pamela while the driver helped Mrs. Fletcher out of the vehicle.
“Find a porter to transport our luggage from the carriage to the train. We will be taking the next one to London.” Nick spoke to the driver as other vehicles drew up and their occupants alighted.
“You are looking a bit peaked already,” Nick said as he studied her. “I am glad we brought the pillow so you can rest.”
Pamela huffed. “I am f-fine.” She gripped his arm as a wave of lightheadedness washed over her.
“Yes. You are fine. I can see that.” Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulders and directed her forward.
“You d-d-don’t have to do th-that.” She attempted to shrug his arm from around her. It really was not proper to have him touch her so intimately in a public place.
Nick grinned and leaned down close to her ear. “If you’re not careful, I might just scoop you into my arms and carry you to the train.”
Pamela gasped. “Y-you wouldn’t!”
He pulled her closer and looked her in the eye, his one brow raised.
“Are you daring me, my lady?”
She shook her head furiously. Mrs. Fletcher chuckled behind her.
As it turned out, Pamela was grateful for the pillow because her weakened state and the laudanum lulled her to sleep no more than five minutes after the train left the Bath Spa Station.
Their arrival at Mr. Montrose’s townhouse from the train station was quick since he didn’t live too far from the London station. Pamela’s short nap on the train had helped quite a bit and she had to admit she was excited to be back in London.
The butler opened the door and smiled. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. It is nice to see you again.” He stepped back, allowing them to enter.
Nick turned to her. “Good afternoon to you as well, Grossman. May I introduce my guest, Lady Pamela Manning and our chaperone, Mrs. Fletcher.”
The butler bowed in their direction. No sooner had the door closed than a woman came bustling down the corridor. She was an older woman, with streaks of gray in her blonde hair. She offered them a warm smile. “Welcome, Mr. Smith.” She nodded at Pamela and Mrs. Fletcher. “And you as well.”
“My guests, Lady Pamela Manning and our chaperone, Mrs. Fletcher.”
Pamela immediately became anxious and instead of speaking, she merely nodded. This always happened to her when she met new people. No one seemed to notice, and the woman continued, “Welcome, ladies. I am the housekeeper, Mrs. Blossom. Mr. Montrose told us to expect you. I have arranged for each of you to have your own room.” She looked at Pamela. “Did you bring a lady’s maid, my lady?”
“N-n-no.” She felt her face heat up. Why couldn’t she say even one word without stumbling all over it? Must she always make a fool of herself?
Nick took her hand and squeezed it. “If you have someone here who could assist Lady Pamela when she requires it, we would be grateful.”
“Of course.” She turned and headed toward the stairs. “If you follow me, I will direct you to your rooms. I will have one of the footmen bring up your luggage.”
“Mr. Smith.” The butler halted their movements.
“Yes?” Nick turned.
The man held out an envelope. “This arrived for you this morning.”
“Thank you.” Nick opened the missive and read it, his eyes lighting up. “Excellent news.” He looked over at Mrs. Blossom. “We will be four for dinner tonight.”
Mrs. Blossom nodded. “Very good. We dine at eight if that is suitable.”
“Yes. That’s fine.” Nick waved at them. “Please go on ahead without me. I assume I have the same room?”
“Yes. It is all ready for you.” Mrs. Blossom directed Pamela and Mrs. Fletcher up the stairs as Nick turned to speak with the butler.
Pamela was shown to a lovely room looking out at the front of the house, with a beautiful view of a small park sitting between two rows of townhouses. A nanny sat on a bench, pushing a perambulator back and forth as she watched two young children darting around a tree, trying to catch each other.
She turned to observe the room which was decorated in pale green and rose which raised her spirits in one way, and in another way saddened her as she remembered that Lizbeth was somewhere in this city—hopefully—but in a room that did not look anything like this, and from which she had no escape.
On the other hand, she was here with Nick who had taken up her cause to the extent that she never would have expected anyone to do. She was most grateful to him.
As she sat on the soft bed she thought about Nick. He was certainly nothing like she would have expected a man to be who had been raised on the worst streets of London. Yet he was kind, caring, and willing to spend time and money to help her rescue her friend.
Were she completely honest with herself, she would admit that his intentions, while certainly noble, were probably stronger because of his interest in her. She would have to be blind not to see the look in his eyes when he watched her so carefully. Or the anger when he saw her injuries. And the way he kissed her, and held her, and…
It was best to put all of that from her mind until they found Lizbeth. Which reminded her that Nick had said that once the danger she was in had been taken care of there were several things they needed to discuss. Her heart skipped at the possibility of what he wanted to discuss.
After a short nap and a change of clothes, Pamela descended the stairs and found her way to the drawing room. Mrs. Blossom had sent a maid to help her change clothes since her sprained wrist made it quite difficult to dress without help. She also fixed her hair.
Pamela studied herself in the mirror, hoping the dim lighting would not show her injuries too much, since there was apparently going to be a guest for dinner.
Nick was in the drawing room, sipping on a brandy and speaking with a gentleman whose back was to her. “Ah, there she is.” He placed his glass on the table and walked toward her. The man turned and Pamela studied him and then broke into a smile.
He offered her a bow and said, “Lady Pamela, how lovely to see you again.”
Nick looked between the two of them and scowled.