Page 30 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)
H ow long had it been since Mr. Prue had left the ballroom?
A buzzing filled Fontaine, making it difficult for her to stand still. She circled the room once before turning on her heel and dashing toward the exit. It was as she’d feared. There were no servants anywhere. Something had to have gone wrong.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she reached the kitchen to find Mrs. Feather and other servants shouting about a thief. She gathered her voluminous skirts in her hands and ran for the stairs, only to crash into Rosemary.
“There you are,” she said, grasping Fontaine’s upper arms. “That’s good luck. I was coming to find you.”
“You’re okay,” Fontaine whispered. Then she threw her arms around the other woman, closed her eyes tightly and inhaled the fresh, floral smell of Rosemary’s hair. She had never felt so safe as she did at that moment, tucked securely in Rosemary’s embrace.
She pulled back and pressed her lips to Rosemary’s in a searing kiss. When Rosemary returned the passion in equal measure, delving her tongue into Fontaine’s mouth and grasping at her clothes, logic reasserted itself. Fontaine pulled back and pressed a final kiss to Rosemary’s lips before putting her at arm’s length.
“What happened?” she asked.
Rosemary wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “I found the proof we need. Annie, Quinn, and Peter are already out. I came back for you.”
Fontaine’s eyes burned. She gave Rosemary another crushing hug. “Thank you.”
“That’s the rule,” Rosemary said. “We leave no one behind.”
Tears choked Fontaine’s throat, but she managed a hoarse laugh.
Then they split apart and, without having to discuss what they were going to do next, made for the rear exit of the house. With the servants in chaos, it was surprisingly easy to force their way through the narrow halls until they burst through a heavy door and into an alley.
“What now?” Fontaine asked, her breath forming a cloud in the chilly air. She wrapped her bare arms around herself. The alley continued for a block in either direction, letting out on two busy streets. “Which way?”
BOOM.
The door behind them flew open and a red-faced Mr. Prue lurched toward them, with Mrs. Feather following closely behind.
Fontaine grabbed Rosemary’s hand and ran north, while wondering what, exactly, Mr. Prue intended. She couldn’t imagine him physically restraining her. He seemed more the type to achieve his goals through blackmail and intimidation.
She picked up speed, and they reached the street in time to see Mr. Perkin’s cab quickly approaching them, with Xavier in the driver’s spot. The door opened, and Annie waved from inside.
“They were supposed to escape,” Rosemary said between gasping breaths.
“Lady Kerry, wait!” Mr. Prue yelled.
Rosemary tugged her hand, but Fontaine kept her feet planted. She couldn’t run from Mr. Prue forever. He had wealth and resources, not to mention influence over the businesses and factories that were benefiting from all the children that had been sent to London.
“What are you doing?” Rosemary asked. She tugged Fontaine’s hand again.
“Let me talk to him,” Fontaine said.
She had to try to find a diplomatic solution before they resorted to methods that had much less chance of success. Everything she had tried thus far had been rooted in the idea that she could make him understand and care about the suffering he was causing, but that was how Fontaine saw the world. Mr. Prue was foremost a businessman. She understood now that appealing to his emotions would never have worked. The tool she needed was one that Rosemary wielded so well—cold, rational logic.
“Are you sure about this?” Rosemary asked.
“I am,” Fontaine said. “I didn’t tell you before because I was trying to protect you, but Mr. Prue all but admitted to burning down the Halifax Home.”
Rosemary gave her a look full of horror. “What?”
“He has blood on his hands. If we run, I don’t think he’ll ever stop chasing us.” Then she linked her arm with Rosemary’s and waited as Mr. Prue stomped the last few feet to stand before her, all but radiating anger. He drew himself up and attempted to look down his nose at her, a tactic that failed due to them being nearly the same height.
“I could have Mrs. Summersby arrested for theft, Lady Kerry,” Mr. Prue said. “Mrs. Feather and I both saw her steal a book from my office.”
Rosemary’s arm stiffened. “You lie.”
“It would be your word against hers,” Fontaine said, taking care to keep her voice level and free of emotion. “I am sure we can come up with an alternative arrangement.”
Mr. Prue narrowed his eyes. “What are you proposing?”
“That you sever all ties with the foundation and pursue other business in Halifax.”
He shook his head. “My dear Lady Kerry, that is exactly what I was trying to do.” He held out his hands, palms up. “It is only now that they’ve seen you on my arm that the wealthy members of this city pay me the respect I am due. I cannot change without you. I cannot become a better man without you.”
Fontaine shuddered. The way his voice crooned, his slow approach and wide eyes—all of it was clearly designed to prey on her emotions. He was trying to manipulate her, just as she had decided to manipulate him.
It wouldn’t work.
“What will it take?” Mr. Prue asked. A thread of desperation had entered his voice. “I’ll fund your school. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He stepped closer. “You could remain with your companion during my frequent travels. I would stay away from you as much as possible.” He gently took her hands and lowered his voice. “Think of all the good you could do.”
In her entire life, her brain and her heart had never been more at odds. She could imagine the life Mr. Prue described easily. Halifax society would accept her as the wife of a prominent businessman. She would be free to find sponsors for any of her charitable initiatives. Then each night she could return to Rosemary’s arms.
Her thoughts jerked to a halt.
Rosemary.
What right did Fontaine have to dictate the course of their lives? This decision would impact Rosemary as much as her. Perhaps more, as Rosemary had family waiting for her in London.
“Give me a moment,” Fontaine said. Then she turned around, walked a few steps, and faced Rosemary. “What do you think? We could stay here. Together.”
Rosemary’s lips opened. Closed. Opened again. She sighed. “You should do it.”
The resignation in her voice made something tight inside Fontaine’s chest unwind and told her everything she needed to know. Keeping their relationship a secret was necessary, but she didn’t want to live with a husband. Every night she spent at Mr. Prue’s side would feel like a betrayal. She squared her shoulders and returned to Mr. Prue.
As if sensing he’d failed, he scowled. “Are you really willing to abandon the children you sent here? I don’t think you can. If you leave, knowing that I am in control, you’ll never be able to forgive yourself. I could have them placed in far more dangerous conditions. Perhaps the mines. By the time you return, there won’t be any of them left. What’s more, you might find your reception in London is not what you expect.”
The way he said those words made Fontaine erupt into gooseflesh. “What have you done?”
His smile was wicked. “You are familiar with Mr. Blake, I believe? He was here recently to do a few things for his employer.”
“I knew I saw him on the ship,” Rosemary whispered.
Mr. Prue waved his hand in the air. “Mr. Blake told me about what happened at the Whitechapel workhouse. That’s how I learned what you were doing, Frannie . As you had become a problem and I desired a titled wife, encouraging you to travel here was an ideal solution for us both.”
The way he spoke of her, like a pawn in a game of chess to be moved at his leisure, made Fontaine want to strike him, but there were too many questions unanswered.
“Before Mr. Blake left, I gave him a letter,” Mr. Prue continued. “In it, I described your particular preferences. My own manner of insurance.”
“You know?” Fontaine reached out and grabbed his upper arms. “How?”
Mr. Prue shrugged out of her grip. “The way you spoke of Mrs. Summersby made it obvious that she meant more to you than a mere companion . Not to mention the fidgety, defensive way Mrs. Summersby acted around you. But you do not need to worry. I instructed Mr. Blake not to open the letter unless he learns that we have not married or that I am in trouble.”
“That’s enough,” Rosemary said. She tugged Fontaine’s arm, pulling her back until they were several feet away from Mr. Prue. That was perhaps for the best, as Fontaine had imagined strangling the man for the briefest of moments.
“So, you see, you are better off remaining with me,” Mr. Prue said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Prue, but you are mistaken,” Fontaine said, although her voice shook with tears. “Do what you will, but I will not marry you.”
Mr. Prue’s smile faltered. “You cannot leave. You—You—” Twin spots of red appeared on his cheeks. “Be sensible, woman! You cannot expect to achieve anything with”—he waved his arm, encompassing Fontaine and the nearby coach—“this group. How are you even going to get back? I have connections in this city. You’ll never find a captain willing to transport you.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Rosemary said. Then she raised her hand in a wave.
Fontaine spun, her heart in her throat. Cookie and Winter were making their way down the street toward them, with Captain Charles following behind.
“I was told you might be in need of assistance,” Captain Charles said, when he reached them. “I would be honored to transport you to London.”
“No!” Mr. Prue cried. He grabbed for her, but Captain Charles stepped neatly between them and grasped Mr. Prue’s upper arm. “There will be none of that, sir. You will not assault ladies while I am here to stop you.”
Then James appeared behind Captain Charles, a vicious scowl on his face. “I’ve got a few friends who’ve lost ’prentices and would like to have a word with this one, if you don’t mind, cap’n.”
The sheer look of terror on Mr. Prue’s face as Captain Charles handed him over to James replayed in Fontaine’s mind for days to come.