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.”