Conspiring with a Rogue (37 page)

“
Let’s go.” Jonathan started toward the door.

“
There’s no need,” Drake muttered. He tried to think of a reason Ramsey would lie about Whitney, but he could not think of one way lying would benefit the man. Happiness sprang up, though he struggled to stop it. What if Whitney truly loved him and not Ramsey? Whatever else was happening, if he had her love, he had everything. His body tingled with an awareness of life that had been lost to him since she had left. “She’s going to tell me what the hell is going on,” Drake said as he strode toward the door.

“
I wouldn’t approach her that way if I were you,” came Ramsey’s voice at Drake’s back.

Drake paused and faced the man. “Why?”

“
She’s running from you, and if you push her, I’ve no doubt she may run so far you’ll never see her again.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Ramsey was probably right. Now it was up to him to figure out why, before it was really too late for them.

“
I think it wise you don’t mention this visit to her,” Jonathan said.

Drake nodded.

“
Is there anyone she’s close to who might be able to help you?”

The very word
help
made Drake’s shoulder’s bunch in agitation. He did not ask for help. To do so would be breaking one of the rules he had built his life, his empire on. “I’ll manage alone.”

“
An incredibly foolish choice,” Ramsey said, coming toward Drake and handing him the nude portrait of Whitney. “Take this.”

“
Why?” Drake’s fingers curved possessively around the painting even as he asked.

“
I’ve a feeling it will be all you have left of her if you don’t ask someone to help you.”

Drake stared at the picture of Whitney, the moisture on his palms loosening his grip. He had survived by becoming everything his father wasn’t. Drake didn’t know if he could even utter a request for help. “Damn it.”

He would give up his entire fortune for her, but his pride…If he sacrificed that, he would not be worthy of her love. He clutched the painting to his chest as he stalked down the stairs and motioned to Danny to release the horses.

Drake bounded on top of the seat, the carriage dipping slightly as Danny jumped on the back. With an idea forming in the back of his mind, he tucked the portrait safely away and drove the carriage toward Rutherford’s home. Drake would ask Rutherford to help Whitney. Technically, the man would be assisting Drake too, but it was a technicality he was willing to live with.

“
Whitney needs help,” Drake burst out as he strode past Rutherford’s butler into the study.

“
I’ve been saying that for years, but no one ever listened,” Rutherford said with a wink. He waved a hand toward the window. “We were just discussing you.”

Drake stopped midstride and followed the direction of Rutherford’s gaze. Lady Audrey and the Duchess of Primwitty stood together on the other side of the room. Perfect. Maybe he would get to the truth faster than he thought. “I’ve been informed by Whitney’s lover that he thinks she loves me.” His heart hammered at his bluntly honest words and the fear that someone may disagree with what he had been told.

Lady Audrey’s eyes rounded with surprise and an amused smile spread across the duchess’s face. “I was wondering if the truth would ever come to light.”

Rutherford slapped his hand on his desk. “Yet another example of me being right and someone”―Rutherford quirked an eyebrow at Drake—“refusing to listen.”

Drake ignored the barb, too happy to exchange sarcastic banner with Whitney’s preening peacock of a cousin.

When Drake failed to take Rutherford’s bait, the man stood and walked toward the sidebar. “I love being right,” he crowed as he picked up a glass.

Rutherford’s footman’s enraged gasp filled the silence. The man shuffled in front of his employer and snatched the crystal decanter that was tilted to pour a drink.

“
My lord, that’s my duty.”

“
Don’t worry, you old goat,” Rutherford said. “I’ve told you before, just because I pour myself one drink doesn’t mean your employment is in jeopardy. That was my father’s rule, not mine. Go tell Stuart to pick out something for me to spy in.”

The footman puffed out his chest and nodded his head regally. “Right away, my lord,” he said, hurrying out of the room.

“
To spy in?” Drake asked as the door clicked shut.

“
Seems it’s necessary.” Rutherford’s gaze flicked to Lady Audrey and the duchess.

Drake didn’t like the way Lady Audrey was twisting her hands or the way the duchess’s smile had been transformed into a fierce frown. He was missing something and someone. “Where’s Whitney?”

“
That’s the question of the hour,” Rutherford said before downing the liquid in his glass. “Seems she’s disappeared.”

“
What?” Panic flooded through Drake. Not again. He could not lose her again.

“
Oh, darling.” The duchess came to stand by him and patted him on the shoulder. “She’s simply gone from her townhome. She sent a note by your coachman—”

“
My coachman?”

“
Dithers.” The duchess shook her head. “Do try and keep up.”

“
Really, Sutherland,” Rutherford chided, clearly enjoying Drake’s discomposure. “Try to stay focused.”

“
I’m focused, damn you.” He was focused on how loving Whitney was driving him slowly mad.

“
Such language in front of the ladies.” Rutherford shook his head. “This is exactly why falling in love is foolish.” His gaze landed on Lady Audrey.

Lady Audrey inhaled sharply beside Drake. He glanced at the woman and gave her a hard stare meant to warn the girl away, but the longing in her eyes told him it was futile. He turned to the duchess. He had enough problems of his own to worry over. Rutherford and Lady Audrey would do what they pleased, whether he interfered or not. “What has my coachman to do with Whitney? He was to take her home.”

“
He did try,” the duchess said. “You can’t fault him.”

Drake shook his head, gritting his teeth in his mounting frustration and impatience. “Of course not. Just tell me exactly what happened.”

The duchess handed Drake a crumpled piece of foolscap and quickly told him what Dithers had relayed to her. Satisfaction exploded inside Drake as he read Whitney’s note begging the duchess to come to her townhome in the morning before he arrived to get her. She did not trust herself to be alone with him.

He grinned. Here, in Whitney’s own handwriting, was proof of her love. Or at the very least, her raging desire for him. For now that would have to do. Filled with guarded happiness, he handed the note to Rutherford.

With a shake of his head, Rutherford pushed it back. “I’ve read it. It smarts my pride to think my own cousin believes I would abandon my role as chaperone in her hour of need.”

“
Your pride, indeed.” The duchess chuckled. “She knows you perfectly. Though she has underestimated me and my willingness to continue to go along with her folly.” The duchess looked Drake in the eye. “I don’t know why she left you, but I swear she loves you. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure the two of you end up together.” The duchess bit her lower lip. “Something I should have done months ago. I’m terribly sorry. I was trying to help when I discovered her leaving.”

“
You discovered her?”

The duchess nodded. “One leg out the door with a plan to flee without telling anyone where she was going or even why. I thought I was helping by sending her to London.” The duchess wrung her hands as she talked. “I thought she would come to her senses. I should have known better. Instead, she became Mr. Wentworth and threatened to disappear forever if I should tell anyone where she was.”

His heart beat heavily. If Whitney loved him, why the hell had she fled with plans to never return? Why would she choose to live her life without him and estranged from everyone else she cared about? He needed answers, and he suspected he needed them before Lillian was found. No doubt finding the woman was the only thing keeping Whitney here.

“
She’s running,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, though everyone nodded in agreement. “I’ll be damned if I know from who or what.” He glanced at all three concerned faces huddled around him. “Any ideas?”

“
Not a one,” Rutherford said.

Lady Audrey and the duchess both shook their heads.

“
I need your help.” Saying the words made Drake tense. “I mean, in order to help her.”

“
Of course,” the duchess replied, knowing sympathy swimming in her eyes.

He did not like being put in this situation. He did not like relying on anyone. But for Whitney, just this once, he would bend his own rules.

Rutherford nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“
Just tell me what to do,” Lady Audrey implored.

Drake ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Rutherford, can you visit your uncle and see if he may know anything that could be a clue as to why she would have left in the first place?”

“
Of course. And as luck would have it, my uncle is in town.” Rutherford drew Lady Audrey toward him. “You might as well come with me, since you really don’t know anyone that Whitney would have confided in.”

Lady Audrey glared at Rutherford and shrugged away from him. “You’re wrong, as usual,” she snapped. “I’ll go talk to Madam Caprice. We’ve become dear friends, and I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to share anything she knows that may help us help Whitney.”

“
You can’t go see a notorious madam by yourself.”

“
I can do anything I wish. You’ve no claim on me, Lord Davenport,” Lady Audrey said swiftly.

“
Excellent plans,” Drake interrupted. Normally he cared about others’ problems, but today his own disastrous life took precedence.

“
That leaves you, Your Grace, and me.”

The duchess squeezed his arm. “I’m not sure who I could talk to, but I can wait at her townhome and keep her there if she returns.”

“
That’s a superb idea. It will allow me to visit some of the other brothels to look for Lillian.” It occurred to him, as he stared at the faces around him, that he had just taken help from three people in the space of a few minutes, and he didn’t feel one bit of the mortification he had always assumed he would. The help was really for Whitney, and that had to be it. He nodded to himself. Of course it was.

Whitney was the first to admit she had undertaken a great deal of stupid things in her life, but this—traipsing about by herself at the dark shipping docks—had to be the most idiotic expedition she had ever embarked upon. But what was she to do? Had she a choice? Certainly not. Madam Brouchard’s tip had led Whitney to Madam Goodchild’s house.

Goodchild, indeed
. Luckily, Madam Goodchild was not so good and had been easily bribed to reveal that a heavily sedated woman fitting Lillian’s description exactly had been retrieved by her “owners.” Whitney ground her teeth as she walked. No person had any right to own another human being. And now someone, no doubt Lord Cadogan, had the audacity to presume he could sell Lillian. Whitney’s stomach turned with anger. Poor Lillian. What must have gone through her mind as she was informed she was to be sold as a slave?

Whitney shuddered. Bless Madam Goodchild’s blunt-hungry soul for eavesdropping on Lillian’s captors. Otherwise, Whitney would not have known to come here and to come fast. She glanced at her watch fob with a groan.
Blasted darkness
. She had no idea if it was already midnight. If it was, the ship would be gone. Drake or Sin could go to the authorities, but what could they prove? A mere madam’s word would mean nothing against a lord’s, and Lillian would be long gone by then.