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“But how can you know that after such a short time?” she argued.
Rebecca shrugged and sighed. “I just know. When he’s near, I can’t think of anything else. And when he’s away, it’s the same.” She looked guiltily over at her brother and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And when he kisses me—oh, it’s shameful, Sabrina! But I can’t help myself. I’ll die if I don’t marry him.”
Sabrina’s heart began to pound. Just the sound of Henry’s voice was enough to make her tremble inside. Even now, as he chuckled at something her mother had said, she felt it like a physical touch. She pushed him from her mind. “You would risk your life’s happiness on a mere infatuation?”
“Oh, it’s more than that,” answered Rebecca. “Far more! I simply cannot live without him.”
“But you hardly know him.”
“I know him well enough.”
Sabrina shook her head. It just didn’t make sense. “Well, at least you’ll have until next spring before it becomes final. You can still change your mind.”
“I won’t,” said Rebecca. “And we’re not waiting until next spring. We are to marry at the beginning of June. Father is going to announce it next week.”
“June? But—”
“Father has given consent for us to wed as soon as decency allows, lest the matter end in a Scottish scandal,” interrupted Rebecca. A rosy blush stained her cheeks.
“Rebecca!”
“Well, it’s true! We can barely be in the same room together.”
Again, Sabrina’s heart clenched. Augusta’s sharp elbow in her ribs finally forced her to drop her argument. “You will do as you please, I suppose,” she trailed off. The girl was obviously not using her head at all.
Folly. Pure folly. Her heart, however, insisted on maintaining the hope that Rebecca would be just as blindingly happy in five years’ time.
From across the room where he sat with Mama, Henry’s gaze pierced her. How was it that he could create such chaos within her, while others did absolutely nothing—or worse, repulsed her?
“I came as quickly as I could,” said Percy as he entered Pembroke’s estate office.
“Thank you. You may go now,” Henry said to Watkins, handing him a sheaf of documents and then gestured for Percy to make himself at home. Naturally, he went straight over to the br
andy decanter.
“It’s barely even midday.”
“What are you, my maiden aunt?” groused Percy. “If you’d had the sort of night I did, you’d be having a drink, too. Now, tell me why in heaven’s name I dragged myself out of bed to come here. And why are we in this musty old room? Not that I’m complaining,” he added, lifting his glass to admire the rich amber fluid in it. “Your father’s personal stock is quite fine.”
“We are here because no one ever comes in here uninvited, and there is no way for anyone to approach this room without being heard coming down the hall,” Henry said, keeping his voice low. “There has been a disturbing turn in the investigation.”
“Oh?”
“Our man found a girl who’d run away from Madam Boucher. She said she and the others there are frightened and directed him to visit a friend who used to work there.”
“Used to work?”
“A patron paid Boucher to remove her, in order to make her his private plaything.”
“I was unaware one could do such a thing.”
“This woman was one of Boucher’s established girls, who’d been fortunate enough to secure the affections of her patron. She said that there had been changes in the way things were being run at her former employer’s. Boucher has recently begun having her bullies approach families in the poorer districts with offers to buy their untouched girls, and then grooming them to be sold, not rented.”
“That smells of slavery,” said Percy, wrinkling his nose.
“Indeed. And I was told several pleasure houses have begun doing it to cater to patrons who fear the pox. It’s quite profitable, apparently. In return for her relatively small investment in a virgin, Boucher receives quite a sum. And there is an agreement between her and the client that if he ever tires of his purchase, he returns the girl. Thus, she can begin ‘regular’ service and earn her further profits.”
“Quite the entrepreneur, isn’t she?”
