Emily pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Abigail tended toward the dramatic. “The house has at least twenty rooms—”
“That’s not the point,” Abigail huffed. “We’re prisoners.”
Emily shrugged. It was difficult to deny that. Their uncle had been murdered, which should have been the end of their problems; but really, it was just the beginning. Uncle Malcolm had been working for some band of outlaws and one of them had attempted to marry Eliza.
So now, they stayed in Bash’s house…where it was safe. “Try to understand. It’s only temporary.”
“Temporary? For how much longer? It’s been weeks.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of doing nothing. I want to have fun. We’re heiresses now. We should be finding husbands. And dancing. That would keep us safe. We don’t even have to grieve like Avery.”
Avery was Malcolm’s daughter, their cousin, and she’d become yet another charge of their brother-in-law. No wonder the man kept them in the house. He’d gone from a bachelor to having a whole passel of women to care for.
“Dancing will keep us safe?” Emily said in her best teasing voice even as she turned back to the street. Her cheeks heated as she thought of the man she’d like to court her.
The one who only went by a secret name. A smile spread across her lips. She was the mousy sister, the quiet one, the nice one. How funny that the first man she’d ever wanted in that way was the most mysterious of them all.
Perhaps…she might surprise everyone yet and do something exciting or interesting.
“You know that’s not what I meant. Let’s go shopping. We can leave before anyone even wakes. Please, Em? I’ll perish without a bit of fun.”
“Bash and Dylan are investigating as much as they can. And Eliza and Isabella are at the Den of Sins to try and get Dishonor to visit again. Surely they’ll come up with answers soon.”
Her younger sister snorted. “You don’t understand. Not all of us are content with embroidery for a pastime. I need excitement.”
“Everyone is working very hard to keep us safe. The least we can do is stay home.”
“You don’t understand as you’re content with mundane activities…” She started again.
Emily stopped listening as hurt turned her mouth down.
She knew they saw her that way. Sometimes she looked at herself that way too. Abigail had personality, Eliza was brave and strong, Isabella resilient and so self-possessed. What was Emily? ‘Kind’ they said. Boring, they meant.
Her role had always been one of support. Convincing Abigail to stay home was the perfect example. But that didn’t mean she didn’t crave excitement too. Or a handsome, dashing hero. Or a chance to be as valued as her sisters. To know that she’d made real changes to make her future better.
She wished Dishonor had found her and passed information to her instead of Eliza. Even he seemed to know who the brave sister was. And she wished she’d gone to a secret gaming hell and been a dealer like Isabella had done.
She wished she was anywhere but here.
Most of all, however, she wished to see Dishonor again.
And in her heart of hearts, she wished that he would kiss her.
Chapter Two
It had taken a full day to follow that box.
Brandon rubbed his aching eyes. He hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours at least.
But the money had finally arrived at its final destination.
And following the trail had been eye-opening.
All over London were drop points. The airlock of a townhome, the space between two fences, a missing stone on the side of a building. The box had changed hands four times. A man dropped it in one point, then an hour later, another retrieved it and moved it to its next destination.
And finally, it had arrived here. A polished townhouse with a brick façade and black wrought-iron fence in Mayfair that overlooked a lovely common full of trees and shrubs.
One hundred twenty-three Hill Street. The address was emblazoned on a shiny brass plaque next to the door.
And a smart-looking butler retrieved the box with his untarnished white gloves. As Brandon watched, ten more boxes arrived. All identical.