Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 31
“Don’t make fun of me.” She glared at him now.
Her eyes were almost the exact color of her coat. The scarf brought them to life. Fringed by the dark brows and lashes, they were really quite something.
“Let me assure you, I can find nothing amusing about this situation, Miss Redfern.”
“I read extensively on a variety of subjects.”
“But not Miss Primrose’s latest work, I’m sure. I believe it is called The Tomb of Dread?”
“Is it available?” Her hands fluttered about the place. “I so wanted to know when it was.”
“My sister-in-law has just received her copy.”
“Oh! I will have to go to the bookstore.”
“But we digress.” Rory brought the subject back to her reckless actions. “I will move past yet another lie as to not reading those types of novels, as clearly you do.”
She turned to look out the window, and he studied the curve of her jaw and lines of her cheeks and nose. Strange how he’d never noticed her before last night, and yet here she was, beautiful and frustratingly unaware of the danger she could have placed herself in.
“If I am to assist you, Miss Redfern, I must have your word you will not behave in such a reckless manner going forward.”
“I can’t allow you to help, as it will put Jackson and possibly you in danger.”
“He’s already in danger, and I can look after myself.”
“Would you have left the house without telling anyone, were you in my position, if you believed a member of your family was in danger? Would you have gained the funds, then gone to try and secure his release?”
In a heartbeat.
“We are not talking about me.”
“But would you?” she persisted.
“Yes,” he conceded. “But I am a man.” He raised a hand as she opened her mouth. “And bigger and stronger than you. Plus, a man wandering into a brothel would not raise an eyebrow. You would.”
She made a small pfft sound that had him wanting to smile. Rory swallowed it down. The woman had wrung so many emotions out of him, he wasn’t sure if he was standing or sitting.
“I am going to help you, Miss Redfern. Understand that and things will go a great deal smoother.”
She saw the flare of hope in her eyes as she turned to face him once more.
“But before I do, I must have your word you will do nothing without consulting me first.”
Those lips pursed and then she exhaled loudly. “Oh, very well, you have it, and my gratitude that you will help me.”
“Send word if you need me any time. I will come as soon as I am able.”
She nodded. “I am hoping there will never be a next time as my brother will have returned and I can go to him should I need assistance.”
Rory hoped so too; he just wasn’t sure what state Jackson Redfern would be in when they got to him.
“You cannot go into Le Plaisir.” Rory decided this needed to be clarified before they reached their destination.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is a brothel,” he said patiently. “If you are seen in there at such an hour, actually at any hour, it would ruin you. Now tell me why you believe Jackson is at Le Plaisir?”
She inspected her gloves, clearly forming the words before speaking them. “My footman spoke to a young boy who works there. He found him outside, about to enter. Money was exchanged, and Timothy was told that Jackson was there.”
“He could have been lying.”
“The boy said he remembered Jackson because he’d seen him wearing a red and gray waistcoat. My brother wears this particular item often during the winter months, as he believes color makes people smile when we are experiencing dreary weather conditions.”
Rory had seen that waistcoat.
“Very well. I will go on your behalf to Le Plaisir.”
She didn’t like that. Her hands clenched in her lap.
“It is the only way.”
“Sometimes I do not like being a woman.”
Rory had no reply to that.
“But I know you are correct.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Loath as you are to admit it.”
Her smile was small, but he saw the small dimple in her left cheek that just added to her sweetness.
“Mr. Haddon, I am very worried for my brother.” She looked at him again. “He has been a good man for many years. This behavior is not like him. I struggle to understand how it can have happened.”
Rory had no idea what had come over the man he’d once called friend. The Jackson Redfern he’d known would never have put his family’s welfare in jeopardy, which told him something sinister was at foot. As yet, he had no idea what.
“Until we find your brother, we can have no idea what is happening. However, I too know him as loyal and honorable, Miss Redfern, and that would suggest someone else has played a hand in what is happening to him.”
“I love my brother very much.”
“Then we must get him back to being the brother who deserves that love.”
“I would be extremely grateful if we could.” The words were spoken in a solemn voice.
“And clearly your aunt knows nothing?”
“It would destroy her. I cannot allow that.”
“Very commendable, but I doubt the woman I just met would be unable to handle hearing about your brother. She seemed strong enough and would support you through this.”
Her eyes found his. He saw the flare of hope again, which told him she was struggling under the weight of this burden she carried alone.
“Tell her, Miss Redfern. She can handle it.”
“I will think about what you have said. Now, I would like to sell some of my jewelry before we go to Le Plaisir, and have directed Timothy to take us somewhere I can do that.”
“Let us first go there and see what we can find out,” Rory said, opening the hatch above them. He directed the driver to take them to Le Plaisir. When he sat down again, she was glaring at him.
“But I need to sell the jewelry to pay for my brother’s release.”
“If money is required immediately, I carry some, and you can pay it back at a later date.”
“But what if it is not enough?” Her words were a whisper now.
“It will be, Miss Redfern.” Rory had no plans to hand over any money, but she did not need to know that. “Trust me.” He reached over and rested his hand on top of hers. “I promise to get your brother back.”
“Ivy,” she said softly. “My name is Ivy. I would like you to use it, please, as Miss Redfern is very formal considering what you are about to do on behalf of my family.”
“I have no wish to be rude, but your brother is right. Ivy is a great deal nicer than Arantxa.”
“Lord, yes.” She shuddered.
“I am Rory.”
“That’s a nice name.”
“I like it. Apparently it belonged to a great-uncle of mine.”
“It is nice to be named after someone, I think. It gives people fond memories, and that can only be a gift.”
He’d never thought of it like that, but now he did, Rory found he liked it.
“You have a nice family, Rory.”
“I do. Of course, like any family, they have their moments, but for the most part they are good people.”
“What are those moments?”
She wanted to be diverted from her thoughts, and he would do that for her, if only for a few minutes.
“Charles is my younger brother and one of those people who have a quip for every occasion.”
“Aunt Beatrice can be like that; it can be vexing at times.”
“Very. Especially if you show him you’re annoyed. He then tries harder.”
She snuffled.
“My eldest brother, Joseph, can be overbearing and pompous, but it comes with being an earl. He has responsibilities, or so he regularly tells us. But the thing is, Ivy, Charles and I share those responsibilities, and still he waxes on about his.”
Her laugh was louder this time and very sweet.
“My sister-in-law is due to have her first child soon, and Joseph is very managing. She told him just yesterday that she would maim him if he forced her to nap again when she had only risen from her bed an hour earlier.”
“They sound wonderful.”
“They are, but I would ask you not to tell them I said that.”
“Very well.”
He talked, she asked questions, and the tension in her face eased slightly, and then the carriage rolled to a halt and suddenly it was back.
“Rory.”
“It will be all right, Ivy.” He took her hands in his. “I promise I will do what I can to find Jackson. Please trust me.”
“But, Rory, now I shall worry for you also. What if there is danger awaiting you in there? You must take Timothy with you. I insist.”
“Timothy the footman? The one who accompanies you and teaches you how to look after yourself?”
“Yes.” Before he could stop her, she’d opened the window and poked her head out. “Timothy, accompany Mr. Haddon, if you please.”
“Ivy, I don’t need a footman with me. Now get back in here at once, and for pity’s sake, keep your voice down.”
She did as he asked, but only, he suspected, because she wanted to.
“I would rather he watched over you,” Rory said.
“I am not leaving the carriage, you are.”
“You’re extremely strong-willed, aren’t you?”
“It’s my most redeeming quality.”
He snorted.
“But you cannot just enter that place, surely. Or knock on the door. What will you say?”
“That my brother did not return home, and this was the last place he was seen,” Rory said.
She frowned. “That’s actually quite a good reason.”
“I believe we’ve already discussed how devilishly clever I am.” He pulled the curtains closed. “Do not look out this window or let anyone see you. Now, if the interrogation is over, I shall be off.”
Chapter Nine
Le Plaisir wasn’t somewhere Rory had ever frequented, but he’d heard about the place, and none of the stories painted it in a good light. The one piece of information that had worked its way to the front of his head was the memory of Squire Paulson’s son. The man had never recovered after his time spent within these walls. His doctor suspected he had ingested something that had addled his mind, but the place had not been shut down and no one was charged. Joseph had discussed it at the time and said the woman known as Madam Layla, who ran Le Plaisir, must have powerful men at her back.
Leaving the carriage, he instructed the driver to move it down the street further. Ivy’s face appeared at the window as they started rolling; thankfully she did not open it to demand what was happening.
Not very appealing from the outside, the building was large, with gray stone walls. He knew all the vices that had men flocking here were through those two black doors, locked and likely not due to open for a while yet. Rory approached with the large footman, Timothy, at his back.
“I think it would be better if you stayed with Miss Redfern.”
He wore a hat, beneath which was a shock of snow-white hair. His face was weathered, his body large, shoulders broad. Rory took him for someone in his late forties.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll stay, as it will make Miss Redfern easy if I do.”
“And that’s important to you?”
“It is.”
Rory rapped on the wooden door.
“Have you been in the Redfern employ for long?”
“Two years.”
“And you like it there?”
“I do. They treat me well, sir.”
“I understand you have been accompanying Miss Redfern lately as she searches for her brother. I’m glad she had your support.”
“She’s not one to be deterred, Mr. Haddon, when set upon a course.”
“I can imagine.” Rory knocked again, louder.
It took two more knocks until finally the door opened. The man before him was large, larger than Timothy. His jacket looked like it had been pulled on with haste, as the buttons were done up wrong, and the leg of one trouser was rolled to the calf.
“I wish to speak with the owner of this establishment.”
“You’ll be lucky. No one in here rises till well after midday.” He then yawned loudly. “Come back later, sir, and the women will be ready for you to have some fun afore you leave London.”
“I have no wish to have fun, I wish to find my brother. He has not returned home. I believe he is inside your establishment.”
“Him and others. Come back later, and you can take him home.” The man gave him a sly grin, then slammed the door in his face before he could reply.
He knocked again, this time hammering a fist on the wood, but no one answered.
“That went well. I had hoped to gain entry the polite way. It seems that is not going to happen. Come, Timothy, we shall try the rear entrance.”
Leaving the building, he walked back out to the street. The carriage was parked a small distance away now.
“What is happening?” Ivy was leaning out the window.
“God’s blood, woman get back inside at once!”
“What are you doing?” she said, ignoring him.
“Attempting to enter from the rear. Now stop drawing attention!”
She withdrew with haste, and he saw the curtain close over the window.
“An extremely challenging woman, your employer, Timothy.”
“But the very best, sir.”
They walked down the side of the building and found an entrance at the rear.
“What is your plan, Mr. Haddon?”
“A very loose one, I fear, but I hope to gain entry and look around. Of course, that will not be easy, as most of the beds will be full. My hope is that some poorly paid staff member will be bribed into telling me where Mr. Redfern is.”
“A sound notion, and likely, as most staff are poorly paid.”
Of that he had no doubt. Most of the gentry he knew were terrible nip-farthings, however his sister-in-law had once been a servant, so the Haddons now all paid their staff well.
Testing the door, Rory found it too was locked. The wood was sturdy, and he doubted he could drop his shoulder into it without damaging it and alerting anyone inside that he was there.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Timothy was nudging him to one side. He watched the man produce something to put into the lock. He rattled it about a bit, there was a click, and it opened.
“You must be a handy man to have around.”
“I once earned my living as a criminal, sir. Miss Redfern helped me to change my ways.”
He was now even more curious about her.
“Now is not the time to hear that story, Timothy, but you’ll understand my curiosity and hope that one day you will share the details.”
Rory opened the door wider and slipped through. He found the kitchens empty and made his way along a hall, finding a set of stairs.
He motioned to Timothy that he was going up, and the footman nodded, following. There was no noise. No footsteps or voices raised, but he knew there were many inside the place. He just needed to find one of them. If Jackson Redfern was indeed in Le Plaisir as Ivy suspected, Rory knew something was keeping him here. The question was what?
A woman perhaps, some kind of coercion, or was he unwell? Or could it be they’d dosed him with something like Squire Paulson’s son, to keep him here while they emptied his family’s coffers.
“Are we to open every door?” Timothy whispered as they reached the second floor.
“It’s not my fondest wish, yet I believe it the only option open to us unless that staff member appears.”
The footman didn’t look happy, and Rory had to agree. He pulled out his pistol; behind him, Timothy did the same.
“I think we will start on the top floor.” To his mind, if you wanted to hide someone, you did it in the least accessible place.
It was dark, dank, and smelled of so many things it was hard to identify. Some he had no wish to, but the scent of alcohol was strong. They climbed slowly, stopping every time the floor creaked.
This floor had fewer doors. He tried the first. Inside were two women sleeping in a bed. He closed it behind him. The next held a naked couple. The man’s large white bottom was uncovered.
“Some things, Timothy, you can never unsee,” Rory whispered after closing the door.
The third was a small, narrow room, and a boy lay on a blanket on the floor. He lifted his head as Rory entered. Placing a finger to his mouth, he motioned for the boy to stay silent. Closing the door, he crouched before him, holding out some coins.
“Do you know where a nobleman is? His name is Mr. Redfern, or Jackson. He wears a bright-red-striped waistcoat.”
The boy looked at the coins. Rory pulled out a few more and added them to the ones in his hand. He took them, putting them into his pocket before getting to his feet. Rory watched him slide his feet into a pair of shoes that were too big, and then he walked to the door. He hadn’t uttered a word, but Rory followed.
The boy paused to look Timothy up and down, and then went to the stairs and started to descend. They followed.
“What if he’s tricking us?” Timothy said.
“We are both armed. Stay alert,” Rory whispered.
Once they were on the second floor, they walked to the end of the hall. The boy opened another door. Inside was a hidden set of stairs. This they climbed. At the top was a narrow door with a key in the lock. The boy turned the key, then swung the door open.
“Stay outside, Timothy.” Rory had no wish for them both to be locked in there if they were walking into a trap.
The room wasn’t big, but contained a bed. Moving closer, he found Jackson Redfern lying on the filthy mattress, shivering in a pair of breeches. He was trying to curl in on himself, but his feet were tied to the bedposts.
“Jackson.” Rory touched his shoulder.
He rolled, and the eyes that looked up at him were sunken, but there was a flicker of recognition.
“H-Haddon?” His teeth were chattering.
