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Lord Southbrook ignored her, stepping forward and lifting her into his arms. “Don’t be an idiot, Lady Averil,” he murmured in her ear.
Cross and startled, she stared up at him.
“You have placed yourself in danger. I am coming to your rescue. You can thank me later.”
A bully, mouthed the Honorable James Blainey, standing at his nephew’s shoulder.
They left The Tin Soldier and set off into the maze of dark streets, but the earl strode along as if he knew exactly where they were going. Averil was rather impressed. In a short time they reached a main thoroughfare where he had left the coach. The coachman jumped down and opened the door, trying not to stare at this extra passenger his master appeared to have acquired. Lord Southbrook murmured something to his coachman and then leaned inside the coach and set Averil upon the soft leather seat. As she sat there, dazed, her fair hair tumbling over her shoulders, her gray eyes wide, he preceded to tuck a blanket about her. Averil hoped he couldn’t see her face flaming. Thankfully it was quite dark.
Next, the earl gave his uncle a boost up into the coach, and his son scrambled in after him, seating himself beside Averil. The earl sat opposite, with his uncle. He reached up to give a firm thump on the roof, and a moment later they clattered off into the traffic.
Averil sighed, and snuggled under the blanket. She was trapped. She knew she couldn’t walk unaided and Jackson, if he’d returned, wouldn’t know where she was. There was nothing she could do but make the best of a bad situation.
For a time all was quiet in the coach, the occupants deep in their own thoughts, but Rufus knew it couldn’t last.
Lady Averil was the first to speak. “You do not know where I live?”
“I do know where you live,” he replied, knowing he would surprise her. He surprised himself. After he’d seen her at the opera he had inquired after her, curiosity he’d told himself, and refused to ask himself why he should be curious about Lady Averil and none of the other women who were there that night. He’d learned rather a lot: that she was an heiress and that she was an orphan and was heavily involved in Dr. Simmons’s charity work, he being a cousin of hers.
“We live in Mayfair,” Eustace announced. “The house has been in the family for generations.”
“Oh,” she said carefully. “You are very fortunate then.”
Rufus felt his spirits sink even lower. What would he tell his son when the house was no longer in the family, when strangers were occupying its rooms?
“As you’ve gathered, Lady Averil, we Blaineys are a rather ramshackle lot but we usually fall on our feet.” The Honorable James gave her a charming smile, currying favor as usual.
Rufus sighed. James had really gone too far tonight but as angry as he was, Rufus’s affection for him remained.
When Rufus was a child he lived in a colorless and austere world. His father was often away and his mother found children a bore. It was James who had been his friend and companion. It was James who had brought color and joy into his life, playing wildly imaginative games, dressing up as pirates and soldiers, and one time, when he was so ill they all thought he was going to die, James had sat in his room and read to him and tempted him to eat with little treats. No matter how infuriating and difficult his uncle now was, Rufus still loved him for that.
“Why were you at The Tin Soldier, Lady Averil?” Eustace said, insatiably curious. “You were the only proper lady there, at least I think you were, but I wasn’t allowed into the upstairs rooms. Do your father and mother know where you were?”
Rufus knew he should tell his son to mind his own business, but he was curious, too, and rather wanted to hear what Lady Averil had to say, so he held his tongue.
“Well, my father died when I was a little girl. My mother, too. And . . . my reasons for being at The Tin Soldier are personal, Lord Turrif.”
That only held Eustace up for a moment. “Why are they personal?”
Averil sighed. “Because they are private.”
“Surely you can tell us?” Eustace wriggled closer. “My uncle James was there because he plays cards and loses money, and I went with him because I knew Papa would want someone to keep an eye on him. I knew Papa would find us when he read my note. There”—he wriggled closer still—“now you know why we were there. It’s only polite you tell us why you were there.”
Averil looked to Rufus for help but he pretended to be gazing out of the window at the dark streets, although she could see the quirk of a smile on his thin lips.
She squared her shoulders. “I have a sister,” she said. “I think her name is Rose. At least that is what Mrs. Jakes at The Tin Soldier called her. When I was a little girl my mother . . . went off somewhere. But I saw her again, just the once, before she died. And that was when I saw my sister, too. She was just a baby but I remember her. No one knows what happened to her and I’m trying to find her. That was why I was there tonight.”
Eustace was staring at her with enormous dark eyes. Rufus tried not to smile. His son had a soft heart and Averil’s story had captured his imagination. He could guess what his next words would be.
“We can help you! Find your sister, I mean. Papa is good at finding people.”
Averil smiled at the boy, tucking a heavy strand of fair hair behind her ear. “You are very kind, Lord Turrif, but . . .”
“Call me Eustace.”
“You are very kind, Eustace, but my sister is a secret. I don’t talk about her. And I have a man called Jackson who—”
“Leaves you to fend for yourself in the middle of the East End,” Rufus said mockingly. “My son is right. I can help you, Lady Averil. I am rather adept at finding lost souls.”
