She shook her head and stepped back further. “I should tell the girls you're waiting.”
“One moment. I have questions pertaining to you and your father.” Simon rounded the desk but Miss Strong was swifter.
Before he was able to reach her, she darted toward the nearest door and thrust it open. “Vince. I need your help.”
“Miss Strong. Wait!” Simon strode toward the room she’d disappeared into.
“What’s going on?” a deep voice asked from within.
“He grabbed my wrist,” Simon heard Miss Strong say as he reached the room. “You must make him leave.”
“Miss Strong,” Simon shouted with every hope of calling her back, “I merely—”
A massive man with a frosty glare stepped into Simon’s path. Behind him, Simon could see a few men, thankfully none he recognized, being entertained by Amourette’s women. Some were clearly indifferent to the disturbance, carrying on without pause, while others stopped their kissing and fondling to stare first in Miss Strong’s direction and then in his.
Simon instinctively backed up a step. So much for keeping a low profile.
He cursed himself, and then he cursed her. Why the devil did she have to run off?
The giant took one step toward him and then another, forcing Simon back even further in the direction of the front door. “We don’t like trouble ’ere, and we sure as ’ell don’t tolerate anyone botherin’ the girls.”
“But I just—”
“Ye need to leave.”
“I don’t suppose I could speak with the owner?” Simon tried.
The giant crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “She’s busy.”
“Of course she is,” Simon grumbled as he turned away. The only response he received was the sound of the door swinging shut behind him as he left.
Knowing he was unlikely to find a carriage nearby, he began making his way back toward Oxford Street. Miss Strong was supposed to be dead, yet here she was, clearly alive and well. He needed to know how that could be. He needed answers only she could provide. More than that, her father had been a good man – one of the finest Simon had ever known – and if there was some way in which he could right the wrong he’d once done Matthew Strong, Simon knew he would have to at least try.
Chapter Two
“I’m afraid it’s worse than we feared,” Philipa said when she brought a tray up to Ida the following day. It was past noon – the usual time for breakfast in a place where no one retired until the early hours of the morning.
Accepting the tray, Ida set it on her bed and drew a shuddering breath. She’d hardly slept a wink. After Mr. N’s departure, she’d fled upstairs to her bedchamber, locked the door, and prayed no one had taken notice of her or him or the name he’d bandied about without a care in the world. Apparently, that was not the case.
“How bad is it?” she asked her aunt, perching beside the tray and pouring a cup of tea. Her fingers shook with trepidation.
Philipa sat in the only chair the room had to offer. “One of the men who were here last night must have been a reporter, because you made the headlines. Traitor’s daughter resurfaces in a local brothel. Or something to that effect.”
“Oh God.”
“The article itself went on to describe the events that led to your father’s death. Of greatest concern of course is that your name was mentioned along with your location and the fact that you’re very much alive.” Philipa shook her head. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“It never crossed my mind that I would be found out by a man I’ve never even met.” Ida tried to sip her hot beverage, but it was hard forcing the liquid down. Frustrated, she set her cup aside and glanced at the toast her aunt had prepared. She wasn’t the least bit hungry. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to show myself, but he was clearly the sort of man who would have given Amourette’s a bad name if he was dissatisfied with the service.”
“That would have been a risk I was willing to take.”
Meeting her gaze Ida told her, “In the end it was the bracelet that gave me away. He recognized it.”
“Well, there’s no use worrying over how it happened now. What’s done is done,” Philipa said. “What matters is that you are no longer safe here. You’ve got to leave, Ida. As soon as possible.”
“I know. I’ll go to Guthrie. He always said I should come to him if I was in trouble.”
“Yes. He told me the same thing and I think—”
“Philipa?” Scarlet, a long-time employee of Philipa’s, gave Ida’s door a gentle rap before popping her head into the room. “There’s a man downstairs inquiring after Ida. He says he was here last night and that he would like to speak with her.”
“No,” Ida said. “Tell him I’m not here.”
“Vince already tried that, but as it turns out, the man is an earl and refuses to be turned away.”
“Nevertheless,” Ida said, “I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. He’s the one who outed me. My name and location are in the paper. I simply don’t trust him. Earl or not.”
“All right.” Philipa stood. “I’ll speak with him myself. In the meantime, you will grab whatever you need and head out the back. Go to Number Two Soho Square. That’s where Guthrie lives. And, Ida?”
“Yes?”
“Let me know when you’re safe.”
“Of course.” Ida gave her aunt a swift hug and then proceeded to do as instructed. She grabbed a satchel from under her bed, shoved some clothes and other personal items into it, and exited her room.
“It is imperative that I speak with her,” a man’s voice insisted. “Just… Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
“My lord,” Philipa could be heard saying, “you cannot go up there. My goodness, Vince. Do something.”
Ida didn’t hesitate one more second. With her satchel flung over her shoulder, she ran.
The same giant Simon had come across last night – Vince, he supposed – grabbed Simon by the front of his jacket, and hoisted him up until he was teetering on his toes.
“I just want to speak with Miss Strong,” Simon gasped. “Why the bloody hell can’t you grasp that?”
“My lord,” the woman who’d introduced herself as Philipa Harding, Amourette’s proprietress, said with an impatient roll of her eyes, “might I suggest you calm down?”
“It would help if this person would let me go.”
Ms. Harding sighed and tilted her head in a manner that instantly got Vince to loosen his hold. Simon rocked back on his heels for a moment before regaining his balance. He gave Vince a glare, then addressed Ms. Harding. “I was perfectly calm until I was told no one here knows of anyone named Miss Strong. It has even been suggested that I imagined her while in a drunken stupor.”
“Such things have been known to happen,” Ms. Harding murmured.
“Right.” Simon raked his fingers through his hair and glanced around. “I just wanted to ask her about her father. And to find out why she’s here of all places when I’ve thought her dead for the last four years.”