Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“Her father?” he echoed sharply. “Madame, if there is something I need to know…?”

But Aphrodite shook her head. “I can say no more, not yet.”

“Have you warned Francesca she might be in danger?”

A bitter twist of her lips. “Mr. Thorne, my youngest daughter does not speak to me. She prefers to pretend I do not exist. Any fears I have for her must be kept secret. She is quite likely to rush into that danger if she discovers I do not want her to do so, just to defy me.”

Sebastian smiled. Yes, he could see her doing that.

“I thank God she is in Yorkshire and far away from all of this!”

He realized what she’d said, and what it meant. “But Madame, I thought you knew? Frances—your daughter is in London. She and Mrs. Jardine traveled down by railway train. They are presently staying at the home of Mr. William Tremaine in Wensted Square.”

If she had been pale before, she was white now. “Mon Dieu! She is here? And Mrs. Slater is alive and in London, with her…her master…” She began to pace back and forth in the small sitting room, very agitated. “He will strike to save himself, I know it. He has no soul. Mr. Thorne, I beg you to protect my daughter!”

He thought of protesting, but he could see she was in earnest. Besides, the request suited his own plans. “Would she agree to that?” he asked curiously.

“Don’t tell her!”

“She does not like me, Madame.” Suddenly Sebastian felt uncomfortable as Aphrodite’s penetrating gaze turned on him. “I should have told you straight away; we met while I was in Yorkshire.” He explained briefly, leaving out the physicality of their encounter.

Aphrodite fell quiet. “My daughter is in danger. I thought she was safe at Greentree Manor, and all along she was living among those who wished her ill. Mrs. Slater,” she spat the word, “a buyer and seller of children.”

“She was safe,” he assured her. “Until I arrived. It was me they were trying to stop.”

She sighed. “You did not know, but in a way it is a timely lesson. Now you see why I have been so afraid all these years. These people have tentacles reaching everywhere, just waiting to pounce.”

Her sentiments were heartfelt, despite the mixed metaphors. “Look at it this way, now we both have reasons to seek revenge.”

“Yes.” Suddenly she smiled at him, and her dark eyes were curious as they assessed him. “I cannot believe my daughter does not find you attractive, Mr. Thorne. Most women would.”

“Your daughter is not most women, Madame.”

She laughed. “My daughter is my daughter, no matter how she chafes against the fact. Believe me, she is a woman well and truly. You must protect her, Mr. Thorne, whether she wants you to or not. I must insist upon it.”

He bowed. “As you wish, Madame.”

“Francesca is her own worse enemy,” she murmured. “She fights against her nature. When she learns to be true to her nature, then she will be happier. We all must learn to be true to our natures, Mr. Thorne.”

“Sound advice, Madame, thank you.” But he already knew his true nature, and he didn’t like himself very much.

“You will keep me informed?” Aphrodite was brisk now, her fears set aside.

“I will.”

She nodded, but the lines about her eyes had deepened. Her secrets were wearing her thin. Why, Sebastian wondered, was Francesca in especial danger? What was it about Aphrodite’s youngest daughter that put her at extra risk? Who was her father?

Aphrodite wasn’t about to tell him, but Mrs. Slater was the key. He’d find her and unlock the secret, and save the damsel in distress.

He smiled. Mr. Thorne as the hero—what a novel idea.

Chapter 10

William arrived home exactly when Mrs. March had said he would. Amy and Francesca were already seated for the evening meal, and they could hear voices in conversation outside the dining room door, too low to make out the words but lengthy enough for Francesca to wonder if she’d been mistaken in her assumption that her uncle and the housekeeper were not romantically involved. Or perhaps Mrs. March just had a lot to tell him.

When William finally entered the room, his expression was every bit as irritable as she’d expected. There was also an element of the henpecked male about it.

“My dear Amy,” he said, “why can’t you stay with Helen?”