She glanced around as the motherly Nanny Sprockett came bustling up, a smile creasing her comfortable face.
“It’ll be lunchtime in a little while,” Nanny Sprockett informed her charges. “Perhaps we can play Spillikins until then.”
“Yay!” The boys raced off to fetch what was presently their favorite game.
Therese exchanged an understanding smile with Nanny Sprockett and made her escape.
On reaching the front hall, she noted that, as usual, Portland had left the day’s mail stacked on a silver salver on the hall table. She went forward, intending to collect whatever invitations had been delivered, only to see, prominently displayed on the top of the pile, an envelope with the name “Alverton” boldly scrawled across the front in harsh black ink, with the word “Urgent” angled across one corner and underlined three times.
Therese reached out and picked up the missive, absentmindedly registering the poor quality of the paper. Normally, she wouldn’t dream of opening a letter addressed to Devlin, but…even though it had been a long time since she’d seen Martin’s handwriting, she was as certain as she could be that the inscription was his penmanship.
She stared at the letter, then swung on her heel and walked to Devlin’s study. As she’d expected, given Portland had left the letters in the hall, Devlin wasn’t there.
She walked to the bellpull and tugged it, then went to stand by the desk. When Portland arrived, she waved the letter so the butler could see which one it was. “Did his lordship say when he expected to be back?”
“No, my lady. Indeed, the earl said that he couldn’t be sure when he would be home, other than that he anticipated joining you for dinner.”
“I see.” She tapped the letter against her fingertips. “I don’t suppose he mentioned where he was going?” If it was to one of his clubs, she could send the letter with a footman.
“He said he was going to a business meeting, my lady. Unfortunately, he didn’t mention where.”
She grimaced. A business meeting could be held anywhere in London. Increasingly concerned, she stared, frowning, at the letter.
Portland cleared his throat. “I take it the letter is the source of some anxiety, my lady.”
It wasn’t exactly a question, but still staring at the envelope, she replied, “I strongly suspect it’s from my brother Martin.”
“The one who only recently returned to England, ma’am?”
Trust Portland to put his finger on the point that most worried her. “Exactly.” Speaking slowly, she went on, “It’s possible Martin’s in some sort of trouble. I really can’t imagine why else he would writeurgentlyto Alverton.”
Portland drew himself up. “I see your point, ma’am.” The butler’s voice gentled. “Perhaps, given the possibility of such extenuating circumstances, it might be best were you to open the note. Just in case.”
With every word of their exchange, Therese’s anxiety had been mounting. Without further ado, she picked up Devlin’s letter knife, turned the envelope over, inserted the knife’s tip beneath the anonymous red wax seal, and with a twist of her wrist, broke it.
She set down the knife and unfolded the note and read.
She scanned to halfway down, then hauled in a breath and went back to the top of the missive and forced herself to read every word.
That didn’t help.
By the time she reached the end of the note, her mind was awhirl.
Lowering the letter, barely able to believe the message therein, she said, “Martin writes that he’s being held by the owner of an establishment called Gentleman Jim’s, which is located in a lane off Pall Mall, just past Waterloo Place, near Haymarket. Apparently, not being able to recognize him by sight, the owner and his crew are refusing to believe who Martin is, and therefore, the owner is refusing to accept Martin’s IOU and is, instead, insisting that he pays all monies due before they will release him!”
She raised her head and stared at Portland. “Some blackguards are holding my little brother to ransom!Ransom—in London!”
Her temper surged, and she set her lips. “Nonsense!” She narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
She focused on Portland. “Please order the town carriage to be brought around immediately. And I’ll need my pelisse, bonnet, and reticule—at once!”
“Ah…” Portland wavered.
Therese put steel into her voice. “Atonce, Portland! I cannot risk waiting for Alverton to come home. Who knows what these blackguards might do if no one responds to Martin’s plea?”
Unable to answer that, Portland bowed and hurried off.
Therese read the letter again. “Money—we might need money to pay the debt.” Taking the letter with her, she ran for the stairs. Luckily, Devlin had always been generous with funds. She rushed into her room and crossed to her dressing table. She tossed Martin’s letter on the top, extracted a key from its hiding place behind the mirror, unlocked the central drawer, and rifled through the contents. She retrieved a bundle of notes secured with ribbon and turned as Parker came toward her, holding her pelisse and her reticule.
