Chapter Nine

Her arms crossed, her fingers tapping on her elbow, Talia paced over to the study window once more to look past the gardens to the mews. Only several flickering lanterns lit the darkness. No movement.

Where was Fletch? He should have returned hours ago.

Her fingertips lifted, touching the glass to feel the cold seeping in. Cold she should be feeling. She should be with him, doing everything possible to find her sister.

"You should be sleeping." Fletch's sudden low voice made her jump.

Talia spun. Fletch was whole—rumpled and tired—but whole. She hadn't realized until that moment her worry had included not just her sister, but Fletch as well. "I did not see you come in."

"My driver dropped me at the front walk. I told you not to wait for me."

She sped across the study to him, picking up and handing him the glass of brandy she had poured for him an hour ago. "You knew even when you said those words I would not listen to them. I would have disguised myself as a man and accompanied you to that club tonight if I thought I could have managed unnoticed."

"I am thankful for small favors, then." He lifted the glass of brandy up to her. "Wifely attentions already?"

"Why would I not have a tumbler ready for you?" She swatted at his chest. "Do not dawdle. Was he there? Why did it take so long? What did you learn?"

"He was at the club." Fletch took a sip of the amber liquid. "I had to wait until Lord Drockston was deep in his cups before setting myself next to him. And then I had to lose a good deal of coin to him to get his attention."

"So what did you discover?"

"Lord Drockston has the girls he is done with delivered to Rupert Redrock. He sells them, recoups some of his costs."

"Redrock?" Talia blanched, stumbling a step backward as her arm clasped the front of her belly. "But he—he rules the eastern end of the rookeries."

"You know of him?"

"I have heard his name. Heard the women in the brothel discuss him. Many worked for him."

"Yes."

Her eyes went wide, her voice shaking as she recalled all of the snippets of conversation she had overheard. "He…he is not kind, Fletch—a cutthroat—ruthless. That is how they spoke of him."

Fletch's eyes flickered, and Talia could see the unease in his look.

He shook his head. "It does not bode well that she is currently in that den of depravity, Talia."

She stepped to him, her hand going to his chest. "So I need to go there. Find her."

"Talia, your sister…" He hedged his words, his voice careful. "She was sold at the Jolly Vassal, and now—if she was sold into Redrock's clutches."

Her eyebrows drew together as she looked up at him. "Yes?"

"Have you thought about how your sister will be...affected by all of this?"

"Affected? What do you mean?"

"I mean I do not know if you are prepared for what you will find when we recover your sister. What has become of her. The state of her mind, of her person, with the damage that has been done to her."

Her hand shoved slightly on his chest. "She is my sister, Fletch. Nothing has become of her."

"Talia—"

"No. Do not even—I am heartbroken I failed Louise—I got here too late. I failed her by two days. I cannot even imagine what she has gone through, Fletch." Talia spun from him, going to stand before the fire, her arms wrapping around her body. "But she is still my sister. No matter what. That has not changed. And I will move heaven and earth for her if I have to."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "If you think her now a lesser person, Fletch, then I cannot have you near her, near me, when she is found." Talia looked back to the fire. "Maybe even now we need to end our business together."

"You are my wife, Talia. Our business is nowhere near to done."

She heard the clink of the glass being set down, and Fletch moved behind her, his heat inundating her space. "I do not think less of her, Talia. But I do not want you believing you will find your sister as you once knew her. I need you to be prepared for the harsh truth of how she may be now. The reality of what has happened to her."

Talia fought against his words.

He was only telling her what she knew, yet didn't want to acknowledge. But it stung. She wanted to hold onto the hope that her sister was unscathed. Still innocent. That Louise had somehow survived the past weeks without irreparable harm done to her mind or person.

Fletch's hands landed on her shoulders, his fingers sliding forward to press into her flesh. "I know you want to, but we cannot go tonight. It is only hours until daylight, and we know nothing. I will find out all I can tomorrow. And then, armed with knowledge, we can search for her tomorrow night."

Talia nodded, silent, her chin dropping to her chest.

"We will find her, Talia. Do not lose heart."

***

The three street urchins slipping into the alleyway behind him, Fletch motioned for his driver to stay in his perch.

"Home," he said.

His hand reached the handle on the carriage door and a split second of dread shot through him as he wondered if Talia would still be sitting inside, waiting.

She had insisted on coming along to talk to Fletch's bow street runner, and when the man had directed Fletch to the three boys several blocks from Redrock's main brothel, Talia had refused to be let off at his townhouse. He didn't have time to waste arguing with her if he was to reach the boys before nightfall, so Fletch had begrudgingly let her accompany him as long as she swore to stay in the carriage with the curtains drawn.

But he did not put it past Talia to sneak out on her own and go wandering the streets in some fool-headed search for her sister. His wife had an aggravating lack of concern for her own safety.

He opened the coach door with an exhale of relief to see her sitting there, and he jumped up into the carriage. Her eyes whipping to him, she almost leapt up the second he gained his seat. Instead, she stopped herself, perching on the edge of her bench. The carriage started moving.

"Tell me."

Fletch pulled the curtains open and settled himself, taking one moment to breathe. "There are three brothels that she could have been placed in. The Pink Filly, Oak's Pleasure, or The Surf Oasis. She is in one of them, those little pups assured me."

"Can they be trusted?"

"They run for Redrock. But Redrock just killed one of their brothers, so they are none too loyal at the moment."

Talia slid backward on the bench, nodding, her mind obviously churning. "Then I am going to work for the brothels. It is the way in."

Fletch leaned forward, shoving aside the fabric of his black great coat that had tangled about his legs. "Like hell you are, Talia."

"Fletch, it is the only path to get inside the brothels without arousing suspicion. I can search the rooms. This is the fastest way to find her."

"Absolutely not. I am not letting you near those hell holes."

His glare didn't give her the slightest pause. "Fletch, truly, do not be stubborn. You do not know what my sister looks like. A maid moving about with chamber pots is the smartest plan."

Fletch shook his head, his teeth gritting. "Aside from the obvious lack of safety, I do not want you hauling shit, Talia."

"I will go to any depths, remember that, Fletch?" Her eyes flashed defiance. "And this is the safest way for me to search for her."

"Except you are not searching for her. I am not allowing it. You are my wife and it would bode you well to remember that."

Her shoulders snapped back as her eyebrows stretched impossibly high. "Bode me well? I did not become your wife so that you could control me, Fletch. Do not make that mistake."

"It is not a mistake, Talia. It is me keeping you safe from harm whether you like it or not. I will go into the brothels. I will find Louise."

Her scowl jerked off his face, her look landing on the window.

Just when Fletch thought the matter settled and his wife was adhering to his wishes, her mouth opened, her voice calm.

"Let it never be said that I have been dishonest with you, Fletch."

He eyed her, suspicion settling heavy into his belly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ask me what I am going to do when we get home, Fletch."

Fletch paused, the air dangerously thick between them before words hissed out of his tight lips. "What are you going to do when we get home, Talia?"

She looked at him, her hazel eyes skewering, but her voice serene. "I am going to darken my hair. I am going to bind my chest. I am going to steal a maid's uniform. And I am going to one of those brothels the moment you leave the townhouse to search for my sister."

"You would not."

"I would. Do not doubt it. She is my sister and I will stop at nothing."

His fingers balled into fists as he looked away from her. How he needed to hit something—pound anything at the moment. Openly defiant to his wishes. Once more, she thought she could do a better job at finding her sister than he could. How in the bloody hell had he let this woman into his life? This maddening, irrational, fool woman that would not listen to reason.

She wouldn't listen to reason. So Fletch was going to have to keep her safe in a much more dangerous way.

They rode in silence for five blocks, Talia avoiding his stare as Fletch debated his plan.

"Then I am coming as well, Talia."

She jumped at his words, her eyes whipping to him. "You cannot."

"Ask me what I am going to do the moment after you escape from the townhouse in your maid's costume."

She sighed. "What are you going to do, Fletch?"

"Follow you. You will not even know I am behind you until you see me in whichever brothel you find yourself in. I can hover about a whorehouse as well as the next man. And I can keep you safe. Heaven knows you need it."

"Or maybe I just need you." She smiled sweetly—far too sweetly.

Fletch knew instantly Talia had just manipulated him to get her way.

He heaved a sigh.

She would be the death of him—if he wasn't already on his way there.

***

"Here." Fletch walked into Talia's chambers and flipped a dagger into the air, softly catching the blade end of it. He held out the handle to her, dark green jade entwined with wraps of thin silver cords.

She stared at it, her nose wrinkling as she twisted her darkened hair about her head, sticking in pins to hold strands in place. "What is this?"

"If I am going to allow you to go into this brothel, then I want you to have a blade on your person as well. I want you to be able to defend yourself—at least until I can reach you."

"Fletch, I do not know how to use a blade." Sighing, Talia set the handful of pins on the dresser below the silver-encased mirror, even though her hair was only half pinned up. She turned to Fletch, noting he had changed his clothes. Not quite rags, but not his usual impeccably tailored clothing. Rumpled in the down-on-his-coin look of a foxed dandy. "I am much more likely to cut myself than to cut someone attacking me."

"Then I will teach you." He waved the handle to her. "Take it, Talia."

"Look at me, Fletch." She pointed to her head, the darkened hair wet down so it looked greasy and unkempt, then to her face where she had splotched a mixture of dirt and charcoal. "I am gloriously unattractive right now. I look like a ragamuffin twelve-year-old boy in a dress. No one will pay me any mind. I do not need the blade."

He stepped toward her. "All I see is you, Talia. And you—unfortunate for where you are determined to put yourself—are beautiful."

She couldn't hide a smile, even though she recognized he was still trying to sway her not to go with obvious pandering. "You are looking beyond the dirt, Fletch—and you already know exactly what is under my chest bindings."

He licked his lips. "I do. And I mean to protect all of that."

He picked up her hand, wrapping it around the hilt of the blade. "Do this not for yourself, then. Do it for me. Do it because I am asking my wife for this one small request."

She sighed, her fingers folding around the handle. The feel, the weight of it was awkward. She had never held a dagger before. Cutting knives, yes. But never a blade such as this—one meant to harm. "Fine. But you will need to teach me what to do with it."

Fletch smirked. "I will go retrieve a blunt-tipped blade for instruction."

She looked down at the shine of the sharp blade. "And I will alter my sleeve so I can conceal this."

"It cannot go about your waist—under your apron?" He lifted the side of her apron, bending to the side to see behind it. "It will be easier to hide in here."

"No. Too many patrons brush by my waist—or grab me there. I do not want to arouse any suspicion, and a lowly maid slopping chamber pots does not carry a fine dagger such as this."

Fletch's jaw tightened. His mouth opened, but then he clamped it shut, turning to silently walk out the adjoining door to his chambers.

Talia stared at the closed door.

Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned the handsy patrons to Fletch.

But better that he know what was coming, so he could keep a proper distance from her in the brothel. That was imperative.

He couldn't overreact at the first hand to slap her backside.

Talia turned back to the mirror, picking up the pins.

As much as she wanted the protection of Fletch within reach, she prayed he wouldn't interfere in finding Louise.

She had already failed her sister for too long.