Page 2 of The Secret Word (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #10)

C hris hoped he could keep his promise to extract Miss Wright from this tangle.

To be fair, Ramping Billy O’Hara was not known for abusing innocents, nor for activities any more illegal than running a series of gambling dens and bawdy houses.

At least now he had turned respectable. At least for a given meaning of the word respectable.

Tiny, who was anything but respectable, stood guard outside O’Hara’s office.

Tiny nodded to Jameson, the butler, and knocked on the door.

A single knock. They were expected. Had the visitors been unheralded but peaceful, Tiny would have given two knocks.

Three knocks meant hostile but under control.

Four knocks would have had O’Hara exiting by one of the room’s other doors.

“Satterthwaite and guest, sir,” Tiny announced them. Chris offered Miss Wright his arm and escorted her inside.

O’Hara had his head down over some papers on his desk. So, they were to stand as supplicants before him, were they?

Chris ignored the unwritten protocol that said no one spoke before Billy acknowledged them.

Miss Wright, after all, was not from his world.

“Miss Wright, please allow me to present Mr. William O’Hara, who has been gracious enough to give us refuge against the men who were attempting to kidnap you.

Sir, Miss Clementine Wright and I are grateful for your kindness. ”

Billy looked up at that, and even stood, giving Miss Wright an inclination of his head in greeting. His hazel eyes were alight with calculation. “Miss Wright. I believe I have the felicity of being acquainted with your father.”

Miss Wright’s eyes widened. “You are a friend of my father’s, Mr. O’Hara?” The luxurious surroundings had influenced her mood. She was no longer tense, ready to jump at any movement. Little did she know it, but she was standing before the most dangerous man she had met so far today.

“I do not claim such intimacy,” Billy replied, his smile not reaching his eyes. “I have been able to supply Mr. Wright with entertainment from time to time.”

“Ah,” said Miss Wright, enlightened. “This is a gambling den or a brothel, then.”

Billy’s eyes crinkled with amusement, but he kept his face straight as he asked, “And what does the great hope of the Wright family for elevation to the upper classes know about gambling dens and brothels, if I may ask?”

“ Hmmph . Only what one might deduce about their purpose from overhearing the servants, Mr. O’Hara.”

She sounded disgusted and the look Billy exchanged with Chris was pure amusement.

“I have forgotten my manners,” said Billy. “Please, Miss Wright, do have a seat and tell me how you came to be in Bleak Street to be almost kidnapped by a criminal gang. You may as well be seated, too, Fingers. By the way, you’ll owe me for this.”

Pure O’Hara. The invitation to sit was a privilege extended only when O’Hara was inclined to be pleased with one.

The offhand nature of it put Chris on notice that Billy had not yet made up his mind to be generous.

The nickname was a reminder that Billy knew where Chris came from and could put him back there.

And the comment about owing Billy? It was no more than Chris had expected.

Chris held Miss Wright’s seat for her and then took the one next to her. She even smelled expensive, as if she moved in an invisible cloud of flowers and spices.

She sat in comfort, her back straight but the rest of her body relaxed. She was frowning slightly, as if wondering how much to tell her host.

“I would like to help you, Miss Wright,” Billy said. “Whatever you can tell me about your errand would be most appreciated.”

Those who knew him had learned to be wary when Ramping Billy O’Hara was being charming, but Miss Wright relaxed still further. “It is not I who need help, Mr. O’Hara, but my maid. My ex-maid, I should say. Amanda Brown.”

Billy and Chris exchanged another look, and Billy’s voice was carefully devoid of emotion when he asked, “You dismissed your maid and then came to visit her?”

“Oh, I didn’t dismiss her. Father did. The other servants accused her of theft, and of leaving a window unlatched for a burglar.

It was just because she was the most recent hire, and all the others have worked for Father for some time.

Also, I think they might have been jealous, because being my maid meant she was not under the housekeeper’s authority. It was most unfair.”

“I see,” said Billy.

Chris saw, too. The Brown brothers had seen an opportunity to put their sister into the house of one of the richest merchants in London.

“And was there a burglar?” Billy asked.

“No, because the butler found the unlatched window. I dare say one of the footmen failed to check earlier in the evening. So, nothing was lost, and it was most unfair that Amanda was dismissed for it. Without the wages she was owed, too. I paid her out of my pin money, of course.”

“You came to visit her,” Billy said, returning to the point.

“She asked me to do so. She said she was with child. Someone in our household, she said, though she didn’t name him.

She was unwell and she did not wish to die without seeing to the babe’s future.

Her brother would not let her leave the house, she said.

I thought… that is, I guessed, at a reason she did not want to put the father’s name in writing. ”

“You thought the baby might be your father’s,” Billy commented, in the same bland tone.

Miss Wright blushed. It had occurred to her.

Her overheard knowledge about what happened between men and women suggested it had something to do with the origin of babies.

Logic proposed that babies no more appeared in cabbage patches than did kittens, but how they got inside maids, and whether Father was one to dally with maids, she did not know.

In any case, what she thought or did not think was beside the point.

“So, you see, I had to come, and I could not bring a footman or the new maid Father foisted upon me, for they all report to my father. I do hope Amanda is unharmed. Do you think—Mr. Satterthwaite suggested that she might have been threatened and made to write the letter?”

“I think I can set your mind at rest on that account, Miss Wright. I am acquainted with Miss Brown. I saw her yesterday afternoon out shopping, and she appeared perfectly well.”

“Oh.” Miss Wright nibbled her upper lip, and then added, “Then I wonder why she wrote… Oh.” She almost whispered her next comment. “She was in league with the kidnappers. Are you certain, Mr. O’Hara?”

“Perhaps you will understand if I tell you that the men who were chasing you today are the Brown gang. Miss Brown is the sister of the three brothers who run Meadow Court and a few other streets and alleys close by. I strongly suspect, in fact, that Miss Brown was in your house to do exactly the act of which she was accused.”

“Oh,” said Miss Wright again. Her posture had slumped, and she appeared to be trying to draw her head down into her neck, perhaps to hide her flaming cheeks. She sighed, deeply. “That is probably why I cannot find my pearl earrings, then.”

One of O’Hara’s eyebrows shot up, signaling his surprise at the lady’s relatively calm reaction. “I imagine so,” he replied.

“Sir, might I borrow a carriage to convey Miss Wright home?” Chris asked, thinking to strike while O’Hara was kindly disposed toward the lady.

That brought the full force of O’Hara’s attention to focus on Chris for a few terrifying seconds, then the man laughed. “And why not? Be certain to inform Mr. Wright that I send my compliments. No. Wait. I shall write a note, and you shall deliver it, Christopher.”

“I suppose you want something from him,” Miss Wright commented, her tone bitter. “In which case, there is no point in asking you not to tell him how foolish I have been. And now he will lecture and complain, and hedge me about with restrictions until I go mad.”

Billy laughed again. “Then I must be careful how I word my note so these dire circumstances do not befall you, Miss Wright,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”

He took some notepaper from a drawer and selected a pen. Miss Wright gave Chris an anguished look and then gazed fiercely at the clasped hands on her lap. Chris did his best to look relaxed, but probably did not fool Billy in the slightest.

Without looking up from the paper, Billy asked, “Where were you meant to be this afternoon, Miss Wright?”

“At Miss Clemens’ Circulating Library,” Miss Wright replied. “I walked there with my maid.”

Billy nodded, and continued writing.

Chris was impressed with Miss Wright. No doubt her naive faith in the goodness of others would be amended in time, but her courage and her wit would see her through.

He had seen cartoons of her and read snippets in the gossip rags, and those had led him to expect a fashion doll with a fervent admiration of status and rank, and no personality. The truth was far different.

Poor Miss Wright. Whatever her personality or her wishes, the whole world knew her father was determined to buy a blue-blooded groom for her. No doubt one who was so buried in debt that he’d be willing to put a peg on his nose to help him ignore the stench of coal dust.

Miss Wright deserved better. She was so much more than just a coal man’s heiress. But the husband her father wanted for her was unlikely to ever notice.

*

The butler led Clem and Mr. Satterthwaite back into the servants’ stairs and through one of the doors in the little hall she had seen when she first came into the building. The short utilitarian passage opened to another that matched the one upstairs for wealth and elegance.

“I apologize for not taking you through the public ways, Miss,” said the butler. “Mr. O’Hara thought it best.”

Mr. Satterthwaite explained. “Some of the patrons are about, and we would not want them to recognize you.”