Chapter 5 #3
“We’ve been through these streets again and again,” he reminded her, keeping his voice gentle.
He knew how much the child meant to Verity. He hated seeing the distress the girl’s disappearance caused her.
“I didn’t abandon her in a burning building, and I shan’t abandon her now,” Verity vowed, adamant.
She was so determined, such a sweet do-gooder. Her resilience and refusal to surrender were commendable, but he was more jaded and cynical than she was. Life had systematically stripped him of the ability to believe that the world was a just place.
“We won’t give up,” he reassured her. “But we need to make certain there isn’t something we’re missing, some place we’ve neglected to search for her. Some of our time and attention may be better served directed elsewhere.”
He hesitated, clenching his jaw before he said anything more telling. He didn’t wish to alarm her, but the truth was that the more time passed, the more likely it was that Emma wouldn’t be found. That she had been taken by someone with nefarious motives.
“There is something you aren’t telling me,” she said.
Verity was far too observant for her own good. Or perhaps he had simply allowed his defenses to lower.
“There is nothing,” he denied, not wanting to give voice to his darker fears.
She clutched his sleeve harder, her face drawn and tense, tears sparkling in the depths of her eyes. “There is something. Do not lie to me. Tell me what it is, King.”
He sighed, relenting with ease. He was no match for her stubborn insistence or the pleading in her gaze.
“There is a very real possibility that the child was taken in by someone with motives that are less than pure,” he bit out.
Her eyes widened, and her whole body became rigid. “Whatever do you mean?”
His sweet, innocent angel. She had no notion of the despicable, vile sort of villains who abounded in this city, just waiting to crawl out of alleys and shadows like the devils they were.
An imp like Emma would have been easily spirited off the street.
Lured with the promise of a meal or perhaps even a piece of candy.
She could have been taken to a procuress or a house of ill repute, and from there never to be seen again.
For Verity’s sake and the child’s, he certainly hoped that wasn’t what had befallen Emma. Because if it was, she could have already been viciously abused or murdered. There were many sick people who didn’t respect the sanctity of life, the na?veté of a child.
But how to tell all that to his selfless wife? Verity had hovered on the verge of weeping from the moment he had seen her earlier in the drawing room, looking frantic and worried over the news that the girl had run from her temporary home at Riverdale’s town house.
“I mean that there are villains in this world,” he explained without going into too much detail. “Those who would have uses for the child other than merely giving her a roof over her head and bread in her belly.”
The sudden pallor of Verity’s skin told him she had surmised what he was suggesting. “Truly? An innocent child?”
“I have heard of instances of such things,” was all he said.
“But if someone took her from the street, how will we ever find her?” Verity searched his gaze, looking for answers he had no doubt she didn’t want to see.
He said nothing, not wanting to dishearten her or cause her further distress.
Fresh tears shone in her eyes, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “King. You don’t think… It must be impossible for someone to be so vile to a child. Surely no one would do something ill to her… Do you believe they would?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, sweetness,” he said softly. “But I can promise you that we shall do everything we can to find her ourselves.”
And he could only hope and pray—for the first time in as long as he could recall—that they would find Emma before it was too late. He wasn’t sure if his tenderhearted angel could withstand such a blow.
“How would we even begin to look for her in such an instance?” she managed to ask, her voice laced with fear.
“I have some acquaintances who could be of service,” he said, thinking it fortunate he had a great many connections, many of them both sordid and resourceful. “I will begin with them, asking if anyone has heard of or seen a young blonde girl who was taken from the street today.”
“Thank you, my love.” She compressed her lips, tears darkening her spiky lashes and trailing down her cheeks.
He drew her against him, feeling like a traitor for accepting her love and trust and yet too selfish to turn away from it, from her.
King nuzzled her crown instead, inhaling the faint scent of bergamot and roses. “I’ll do everything I can for her, I promise.”
And he would. He just hoped it wouldn’t prove too bloody late.
When they arrived back at Riverdale’s town house, the duke and his duchess were returning as well, wearing twin grim expressions that suggested their searches, too, had led to no hint of young Emma.
With great reluctance, Verity was persuaded to take tea so they could discuss their next steps.
King summoned a few of his men, directing them to make discreet inquiries before joining Riverdale and his duchess and Verity in the drawing room.
Riverdale pinned King with a glare at his approach, looking as if he wanted to run him through with a suitably sharp and deadly weapon. “What are you doing in here, Kingham?”
“Is that any way to greet an old chum?” he drawled, trying not to allow his friend’s icy contempt to affect him.
“You know, I don’t believe you were truly a friend to me,” Riverdale said coolly as he rose and stalked toward King. “Indeed, I doubt you’ve ever been a friend to anyone other than yourself.”
That rather stung. King had no siblings or family to speak of. He had long considered the Wicked Dukes Society the brothers he’d never had.
He kept his face an expressionless mask. “If that is what you prefer to think, I shan’t try to dissuade you.”
“Everett, how can you have a row with King at a time like this?” Verity demanded, frowning at her brother.
Riverdale bowed in his sister’s direction. “Apologies. It wasn’t my intention to make a row. I was merely stating a fact.”
“If my husband is not welcome in your home, then I am not either,” Verity insisted, rising from her chair.
Her staunch defense of King filled him with warmth. He moved to her side. “Don’t fret over your brother’s lack of manners. It is a long-standing flaw.”
The quelling look his wife gave him suggested she didn’t appreciate his attempt at levity. He was reasonably sure he would give every last ha’penny he owned to see her smile again, so he would behave.
“I must insist that the two of you be civil to each other,” Verity chastised, her tone pointed. “We have something far more important than your mutual enmity to attend to.”
“Of course, angel,” he agreed, for she was right. “I’ve instructed some of my men to fan out across the city and make inquiries at various establishments, particularly those with a certain reputation.”
“A certain reputation,” Riverdale repeated. “Just what are you suggesting?”
“As I warned Verity, there is a chance that the girl was taken from the street for evil purposes,” he explained.
“The manner in which young Emma has so hastily and thoroughly disappeared begs the question whether she was capable of doing so herself. A young child with nary a penny to her name wandering about London would not likely be capable of traveling far.”
“Bloody hell,” Riverdale muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
His duchess, Sybil, gasped, having abandoned the cooling tray of tea to join them. “You think someone has taken her?”
Like Verity, Sybil possessed a good heart. He found her boldness and honesty refreshing. They had become fast friends, though that relationship felt somewhat distant following his and Verity’s betrothal.
“I think it is possible,” he allowed, addressing the duchess. “Perhaps even strongly likely.”
“Can you not see how distressing such a suggestion is to the ladies?” Riverdale hissed.
“It’s not my intention to cause further upset.
I am merely attempting to do everything I can to find the child.
” He clenched his jaw, losing his infamous grip on his calm as his own irritation bubbled to the surface.
“Would you prefer for me to avoid worrying them and instead allow some villain to abscond with the girl?”
Riverdale scowled. “Don’t be an arse. You know well that isn’t what I’m saying. What I’m suggesting is that you have no proof that a miscreant took her. You’re creating more misery where none is required.”
“It would seem that is a skill at which I excel,” he snapped. “Perhaps you have an idea of where to search for the child, Riverdale. After all, you took such excellent care of her that she disappeared from your home without anyone taking notice for hours.”
Sybil paled at his words, and King knew a slight pang of regret at his bluntness, but he instantly banished it.
“If I had any notion she would run away, I would have taken greater care,” Sybil said, sadness tinging her voice. “I thought she was contented here, even if she was distressed that Verity was leaving on a honeymoon.”
Something occurred to him for the first time.
All these hours of searching for the girl, and he had believed she was simply naughty or wayward.
An impish young child who had grown bored with being tucked away in a nursery all day with a nursemaid.
He hadn’t thought about the true reason for her running away.
“Do you mean to say that the child ran away because she was distressed that Verity was leaving on a honeymoon?” he asked.
“None of this is Verity’s fault,” Sybil hastened to say.
“But Verity is the one person Emma feels closest to, and she was quite tearful over Verity’s plans to leave.
Her nurse said she was disconsolate yesterday.
She refused to even eat the cake she was given for her dessert, and Emma never declines sweets. ”
“The poor darling,” Verity murmured. “I had no notion she was so upset. I had explained to her that I would return in a week and then she could come and live with King and me. I thought she seemed hopeful and eager. I never imagined she would do something so reckless as a result.”
“So, if the child ran away because she was upset that Verity was leaving, then perhaps it stands to reason that she was attempting to find Verity,” he suggested. “Or even going to a place she found comforting or familiar.”
“Wherever she was going, it doesn’t sound as if she intended to return,” Verity mused. “Especially if she took the locket from her mother with her…” Her words trailed away, her countenance suddenly shifting. “Wait. Perhaps that is the solution.”
“What is the solution?” he asked gently, fearing she was being na?vely hopeful and that she was doomed to further disappointment.
“The locket is from her mother,” Verity said.
“And it was of such great import to Emma that she went rushing back to fetch it when the fire started at the Children’s Foundling Hospital.
I had begun to suspect that Emma saw me as a sort of maternal figure in the absence of her own mama.
If she was so upset about my impending departure that she ran away, then perhaps she ran to the place where she lived with her mother. ”
King was impressed by her reasoning. He had to admit that it seemed plausible.
“Do you have any idea where the girl lived before coming to the orphanage?” he asked.
“I don’t, but the headmistress would know.”
“It’s worth checking there,” Riverdale agreed.
Sybil nodded. “Verity and I will pay a call upon Mrs. Stevens at once.”
“We’ll all go,” Riverdale and King said in unison.
Riverdale scowled at him. King raised a brow.
“Come,” Verity said urgently, taking hold of King’s arm. “This is not an argument the two of you shall settle any time this century.”
And he allowed his clever wife to pull him toward the drawing room door. As usual, she was right.