He scowled at the thought as he studied the building again. Though he couldn’t save everyone being mistreated in London, surely saving even one made his mission worthwhile. After all, this wasn’t a question of numbers, but a question of life. Even one person saved made a difference.
“What do you intend to do?” Beatrice asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Though he dearly wanted to march through the front door and open each room to free those who wished it, he knew he wouldn’t get far. Beatrice had mentioned the guard at the back door when she’d left. He was probably one of several.
“I will share the address with Mr. Hurdy and urge him to take immediate action.”
He tapped on the roof of the carriage, wanting to take Beatrice away from this place that held such terrible memories.
As if she couldn’t tear her gaze away, she watched the house as they rolled forward, turning her head to keep it in view as long as possible. “Poor Mary. I wish she would’ve come with me.”
“Fear is a difficult emotion to manage. It forces us to make choices we never would’ve believed possible. Some react to it with courage. Oftentimes, it’s easier to face the known than the unknown.”
He had spent a considerable amount of time pondering bravery in the face of adversity when he’d learned all that Richard had faced while spying for England. The thought of what his brother had witnessed in France when he’d lost friends and been left for dead made Daniel wonder how he would’ve reacted in Richard’s stead.
But he’d never know. He would never experience that situation or be tested in such a manner. He liked to think he would act with courage. Learning savate fighting skills was one way for him to make certain he would be prepared if the moment ever came.
However, the few times he’d had the opportunity to test his abilities had been less than satisfactory. While he’d managed to chase away a thief who’d held a knife as well as two others who’d accosted him, throwing a few strikes and well-placed kicks, even though he’d been outnumbered, hadn’t proven anything.
Perhaps following this situation through to the end and knowing he’d assisted in freeing the women would be rewarding. Even more so would be seeing those involved in the scheme arrested and punished, keeping them from ruining more lives than they already had.
He forced his thoughts back to the present moment and Beatrice. “I know that took courage. Thank you for accompanying me.”
“I only hope Mary and any others can be freed.”
“I plan to make certain they are. Now then, how do you feel about venturing to Covent Garden for a stroll?”
“I appreciate your offer, but I’d much prefer that you visit Mr. Hurdy as soon as possible to give him the address with the hope he’ll act quickly.”
Daniel stared at Beatrice, realizing his admiration for her grew each time they were together. Few other women in his acquaintance would place the concerns of others before their own. Beatrice had a good heart along with courage. If only more people in the world did.
BEATRICE FROWNED AS Margaret Gold, Caroline’s youngest sister, eyed the cerulean silk gown draped over her. The color was a dark sky blue, rich and vibrant. It seemed like a bold choice. Too bold, perhaps, when Beatrice felt anything but.
“The color is perfect for you,” Margaret declared. “But I want to adjust the waist to better flatter your form.”
“Is that a polite way of saying I lack curves?” Beatrice stared down at her thin body with a scowl. She’d lost weight when her father had passed, too distraught to have an appetite. Then she’d lost even more with the worry of her future. And a little more after being drugged and held at the brothel.
Margaret smiled. “I have no doubt we’ll soon be letting out the gowns. Caroline tells me she’s been feeding you as much as possible.”
“Her cook is truly gifted, especially when it comes to desserts. Her ratafia cakes are irresistible, like a macaroon only better.”
Margaret held her gaze, her expression sobering. “I don’t think I’ve told you, but I am so impressed that you managed to escape that terrible place.”
“I only did what I had to do. But I have to wonder if there is a point to all this.” She gestured toward the various gowns on the floor around them, her worry returning.
“Why would you say that?” Margaret looked appalled that Beatrice said such a thing about the fabric of which she was so fond.
“People will think less of me if they knew where I was held.” That morning, she’d penned a letter to Sarah Ramsey, a woman two years younger than her, who lived in the same village. She’d promised to tell her what she thought of London and where she’d be working when they’d said goodbye.
The letter had been difficult to write since she didn’t want to share much of what happened. Sarah had been so envious of Beatrice’s plan to come to the city. Telling her how poorly it had gone had been impossible, especially when doing so would be admitting she’d been ruined.
Margaret pursed her lips. “Don’t tell them. It’s no one’s business but your own.”
Beatrice hesitated. She hadn’t found the right moment to raise the subject with Caroline, but she felt she could with Margaret. “If I am to find a husband, I wouldn’t want to start a life together based on lies.”
“If? Does that mean you’re having doubts? Would you rather seek employment as a governess or companion instead?”
“When the truth comes out—”
“You mean if it does,” Margaret countered.
“For all intents and purposes, I’ve been ruined.” There. She’d said it out loud. “Should I even try to catch the interest of a man with the hope he’d offer for me? What if he finds out
