Regency: Rakes & Reputations. Gail RanstromЧитать онлайн книгу.
whom she had just met today, was more difficult to read, but Gina thought there might be a small crack in her serene countenance.
Gina cleared her throat and prayed she could keep her voice steady. “I was given to believe this group might be of some help in the matter. If not, then I apologize for broaching the subject.”
A collective sigh was expelled and Isabella rose. “Gina! Are you mad?” She hurried to the library door, tested the lock, and returned to her chair.
“Nearly so,” Gina admitted. Indeed, there was very little difference between true madness and what she’d been feeling for the past two months. “But I have come to believe that finding Mr. Henley is the only way I can change that.”
“How do you propose to do that, dear?” Grace Hawthorne asked as she set her teacup down and smoothed her sky-blue skirts.
“I do not know how much you may have heard about my family’s recent problems, Mrs. Hawthorne, but they have been extraordinary. The dust has settled a bit, what with Isabella and Lilly marrying, but I am still …” Gina stopped to clear her throat again, which was frequently raw since Lord Daschel had nicked it with a knife. “Still at odds.”
Grace, who had been out of the country with her husband, gave a little smile of encouragement and Isabella hastened to finish Gina’s explanation. “Almost as soon as our family arrived in London in May, our oldest sister, Cora, was kidnapped and murdered. Gina and I undertook to find the killer when the authorities had given up. Cora lived long enough to tell us that her killer was a member of the ton. With that as our only clue, we sought out men who fit that description and who had an interest in…in dark rituals and self-indulgence. Gina came close enough to be kidnapped by Mr. Henley as the next ritual sacrifice. But there were complications.”
Gina looked down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “Most of the men were arrested, and Lord Daschel, the man who murdered Cora, was killed. Then a fortnight ago, all the others were found and arrested but for their leader, Cyril Henley. I have been feeling so…unsettled. So vulnerable. And worse—increasingly angry. When I leave the house, I cannot stop looking over my shoulder or settle the nausea in my stomach. I cannot bear the thought of going through the rest of my life like this. I must do something to bring an end to it. And I fear nothing will end it until the villain is caught.” Through the thoughtful silence that followed her declaration, Gina heard Lady Annica sigh.
“We understand more than you might think, Eugenia. You have come to the right place. The Wednesday League is prepared to assist women in your circumstances. We have certain resources and can work in ways that the Home Office cannot. But tell us, as precisely as possible, what you want to accomplish.”
“Immediately after that night, I recalled nothing. Within a few days, memories began to return, but some of it still eludes me. I doubt it will ever come back entirely, and perhaps that is a blessing. But I want…” She could not tell them that she wanted the answers to what had happened to her. That she wanted the truth—all of it—good or bad. They would tell her to leave well enough alone. But there was something else she wanted, too. “I want…justice.”
Lady Annica smiled. “We shall see that you get it, Eugenia, one way or another.”
“I must be a part of it,” Gina told them quickly. “I cannot sit idly by, waiting for someone else to free me from this poisonous feeling. Twice, the authorities have failed to capture him. How can you help me succeed when others have not?”
Lady Sarah stood and came to rest her hand on Gina’s shoulder. “Give us a chance, Gina. We’ve succeeded in equally difficult circumstances. And what would you do? Haunt the Whitechapel streets alone? Prowl the rookeries after dark? That would be far too dangerous. Of course you will be involved in every aspect of the investigation, but surely you see the sense in allowing someone else to go about in your place.”
“Please, Gina,” Bella entreated. “What if something happened to you, too? “
If something happened? A sharp pain pierced Gina’s brain. If? Oh, why couldn’t she remember? Small bits and pieces, fleeting fragments, were all she had. She took a deep breath and pushed the uncertainty of the past two months away. “I do not want to waste another moment feeling like this.”
“Give us a reasonable length of time, Gina,” Grace appealed. “If we are not successful within a month, we shall find some way to involve you further.”
That was more than Gina had expected, though not as much as she intended to take. No, she intended to confront those men, and she intended to have her answers. She took a deep breath and nodded. At least she would be moving forward.
Lady Annica stood. “Excellent! Shall we adjourn to La Meilleure Robe? I shall send ahead to Madame Marie requesting that she ask Mr. Renquist to be there.”
“We are going to a dressmaker?” Gina asked in disbelief.
Grace leaned over and patted her clenched hands. “Madame Marie’s husband is a Bow Street runner, dear. Quite the best of the lot. If he cannot help us, no one can.”
Madame Marie, the French émigré owner of La Meilleure Robe, had been known to turn down clients on a whim. One was considered very fortunate to have a gown fashioned by the modiste to the aristocracy. The O’Rourke girls had been privileged to have had a number of their gowns made by her when they’d first arrived in London—gowns that had been meant to launch them in society but remained unworn in their wardrobes.
Gina was treated to a vastly different experience on this visit. She and Bella were ushered into a comfortable back dressing room which almost resembled a parlor where the other ladies were waiting. There were side tables and comfortable chairs arranged in a semicircle facing a small dressmaker’s platform with mirrors behind.
When they were seated, Madame Marie entered from a side door and spread her arms wide. “La! ‘Ow long ‘as it been, ladies? Many months, yes? I pray you ‘ave not gotten into more trouble.”
Lady Annica removed her gloves and bonnet. “Not us, Madame. A friend of ours needs help.”
Marie’s glance skipped across the gathered faces—Lady Sarah, Grace Hawthorne, Charity MacGregor, Lady Annica, Bella and Gina, herself. Madame’s gaze settled on Gina, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Was it so obvious?
“François will be ‘ere in a moment. ‘E will want to ‘ave the story from the beginning, eh? Be comfortable, and I shall tell the girls to bring tea. We must chat afterwards, yes?” And with that, the handsome Frenchwoman disappeared through the side door again.
Gina sank into a chair beside Lady Sarah. She was having misgivings about recounting her story—or at least what she could remember of it—to a man. The tale was difficult enough to share with another woman.
Bella came to her and took her hand. “You are very brave to be doing this, Gina. Do not let that courage fail you now.”
Brave? Thank heavens they did not know the fear she lived with daily. The fear that Henley would come after her again. But she would conquer that fear for her rough justice. “Mama mustn’t suspect.”
Bella laughed. “Oh, you may be certain of that. I cannot even imagine what she might do—after she recovered from her swoon, of course.”
“You may trust us all,” Lady Sarah told her, slipping one arm around Bella’s waist as she leaned close. “Everything that transpires in this room is utterly confidential.”
Lady Sarah was the sister of Lord Lockwood, Andrew, James and Charles, and she was reassured to know that none of what was revealed here would be repeated to any of them. Relief brought a smile to her lips.
“Furthermore,” Lady Sarah continued, “since you have said that you wish to be involved, you will have to enter society, Gina. It is the only way to gain access to the information we seek. We shall arrange for you to attend all the best functions, the more extravagant balls and crushes, and whatever other events that seem appropriate.”
“Oh,