“I am a grown woman, so stop calling me little sister. Besides, there wasn’t anyone at the door, so Milo will not know the woman’s identity. It seems your rescuer rang the bell then left you alone on the stoop.”
The woman knew him and where he lived. Who was this mystery lady skulking about Whitechapel aiding those in need? He ran through a mental list of ladies he knew and couldn’t imagine any of them stealing away to the rookery. Unless his rescuer was in trouble. What sort of trouble, he didn’t know, but if she was willing to risk discovery to save him, he owed her a debt.
“Maybe one of the other servants saw something last night. I will have Milo gather them,” he said.
“Oh, no, you won’t.”
He gently swept his sister’s hand aside and stood. His head spun and he plopped back on the bed. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
Eve smiled smugly. “I told you. The doctor said to rest.”
“How am I supposed to rest with a pesky sister buzzing about?” He tweaked her nose to show he was teasing.
“Very well. I am going, but you’d best stay abed or I will return with Mama. And you know how she likes to fuss over you when you are injured.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She grinned. “You know me better than that, Bastian. I would dare and I would enjoy every minute of it.” With that, his sister spun on her heel and hurried from his room, laughing.
***
Helena brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and sighed as she tugged one of the double doors leading into St. Saviour’s Church. She carefully descended the dimly lit stairs of the side entryway and paused to allow her eyes to adjust.
It had been a week since Fergus had searched the Wentworth Street brothel, and they hadn’t received a single lead on Lavinia’s whereabouts since. Helena couldn’t avoid the church any longer. As Fergus had said, it was the most logical place to check.
She hadn’t been to St. Saviour’s in many years, but it looked no different, much to her dismay. She leaned against a stone pillar to steady herself and drew in a cleansing breath. Burning wax lingered on the air, mingling with the musty smell of damp wood.
After her mother was buried, her father had stopped bringing her and her sisters to worship. Helena hadn’t cared. She’d wanted to forget the place where her mother had been laid out, her body as cold as one of the statues in the Lady chapel. Helena never would have come back except she knew the best chance of finding her sisters might lie in the parish registry. If any of them had married, perhaps she could decipher one of their signatures and learn the identity of her sister’s husband. Although their disappearance from London did not bode well, Helena refused to believe her siblings had met the same end as their mother.
A rustling sound came from the front of the sanctuary, and she rounded the pillar to peer down the narrow nave. Candles burned in only the first tier of the iron chandelier, casting the interior in long shadows. A flash of black disappearing into an antechamber propelled her forward.
“Pardon me, sir.” She hurried down the aisle, her skirts brushing against the dark woodwork of the enclosed pews.
The man reappeared in the archway. His round face was open and his smile welcoming. “Good afternoon, madam.” His rich voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling and was eerily familiar. “Welcome to St. Saviour’s Church.”
She returned his smile as she neared. “Thank you and good afternoon. I am Lady Prestwick of Aberdeen, and I am hoping you can assist me in a matter.”
“It would be my honor to serve, Lady Prestwick. How may I be of assistance?”
“I am searching for a member of this parish, but there is a chance she has married. I would like to view the church registry in hopes of learning her husband’s name, so I can pay her a call.”
His brows came together and his smile dimmed. His gaze ran over Helena from head to toe. “A member of this parish, milady? Has she wronged you in some way?”
“Heavens, no. She is a sister…of one of my servants. They lost touch several years ago, and I promised to look for her when I was in Town. To deliver a message.”