“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Mrs. March retorted, leaning forward so that her face was very close to Francesca’s. She seemed to tremble with malevolence. “What are you but a whore’s daughter? A bastard!”
Francesca stared back at her, and Sebastian could see she was shocked.
But her lack of response only made Mrs. March more volatile. Her voice went on and on, and she didn’t seem able to stop. “Why are you given such privileges? Why do we have to do as you say? ‘Yes, miss,’ ‘no, miss.’ It’s not as if you’re any better than the rest of us. Why should you have money to spend on new clothes and pretty things? It isn’t fair!”
“You have overstepped the mark,” Francesca whispered, pale and trembling with emotion.
“Oh dear, have I?” she mocked. “But it’s the truth, isn’t it? Your mother is a high-class whore and your father—” but as if realizing at last that she really had gone too far, Mrs. March closed her mouth.
But it was too late. “What do you know of my father?” Francesca demanded.
“Nothing. I know nothing about him.”
She was lying. Sebastian smelled it, and her fear. Her hatred of Francesca had led her to say far too much, and now she was frightened.
“Is it true, Mrs. March,” he said, “that you’re one of Mrs. Slater’s girls?”
A tremor seemed to run through her, under her skin.
Francesca was too shocked to notice. “Mrs. Slater! How could you be associated with that dreadful woman? How could anyone?”
“What dreadful woman is this?” asked a male voice.
Mrs. March gave a faint cry of relief and turned, almost stumbling in her eagerness to reach his side. “Mr. Tremaine, sir,” she babbled. “I’m so glad you’re here.” And she cast a look back over her shoulder toward Sebastian, a look that told him that she was saved and now everything would be all right.
Chapter 23
“Uncle William.”
Francesca didn’t move, watching him warily. After their earlier clash in the doorway to this very room, she was not eager to welcome his arrival on the scene. Certainly not as eager as Mrs. March.
“Mr. Tremaine,” Mrs. March said with all the delight of a school tattletale, “this man is trying to make out I have done something wrong. Tell him to leave. I won’t be questioned in this way, I won’t!”
“Hush, Mrs. March,” William said with a frown. “I can’t say I’m particularly happy at being woken at this hour. What is this all about? Francesca?”
“Why are you asking her?” Mrs. March burst out.
William looked at her. She seemed to recollect herself, falli
ng silent.
“Uncle William,” Francesca said, “this is Mr. Thorne.”
William gave Sebastian the full force of his disapproving stare. “Oh? And who is Mr. Thorne? What are you doing here at this time of night with my niece? Explain yourself, sir!”
If Uncle William thought to intimidate Sebastian as he did others, then he was mistaken. Francesca watched with enjoyment as Sebastian smiled and answered confidently. “Oh, I intend to, Mr. Tremaine. I have been hired by Madame Aphrodite to find the woman who kidnapped her daughters.”
William gave a grunt of amusement. “Have you now? Bit late for that, isn’t it?” His gaze strayed to Mrs. March and back again. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out looking?”
Mrs. March gave a dutiful laugh, but her heart wasn’t really in it.
“I’m here because I think it possible that Mrs. March can help us in our search.”
William looked surprised. “My housekeeper is connected to Mrs. Slater? I hardly think—”
“There has been a spy in Aphrodite’s Club, informing Mrs. Slater of what goes on there. I suppose Mrs. Slater was always aware that one day Aphrodite would begin to search, and she wanted to be sure she knew in advance. We have captured that spy, Mr. Tremaine.”
“Well, then, if you have her, what do you want here?”