Chapter Thirteen
Verina’s heart beat rapidly as the duke opened the door without knocking. He entered and she followed, adhering to his advice to keep near to him.
The first thing that assaulted her was the terrible smell which permeated the air. Having been nearby when Tia had been sick frequently, she was accustomed to the scent of vomit. This was mingled with other things that made her belly tighten. Urine. Sweat.
And fear . . .
She had never thought that a palpable scent. Why, she could not even recall the last time she had felt fear, but it lingered in the air—along with hopelessness. She swallowed, wishing to run from this building, but knowing her presence was necessary to help spirit Lady Adams away.
A large man, one who was several inches taller than the duke and outweighed him by two stone, approached.
“I must speak with Dr. Cheney,” Reddington said.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen you here before.”
“Yes. Many years ago.”
The man nodded to himself. “You’re that one. He’s still scared of you, you know.”
Verina wondered who the man meant. Perhaps this Dr. Cheney?
“Take me to Cheney now,” His Grace instructed, his voice firm and uncompromising.
Turning, the man strode away, the two of them following him. As they went up a staircase, she could hear screams. Moans. A shiver ran along her spine. Her heart began pounding violently.
They reached the next floor, and the man turned.
Shock ran through her as the strong smells of human waste permeated the air.
She saw benches on both sides of the hall.
Women of all ages sat on these benches, their hair shorn as Miss Brandon’s had been.
They were ghostly pale, wearing gunnysacks that lacked in color.
Their feet were bare. As they passed, she saw bruises of varying shades along their limbs.
What shocked her was not a one looked up as they walked by.
Surely, these women were curious about visitors?
Another scream sounded. Not from these sitting women, who kept their silence.
They passed an open door, and she glanced inside the room, seeing a woman tied to a bed.
She let out a long, eerie wail, causing Verina’s insides to go cold.
An attendant stood over her, scissors in hand, shearing the woman’s hair close to her scalp.
Verina realized she had paused and rushed to catch up to the duke. She asked, “Why do they cut off their hair?”
“These places are filthy. Lice gets in the patients’ hair. Also, they sell it. There is actually a market for it.”
She shuddered, biting her lip, continuing to walk beside him. The man leading the way stopped at a door.
“He’s in there.”
The duke pushed open the door without knocking. A very thin man sat behind a desk, spectacles in one hand, the fingers of his other hand massaging the bridge of his nose. At the interruption, he donned the spectacles again and looked up, frowning at them.
“You do not have an appointment,” he said, his gaze landing on her. “Is this the chit you wished put away?” he asked dispassionately, as he rose.
“No!” she said angrily. “We are here to take Lady Adams with us. And you should be ashamed of yourself. This place is terrible.”
He pushed his spectacles against the bridge of his nose. “You are making a mistake not leaving this one with me, my lord.”
“It is Your Grace, Cheney. We have met before.” The duke paused. “I am Reddington.”
Immediately, fear filled the doctor’s eyes. “You! What are you doing here? You have your mother back. You should not be here!”
“You heard why we are here. We have come for Lady Adams.”
Stubbornness filled the man’s face. “Well, you cannot have her, Your Grace.”
“Name your price,” Reddington said, his voice so cold that Verina shivered. “And it is not as if Lord Adams will come looking for his aunt. I know for a fact that his country estate is in Cornwall, far away from here. He will never return for her. He left her to die here.”
Verina found herself trembling. With anger—not fear. She wanted to speak out again, but she did not want to upset the duke or interrupt his negotiations.
“How much?” he demanded again.
Dr. Cheney named a price, a staggering sum, but the duke merely pulled a purse from inside his coat and tossed it upon the desk.
“That is far more than you asked for. Are you to notify Lord Adams when his aunt dies?”
“He said to do so. Only so he would stop paying the monthly fee,” the administrator admitted.
“Then mark this down. Wait five years—and then notify him of her passing. Keep the blood money that he sends you in the meantime, along with what I have given you. And never speak of this again.”
“I will—only if you never return, Your Grace.”
The look in the duke’s eyes frightened Verina, and he said, “If I come back again, it will be to kill you.”
And she knew Reddington meant it.
He turned, facing her. “Come. Let us retrieve Lady Adams. I recognized her sitting on one of the benches as we passed.”
She found she could not speak and merely nodded.
His fingers found hers, and she held fast to them as they left the office.
They returned to the corridor, lined with benches, women silently sitting, hunched over.
He paused in front of a woman. How the duke had recognized Lady Adams was hard to imagine, for she did not look up, even with them standing directly in front of her.
“Lady Adams?” the duke gently asked as he knelt before her. “It is Reddington. Mama sent me to bring you to her.”
Slowly, the woman’s head began to rise until her gaze met the duke’s. “Reddington,” she whispered. “Reddington.”
He rose, taking her elbow and helping her to her feet. “Come. Let us go. This is Lady Verina. She came to help.”
Lady Adams looked at Verina, her face devoid of emotion. She would have thought the woman might have smiled joyfully. Then again, they had yet to leave the premises. If their positions were reversed, Verina would not have felt safe until in the carriage, far away from Throckmorton.
“The carriage is waiting for us, my lady,” she said gently. “Might I assist you?”
Verina took the older woman’s other elbow, and Lady Adams shuffled along for a few steps. Then she stopped.
“Miss Baird. You must find Miss Baird.” Tears filled Lady Adams’ eyes. “Please. Help her.”
The duke shook his head. “I have only come for you, my lady. It was difficult enough getting Cheney to give you up. He would never agree to me taking another woman.”
Swallowing, she said, “Then leave me. Take her. I am old. Miss Baird is young. They have not broken her yet.” She paused. “She suffers greatly, Reddington.”
Lady Adams’ anguish touched Verina. She looked to the duke and then back to the noblewoman. “We paid enough for two, Your Grace. Tell me where Miss Baird is, my lady. I will fetch her.”
Lady Adams began trembling. “In the water treatment room. Go up a flight of stairs. You will find her there. On the right.” She swallowed. “Listen for . . . the screams.”
Larkin appeared, and Verina said, “Get Lady Adams to the carriage. We will be there shortly.”
Then before the duke could stop her, Verina dashed down the corridor and up the stairs.
She continued down the new corridor, following the shouts and screams she heard.
When she reached a room on the right and glanced into it, she saw a young woman close to her own age, tied to a chair, her body bucking.
Two men hovered over her. One dumped a bucket of water over her head, causing her to sputter.
The other drew back his fist and slammed it into her belly.
Fear caused Verina to freeze a moment. Then without regard for her own safety, she hurried inside the room, knowing she had to intervene.
“Stop that at once!” she commanded. “Untie Miss Baird. She is coming with us.”
Both men stared at her, a hungry look in their eyes. It made her flesh feel as if ants crawled over her.
Before she could cry out, one of them latched onto her elbow and yanked her close. She could smell stale beer on his breath.
“Looks like we have a new toy to play with.”
Verina spat in his face.
He drew back a hand to slap her, and she squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the blow.
Then a voice said, “Release her now. Or you will never see another sunset.”
Opening them, she saw the Duke of Reddington only a few feet away. He held a gun in his hand. The attendant’s grasp began to loosen, and he backed away from her. So did the other man.
Free now, she went to the woman in the chair, who trembled from the cold. The room was freezing, and Miss Baird looked like a drowned rat.
“Miss Baird, I am Lady Verina. This is the Duke of Reddington. You will come with us.”
“I most certainly will,” the young woman said, fire in her eyes. “The one on the right has a blade in his left boot. Take it and slice these cords.”
The duke continued to aim his pistol at the two men. Verina went and lifted the trouser covering the attendant’s leg, removing the knife. She went back to Miss Baird and cut through the restraints, helping her from the chair. The young woman shivered with the cold.
“There are warming robes in the carriage,” she said. “You will be fine.”
They hurried past the duke and went to the stairs. Miss Baird needed assistance going down them.
“I have not eaten in a good while,” she apologized. “I am so weak.”
Then Reddington was there. He scooped Miss Baird into his arms and said, “Hurry.”
They raced down the stairs to the ground floor.
Verina tuned out the cries and screams as they opened the front door and hustled to the waiting carriage.
Mr. Larkin was standing beside it, and he opened the door.
The duke climbed the steps, Miss Baird still in his arms. The runner assisted Verina into the carriage, and it took off quickly.