The amount he’d paid had been another revelation. He knew how much it cost to run his various houses and to meet his mother’s milliners’ and dressmakers’ bills; how Alicia was managing on the frugal sum she’d borrowed was beyond his comprehension. Her gowns alone would cost more.
Yet King had assured him Alicia was not in debt to anyone else. Understanding what had occasioned his query, he’d added that he, too, had thought the amount far too small, but when recently he’d dined with them, he’d detected not the slightest frugality or lack.
Tony now understood that the face the Carrington household presented to the world was a facade—a superbly crafted one with no cracks. Behind the facade, however…he’d recalled the lack of servants and the simple but hearty fare Maggs had described.
Like crumpets and jam for tea.
Alicia’s payment to King, capital plus interest, would fall due in July. Her life would have changed dramatically by then, but if she recalled the debt and inquired, as both he and King fully expected she would, King had agreed to simply say that an anonymous benefactor had paid the sum. She would guess it was he; he was looking forward to her attempts to make him admit it.
Lips curving as he entered Lady Carmichael’s ballroom, Tony inwardly basked in a self-satisfied glow.
He made his bow to her ladyship, then joined the throng. The ball was in full swing, the ballroom a collage of silks and satins of every hue swirling about the black splashes of gentlemen’s evening coats. He looked around, expecting to locate Adriana’s court somewhere along the side of the room.
Instead, he saw Geoffrey Manningham, shoulders propped against the wall, his gaze, distinctly black, fixed on him.
Instincts pricking, he strolled the short distance to Geoffrey’s side. Met his scowl with a questioning frown.
“Where are they?” Geoffrey growled. “Do you know?”
Tony blinked. Satisfaction fled. He turned to survey the room, but didn’t see the crowd. “My information was that they’d be here.”
“You can take it from me they aren’t.”
The tension in Geoffrey’s voice, in his stance, had effectively communicated itself to him. Tony’s mind raced; he tried to imagine what might have happened. Could Maggs have been wrong? He looked at Geoffrey. “How did you know they’d be here?”
Geoffrey looked at him as if that was a supremely silly question. “Adriana told me, of course.”
That raised the stakes. The sisters had expected to be there, and were now seriously late.
A contained commotion by the door drew their attention. A footman was whispering urgently to the butler, proffering a note. The butler took it, straightened magisterially, then turned and surveyed the guests.
His gaze stopped on Tony.
The butler swept forward, not running, yet as fast as one such as he might go. He bowed before Tony. “My lord, this message was just delivered by one of your lordship’s footmen. I understand the matter is urgent.”
Tony lifted the folded note from the salver. “Thank you.”
Flicking it open, he rapidly scanned the contents, then glanced at the butler. “Please summon my carriage immediately.”
The butler bowed. “Of course, my lord.” He withdrew.
Tony opened the note again, held it so Geoffrey, looking over his shoulder, could read it, too.
The writing was a feminine scrawl, the hand holding the pen clearly agitated. Adriana had been too overset even to bother with any salutation.
My lord, I don’t know who else might help us and Maggs assures me this is the right thing to do. Just as we were about to set out for the Carmichaels’, officers from the Watch arrived, along with a Bow Street Runner. They’ve taken Alicia away.
The writing broke off; a blob of ink was smeared across the page. Then Adriana continued: Please help! We don’t know what to do.
She’d signed it simply Adriana.
Geoffrey swore. “What the devil’s going on?”
Tony stuffed the note into his pocket. “I’ve no idea.” He glanced at Geoffrey. “Coming?”
Geoffrey sent him a grim look. “As if you need ask.”
They went quickly down the stairs and reached the portico just as Tony’s town carriage rattled up.