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His eyes widened when he sew Emma, curled up asleep on the bed, two blankets wrapped around her to calm the chills that had racked her body for nearly an hour.
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered, rubbing a palm across his jaw. “No wonder your message was so urgent” His eyes narrowed as he studied Emma, noting her age, build, and features. “My guess is that this is the girl Royce was searching for—the daughter of Lord Ryder”
“Yes.” Hibbert spoke quietly although Emma showed no signs of stoning. Having endured a week of hell, she'd fallen dead asleep, and was totally unaware of Girard's arrival. “I found her in Maurelle Le Joyau's brothel,” Hibbert continued. “She's on the verge of emotional collapse. That's why I couldn't leave her here alone.”
“Has she spoken to you?”
A terse nod. “All the kidnapped women are at Le Joyau. I'll give you the details. After that, I'll need that help you offered.”
“Consider it done.”
It was nearly 4 a.m . when Emma stirred.
She pushed herself up on one elbow, and for a brief instant, she looked like the innocent young woman she'd been a week ago, before the assassin destroyed her life.
Then reality intruded, and she went rigid, her eyes snapping open to survey her surroundings.
Relief flooded her face when she saw Hibbert sitting in the chair by the desk.
“It wasn't a dream. You really did take me away from there. Thank God.” Her gaze flitted to Girard, who sat on another chair, this one blocking the door against intruders.
She struggled to a sitting position, her brows drawing together in concern.
“It's all right Emma,” Hibbert assured her. “This is Monsieur Girard. He's a friend of Lord Royce's. He lives here in Paris. He's come to help us.”
Emma relaxed. “You're French?”
“Mais oui.” His smile was gentle. “And you're a very strong young woman. You've endured a great deal. But it's over now. Hibbert and I will see to it.”
She managed a small smile. “Thank you.”
Hibbert stood, fetched a tray from the nightstand, and offered it to her. “I had some tea sent up. It's probably cooled off a bit, but I think you should drink it. There are rolls, too. I want you to eat. You've got to regain your strength.”
Emma's lashes lowered as she contemplated the tray on her lap. When they lifted again, there were tears in her eyes. “I hope my father turns out to be as fine a gentleman as you are.”
Hibbert felt an uncustomary surge of sentiment. “Your father is very fortunate to be getting you as a daughter. And, yes, he's a decent man. I think you'll like him. I know he'll be very relieved to learn you're all right.”
A spark of curiosity lit her eyes. “You know the Viscount Ryder?”
“I assist Lord Royce with his work. So, yes, I'm acquainted with the viscount.”
“Will you tell me about him? Later, when all this is over and the other women are also safe?”
Hibbert and Girard exchanged glances. It was no surprise that Emma Martin needed something to cling to. Nor was it a surprise that her thoughts had turned to her sire. He might be a stranger to her, but he was all she had left. What was surprising was that, after all she'd been through, she was caring enough to postpone her own needs and think of others.
Lord Ryder was luckier than he knew. “There's no need to wait until after the rescue,” Hibbert replied. “It's not even dawn. Once Girard and
I have worked out a plan, I'd be pleased to tell you whatever I know about the viscount.”
Some color was beginning to return to her cheeks. “I'm grateful.” She poured herself some tea, took a sip. “What can I tell you that would help?”
''Three things,” Girard responded, r
ising to his feet and pacing about. “First, when is the best time to break into Le Joyau? Should we wait until evening when the women are...” He broke off, gave an awkward cough.
“If s all right, Mr. Girard,” Emma assured him with a quiet dignity that tugged at the heartstrings. ''Thanks to Mr. Hibbert, I was spared being defiled Nonetheless, I lost my innocence at that brothel. Beforehand, actually—when that animal shot my moth-en Yes, the best time to break into Le Joyau is when Maurelle's women are working. Not before midnight, because most of them are still doing their more formal entertaining in one of the parlors. But afterwards, when they've retired to the bedchambers to earn their pay.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Sometime between one and three a.m . That way, you'll avoid those patrons who choose to depart early,” contempt laced her tone, “to return home to their wives.”
Girard nodded, averting his gaze out of some instinctive respect for this decent young woman “Can you think what the best way would be for us to get in?”
