Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)
“Precisely.” He caught and held her wary gaze. “So you understand my desire to protect those I consider under my care.”
For a tense moment, Dimitri feared that the woman would refuse to help, then with a shudder, she determinedly squared her shoulders.
“I can offer nothing more than rumors,” she warned.
“That is enough.”
“It is said that Lord Sanderson has an unhealthy interest in young girls as well as boys.”
“Does he live in London?”
“He has a town house in Mayfair.”
Dimitri tucked away the information. Not that he expected to discover the girls being held captive in an elegant Mayfair town house. But Sanderson was unlikely to have developed his own father’s caution. There might very well be something in the Sandersons’ home that would reveal his secrets.
“What of his acquaintances?” he pressed.
Mrs. Pickford wrinkled her nose in distaste. “A Mr. Timmons and Sir Jergens.”
“Do they possess similar tastes?”
“So it is said.”
“Is there a particular location they could indulge their fantasies?”
“It is whispered there are…” The woman gave a nervous gasp as a log popped in the stone fireplace.
He grasped her hands, attempting to ease her distress. “What is it?”
The brown eyes darkened with a futile anger. “Secret auctions where the girls are offered to the guests who can pay
the entrance fee.”
An answering anger echoed in Dimitri. He was rarely shocked by the depravity that some men could sink to, but that did not lessen his desire to shoot them in the heart and leave them bleeding to death in a gutter.
“Do you know where the auctions are held?”
“It’s never held in the same location.” Her harsh laugh filled the room. “Such men are too crafty to risk being caught.”
“Not crafty enough.” Reaching in the inner pocket of his jacket, Dimitri withdrew several coins and pressed them into her hand. “For your time.”
Anxious to return to the Huntley town house and Emma, he had nearly reached the door when her soft voice halted him.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
He halted and turned to watch as Mrs. Pickford moved forward and quite unexpectedly tossed her arms around him in a fierce hug.
“I’ve been knocked about enough to figure most men ain’t worth a bucket of spit, but I believe you might just prove me wrong.”
A wry smile curved his lips. “Ah, if only everyone shared your kind opinion.”
EMMA STUDIED HER reflection in the full-length mirror with a jolt of astonishment.
She had protested violently when Leonida, the Duchess of Huntley, had insisted she would have her dresser alter several of her gowns to fit Emma, but the beautiful woman with golden curls and blue eyes that were extraordinarily similar to those of Czar Alexander had insisted that it would take days, if not weeks, for a seamstress to create the proper wardrobe for Emma. And as for her determination to play the role of a maid…well, that been overridden with a gracious, but ruthless force by both Stefan and Leonida.
She smiled wryly. She had been initially overwhelmed when Dimitri had led her into the foyer of the Mayfair town house. Not even Vanya’s beautiful home had prepared her for the double staircases that elegantly curved toward the formal landing with marble pillars and a Venetian chandelier that spilled light over the collection of Grecian statues.