“I blamed her back then,” Valentine admitted. “But over time I came to realize that she was a product of a system that forces women to trade their youth and beauty for monetary gain. And Piers and I were no better than any other men who took advantage of their vulnerability.”
Caro blinked at his honesty. She’d spent a great deal of time since she and Kate began writing together considering the ways in which their world was weighted in favor of men at the expense of women. But she hadn’t expected to hear some of the same ideas they’d discussed come out of Valentine’s mouth. She wouldn’t have been attracted to him if he were a misogynist, of course. Only, she couldn’t let herself think he was some sort of new man. He was clearly still of the opinion that his aristocratic pedigree elevated him above the people in his orbit.
“You think Effie is trying to perpetrate the same sort of scheme on your cousin Mr. Thorn?” she asked, trying not to betray how moved she’d been by his words. “They’re already betrothed. Why would she risk everything by doing something like that? It makes no sense.”
“I didn’t say it was staged by Miss Warrington,” Valentine pointed out. “I said perhaps the kidnapping was staged.”
“Explain,” Caro demanded, intrigued in spite of herself.
“The relationship between my cousin and Miss Warrington has hardly been a state secret,” he said reasonably. “Any number of people at the theatre, for instance, might have heard about it. It would take little enough to enact an elaborate hoax in order to extort money from my family.”
Caro bit back a sigh. “Not everyone is as obsessed with your family as you are, Valentine.”
“I’m not suggesting obsession, Caro.” His vehemence belied his use of the shortened form of her name. “Just a cold-blooded decision to extract money from a logical source.”
“And what of Effie? If she didn’t come up with the idea, then what role do you suggest she played?”
“If she was indeed as frightened as Frank says, perhaps she played no role at all.” He gave a slight shrug. “Indeed, if she’s as enamored with my cousin as he says she is, I’d say she was an unwilling participant, if she participated at all.”
“If this is what happened,” Caro said, her fists clenched at her sides, “then you realize there should have been some sort of demand for money by now.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the front door of the house.
* * *
As it happened, the summons to the front door heralded not the arrival of a ransom note, but instead Lady Katherine with her husband, Detective Inspector Andrew Eversham of Scotland Yard.
“I apologize for taking so long,” Kate said as she hurried toward Val and Caro and gave them each a quick hug. “It took me a little while to track Andrew down. But here we are at last. Any news?”
Val shook hands with Eversham, whom he’d befriended shortly before the detective’s marriage to Kate. He’d found the man to be thoughtful during the one investigation he’d observed and his presence now gave him confidence that they’d soon resolve the matter of Miss Warrington’s disappearance.
“Nothing yet,” Caro said, leading the newcomers into the parlor, her back ramrod straight and chin held high. He wasn’t vain enough to think her defiant posture had anything to do with him, but there had been a definite edge in their conversation. He’d felt damned vulnerable telling her about his youthful indiscretion, even if Piers had been the one to nearly fall prey to that marriage scheme. But even though she’d reacted with empathy, her studied distance had stung. Yet he could hardly blame her for her continued distrust of his family.
That she claimed a friendship with Miss Warrington did not come as a surprise. Caro had always gathered an eclectic group of people from all walks of life around her. And indeed, he’d seen firsthand at the offices of The London Gazette just how many women in particular had flocked to meet both Caro and Kate after the success of their column. Her ability to mix easily with every sort of person was one of the things that had first attracted him to her during their betrothal.
And yet, her appearance on Half Moon Street raised an unforeseen complication to his cousin’s ordeal. If he was to be honest, Val had supposed Frank had been in a brawl and needed him to act as his second. Dueling was illegal, of course, but his cousin had always been hotheaded. What he’d discovered instead could endanger Frank’s future much more severely if his father learned of the betrothal and cut him off entirely.
“We asked Mr. Thorn to hold off telling the tale of what happened until you could be here,” Caro continued as they filed into the parlor, followed by Mrs. Spencer and a footman carrying a laden tea tray. “That way he won’t have to repeat himself.”
Once they were seated around a trestle table and Caro had personally ensured Frank had a cup of heavily sweetened tea in his hand—an act of kindness for which Val was absurdly grateful—Eversham spoke. “Perhaps you can start by explaining what happened from the time you left the Lyceum Theatre until you arrived here at the house, Mr. Thorn.”
Val noted that his cousin seemed to have regained some of his composure—whether that was because he felt the pressure of an audience or he was feeling better, he could not say. It was a relief to him, however, to see an indication that there would be no permanent damage from his injuries.
In a clear voice, Frank explained that he’d taken to accompanying Miss Warrington to and from the theatre on those days when she was meant to attend fittings, rehearsals, or any other meetings required of her as one of the players.
“And why was that?” Kate asked, her gaze on Frank assessing. “Surely it was something a footman could have done so that you might be free to go about your business during the day?”
Val watched with amusement as his cousin looked sheepish. “We are that fond of one another, Kate,” Frank said. Both Val and Frank had known her since childhood and felt comfortable using her more familiar name. “But it wasn’t that. It was the fact I’d seen someone watching her from the street a few weeks ago.”
Frank hadn’t mentioned such a thing when he’d arrived and Val was understandably annoyed. His cousin had made it sound as if the attack had come as a complete surprise. But if someone had been watching Miss Warrington, there was good reason to believe they might have been involved in her kidnapping.
“Where was this?” Eversham asked sharply. “Here outside her townhouse or elsewhere?”
“Both here and outside the Lyceum Theatre.” Frank’s jaw was tight. “I knew I should have done more to ensure her safety. But I had no notion the bastard would bring two brutes along with him to take her from her carriage in broad daylight. I thought just me being there would be enough to frighten anyone off.” He set his cup down so hard the remaining tea sloshed onto the table.
“Did either of you know who it was, Mr. Thorn?” Caro’s gentle tone belied her grim expression.
“No,” Frank bit out. “Otherwise, I’d have searched him out as soon as I came back to and demanded the fellow tell me where he took my Effie.”
“How was he dressed?” Eversham asked. “Were his clothes shabby or new looking? Did he wear a livery of some sort?”