Chapter 15
James Murry had spent the better part of the day working on how to gain access to The Albion Hotel and, more importantly, the auction itself, without anyone raising an eyebrow.
Even if he wore a mask, as suggested in the invitation, the name he provided upon entry would likely be checked against a list.
Although, to be fair, he doubted anyone would stand in his way if he claimed to be there on Croft’s behalf. He could say that his master had learned of the auction and had sent James to participate. Not entirely implausible, given Croft’s current family situation.
However, such a move posed the risk of additional questioning and suspicion, since it was now widely known that Mr. Croft wasn’t as willing to turn a blind eye toward criminal activity as his father had been.
In addition, some of the people due to participate in this evening’s event might have heard that Croft was looking for Lady Edwina.
Mr. Henshaw, for instance, could have mentioned his meeting with Croft while visiting his club.
In other words, James could not use Mr. Croft’s name in this context. He would have to get in some other way, then put on his mask once he got past the checkpoint, and pretend he’d been invited.
To this end, he took a hackney to Bond Street, where he visited Mr. Croft’s favorite tailor, who was more than happy to sell him a ready-made outfit that only required minor adjustments.
James stopped by the barber shop next, after which he visited Maison Beaumont, which he knew to be the most sought-after cake shop in London.
Before returning to the new room he’d rented at Mivart’s, he stopped by Berry Brothers and Rudd on St. James’s Street in order to pick up three bottles of their most expensive champagne.
Thankfully, none of these places questioned the purchases and happily added them all to Mr. Croft’s line of credit.
It was nearing five in the afternoon when James returned to Mivart’s. One of the footmen in the foyer helped him bring all his purchases up to his room. James thanked him and gave him a pound for the effort before seeing him out.
He closed the door and locked it securely, then blew out a breath. It was time to prepare.
One hour later, attired in clothes that equaled half a year’s worth of his salary, James left the hotel together with Kip, who helped him carry the cake and champagne.
“Core, you look like a different person,” Kip had exclaimed when James came to meet him downstairs. “Like one of ’em toffs who lives on Grosvenor Square.”
Perfect.
They headed directly to Leichester Street, around the corner from Lisle, where The Albion’s front entrance was located. Here they alighted, paid the driver, and walked past the spot where deliveries were made to the hotel.
“Now remember,” James said to Kip before they reached the brothel next door. “You’re an errand boy employed by Berry Brothers and Rudd, should anyone ask.”
The boy agreed with a firm nod, then pulled the door open so James could enter the hallway beyond.
* * *
Roused by the sound of laughter, Edwina willed her eyes open even as bone-deep exhaustion tried pulling her back into slumber. Her limbs were heavier than the last time she’d woken, her mind number.
Parched, she licked her lips and attempted to focus her eyes. Wherever she was now, it was dark, yet there were clearly a number of people close by. Men, she realized, after paying closer attention to the voices.
A subdued line of light ran along the floor, illuminating soft folds immediately above it. A curtain, it seemed — some form of partition between her and the rest of the room.
Over-taxed by the brief process of observation, she closed her eyes and took a series of steadying breaths.
What was the last thing she remembered?
Mr. Grover, had come to her aid and made her feel better.
No, that wasn’t quite right. She’d been trying to leave, and he’d stopped her. Yes. Another woman – Nelly – had wanted to ready her for her debut. That still made no sense. She must have been mistaken.
But Edwina had been in a different place then. She’d been on a bed when she’d woken last and dressed in a cotton wrap.
Now she reclined on a velvet-upholstered chaise lounge.
Her fingers moved over her knee, and she stilled. Someone had changed her clothes. The cotton from earlier had been replaced by a slippery fabric. Silk or satin.
Her stomach clenched. Even in her delirious state, she felt the shame of knowing she’d been undressed by strangers. Possibly even bathed too, while she remained oblivious. That was what Nelly had spoken of, was it not? A bath and a change of clothes?
Pulse pounding at the thought of it, she regretted her lack of cooperation. If she’d only done as Nelly asked, she’d have had more control over what transpired. Now, she would always wonder about it. A notion that made bile rise in her throat. Dizziness followed, and she closed her eyes once more.
You must find the strength. You must get up.
She took a deep breath, then paused at the sound of Mr. Grover’s voice declaring, “Gentlemen, I bid you welcome to this night’s exclusive event, where you shall be given the chance to bid on various effects, not otherwise available to the general public.
Indeed, you may have already guessed that Venus Playing with Two Doves is not to be the star of the evening.
Instead, we’ve something far more priceless to offer — something only the wealthiest among you can afford. ”
A pause was accompanied by a hushed silence before Mr. Grover spoke again. “I am, of course, referring to Lady Edwina, the Duke of Wrengate’s sister.”
Laughter and cheers followed.
Edwina’s heart turned to lead.
Surely she must have misheard or else Mr. Grover must be jesting. He couldn’t possibly mean to…to…sell her.
And yet, it was the only thing that made sense at this point. The reason he’d made sure she lacked all ability to leave. He had no need to restrain her when she was unconscious most of the time.
But she was awake now. Aware of what her fate would be if she didn’t manage to get away.
How could she though, when she lacked the energy to even push herself upright?
When it felt like she was drowning in a fog of confusion?
When her body didn’t respond to what her brain was trying to tell it to do?
She felt as helpless as when she watched Claire try to move, unable to offer her poor sister hope for the future.
Her own looked exceedingly dim now. Perhaps that was fair.
Perhaps this was fate’s way of ensuring balance remained.
If Claire was to suffer, then she would too.
As would Sebastian with yet another sibling gone missing.
For years, he’d wondered if Ryan still lived. He’d do the same now with her.
Unless she found a way to escape this nightmare.
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore Mr. Grover’s voice as he started auctioning off the first items.
A plan. That was what she required.
Inhaling deeply, she put her mind in pursuit of calm. Protesting and struggling would probably be counterproductive. It would only give Mr. Grover a reason to give her more smoke.
Instead, it might be more prudent to play along.
If she could pretend she was far less aware than what was accurate, she’d have time to recover more fully, perhaps regain her physical strength.
Yes. That could work. If she allowed one of these men to win her without causing trouble, he’d take her with him, would he not?
She’d be removed from this room and escorted elsewhere, away from a crowd she had no chance of winning against. Much better to wait until there were only one or two people around.
And if they underestimated her, then she would have the upper hand, if only for a brief moment.
Fighting the instinct that screamed for her to try and get up, she forced herself to remain completely still as the curtain was swept aside moments later.
Barely daring to blink, she allowed herself to peer out from under her lashes while murmured sounds of delight filled the air. A roomful of masked individuals, softly illuminated by candlelight, gave her their undivided attention.
She allowed a soft groan, made her head loll sideways. Closing her eyes completely, she blocked them out and focused on looking as though she remained unconscious.
“As promised,” said Mr. Grover, “I present to you the crowning jewel of this evening’s event.
So rare and exquisite is she, her brother chose to hide her away from the world.
He’ll insist she marry a high-ranking peer unless he’s given a reason to let her wed someone else.
Imagine the connection — the status – a gentleman could acquire, simply by claiming her innocence.
“Unless of course one is merely seeking a bit of sport — another notch in one’s bedpost, so to speak.” This comment earned a series of low chuckles. “Or, if one is seeking vengeance against the Duke of Wrengate for some slight or other, this would also be an excellent means to an end.
“That being said, she is not the only item available this evening, so I do hope you won’t be too disappointed to know that she will be auctioned off last. However…
” Mr. Grover added, raising his voice to silence the protests.
“To help you prioritize your spending, I can reveal that the opening bid for her is set at twenty-thousand pounds.”
* * *
James Murry wasted no time on the women he found inside The Willow Rooms. All seemed to be of a higher caliber than the ones found at The Gilded Lady, their overall appearances matching those of upper-class ladies. Pricy and clearly meant for the Mayfair clientele.
Though James spoke to them all politely and with respect, he made it equally clear that he wasn’t there to enjoy their services.
“I need to speak with whoever’s in charge,” he told a brunette and a redhead who’d made their approach.
The brunette gave him a quick head-to-toe inspection. “Why?” she sent Kip a sidelong glance and frowned.