A Lady’s Trust by Callie Hutton (short story to read txt) 📕

a woman perched on one of their laps. The woman wore face paint, and the neckline of her deep red gown was scandalously low. She leaned over and whispered something in one man’s ear, making them both roar with laughter.

This had not been a good idea. She shouldn’t have come to this event. She didn’t know why, but she felt frightened, and not just because of the scoundrel who she’d danced with. For the first time since she’d arrived at The Rose Room all those weeks ago, she felt unsafe.

She made it as far as the front door and took a deep breath of the misty air. She moved down the few steps and rubbed her palms up and down her arms, sorry she hadn’t thought to go upstairs first and grab her cape.

“Here, miss, you look quite cold.” Two men in masks, obviously headed for the ball approached the doorway. One of them removed his cape and went to swing it around her. “This will keep you warm.”

She froze, her instincts kicking in. Perhaps she hadn’t recovered yet from the difficulty inside, but she felt as if something wasn’t right. She backed up and turned. “Thank you anyway, but I will just return to the ball.”

“No, you won’t, you bitch.”

She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, one of the men threw the cape he’d taken off over her head. Before she could even utter a sound, she was picked up and quickly bundled off. Taken by surprise, and with the cape over her head she had no idea which direction they headed.

After about three minutes of her wrestling with the arms that held her tight, her shouts muffled by the cape, she was tossed into a carriage. The door slammed. She landed on her hands and knees and the vehicle lurched forward.

The cape was ripped off her head as she sat on the floor of the carriage, her knees aching from landing on the hard surface. She pushed the hair out of her eyes, her mask dangling from its ribbons, resting on her heaving chest.

She sucked in a deep breath as she stared into the eyes of her stepbrother, sitting next to Mr. Daniel Lyons, both men grinning with satisfaction.

“Welcome back, sister.”

17

Dante sat behind Driscoll’s desk in the office, tamping down his need to yawn, while Lady McDaniel continued her tirade about a missing necklace.

“My lady, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do about your missing necklace right now. There are over a hundred people downstairs and conducting a proper search would be impossible. Can you tell me the last time you saw your necklace?”

Frankly, he found it hard to believe that the necklace she described could fall off her neck without her immediately noticing it.

“I didn’t notice it missing until I returned from the ladies’ retiring room.”

Dante glanced at the clock on Driscoll’s desk. “And am I to assume you checked there before summoning me?”

She lifted her chin as if he were a ninnyhammer. “Of course.”

“Good. Then we will begin to usher guests out shortly. I suggest you return to your home and we will do a thorough search first thing in the morning when the light is better and the room empty. I will send word to you as soon as we find it.”

Lady McDaniel stood, taking her husband’s hand as she rose. She used the opportunity to look down at him, which was a favorite pastime of ladies of the ton, since they never wanted him to forget he was a bastard and not accepted in polite society. Unless they were attempting to lure him to their bed, then the interaction was quite different.

“Very well. However, I must tell you if the piece is not returned by ten in the morning next, I will summon Scotland Yard.”

Dante nodded and clutching the rough sketch he’d made from Lady McDaniel’s description of the necklace, followed them out the door, reminding himself once again of the reasons they did not permit ladies in the club.

The footmen and security guards had done a good job of clearing out the room while he’d conversed with Lady McDaniel. He personally ushered the couple out the door with further assurance that the necklace would be found.

He walked slowly through the room and eyed the table with the bottles of liquor and decided a drink was just the thing to bring the night to an end. For some reason this ball had not gone as well as other years. Possibly because Hunt was only able to stay a short time and Driscoll was tied up with Home Office business, leaving him with the burden by himself.

He filled a glass and leaned against the wall. “Summon all the employees,” he said to Marcus as he returned from escorting the last of the guests out the door. Lord Bentworth had a bit of a problem leaving and Marcus had to encourage him to let the night go.

Once they had all gathered, Dante stood on the third step of the staircase and addressed them. “We had an expensive necklace go missing tonight. Tomorrow I want everyone down here by nine o’clock—yes in the morning,” he grinned at the moans. “We will need to do a complete search of the building.”

He waved at the group, his eyes glancing around the room. “Off to bed with you. Once the necklace has been found we will clean up this mess. No need to do it tonight.”

The employees quickly disbursed, leaving him still sipping his brandy and cursing all necklaces and the self-important ladies who wore them. Especially those worn by women who visited his club and lost them.

While he was cursing women, he might as well include Miss Amelia Pence since she occupied the bedroom where he could stay for the night instead of trudging home only to return early in the morning.

He then realized she was not at the meeting he just held. She did look a bit uncomfortable the last time he saw