Three days later Nick met Marcus at White’s Gentlemen’s club. While Nick had been scouring St. Giles, Whitechapel, and anywhere else he thought he could find information, Marcus had been raising questions among those in his world who knew where to obtain a guaranteed ‘clean’ girl.
Since most times a virgin was either drugged or tied down, Nick had no use for the men who patronized such places. Luckily, he’d found a staunch supporter in Marcus Mallory.
Once they were settled at a small table in the dining room of the club, with glasses of brandy in front of them, Marcus said, “I believe I hit the jackpot, as they say in poker.” He took a sip of his drink. “Three different men—I will not call them gentlemen—told me of a place where the upper class go when they are interested in the sort of women like Miss Davenport.”
“Innocent.”
Marcus nodded. “There is a fear out there of catching venereal disease and then passing it along to one’s wife.”
Nick snorted. So much for marital fidelity.
“The wealthier men can afford to deflower virgins. In my investigations over the past few months I found there are ‘shopping catalogs’ that those with the means can browse through to find the age and physical description of the various girls and women available. It can run anywhere from two to five pounds to purchase a virgin.”
Nick shifted in his seat, his anger building as he listened to Mallory. So many women and children put into sordid lives against their will. “What of the police?”
Marcus shrugged. “No help there. I contacted someone in the Metropolitan Police, who said they were aware of this place, and had it on their list of brothels they watched, but there were simply too many for them to do much more than keep them on the list.”
“Even if these brothels were getting their women from kidnapping?”
“Sadly, yes.”
They both sat silent for a few moments. If Miss Davenport had been taken to this particular brothel, she would have been there for over a week already. Which meant there was very little chance that she had remained untouched.
Nick blew out a deep breath. “She might be at that one, but if there are so many places that the police have a list, it might take us weeks to find her.”
“I suggest we start there because this same one came up in conversation with all three men. I can’t tell you how dirty I felt even asking about this. It took all my control to keep from plummeting them to the ground.” Mallory glanced over Nick’s shoulder and tensed.
“What is it?” Marcus looked like he was ready to do some plummeting right then.
“I won’t say who, but one of the men with whom I spoke just entered the club. Slapping members on the back, smiling and acting the jovial earl. He is a regular customer of the brothel I mentioned, and he has a wife and seven children.”
Nick let out a low whistle and shook his head. “I wonder how he would feel if one of his children was kidnapped for such purposes.”
“Indeed.” Marcus finished his drink. “So, what do we do next?”
“We?” Surely this gentleman of the ton, a member of the House of Commons wasn’t suggesting he join Nick in re-kidnapping a young lady from a notorious brothel?
“Yes. I am committed to rescuing this young friend of Lady Pamela. I have a sister, too, and the thought of anyone putting their hands on her for nefarious purposes makes my blood boil.”
Nick thought it over for a few minutes. He’d always worked alone when he was involved in dangerous things. From his childhood, he learned to never trust anyone else to back him up. After a minute of swirling the brandy in his glass, not looking up at Marcus, he said “I would prefer doing this myself since I have a background in dealing with thugs.”
Marcus straightened in his chair. “No!”
Nick narrowed his eyes at this man who looked as outraged as if his sister had been the one kidnapped.
Mallory continued. “I will go with you. I am a skilled marksman and can acquit myself quite well in the boxing ring.” He leaned forward. “Two will work better than one. Despite your rescue of the young girls by yourself, you need to understand that while that might work in a shady pub in Bristol, this brothel we’re discussing won’t be as lax. If she is indeed there, you will never get her out by climbing out a window.”
Nick chuckled, but realized Mallory was right. Not being a patron of brothels himself, he really didn’t understand how the workings of the upper class’s decadent places of pleasure worked.
Mallory continued. “We can’t blast our way in, because they will have guards.”
Nick nodded. “Like my club.”
“True. But while your people are guarding money, which the players are willingly losing, these men will be guarding women who were brought there against their will.”
Nick leaned back in his chair glad he’d brought Mallory into this. He never thought he would find himself working hand-in-hand with a member of the ton. “So, what do you suggest?”
“Ask those who frequent the place if they are familiar with this girl. I will need a complete description of her, including anything that would set her apart from others. Once I’m certain there is a good chance she is there, we will enter the debauched world of those seeking perverted entertainment.”
Nick’s stomach roiled at the idea of aligning himself with the degenerates, but with his promise to Pamela, he would do exactly that.
Nick nodded. “I’ll get a description from Lady Pamela today. I’ll send it by messenger and as soon as you know if Miss Davenport is there, send me word and we will go immediately.”
Marcus downed his drink and stood. “I await your missive.”
Pamela paced in the library at Montrose House anxious for Nick to return and relate the information he’d received from Marcus. Curse the fact that ladies were not permitted in gentlemen’s club. Curse even more that Marcus chose that as the place to meet instead of coming to the house
Men! They always did things their way, never taking into consideration how anxious others were.
Grossman stepped into the drawing room. “Lady Pamela, you have a visitor.”
Pamela turned as her sister-in-law entered the room. “Corinne? Wh-what are you d-d-oing here?”
“It is nice to see you as well, sister.” Corinne walked across the room and kissed the air next to Pamela’s cheek.
“I’m s-s-sorry. It’s just that th-this is such a surprise. How d-d-did you even know I was h-h-here?”
Corinne pulled off her gloves and waved her hand in the air. “There is very little that one can do that does not reach the ears of everyone who matters.”
She meant, of course, herself as one who matters. Corinne was never one to minimize her importance. At least in her own eyes. “My dear, please send for tea. I have the beginnings of a megrim.”
Her sister-in-law settled herself on the settee directly across from the fireplace, shoulders stiff, back ramrod straight, her delicate hands in her lap.
“Yes. Of c-c-course.” Pamela walked to the corner and pulled on the brocade to summon Grossman. While she waited for his response, she pondered the surprise visit from her brother’s wife.
The man bowed as he approached her. “My lady?”
“Grossman, w-w-will you arrange for t-t-tea, please?”
Pamela took a deep breath and walked to the middle of the room and took the seat to the right of Corinne.
“Pamela, dear, how many times do I need to remind you not to ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ the staff? They are paid to serve you.” She smoothed out her skirts and offered one of her cold smiles.
“H-how is my b-b-brother?” She might as well start the conversation since she knew from experience Corinne would not divulge the reason for her visit until she was quite ready.
“He is well. As always. He neglects me to spend too much time at his clubs, but then that is to be expected when one is married to an earl.” She patted her upper lip with a delicate handkerchief. “But I suffer in silence as a good wife must.”
Pamela would love to roll her eyes, but that would only bring another reprimand from her sister-in-law. Most likely her brother spent time at his club to avoid his ‘suffering in silence’ good wife.
Corinne continued to chatter on and on about the not very entertaining social season, her many health issues, her difficulties in finding decent staff, and her annoyance with her brother because she had not yet conceived his heir.
As if it didn’t take two to make a baby. But then, she was sure Corinne only wanted to produce an heir that so she could say she’d done her duty and then banish David from her bed.
Once the tea arrived and Pamela poured and fixed Corinne’s tea the way she liked it, and passed her a plate with biscuits on it, did the woman state the purpose for her visit.
Taking a delicate sip of tea, she placed the cup firmly in the saucer, folded her hands on her lap and looked Pamela in the eye. “It troubles me greatly to tell you that your brother is extremely upset to learn that you are in London without telling him, and that you are associating yourself with a known criminal, a gambling house owner, and the product of the riffraff of London.”
For effect, she patted the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief. “It simply breaks my heart to see the earl suffer like this.”
Pamela was getting closer to eye-rolling every minute. Instead, she took a sip of tea knowing Corinne was not yet finished with her tirade.
“It further troubles me because your brother is so distraught at this situation that he won’t confront you, and I found it necessary for me to take up for him.”
Translation: David either didn’t know Corinne was here or told her not to come.
“M-may I sp-speak?”
Corinne dabbed her eyes again and waved at her. “If you are able. I see you still have difficulty.”
Pamela gritted her teeth at the veiled insult. “I am in L-London to find a young l-lady I am friends with who h-has disappeared. The m-man I am associating m-myself with is a highly re-respectable business owner in Bath with a c-caring heart who offered to h-help m-me.”
It was best not to tell Corinne about the carriage accident or exactly to where Lizbeth had disappeared. Most likely she would be sending for smelling salts if she did.
“You must disassociate yourself with him immediately.” The pretend tears disappeared, and Corinne sat straight as an arrow. “I am prepared to bring you to our house until you can make arrangements to return to your home in Bath.”
Well, then.
It appeared this sisterly reunion would not encompass a return to their home permanently. After all, even without her association with Nick she was still a social disgrace as far as Corinne was concerned.
“While I a-appreciate y-your th-thoughtfulness,”—she almost gagged—"I’m afraid I m-must d-decline your generous offer. W-we are close to fi-finding my friend and I do n-not plan to leave here until s-she has been f-found and I know s-she is safe.”
Corinne narrowed her eyes. “What, exactly, has this man gotten you involved in?”
Pamela was growing tired of the discourse, the innuendoes, and flat out insults. “As I exp-plained, sister, he has not g-gotten me into anything. He is h-h-helping me find a fr-friend.”
“What of your reputation? You, a young unmarried woman, is living in a man’s home. Brazenly. That is how I—I mean we—found out.”
“This home b-belongs to Mr. Montrose, another r-r-respectable business m-man. We are st-staying here temporarily while w-we conduct our s-search. If you are c-c-concerned for my reputation, I will be m-m-more than happy to introduce y-you to Mrs. Fletcher, who is employed b-by Mr. Smith and is acting as m-my chaperone.”
Corinne snorted. Something Pamela would never have expected.
“She works for Mr. Smith? Well, I’m sure if she wishes to continue with her employment, she will look whatever way Mr. Smith wishes her to look.”
Pamela jumped up, almost spilling her tea. Why she felt the need to appease this woman was beyond her, but she would not allow Corinne to leave with the idea that anything untoward was going on. “If y-you will excuse me, I shall be r-right b-back.”
She strode from the room, her skirts swishing, her face red, and her heart pounding. That woman would drive a saint to commit murder. How her brother put up with her she could never know. Corinne was nasty and mean, all underneath a veneer of propriety.
“Mrs. Fl-fletcher.” Pamela knocked on the woman’s bedchamber door. Hopefully she was not napping, which she did on occasion.
The door opened with Mrs. Fletcher looking quite surprised. “Is everything all right, my lady?”
Pamela took a deep breath. “Y-yes. Just fine. However, my s-s-sister-in-law has paid a v-v-visit and she is concerned th-that I am living h-here with no chaperone. May I impose upon y-you to join us in the d-d-drawing room for t-tea?”
“Of course, my dear.” Mrs. Fletcher looked in the mirror next to the door and smoothed her hair back. “Lead the way, my lady.”
They returned to the room to find Corinne walking about, examining items on the tables. She turned, her fake-warm smile on her lips. “Who have we here?”
Pamela again gritted her teeth, sure she would have worn them down to nubs before this visit ended. “As I exp-plained to you, Corinne th-this is my chaperone.” She placed her hand on Mrs. Fletcher’s arm. “M-may I present t-to you Mrs. Fletcher, h-housekeeper to Mr. Smith in his B-bath home and chaperone on this t-trip.” She turned to Mrs. Fletcher. “This is m-my brother David’s w-wife, Lady Mulgrave.”
Corinne lifted her chin. “He is the Earl of Mulgrave, Pamela. Please keep your manners, my dear.” Her lips moved into what she no doubt thought was a smile, but it managed to be a grin that would frighten a small child.
Mrs. Fletcher smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Of course, Corinne didn’t return the sentiment, but merely dipped her head.
“Mrs. F-fletcher would you care for t-tea?” Pamela moved to the chair she’d occupied and lifted the tea pot.
“Sister, dear, I am afraid I do not have any more time to spare. I have an appointment with my dressmaker.” Corinne glided past Pamela to the entrance hall, pulling on her gloves.
Pamela finally rolled her eyes, but unfortunately only Mrs. Fletcher saw it. And smiled.
Once at the door, Corinne allowed Grossman to help her into her coat. “I prefer not to have tea with the help, my dear. That is something you need to work on.” She patted Pamela’s cheek and air-kissed her once again.
“I do hope our little talk has given you something to think about. Despite having that chaperone, it is not the thing to be staying here. You are welcome to come to us as I stated until you return to Bath.” She stepped through the door as Grossman opened it. “If you are not concerned for your own reputation, think of the damage you are doing to your brother.”
With those words she sailed down the stairs and into the Mulgrave carriage. Pamela shook her head and returned to the drawing room.
Mrs. Fletcher held up the teapot. “More tea, my dear?”
“How about sh-sherry, instead.” She headed to the sidebar where Mr. Montrose kept a well-stocked supply of sherry and brandy.