Into the breech.“Lord Robert Ashton.”
Percival waited a moment, then said, “I do not believe you.”
Eloise’s throat tightened. “Papa?”
Her father finally moved, giving her a dismissive wave. “I believe that your information is from Ashton. I do not believe you thought Lewis would not obtain the information from Ashton as well, especially now that the entirety of thetonknows he is about to inherit Bill Campion’s properties, that he has been masquerading as the floor manager for years. I believe you wanted to further your association with the man. A man now drowning in an outrageous scandal.”
The derision in her father’s tone set Eloise’s nerves on alert.
“Have you heard from Lady Lydia? Are theystillconsidering him a viable suitor?”
So, no, now was not the time for sharing more with her father. Eloise gave a slight nod. “I have not spoken with Lydia. I did not expect to see her until Friday night’s ball. But my understanding is that his suit of her is to continue.”
“They are fools to allow it. Makendon must want something from Kennet to risk his daughter’s reputation thus.”
“Papa?”
He stilled again. “I know you suggested I stop thinking of you as genteel and young, but it is impossible to do so. You are my daughter and you—and your reputation—remain my responsibility.”
“So you will not tell me?”
“What do you know about the White Stallion?”
“That they are an organization that... they are... purveyors... of young boys—”
“Good God!” Her father’s words were a harsh whisper. “To what depravity has that man exposed you?”
Eloise stopped. Father and daughter looked at each other a few cool moments, then Percival cleared his throat. “I talked to some of the boys’ instructors. I talked to Father Yeatman. I even talked to Gilbert Rowbotham, who has been aware of some of Timothy’s activities with his friends and avoided them. According to them, the White Stallion is a network with tentacles in all aspects of the London criminal world. They lure young men from the schools with promises of women and other aspects of pleasure. Once seduced, they are held captive until they acquiesce to—” Percival stopped and looked down at his hands.
Eloise waited, trying to avoid thinking about the horrors that Timothy must have endured—must be enduring—even as they sat there and discussed the vagaries of evil. Then her father’s next words sent Eloise reeling.
He looked up, his face scarlet. “They told me the network centers on Bill Campion’s empire. That the main driver of their organization is the man known as Robbie Green.” Percival stood, his presence looming over Eloise as her eyes widened, a cold numbness spreading through her every fiber. “I do not care what Makendon or Kennet or any of them do where their daughters are concerned. But you will have nothing to do with Robert Ashton. You will no longer play chaperone to Lydia Rowbotham nor visit her or her friends. Until we have Timothy back, I want you here, away from anything that could further taint you.”
Eloise jerked to her feet, his words searing her.Further taint...Her voice choked. “You said you had forgiven me!”
“And you promised me you would remain forever above reproach! Do you not think I know what you have been doing? Do you think I am blind to what happens under my own roof? In my own household?”
“Papa!”
“In the morning, I will send notice to the Duke of Makendon of my decision. You will not accompany Lady Lydia any longer. You will remain here until I can make arrangements for you to move to my sister’s.”
“But Timothy!”
“The constable and I will see to Timothy. I should never have allowed you to become involved. I can see it made you think you had leeway to take even more liberties than you already had.” He paused, crossed to his door and pointed to the hallway. “Return to your room. And I suggest you write to your modiste to end that association as well. Tell her you will be out of the city by the weekend.” He gestured again to the hallway.
A cold void, an absence of any emotion kept Eloise’s eyes dry and her mouth closed. In her entire life, Percival Surrey had never spoken to his daughter in such a manner, not even when he had discovered her seduction and pregnancy. He had been kind, even then. But she had been a child at that time, only slightly younger than Timothy was now. She stiffened her spine, refused to look at him, and marched from the room.
Eloise, however, did not stop at her bedchamber. Instead, she climbed the stairs to the servants’ quarters, found Delie’s room, and awakened her maid quietly. Back in the corridor, both of them in their nightclothes, Delie turned a sleepy but quizzical look at her mistress.
“I need you,” Eloise whispered, the first stinging tears burning her eyes. “I need you to help me pack.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Wednesday, 20 July 1825
Campion’s Gentlemen’s Emporium
Ten in the morning
