Page 70 of An Inconvenient Duke

“Nothing at all like that.”No, it involved murder, lies, and your husband…Shifting the key to her other palm, Dani held up her injured hand with its bright pink scar across her palm, and chagrin twisted her face. “When the fireworks started, I foolishly rushed outside to view them, tripped, and cut my hand.”All the while being shot at and fleeing for my life…“His Grace insisted that he escort me away to have it immediately tended to.”Only to spend the night ravishing me…“It was quite the evening. Truly.”Truly.

Beatrice frowned. “But His Grace claimed that you’d left because the fireworks had upset you. That you thought you’d heard gunfire. I told my husband that the duke must have been wrong, that you’d never be that silly.”

“No.” She forced a smile. “Never.”

Beatrice let out a hard sigh of relief and smiled. “Thank goodness it wasn’t anything I said. As I told you, it’s been so long since Elise died, and I simply don’t remember anything specific from that time, except how horribly shocked I was. How weallwere, including Hartsham.” Her hands fidgeted with her skirt. “If I gave you any other impression than that, I am sorry for the misunderstanding. That was not at all my intention.”

“Of course not.” Dani was certain it wasn’t. As anxious as the woman was, she would never intentionally implicate her husband. But she’d given away enough that Dani knew for certain that the earl had played a part in Elise’s death. The question now was…how much?

Beatrice glanced apprehensively at the rest of the group to make certain none of the ladies were paying the two of them any mind. “But I’m glad that you brought up Elise, actually.”

Dani’s pulse stuttered. “Oh?”

“I’ve heard about a girl,” she whispered. “One from the brothels, who needs to be rescued.”

Dani bit back a guilty groan. “Beatrice, please—”

“Her name is Jenny,” Beatrice rushed out. “She was drugged and taken from her family in Manchester, right from the mill where she worked and with the blessing of the mill’s owner, just a few days ago. She’s going to be forced into prostitution at a brothel in Seven Dials called the House of Delights. She needs your help.”

“We can’t. Nightingale doesn’t have—”

“Elise would have rescued her.”

The accusation pierced Dani like a blade, and her wounded hand went to her chest to physically press down the swirling emotions aching inside her. Yes, exactly the kind of girl Elise would have rescued…only to die doing so. To take that kind of risk—she could never ask the other women in the network to put their lives in danger like that.

“We don’t vanish women from the brothels. You know that,” she said as firmly as she could, only to sound incredibly weak to her own ears. “It’s too dangerous. And if this is the same place where Elise was working to rescue the women, then…” Then it was also deadly.

“It isn’t. Elise vanished girls from brothels far more dangerous than this one.” Beatrice looked offended. “I wouldneverask you to do something like that. Elise shouldn’t have done that either.”

“And your husband?” She fought to keep the anger and bitterness from her voice. “What part is he playing in this?”

“None at all. I heard about the girl from Elaine Slater.”

Unease pricked at the backs of her knees. “Mrs. Slater knows about Nightingale?”

“No. She knows that I still have acquaintances in the mills in Manchester and thought I could help. That’s why she mentioned the girl to me. Her husband returned from his trip to the midlands and told her that he’d heard rumors about this girl. Elaine knows nothing about Nightingale.”

Knowing that Hartsham had nothing to do with this didn’t ease the sting of frustration and helplessness at what Beatrice was asking of her. “Nightingale personally removes every woman to make certain nothing goes wrong when she leaves, and we can’t do that at a brothel. We simply don’t have access to the women when they’re behind those walls.”

A desperate worry distorted Beatrice’s features. “Not even if you send inside one of your hired men to fetch her out for you? Surely no one would notice a man like that entering the house and asking about a specific girl. Once she’s away from the brothel, you can vanish her as usual.” Her eyes turned pleading. “I can’t do this myself, Danielle, or I would. I’ve never done a vanishing. I don’t have access to the network or its resources—I wouldn’t even know how to hire men like the ones you use. I need Nightingale’s help.”

Beatrice’s plan might work. Dani could ask Jenkins to do it and pay him to be responsible for every aspect of the vanishing, from start to finish, from the time he removed the girl from the brothel until he took her out of London and back to Manchester. She’d never asked this of him before, but he’d been working with her long enough that she trusted him to accomplish it. And keep his silence.

But there were lines she’d sworn never to cross, and if she attempted to rescue this girl, she wouldn’t simply be stepping over that line—she’d be obliterating it. The need to protect the network warred inside her with the desire to help, just as it did with every vanishing lately.

“I—I have to think about it,” she dodged answering. “I want to help, but…”

“There isn’t time. That’s why I’m coming to you now.” Beatrice grabbed her arm and held her tightly, not letting her walk away. “She’s been auctioned off.”

“Auctioned?” A sickening hollow began to burn in the pit of Dani’s stomach. Selling virgins to the highest bidder…an all too common and depraved practice. Yet it still shocked her.

“For her virginity.” Her expression darkened with disgust and helplessness. “She’s scheduled to be delivered in only a few days. Shehasto be rescued before then.”

In so little time? Impossible! “I can’t hire someone that quickly.” Or make proper arrangements for the girl’s disappearance once she was out of the brothel. Every bit of this would be impromptu, and Dani had never allowed that to happen before. She’d always protected the people who had worked with her and the women they’d rescued by meticulously planning everything down to the last detail, planning that often took weeks. “Beatrice, what you’re asking—”

“I know. But, Danielle, she’s only twelve.” She swiped a hand at her eyes. “The same age as my daughter. How do I look at Anne every day, knowing that there is another girl out there, just like her, who is going to be raped? As a mother, how can I not try to save her?” Her watery gaze fixed accusingly on Dani. “How can you not?”

Guilt seared through her. “I—I have to think about it,” she repeated, far more softly this time.