The Emperor's Conspiracy (2 page)

“Certainly, Miss Raven.” Her hostess turned toward her.

Charlotte drew her away from Frethers and, tucking her arm through the other woman’s, murmured in her ear.

“Could we go to my chamber? No one will interrupt us there.”

“Can we not talk here, Miss Raven? I have so many guests …”

“Please, my lady. I think you will very much want to hear what I have to say, and want to keep it as private as possible.”

Charlotte wondered what secrets Lady Holliday had that she blanched at her words and then gave a short, tight nod, allowing herself to be led upstairs to Charlotte’s bedroom.

“I’m sorry to be so melodramatic.” Charlotte walked to the window, leaving her hostess standing by the closed door of her
small guest chamber. “Not many people know what I’m about to tell you, and believe me, I do not tell it lightly. However, I saw a look on Frethers’s face when he spoke of having your sons to visit, and that look persuaded me I must share the full story, so that you are never tempted to leave them alone with him. Ever.”

Lady Holliday gasped. “This is about Frethers? I thought—” She stopped abruptly and sat down on the armchair in a corner of the room. “You know something … bad about Lord Frethers?”

Charlotte nodded. “When I was four years old, my mother, who was a rookery whore, died.”

Charlotte made sure she was looking at Lady Holliday as she said it, and she saw the surprise on her hostess’s face. But the lady didn’t bluster, and she didn’t leave, so perhaps Charlotte’s instincts were right. They often were.

“She was very ill, my mother, and I can only imagine what she died of. The thing was, she was barely cold in her bed when the other women in our tenement began talking about how much they could sell me for. There was apparently a demand for very small girls at brothels. For men with … peculiar tastes.”

“Oh.” Lady Holliday could not help her exclamation, sitting rigid in her chair, her back ramrod stiff.

“I wasn’t too keen on being sold, as you can imagine.” Charlotte realized she was gripping her hands, and forced them to relax. “I stole some boys’ clothes off a washing line, dirtied my face, and found work as a chimney sweep’s boy.
Charlie, I called myself.” She smiled. Shrugged. “Not that I kept my gender a secret. My employer didn’t mind, so long as his clients didn’t know. Some didn’t care, but others objected to girls working in their chimneys. I didn’t grow as fast as the boys, which he liked, and while he called me a lad, and dressed and treated me like the others, he knew I was a girl.”

“You were a sweep?” Lady Holliday’s voice was incredulous, and Charlotte looked down at her sky blue silk dress, touched the pile of dark curls on her head, and nodded. “Hardly seems possible, doesn’t it?”

She sat on the edge of her bed.

“When I was twelve, or thereabouts, I got stuck in a chimney at the home of Lady Howe. My master wanted to light a fire under me, to force me out, and Lady Howe wouldn’t hear of it. So my master packed up and left me to her. I’ve been warm, safe, and cared for ever since.”

“An amazing story, Miss Raven.” Lady Holliday leaned back in her chair. There was no sign of scorn or disbelief on her face. “But what has this to do with Lord Frethers?”

“I needed to tell you my background, so you would believe the story I’m about to tell you of Frethers.” Charlotte got up and began to pace, running her fingers along the pale yellow wallpaper.

“Once, when I was up a chimney, I popped out into a fireplace on the second floor of a mansion. The room I’d arrived in was Lord Frethers’s bedroom, and he was sitting in an armchair … pleasuring himself.”

Charlotte looked sidelong at Lady Holliday, hoping she
wasn’t the kind of woman who affected horror at blunt talking, but she did nothing but incline her head for Charlotte to continue.

“When he caught sight of me, he leaped to his feet, hands still on his … er … nethers, and said something about my being a gift from above.”

Lady Holliday made a strangled sound.

“I know,” Charlotte agreed. She sat on the bed.

“Anyway, I tried to back into the fireplace, and get into the chimney, but it was a tight fit and he was able to get hold of my foot and haul me out. He grabbed the top of my shorts and jerked them down.” Charlotte thought back to that moment again, and managed to laugh. “It was the one and only time being a girl was ever to my advantage. The look on the old lecher’s face when he saw I wasn’t a boy.”

She sobered up at Lady Holliday’s expression. Decided not to tell her about the beating she got from Frethers afterward.

“Don’t let your boys within ten foot of the old goat, Lady Holliday. Don’t even let them in his sight.”

“G
eoffrey.” Emma Holliday claimed her husband with a sweet smile from the men he stood with, but she dug her fingernails into his arm like claws as she dragged him off into her private drawing room.

“What’s the matter?” He shook off her hold, rubbing where she’d gripped him. His quick frown and wary eyes told her
more than words how far things had slipped without her realizing.

“Lord Frethers says you told him he could take the boys with him after the weekend.”

The uncomfortable way his eyes cut away from hers started a chill deep in her core.

“My God.” There was a faint roaring in her ears, and she held out a hand to steady herself on her portmanteau. “You
know
.”

“I have no idea what you’re wittering on about, Em. Know what?”

He must be very sure she couldn’t know, or he was a far better liar than she realized. She had a terrible feeling it was the latter.

“Know that Frethers is a predatory lech who molests little boys like James, Ned, and Harry whenever he can.”

“Where did you hear that?” he asked, aghast.

“One of our house guests overheard Frethers telling me you’d said he could have the boys for a few days, and told me all about it.”

“What, rumor and speculation?” Geoffrey scoffed.

“Oh no.” Emma shook her head, her heart still trying to come to grips with the evidence before her. “This guest had a run-in with Frethers at the age of twelve. I was listening to a firsthand account, and I know every word was true.”

“Who is the fellow? I’ll tell you if he’s sound or not.”

“I don’t need you to tell me who I can and can’t trust,” she said sharply. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Your own children, Geoffrey? We can’t survive this.”

“What do you mean?” His face was working, trying to find outraged innocence, and failing.

“What deal did you make with the devil?” Anger kept her upright and together. Her boys needed her and she would not fail them. “When I told you to put an end to that other business, I had no idea you’d go off and find some even worse way out of the debts you’ve managed to accumulate.”

Again, he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“Oh heaven help us,” she almost moaned. “You didn’t end the other business, did you? You’ve gone ahead with it,
and
you’ve made a deal with Frethers.”

“We’re on our skids, dear girl,” Geoffrey said sadly. “About to reach the end of the purse strings.”

“What have you done? Why are we having this weekend if we have no money?”

“Already planned it, hadn’t we? I’d hoped the investment I made a few months ago would pay off. I backed a merchant ship to the East, and the bloody ship went down off the Cape of Storms. I’d put everything into that ship, Em. Everything.”

Emma drew herself even higher. “So what was Frethers going to do?”

“Clear our debts, loan me a little for a new investment. I didn’t think he’d touch them, maybe just look at them in an improper way, but not touch them.”

“You’re so used to lying, you’re lying to yourself.” Emma moved past him, to the door.

“What are you going to do?” His voice was plaintive, almost childlike. It shocked her.

“Leave with my sons. Don’t try to come near us, Geoffrey. Selling your own children to a child molester is not something I can forgive.” She stared him up and down. “I’ve loved you for the last eight years. Through the gambling, and the poor investments. The way you ran through my dowry chasing this rainbow or that. But the moment you refused to look me in the eye when I mentioned Frethers, that love died. You killed it.”

She spun on her heel and wondered where on earth she was going to go.

3

“
I
apologize for disturbing you, but I wanted to say goodbye and thank you for your hospitality, my lady.” Charlotte stood in the withdrawing room, uncomfortably aware she’d called her hostess from her bedchamber, and that this was not a good time. Nevertheless, good manners demanded it.

“You’re leaving?” Lady Holliday asked faintly, a very different woman from the vivacious beauty Charlotte had drawn aside only a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry. I find I cannot face a weekend in the company of Lord Frethers, pretending to be polite.”

“Perhaps …” Lady Holliday’s voice was uncertain, desperate. “Would it be a huge imposition to ask you to take me and my children with you to London, Miss Raven?” Lady Holliday twisted her hands. “I need to travel there as a matter of urgency. We’ll be ready to go within the hour.”

Charlotte stood very still. Her eyes widened, and she saw
the flush on Lady Holliday’s face as the astute woman watched her come to the inevitable conclusion.

“Of course.” Charlotte forced her voice to be even and strong. “You will be most welcome. I can take you wherever you like.”

“Thank you. If you could take me to my brother’s house in town, I will be in your debt.” She paused for a moment. “That is, even more in your debt than I already am.”

“It is the easiest of favors.” Charlotte gave her a smile.

“My lady.”

Charlotte looked up and saw the Hollidays’ butler standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“Yes, Irving?”

“I need a word, my lady.”

Emma Holliday gave him a nod. “Well, I must complete my packing. Please excuse me. I won’t keep you waiting long.”

Charlotte inclined her head and walked out of the room. As she passed him, she saw the butler’s relief that he could speak with his mistress alone.

Emma Holliday’s abrupt departure from her own home would set tongues wagging and stir up all manner of speculation. She would know this, but she still chose to leave. Charlotte could only imagine she felt she had no choice.

This was most definitely not a happy home.

“W
e’re going to stay with my uncle.” Harry, the youngest of the three Holliday boys, had the dark hair and wide hazel eyes of his mother.

All three boys did. Only the eldest, James, had the look of his father in his face, but still he had his mother’s hair and eyes.

“So I hear, Master Harold. Aren’t you lucky?” Charlotte leaned forward to bring her face closer to his and rested her elbows on her knees.

“We don’t know if we’re lucky or not,” Ned, the middle boy, muttered.

“You don’t? Why not?”

From the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw Lady Holliday’s face take on a rigor of horror at what her child might be about to say, but it was too late to stop him.

“Well, the only one of us who’s ever seen him is James, and only when he was a baby. He doesn’t remember him, or anything. Uncle Edward doesn’t like my daddy, so we never visit him, and he won’t visit us.”