She smiled. “For what, my lord? You didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t know, for the cruelty people are capable of.” He almost jolted when she put a bony hand on his cheek in a maternal gesture.
She withdrew her hand. “We’re lucky there are people like you who balance the unkindness.”
No, he wasn’t the damn hero everyone thought he was. “Thank you, madam. Please, should Mrs. Haywood return, send for me.”
“My lord.” She curtsied.
Royston bowed and dragged his sorry self towards Havisham’s house. Mrs. Haywood was such a disappointment, and since he hadn’t been sharp enough to understand how conniving she was, perhaps Angeline was the same.
No. His heart screamed she was innocent. Still, she had to know of her mother’s activities. He wondered why she didn’t protest against the recruitment of abused women.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and braved the cold wind blowing from the north and carrying a chilly drizzle. The day had started with bright sunlight, but it’d changed quickly, just like his mood.
Icy raindrops slid down his neck, causing his skin to pebble. By the time he arrived at Havisham’s house, he was cold and drenched, and he didn’t care. He could have hailed a cab, but he needed the air to clear his head. Not that it worked. His feelings were all over the place.
Havisham welcomed him into his warm and dry drawing room, eyeing him with suspicion. “Good Lord, what happened to you?”
“I went to see Mrs. Walsh.” He brushed a wet curl of hair from his face.
“I see.” The earl poured him a glass of brandy. “Here. You seem to need it.”
He took the glass. “Mrs. Haywood… I can’t believe it.”
“She’s a clever woman who would deceive the most skilled criminal.” Havisham took a sip. “The private detective informed me Mrs. Haywood keeps a list with the names of those women whom she employs. They’re at her beck and call, constantly threatened by her.”
“How did he discover that?”
Havisham plopped down on the armchair. “Because he talked with a girl who was blackmailed by Mrs. Haywood. That woman is a menace.”
Royston nursed his drink. “Bloody hell.”
“I’ve been in Mrs. Haywood’s house a few times when she was alone. I noticed a filing cabinet in her personal study. I’ve seen her myself stashing important papers in there. I hate being insistent, but if you search her study, you won’t simply recover the material she has on me and give me back my life. You’ll have the opportunity to search for Mrs. Haywood’s list of girls, those girls she exploits for her games because surely, you aren’t naïve enough to think she tried to recruit only Mrs. Walsh’s women.”
He couldn’t swallow the brandy.
Havisham took Royston’s arm. “You could save them all. You could help them get away from their miserable lives and find a proper job. I don’t need to tell you how many of those women die every month from starvation and diseases.”
A sickening lump crawled into Royston’s throat. Mrs. Haywood had to be stopped.
“What’s the plan?”
“Remember the little scene at the festival when I mentioned an event where Miss Haywood could exhibit her skill at playing the piano?”
“Yes?”
“That event is going to help us. I’m going to talk to Mrs. Haywood immediately.” Havisham smiled. “I have an idea.”
