“It’s nearly half past four o’clock. With any luck, we’ll hear something before nightfall.”
“Nightfall!” said Lord Valentine. “My dear girl, she’s already been gone for hours. By nightfall she could be in Dover or Brighton or even on a vessel traveling to the Continent.”
“Miss Noirot is not your dear girl, you pretentious half-wit,” Longmore said.
“She’ll need papers to travel to the Continent,” Sophy said. Unlike the Noirots, Lady Clara wouldn’t know how to go about obtaining forged passports and letters of credit and such, or how to forge her own.
“That merely leaves all of Great Britain,” Lord Valentine said.
“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Longmore said.
“I only meant—”
“Never mind what he means, Miss Noirot,” Longmore said. “He doesn’t know what he means, and being high-strung, like the rest of our lot, he flies into a panic over everything.”
“I think there’s some reason to panic,” she said. “This isn’t good.”
“You said a moment ago that we might be of use,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”
“Or me, of course,” said Lord Valentine.
There was no choice.
Sophy couldn’t do it alone. She’d never traveled outside London. She needed help.
“Lord Longmore, I suggest you go home and tell your valet to pack for a journey of several days,” she said.
“Several days!” Lord Valentine dragged a hand through his hair. “Traveling with only her maid! Clara will be ruined past mending!”
Lady Clara’s ruin was the least of Sophy’s worries at the moment. She could only hope the girl wasn’t assaulted. Raped. Murdered. She was completely vulnerable. She didn’t know a damned thing. Look how easily Adderley had taken advantage of her.
“Please pack for several days,” she said. She kept her voice low and calm, her expression tranquil. She didn’t wring her hands. Lord Valentine needed quieting, and Longmore needed to believe that she knew what she was doing. “The instant I have news, I’ll send to you, and we’ll set out.”
“We,” said Lord Longmore.
“I’m used to you,” she said. “I hardly know Lord Valentine and he hardly knows me.”
Longmore at least understood—to a point—what she was capable of. He knew about her work for the Spectacle. She wouldn’t have to waste time explaining every little thing. They’d worked together well enough at Dowdy’s.
She’d used him then and she’d use him now. An instrument. That’s all he was, she told herself.
She turned to the younger brother. “My lord, I advise you to return to Warford House. What you need to do is help your family memorize a simple excuse for Lady Clara’s not being at home to visitors. A severe cold or some such—the sort of thing that makes people keep a distance.”
He looked at his older brother.
“Have you any better ideas?” Longmore said. “Do I need to point out to you that Miss Noirot has a good deal at stake in this? Clara’s the shop’s favorite customer. Everything they make for her is special for her. If she comes to harm, they’ll have her confounded trousseau on their hands, and they’ll go all to pieces—because no one can wear those clothes as Lady Clara can.” He mimicked Sophy as he said the last bit. “Not to mention they’ve hopes to sell her more, once they devise a scheme for disposing of Adderley.”
“It’s so like you to make jokes at a time like this,” said Lord Valentine.
“I’m not joking—as you’d know if you were the one blackmailed and browbeaten into escorting our sister to buy her curst clothes.”
“It’s no joke,” Sophy said. “My sisters and I want Lord Adderley out of the picture. We want your beautiful sister to marry someone with a massive income. She truly is our best customer, and we truly will go all to pieces if she can’t wear the beautiful bride clothes we’re making for her.”
No joke. Horribly true. Truer than they could guess.
Longmore turned away from his plainly bewildered brother. “Miss Noirot, you said you wanted a description of the cabriolet. I suggest you find a pen and writing paper. I ordered that vehicle specially for her, and I recall every last detail. And if I happen to miss anything, Valentine will let us know. He believes I ought to have bought a carriage for him.”
A short while later, the three Noirot sisters were in Sophy’s bedroom, helping her pack. She’d told them about Lady Clara and her plan—such as it was—for finding her. She’d hoped they’d come up with a better solution. Hers, she felt, was far from satisfactory on numerous counts.
But Marcelline and Leonie, who saw the problems as clearly as she did, hadn’t anything better to offer.
“I don’t see an alternative,” Marcelline said. “It’s not only dangerous to her reputation to advertise this disappearance, but it’s physically dangerous as well. Any number of scoundrels would start looking for her, too. She could be held for ransom—and that’s the best case.” She paused in the act of folding a chemise. “Mon dieu, her poor mother.”
Marcelline had a daughter she’d nearly lost. Twice. She knew what Lady Warford was enduring at this moment.
They all understood why the marchioness had locked herself in her daughter’s room.
Lady Clara was no more than a customer, yet Sophy was sick with worry.
“Speaking of scoundrels,” she said as she rolled up stockings, “I’d like to know what Adderley did to set her off.”
“Does it matter?” Leonie said.
“I wish I’d known before she bolted,” Sophy said. “It might be ammunition.”
“You can find out when you find her,” Leonie said. “And you will find her. You have to.”
“Of course Sophy will find her,” Marcelline said. “But my loves, what the devil am I to tell Clevedon? He’ll be frantic. You know how dear Lady Clara is to him.”
He’d lost a sister at an early age. When the Fairfax family had taken him in, Lady Clara had become a sister to him. They’d always been close. Though they’d had some turbulence a short time ago, Lady Clara had attended his wedding to Marcelline, and she seemed to have accepted them as family … as sisters, almost.
“Give him something to do,” Sophy said. “I told Longmore I’d dispose of Adderley. But I can’t be in two places at once. Ask Clevedon to find out quietly all he can about Adderley. I need as much information as I can get.”
“What can Clevedon find out that isn’t public knowledge, such as Adderley’s gaming habits and the state of his finances?” Leonie said.
“That
