Lord Millerton shook his head, his hand now firmly on Madame Bereford’s shoulder so that she could not move without him being aware of it.
“This cargo, then,” he said, speaking to Lord Chesterfield. “You brought people to England, did you not? People that Madame Bereford had arranged to be brought here.”
Madame Bereford made to say something but Lord Millerton pushed down hard on her shoulder and she glared up at him, her mouth tight and angry.
“Yes,” Lord Chesterfield muttered, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. “It was an excellent way to bring in coin, of course, for a high price is paid for the transport of ladies and gentlemen, particularly if they are to be brought in without anyone knowing of their presence here.”
Lord Millerton glanced towards Bridgette, then to Lord Windsor, Lord Hearst and then to Lord Lexington who, thus far, had said nothing at all. She remembered what the League had been told about the ships who came to the docks, and how those who came from the ships were dressed as crewmen, so that no-one could tell one from another.
“Wait a moment,” Lord Lexington said, slowly. “You mean to say that the people you brought into England, you knew nothing of them?”
Lord Chesterfield nodded but did not look up.
“Then they could have been anyone,” Lord Lexington said, darkly. “Madame Bereford, tell us of these people.” His tone was hard, his eyes like steel as he glared at her. “You have already told us that you brought Miss Sarah here. Am I to surmise that more of your ladies are from France?”
Madame Bereford tilted her head, her smile a little coy. “Perhaps.”
“And the rest?”
Madame Bereford said nothing, her eyes looking away from Lord Lexington, ignoring him completely.
“The rest came off the ship as crewmen,” Lord Chesterfield said, slowly, as Madame Bereford drew in a sharp breath, narrowing her eyes at him. “I do not know where they went or what became of them.”
Bridgette looked sharply at Lord Chesterfield, an idea suddenly hitting her. “Did you ever take any of this ‘cargo’ back to France?” she asked, as Lord Chesterfield slowly lifted his gaze to hers. “Did you have any cause to do such a thing?”
Lord Chesterfield swallowed hard, looked to Madame Bereford who, Bridgette noticed, had gone a shade of white.
“Yes,” he said, heavily. “I have had to do so, on occasion.”
Bridgette looked sharply at Lord Millerton, seeing the color drain from his face as he began to understand.
“Then Madame Bereford, you have brought spies to England,” Bridgette said, hoarsely. “You have had them return to France with what they have learned, and then brought them in anew. And you have used Lord Chesterfield and Lord Cambleton to do it.”
It took a moment but, after a breath, Madame Bereford let out such a loud, furious laugh that it took everyone’s breath away.
“How foolish,” she crowed, laughing hard at Bridgette’s words. “Lord Cambleton knew precisely what he was doing. He came to me, approached me and made the suggestion that we might work together!” She laughed again, and Bridgette saw Lord Millerton’s hand tighten on Madame Bereford’s shoulder. “Lord Cambleton wanted to be more than just a mere baron. He wanted more wealth than he had, and I wanted more girls for my house.” She smiled cruelly. “It seems we were meant to work together.”
Lord Millerton lifted Madame Bereford without warning, so that she stumbled as he pushed her forward, out from her chair and towards Lord Hearst.
“Take her,” he said, hoarsely, as Lord Hearst took Madame Bereford’s arm. “Take her to Lord Watt. He will know what to do.”
Bridgette watched the smile slide form Madame Bereford’s face. What had she expected? She surely had not thought that simply because she was born in another country that she would be free of the consequences of what she had done?
“I am sure that you know what the punishment is for traitors,” Lord Hearst muttered, as Lord Lexington fell into step on the other side of Madame Bereford. “You shall face the highest punishment our Prince can mete out.”
“Although,” Lord Lexington added, “you might save your life by telling us all that you know.”
Madame Bereford said nothing, her head still held high as she was led from the room. The room fell silent and Bridgette saw the alarm written in Lord Millerton’s eyes.
“What has she done?” he said, hoarsely, as Lord Windsor and Lady Madeline drew near. “Just how many have been brought here, because of what she has done?”
Lord Windsor let out a long breath. “We can
not know,” he said, honestly. “But at least we are aware of it now.”
Lord Millerton shook his head, running one hand through his hair. “We have a good deal of work to do now,” he said, speaking of the League. “We must find every single one that Madame Bereford has brought in.”
Reaching down, Lord Windsor grasped Lord Chesterfield and pulled him, whimpering, out of his chair. No longer was there the proud gentleman standing before them, laughing and overly bold but instead there stood a broken, ashamed man who held not even the smallest amount of respect.