“Laura Maitland?”
“Yes.”
“And who is Bev Davies?”
Daniel groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Mr. Hugo will kill me.”
“Martha, would you please tell me what this is all about?” Albert asked.
“Hugo is the owner of an exclusive brothel.”
“Brothel?” Albert yelped.
“Yes. The brothel is the reason his scheming business partner arranged for Hugo to be falsely arrested. He managed to regain control of the business since returning to London and—what?” she asked Daniel when he opened his mouth, but then shut it again. “Why do you look like that?”
“It’s just—well, Bev owns the business now and Hugo manages it.”
“All of it?”
Daniel nodded.
Martha struggled to digest that information. Why would Hugo have lied about that?
“Brothel?” Albert repeated, and then turned to Daniel. “And you, er…” Albert’s pale, freckled skin darkened as his eyes flickered over the much larger man’s body. He cleared his throat. “You work for him?”
“Not like that,” Daniel hastily assured him. “I’m a footman there.”
The two men held each other’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them.
“What is the name of the brothel, Daniel?” Martha asked when it seemed they’d both fallen into a trance. “I’m afraid my husband did not mention it.”
Daniel pulled his gaze away from Albert with visible reluctance. “Er, it’s called Solange’s.”
“Hugo owns Solange’s?” Albert squawked. “That’s the most exclusive—” He pulled a face and turned to Martha. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be talking about such a thing in front of you.”
Martha snorted. “It’s a bit late for that.”
Albert shook his head. “This is—you must be—” He made a sound that was half disbelief and half frustration. “Surely when you say that Hugo owns the business that means he doesn’t actually, er work there?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “He does.”
“Actually—” Daniel started, and then stopped when the two of them turned to him.
“Actually what?” Martha asked.
“Um, Hugo doesn’t take clients.”
All the blood in her body rushed to her head. “What?” she asked, her voice over-loud judging by the way both men jolted.
“Hugo doesn’t take clients,” Daniel repeated. “At least not since he came back.”
Martha struggled to breathe.
“Martha?” Albert slipped from his chair and crouched down in front of her, looking up at her with knitted brows. “What is it?”
“Say it again, Daniel—what you just said,” she ordered.
“You mean about Hugo not taking clients?”
Martha squeezed her eyes shut. “No one?”
“Not a one, ma’am.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her.
“He doesn’t,” Daniel insisted, when she opened her eyes and stared at him. “Not even when people pester him, which happens often. Everyone has commented on it. I’m the only one he told about you, but everyone speculates that he must, er, well, that he must have somebody. And then there is the fact that he no longer lives there, when—”
The door opened and it was Butterbank again, holding a silver salver. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but a person is insisting on speaking to you.”
“A person?” Martha stared at the battered, grubby calling card on the tray: Laura Maitland.
She glanced up at the butler and swallowed. “Um, are you sure she’s not looking for Mr. Buckingham?”
“She specifically asked for you.”
“Oh. Well, please show Mrs. Maitland in.”
The door hadn’t even closed before Daniel said, “Laura! What’s she doing here? I don’t think this is a good—”
“Why not?”
“Because … well, just because.”
“Won’t you tell me what is going on?” Albert asked yet again, looking from Martha to Daniel and back. “Why would Hugo’s ex-business partner want to talk to you?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Martha murmured as the woman herself entered the room.
Martha didn’t know what she’d been expected from the co-owner of an exclusive brothel, but the gaunt, gray-skinned wraith who entered the room wasn’t it.
Laura Maitland studied Martha with the same intensity, her bloodshot eyes flickering over her person. Martha knew the woman must be wondering what it was about her that had caught the attention of a man like Hugo.
The two men stood, and Laura recoiled when she recognized Daniel. She scowled up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Please, have a seat, Mrs. Maitland,” Martha hastily said, as it looked like Daniel was about to say something unkind.
Laura didn’t look away from Daniel, and Martha could see the woman was reconsidering her visit.
“Please,” Martha repeated. “I’d like to know why you are here.”
Laura jerked her gaze from Daniel and lowered herself into the proffered chair, her body vibrating with tension. “I take it you know who I am?”
“You are the person who had my husband wrongfully abducted and transported.”
Laura’s pale cheeks tinted, but she didn’t look away. “Yes.”
“Why are you here?” Martha repeated.
“Because I was there yesterday—at Solange’s—when Bev brought Hugo in to threaten him.”
Martha sat bolt upright. “Threaten him? Who is this person—this Bev?”
Laura glanced at Daniel. “Shall I tell her?”
He pursed his mouth, clearly unhappy.
“Yes, you should,” Martha said when Daniel refused to answer.
“Bevan Davies is one of the most powerful criminals in London. I made a plan with Bev’s son Cowan—one of his many bast—er, baseborn children—to, um, steal Hugo’s part of the business.” The muscles in her peaked face tightened. “I thought Cowan loved me, but he was just using me to get his hands on Solange’s, which he then delivered to his father.” Laura Maitland shrugged at the betrayal, but Martha saw pain in her eyes. “I know that Bev made a deal with Hugo. If he could operate the business at a profit for a year, he told him that he’d sign over the half that was once his and—”
“How do you know all this?” Daniel’s handsome features were twisted into a sneer. He turned to Martha. “You can’t believe her, ma’am. She’s a lying, thieving, conniving—”
“Thank you, Daniel. But I’d like to let her finish.”
Daniel’s mouth snapped shut and he cut Laura a venomous look.
“He’s right, Mrs. Buckingham—I’m all that and more. A cheap whore, a degenerate gambler, and I’m too fond of blue ruin by
