“Sh-she’ll kill you. She’s an evil bitch.”
“Madam Layla?” Rory walked them to the door.
“I-I thought she c-cared b-but—”
“But instead she wanted your money. Save your strength, we can talk later, Jackson,” Rory said, knowing all too well the lure of a beautiful woman.
“Y-yes.”
“I don’t plan on letting her see us. Quiet now.”
Timothy walked behind them down the narrow stairs, bracing Jackson from the rear. The boy scurried ahead, leading them back to the kitchens. They encountered no one. They had reached the door that led back outside when a voice stopped them.
“Stop!”
“No!” Jackson’s cry was desperate.
“Run!” Rory thrust his friend at the footman, then moved in front of them as they hurried out the door. When he turned, he was holding his pistol.
“I said stop!”
“To late, he has gone.”
There was no doubting this was the woman Jackson had spoken of. Dressed in a deep emerald velvet dressing gown, she had an angelic face and golden-blonde hair that hung in thick curls to her waist. Her eyes were blue, fringed by thick lashes and curved brows. Lush, was Rory’s first thought. His second was that such beauty could easily entice a man.
“I presume you are Madam Layla, the evil bitch my friend referred to when I found him shackled to a bed in your establishment?”
“Those words are insulting, sir, and I assure you I do not deserve them.” She pouted before giving him a sultry smile. “Your friend enjoys being shackled to my bed. In fact, he requested it, and I doubt there is anyone who would state otherwise.” She licked her lips, the gesture designed to lure, and yet it did nothing for Rory. He’d much rather have Ivy scowl at him. Where had that thought come from?
“I don’t think so. In fact, the condition he was in told me you lie. That and the fact you sent a blackmail note to his sister.”
If Rory could keep her talking, the others would get safely back to the carriage before he made a run for it.
“I would never stoop to blackmail. I have no need, you see. Money comes to me with very little effort.” She laughed, and even that sounded like a set of melodious chimes.
Those eyes, however, were cold and calculating as they ran over Rory’s body. She yawned, raising one hand to pat her mouth. The other, he noted, held a pistol.
“You do know that it is illegal to hold a nobleman against his will, drug him, and then extort money from his family, don’t you, madam?”
“I have no idea what it is you speak of, sir. Men are enamored by me, and those I dismiss are beside themselves with grief. Mr. Redfern was about to be one of those and extremely unhappy because of it. He merely wished one more night in my arms.”
“This place has a reputation for drugging its patrons and extorting money, but until now no one has been able to supply the proof of what kind of establishment you truly run. I think that is about to change. Even those powerful peers you’ve lured to your side will struggle to get you out of this.”
And just like that, the sultry look was replaced by venom. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. Ugly rage contorted her features.
“You have nothing on me, only the words of a rambling man and his foolish sister.”
“And me. I am, after all, the one who found Mr. Redfern.”
“I can have you discredited.” She looked smug. “You have no power when compared to mine.”
“Hardly true, considering who I am related to. Shall we see who wins then, madam?”
Anger filled her face with color. “Be careful who you threaten, sir. I am unsure who you are yet, but I will find out, and when I do your family will be in danger, as will anyone who dares to discredit me.”
“I am not afraid of your threats, madam.” But he was. He would be ensuring everyone he cared about left London immediately. “Besides, I doubt even you could get away with murdering a nobleman who is part of a powerful family.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised what I get away with.” Her smile was cunning now.
“I’m sure Squire Paulson and the Redfern family will be happy to help me ensure you are charged for your crimes, Madam Layla.”
“The Redferns are nobodies,” she dismissed, “as are the Paulsons, and no threat to me.”
“We shall see.”
“Tell Miss Redfern to have a care, sir. Virgins pay well in my business.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As it was likely she who sent you here today, I will make her pay first if you persist in threatening me. I have a long list of men who wish to be the first to bed such an innocent.”
His rage was swift and fueled by the thought of anyone hurting Ivy. “You come near her, and I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
The woman smiled. “Now I understand why you are here. How sweet. It seems more than my clients are interested in the innocent Miss Redfern. I will know exactly who you are and your family connections very soon, sir, and be warned, my retribution will be swift.”
He wanted to shoot her, Rory realized. He could pull the trigger and put a bullet through Madam Layla in a heartbeat because she threatened Ivy. The thought was almost as terrifying as the prospect of being shot by the pistol she now pointed at him.
Chapter Ten
Ivy had sat with her eye pressed to the crack in the curtains the entire time, the tension inside her escalating with every minute that passed. When did she alert someone that they had not returned? Why had she not discussed this very thing with Rory? How long should she wait?
Even now they could be injured or worse, and it was her fault. She’d sent Rory and Timothy in there.
Three figures appeared suddenly, hurrying down the side of the building from the rear, and Ivy did not hesitate: she opened the carriage and stepped outside.
It was Jackson, slumped between Timothy and a young boy. “No!” She ran to her brother. Ivy’s heart nearly stopped as she took in his condition. Pale and trembling, he looked nothing like the man she’d grown up with. Cupping his cheeks, she kissed his cold face.
“You’re safe now. Where is Mr. Haddon?”
“Still inside. You and the boy take your brother. I must go back before they hurt him,” Timothy said.
“Get my brother in the carriage, then follow, Timothy.” Ivy didn’t hesitate; she simply raised her skirts and pulled out her pistol, then ran. Reaching the rear of the building, she pressed her back to the wall and moved along to the opening.
“It seems we are at an impasse, madam. I have a pistol aimed at you, and you have one aimed at me.”
Rory was talking, which told her he was all right. The relief made her knees weak.
What did she do now? Perhaps a distraction. Picking up a large piece of wood at her feet, she threw it with everything she had. The sound it made hitting the ground was muffled by the hard-packed dirt, and the noise merely a soft thud.
Drat.
“You are outmaneuvered, sir. Perhaps I will simply shoot you and then leave. After all, I have grown bored lately. A trip to the continent at this time of year is nice, I hear,” the woman talking to Rory said.