Determined that Madam Layla would be punished for her crimes, Joseph and Rory also met with Squire Ringwald yesterday to discuss what had taken place at Le Plaisir. The man was a magistrate, and Rory thought he would help expedite matters; clearly he’d been wrong in his assumptions.
Ringwald had been determined to make light of what happened to Jackson, even stating that young high-spirited men got into all kinds of trouble. Rory had pointed out that as he was the man who had found his friend tied to a bed and then had a pistol pointed at him by Madam Layla, he felt there was a great deal more to it than young men getting into trouble. Things had declined after that.
The magistrate had dismissed the blackmail letter as a woman’s hysteria, which angered Rory, as Ivy was not the type for hysteria. Joseph had pointed out that he was not happy with Ringwald’s defense of Le Plaisir and that he would be taking the matter higher if it was not dealt with to their satisfaction. Ringwald had stormed from the room, leaving the brothers concerned over just how far Madam Layla’s tentacles reached.
Stopping outside the Redfern townhouse, Rory handed over his horse and was soon knocking on the door. He was pleased to see another carriage loaded with luggage waited as well as the one his family had loaned them.
He’d almost expected to receive a note from Ivy stating they no longer wished to leave London, but at least in this she was now showing sense.
Ivy. Rory wasn’t sure how it had happened, but she’d come to mean something to him. As yet, he was unsure what. However, he did know that her lips were soft and sweet, and her body pressed to his made him lose reason. What he wanted to do about that, he was unsure.
“Good morning, Parslip. Is the household ready for departure?”
“Indeed they are, Mr. Haddon. And in a flurry of activity.”
“Excellent.”
“At present they are taking tea in the front parlor.”
He found Aunt Bea and Jackson seated before the fire. Of Ivy there was no sign.
“You look better.” He shook the hand Jackson held out to him.
“Much, thank you. I have slept for two days and eaten constantly and am almost recovered.”
Almost, but not quite, Rory thought. He was still pale, and the shadows were there in his eyes. But he saw the return of his old friend.
“Is Ivy not taking tea?” he asked casually.
“She should be down shortly. I’ll go and find her,” her aunt said, gaining her feet.
“Ivy cannot be rushed and needs to check at least twice that everything she may require is packed,” Jackson said.
“My sister is the same.”
“I really must thank you again, Rory.”
“You have already done so, Jackson. There is no need for more.”
“I told Lord Trockler yesterday what you had done. He came to invite us to his house for Christmas.”
“I believe my sister said he will be alone, as his wife is visiting family and he had no wish to go,” Rory said.
“I wouldn’t want to go with her.” Jackson shuddered. “Horrid woman.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“Quite a surprise, him issuing the invitation, but very kind of him. I think Aunt Bea and he get along well.”
“Ivy is not in her room.” Aunt Bea appeared looking worried. “According to Parslip, she and her maid slipped out to attend the lending library.”
“I told her she wasn’t to leave the house!” Jackson growled. “That woman has no sense when it comes to books.”
“The lending library on Knocks Street?” Rory got to his feet, heart pounding.
“Yes, that is the one she visits,” Aunt Bea said. “I’m sure she will be fine. Ivy just wanted a book for the journey.”
“I will walk her home. Excuse me.” Rory made for the door. “When did Miss Redfern leave, Parslip?”
“An hour ago, sir.”
“On foot, I presume, as the carriage is outside?”
“Miss Redfern walks most places, Mr. Haddon.”
I will kill her. He was on the street in seconds. Knocks Lane was left, so he headed that way.
It was blisteringly cold as he struck out along the street with anger dogging his every step. She was a fool… a reckless, extremely disturbing fool. He had no problem with independence—indeed, he was surrounded by independent women—however he had little tolerance for stupidity.
Fear had him soon running down the road. Rory hoped he didn’t step on a patch of ice and end up on his backside.
The lending library was only a few feet away when he saw her. Stopping, he watched her walk out the door, smiling at her maid who was talking. She wore her gray coat and scarf and looked delicate and fragile. Of course, she was none of these things, but the façade presented that way. In her arms were books.
Rory stayed where he was, still some distance away, allowing his heart and rage time to settle before he spoke to her. Because his first instinct was to shake her, then yell. That would get him nowhere.
She was safe.
Something made him look to her right, and he saw the man approaching. In his hand was a pistol. There was no doubt in Rory’s mind that his intent was to harm Ivy. He started running.
“Ivy, run!” She stopped, looking his way. Rory pulled out his pistol, but the man had seen him and fled. He did not bother to give chase, as he would be fleeing down the narrow lanes and alleys in seconds, which he likely knew a great deal better than Rory.
Pocketing his pistol, he took the remaining steps to where Ivy still stood. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her to his side. Her maid was cowering in the doorway behind them.
“Do you not know what run means?”
“You surprised me. What is going on, Rory?”
“You are a bloody idiot!”
He turned and retraced his steps, dragging Ivy with him. Rage dogged his every step, and the words he wanted to spew forth were fighting for ascendancy.
“You are walking too fast, Rory.”
He didn’t lessen the punishing grip he had on her arm, but he did shorten his stride.
“The thing is, Rory—”
“Not one bloody word, Ivy, or everyone in these buildings and on the street will hear exactly what I think of your irresponsible behavior!”
To her credit, she shut up. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the maid was following at a trot.
Minutes later, they entered the Redfern townhouse.
“Direct me to an empty room, if you please, Parslip,” Rory said.
“Second door on the left, Mr. Haddon.” The butler looked wide-eyed from him to Ivy.
“Please take these books to my room, Parslip.” Ivy threw them at the butler as she passed.
Rory walked, towing her behind him, into the room. He shut the door behind them with his boot.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think there was any danger in just a brief dash to the lending library.” Her words were falling one on top of the other as she backed away from him, which was not far, as the room was small. Tiny, in fact, and housed only a chair and small writing desk.
“You,” he pointed a finger at her as he advanced, “could even now have been in the hands of someone who wants to harm you! Not just harm, but violate!”
There had not been a great deal of color in her face to start with, but what there was leached away.