Portland drew himself up. “I see your point, ma’am.” The butler’s voice gentled. “Perhaps, given the possibility of such extenuating circumstances, it might be best were you to open the note. Just in case.”
With every word of their exchange, Therese’s anxiety had been mounting. Without further ado, she picked up Devlin’s letter knife, turned the envelope over, inserted the knife’s tip beneath the anonymous red wax seal, and with a twist of her wrist, broke it.
She set down the knife and unfolded the note and read.
She scanned to halfway down, then hauled in a breath and went back to the top of the missive and forced herself to read every word.
That didn’t help.
By the time she reached the end of the note, her mind was awhirl.
Lowering the letter, barely able to believe the message therein, she said, “Martin writes that he’s being held by the owner of an establishment called Gentleman Jim’s, which is located in a lane off Pall Mall, just past Waterloo Place, near Haymarket. Apparently, not being able to recognize him by sight, the owner and his crew are refusing to believe who Martin is, and therefore, the owner is refusing to accept Martin’s IOU and is, instead, insisting that he pays all monies due before they will release him!”
She raised her head and stared at Portland. “Some blackguards are holding my little brother to ransom! Ransom—in London!”
Her temper surged, and she set her lips. “Nonsense!” She narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
She focused on Portland. “Please order the town carriage to be brought around immediately. And I’ll need my pelisse, bonnet, and reticule—at once!”
“Ah…” Portland wavered.
Therese put steel into her voice. “At once, Portland! I cannot risk waiting for Alverton to come home. Who knows what these blackguards might do if no one responds to Martin’s plea?”
Unable to answer that, Portland bowed and hurried off.
Therese read the letter again. “Money—we might need money to pay the debt.” Taking the letter with her, she ran for the stairs. Luckily, Devlin had always been generous with funds. She rushed into her room and crossed to her dressing table. She tossed Martin’s letter on the top, extracted a key from its hiding place behind the mirror, unlocked the central drawer, and rifled through the contents. She retrieved a bundle of notes secured with ribbon and turned as Parker came toward her, holding her pelisse and her reticule.
Therese grabbed the reticule and stuffed the notes inside, then set the small purse down beside Martin’s letter and thrust her arms into the pelisse’s sleeves. Then she seized the gloves Parker held out and tugged them on, swiped up the reticule and letter, looped the reticule strings over one wrist, thrust the letter into the pocket of the pelisse, took the bonnet Parker held out to her, and rushed for the main stairs.
She was tying her bonnet ribbons and pattering down the last flight when someone rang the front doorbell.
Bonnet secure and with Martin’s letter once more in her hand, Therese was on Portland’s heels as he reached for the latch and swung the door wide.
She’d hoped against hope it would be Devlin, but no. “Child.” Her disappointment rang in her tone.
Child’s gaze raked her face, and he tensed. “What’s happening?” He looked past her into the hall. “Alverton?”
“Out on business, and we don’t know when he might be back.” She dodged to the side. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
Instead of stepping aside and allowing her down the steps, Child held his ground. “What’s going on? Trouble?”
He’d come to see if, via his usual brand of teasing, he could extract from Devlin some indication of the situation underpinning Devlin and Therese’s marriage, enough, at least, for Child to determine if what he thought might be going on was, in fact, true. But if there was trouble that in any way posed a threat to Therese…despite their long rivalry, when it came to threats from any source other than each other, he and Devlin had always stood shoulder to shoulder.
If Therese was in trouble and Devlin wasn’t there…
“Tell me,” he commanded.
She glared at him. “I don’t have time to waste! Please stand aside.”
“Tell me what’s got your dander up, and I will.”
“Child!” She uttered the name through clenched teeth.
Child caught the furtive look Portland threw him, then the butler glanced at Therese’s hand, at the letter she clutched in her fingers. Her helpfully gloved fingers.
Child whisked the sheet from her grasp.
“What? Give that back at once!”
Child turned his shoulder to her as she tried to grab the letter, and he rapidly perused the short message. “Good Lord!”
“Exactly!” Therese snapped. “Martin’s being held, and Devlin isn’t here, so I’m going instead. I am not about to sit in the drawing room and twiddle my thumbs while my little brother is being held for ransom by some bully boys!” She barely paused for breath. “Ransom! Held prisoner for money! It’s outrageous—and so I shall tell the wretched owner of the place.”
Once again, she tried to push past him. Child had heard the carriage draw up on the gravel drive at his back and, again, held his ground. When she glared furiously at him, he met and held her gaze. “You can’t go to a hell.”
She blinked. “A hell? Is that what Gentleman Jim’s is?” Then she refocused on his face. “Do you know it?”
“I’ve only just returned to London, so no, I don’t, but with a name like that, in that area, I can guarantee that’s the sort of establishment it is. And”—he continued as implacably as he could—“it’s not a place you can barge into.”
She huffed dismissively. “Perhaps not in the evening, but in the middle of the day? Yes, indeed, I can barge in. Now please, get out of my way.”
When he didn’t budge, she leaned closer and, locking her eyes with his, quietly yet distinctly menacingly enunciated, “You are overstepping the mark, my lord.”
Child read the promise of hideous retribution in her silvery eyes. After a second of rapid calculation, he stepped to the side. “All right, but I’m coming with you.”
Therese didn’t pause in her headlong rush for the carriage door, just waved at him to join her. “If you are, hurry up!”
Child seized the moment to thrust the letter at Portland. “Make sure Alverton reads that the instant he returns and tell him I’ve gone with her.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
Child turned and strode down the porch steps as a footman helped Therese into the carriage.
Therese sat on the bench seat and scooted along to give Child room. In truth, she was hugely relieved that he’d chosen to accompany her. He was as tall and nearly as physically impressive as Devlin and, being the son of a duke, could no doubt be as intimidating as her lordly husband should the situation call for it.
She would have preferred not to involve Child, but if his presence improved her chances of rescuing Martin, she would live with the consequences.
The instant Child sat, the footman shut the door, and the horses started trotting. A second later, the flap in the carriage’s roof opened. “Where to, ma’am?”