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“You did,” Graham replied, “but why not just send a footman to do your bidding?”
“Because I want this matter resolved as quickly as possible,” Madalene replied. “I will speak to the men in charge and petition for Edith’s release.”
Her butler sighed. “Is there anything that I can say to change your mind?”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid not.”
“Then I shall be waiting up for your return,” Graham said. “If you aren’t home by midnight, I will send for the constable.”
“Thank you.”
As Graham went to open the door, he remarked, “Mrs. Foster will be furious when she discovers you went out this evening.”
“Most likely,” Madalene agreed, “but I choose not to dwell on that.”
Graham held open the door. “I took the liberty of speaking to the driver and footmen. I informed them of the clandestine nature of this errand and ordered them to remain vigilant.”
“I don’t know what I would do without you, Graham,” Madalene said, hoping her voice conveyed her sincerity.
The lines around his eyes crinkled. “Let’s hope we never find out, shall we?”
With a parting glance, Madalene exited the townhouse and headed for the waiting coach. She stepped inside and smoothed out her gown. The coach jerked forward, and she took a deep breath to soothe her growing nerves.
She didn’t know why she was particularly nervous. She would go into the gambling hall, speak to the man in charge, and pay Edith’s debt. Then Edith would be released, and everything would be as it should. So why did it feel too easy?
Glancing out the window, Madalene watched as they started driving through the unfashionable part of Town. The buildings darkened, men in tattered clothing were loitering on the pavement, and the pungent smell of excrement grew increasingly stronger.
Reaching into her reticule, Madalene removed a handkerchief that had been doused with rosewater. She brought it up to her nose and took in the scent. Problem solved, she thought. Now, on to the next problem.
The coach came to a stop in front of a nondescript brick building. There was no sign hanging above the door identifying the establishment, and the front windows were dark, making it appear as if the building were empty.
The footman put the step down and opened the door. “We have arrived,” he informed her as he assisted her out of the coach.
“This is the Queen’s Gambling Hall?” she questioned.
“It is,” he confirmed. “You go through the main door and you will come to another set of doors that lead to the gambling hall.”
“I understand.”
“Would you like for me to go with you?”
Madalene met his gaze. “Are women generally escorted by men in the gambling hall?”
“No, Miss,” the footman acknowledged. “But they are usually here for a very different reason.”
Squaring her shoulders, Madalene said, “I will do this on my own.”
“We will remain here until you return,” the footman informed her.
Madalene acknowledged his remark with a tip of her head before she approached the main door. She reached down and turned the handle. The door opened, and she stepped into a dark entry hall. The sound of men’s voices could be heard drifting down the hall.
She followed the noise until it grew increasingly louder. Stopping outside of a set of double doors, she placed her hand on the handle and turned it.
As Madalene stepped inside, she was astonished to see that the hall was filled to capacity. Round tables were set up strategically throughout the room with solemn-looking gentlemen surrounding them. The acidic smell of cigar smoke dominated the space as women, wearing gowns with scandalously low necklines, walked around the room delivering drinks.
No one gave her any heed as she stayed by the door. Her eyes scanned the room as she looked for someone who appeared to be in charge.
The door opened, bumping her further into the room.
