Page 26 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)
T hree weeks ago, Rosemary had been certain that her world was big enough with only the people she cared about in it. She had willfully ignored the concerns of the people living outside her carefully cultivated bubble and had even scoffed at Saffron’s dedication to charity. It was hard to believe that her entire perspective had changed in such a short time, and all because of a single person.
Her eyes and throat ached from resisting the tears that threatened to come whenever she thought of Fontaine. She had carefully avoided her since the dowager baroness had told her she wouldn’t give up her plan to marry Mr. Prue.
She had expected it to be difficult to avoid Fontaine, but Mrs. Feather had seemed almost smug when Rosemary had asked to have her meals brought to her room. This was in stark contrast to the chilly response she’d received when she’d asked about Peter and Quinn. Mrs. Feather would only tell her the boys were being looked after, and Rosemary’s own attempts to question the servants and search the house had yielded no clues.
She would find them. She just needed more time.
But if she was going to stay at Fontaine’s side, then Saffron and Angelica needed to know why she wasn’t returning, at least not right away.
A drop of liquid fell on her letter, blurring her carefully written words. She scowled and brushed the tears from her cheeks. She was far too old to be weeping over something so insignificant as missing her nieces. It wasn’t as if she would never see them again. There were regular ships traveling between London and Halifax. She just couldn’t leave Fontaine while there was still a chance she could be convinced that she was making a mistake.
She crumpled her half-written missive into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace, then selected a fresh piece of paper and started again. She would complete the letter, even if it took her all night.
A rap at the door provided a welcome distraction. When she opened it, Annie stood in the doorway.
“Shh,” Annie said. She darted her eyes to the side, then dipped her head.
Rosemary leaned out the door and spotted Mrs. Feather at the end of the hall. The woman appeared to be speaking to another maid but cast several glances toward Annie.
So, Mr. Prue didn’t know that Annie had come with them. That was an interesting development. Hopefully, one they could use to their advantage.
“Lady Kerry wishes to speak with you, madam,” Annie said.
At Fontaine’s title, Rosemary’s heart gave a lurch. She was tempted to say no because she feared she would erupt into tears the moment she saw Fontaine, that all of her reluctance would melt away and she’d throw herself into Fontaine’s arms and agree to do anything she wanted.
“I’ll see her shortly,” Rosemary said. Then she closed the door and rushed to her mirror, checking her complexion and the fit of her gown. It was silly. She felt as if she was a young girl preparing to meet a suitor, not going to meet a woman she had already shared a bed with.
One final curl tucked into place, a fresh handkerchief tucked into her sleeve, and she set out, her footfalls silent on the lush, scarlet carpet of the hallway. Several flights of stairs and what seemed like an impossibly long hallway later, she reached Fontaine’s door and rapped on it softly. Perhaps if Fontaine didn’t hear, Rosemary could pretend that she was not inside and return to her room, avoiding the inevitable confrontation.
The door creaked open, and Fontaine’s face peered out. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose bright red.
“Come in,” Fontaine said, her voice thick. She turned and walked toward the bed.
Rosemary stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind her. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it was certainly not what was presented before her. A breeze flowed in through an open window, rifling sheets of paper splayed over the writing desk. The adjoining door was blocked by a table, as if Fontaine were worried that someone would force their way in.
“It’s Mr. Prue,” Fontaine said. She thumped down on the bed.
Rosemary came to sit beside her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s been him all along. Here, and in London. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.” Fontaine’s shoulders curled inward. “What have I done?”
That was more than Rosemary could bear. She tugged Fontaine into her arms as the dowager baroness gave great, gulping sobs.
“You don’t have to marry him,” Rosemary said as she rubbed Fontaine’s shuddering back. “We’ll figure out some other way to help the orphans who are already here.”
Fontaine gave a hiccupping laugh, then pushed away and shook her head. “I have no intention of marrying Mr. Prue. Not after what I discovered.” She rose and shuffled over to a table. She picked up a sheet of paper and brought it back. “Read this.”
“A letter?” Rosemary asked as she took the sheet. The wax seal was still hanging off the edge. She skimmed through it, her throat tightening with each sentence. No wonder Fontaine was upset. Mr. Prue was more than a simple businessman. He was a criminal of the worst sort.
“He’s taking them by force from London,” Fontaine said. “He earns a monthly fee for each child he places.” She dashed her tears away with her sleeve. “They’re like cattle to him. The letters claim he keeps part of the fee for the children when they come of age, but…”
“There’s no way he’ll give any of it up,” Rosemary finished. She handed the letter back to Fontaine before she gave into the urge to crumple it into a ball. “Blackguard.”
The letter also explained several other things.
“Mr. Blake has been following us,” she said.
Fontaine’s head jerked up. “What?”
Rosemary counted out the clues on her fingers. “The carriage that followed us after we left the Whitechapel workhouse. Then again, as we were departing. And maybe a few days ago when I met Jane in the alley.” She bit the inside of her cheek before adding, “I thought I saw him on the ship, as well. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure. But now I’m certain. Mr. Blake has been following us. He’s probably working for Mr. Prue.”
“What are we going to do?” Fontaine asked, her voice cracking.
Rosemary squeezed her close. “We’re going to stop him.”