Page 7 of A Duchess Untouched

Cathy gasped audibly, her eyes bulging.

“You cannot do that, Selina! What will your husband say if he returns to find his homeless father-in-law in his ancestral home? Do you think you can do it without his express permission?”

“Do you believe my husband is still interested in his ancestral home, Cathy? He has not set foot in that house for four years! In truth, he would not even know if I began selling the paintings and sculptures, or even the floorboards. Our only connection is through the allowance he sends me. So, where can I find Papa?”

“Papa?” Madeline echoed, sighing. “More likely, he is haunting the gaming hells for a means to regain anything. After all, he lost everything and is desperate. A possible place would be The Red Lion.”

“Well, then,” Selina said. “I am going to find him.”

“Selina!” Madeline exclaimed. “A lady of your station should never visit such a place. It is filthy and dangerous! You will find uncouth men trying to find their next coin or anyone they can intimidate.”

“Listen. I cannot remain hiding in one of the many rooms of Wentley House while Papa lives on the streets,” Selina retorted. “I had best make use of my marriage. I have been helping so many strangers at my charity. If I cannot help my own father, I should be a complete hypocrite.”

“Please promise me you will be careful.” Cathy took Selina’s hand in hers. “Grandmama will have an apoplexy if she learns of this.”

“I promise.” Selina squeezed her hand back. “Stop treating me like a child. I may be the youngest, but I know how to look after myself.”

Selina decided she had to act on her plans immediately. She said goodbye to her sisters, nephews, and nieces and headed out in a carriage to The Red Lion, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders.

On her way there, she could already see the deplorable conditions her papa often subjected himself to. The grand, clean facades of fancy townhouses gave way to houses covered in soot and coal dust. The fresh air turned into a harsh stench. Selina nearly changed her mind, but she kept going.

By the time the carriage halted at The Red Lion, Selina’s heart was hammering in her chest. The place was just as her sisters had warned her: filthy and dangerous.

The building was imposing in its own way, with boarded-up windows and a heavy oak door. It seemed to block out the world, even as it continued to invite men to enter.

“Wait here,” she instructed her coachman.

The man had gone pale the moment he understood where they were headed, and he did not move to open the door for her. “Your Grace, I cannot let you go in there alone. If His Grace ever learned that I allowed it—”

“You will not be blamed. This is my doing, not yours.” Selina’s tone left no room for argument, though her hands trembled beneath her cloak. “I will not be long. If I am not out within a quarter of an hour, you may fetch someone. But you will wait here, and you will not follow me inside.”

The coachman’s jaw worked, clearly unhappy, but he dipped his head. “As you say, Your Grace.”

As she approached the entrance, a massive man blocked her path. He was tall and broad, with a protruding chest. His nose was crooked, as if he had broken it in an old fight, and he watched her with yellowing eyes as he chewed on his cigar.

“Move along, lady,” he grunted, his eyes scanning her from her face to her expensive cloak. “You don’t belong ‘ere.”

“Let me pass,” she replied as haughtily as she could, even though the man terrified her. “I am looking for my father, Mr. Harleigh Quinten.”

The man spluttered a wet laugh, and Selina could not help but step back. “We got lots of fathers and husbands in there, love. None of ‘em want their daughters and women dragging ‘em home in front of the other men. Go back to your pretty house… if you still have one!”

Selina pressed her lips into a determined line. Then, she reached into her reticule and pulled out a heavy gold coin. She held it between two fingers so that the doorman could see it clearly. Maintaining her gaze, she declared, “I am going inside because you are going to let me.”

The man’s beady eyes focused on the gold before he roughly swiped it off her hand. “Don’t say I did not warn ye, lady. It ain’t pleasant in there.”

Still, she forged on, pushing the heavy oak door open and stepping inside. As soon as the door opened, she was hit by the suffocating scent of tobacco smoke, cheap liquor, and unwashed bodies.

The place would have been large otherwise, but its numerous tables and the crowd that moved around filled most of the space. Patrons stood shoulder to shoulder, shadows falling on their desperate faces. Some clutched coins, while others rifled through their cards. The smell of sweat was overpowering, making Selina’s nose involuntarily scrunch.

As Selina walked through the crowd, her hood slipped down. A hush spread through the nearest cluster of men. They turned to face her, watching her with predatory eyes. Her skin crawled, but she knew she had to stay there if she wanted to find her father.

“Excuse me! Has anyone seen Mr. Harleigh Quinten?” she called out.

Somehow, she kept her voice steady. She asked again, but no one answered. Her eyes scanned the crowded room, but her father was nowhere to be seen. He would have said something. He would have tried to get her out of the gaming hell. At least she hoped he would.

Before Selina could walk back toward the entrance, three men pulled away from a gaming table and approached her.

“It looks like ye’re lost, lady,” a lean man with sour breath commented, stepping into her path. “Or perhaps you’ve found yer way.”