Page 3 of The Secret Word
“Miss Clementine Wright,” said Mr. Satterthwaite.
The butler acknowledged the introduction with a slight inclination of the head. “This way, Miss Wright,” he said.
Clem went where she was told. She could see no other choice, but was somewhat comforted by the implied respectability of a first-class butler. Which was silly, really. For presumably a butler might be a villain, or employed by a villain, as much as any other man.
The passage ended in a small hall that had three doors and a flight of steps. The butler took the opportunity to step past Clem and take the lead up the stairs.
“After you,” said Mr. Satterthwaite, but then he leaned in close. “Let me do the talking. I will get you out of here, Miss Wright.”
That didn’t make Clem feel better. Clearly, Mr. Satterthwaite thought they had leapt from the frying pan into the fire.
Six flights up, the butler opened a door from the plain stairwell into a sumptuous passage that would not have been out of place in one of the grandest homes in Mayfair. They walked on plush carpet, past fine side tables gleaming with polish and supporting statuettes, lamps, and otherobjets d’art. Landscapes in gilt frames lined both walls, the gaps between disclosing flocked wallpaper with a rich botanical theme.
Where on earth had Mr. Satterthwaite brought her?
Chapter Two
Chris hoped hecould keep his promise to extract Miss Wright from this tangle. To be fair, Ramping Billy O’Hara was not known for abusing innocents, nor for activities any more illegal than running a series of gambling dens and bawdy houses. At least now he had turned respectable. At least for a given meaning of the word respectable.
Tiny, who was anything but respectable, stood guard outside O’Hara’s office. Tiny nodded to Jameson, the butler, and knocked on the door. A single knock. They were expected. Had the visitors been unheralded but peaceful, Tiny would have given two knocks. Three knocks meant hostile but under control. Four knocks would have had O’Hara exiting by one of the room’s other doors.
“Satterthwaite and guest, sir,” Tiny announced them. Chris offered Miss Wright his arm and escorted her inside.
O’Hara had his head down over some papers on his desk. So, they were to stand as supplicants before him, were they?
Chris ignored the unwritten protocol that said no one spoke before Billy acknowledged them. Miss Wright, after all, was not from his world. “Miss Wright, please allow me to present Mr. William O’Hara, who has been gracious enough to give us refuge against the men who were attempting to kidnap you. Sir, Miss Clementine Wright and I are grateful for your kindness.”
Billy looked up at that, and even stood, giving Miss Wright an inclination of his head in greeting. His hazel eyes were alight with calculation. “Miss Wright. I believe I have the felicity of being acquainted with your father.”
Miss Wright’s eyes widened. “You are a friend of my father’s, Mr. O’Hara?” The luxurious surroundings had influenced her mood. She was no longer tense, ready to jump at any movement. Little did she know it, but she was standing before the most dangerous man she had met so far today.
“I do not claim such intimacy,” Billy replied, his smile not reaching his eyes. “I have been able to supply Mr. Wright with entertainment from time to time.”
“Ah,” said Miss Wright, enlightened. “This is a gambling den or a brothel, then.”
Billy’s eyes crinkled with amusement, but he kept his face straight as he asked, “And what does the great hope of the Wright family for elevation to the upper classes know about gambling dens and brothels, if I may ask?”
“Hmmph. Only what one might deduce about their purpose from overhearing the servants, Mr. O’Hara.”
She sounded disgusted and the look Billy exchanged with Chris was pure amusement.
“I have forgotten my manners,” said Billy. “Please, Miss Wright, do have a seat and tell me how you came to be in Bleak Street to be almost kidnapped by a criminal gang. You may as well be seated, too, Fingers. By the way, you’ll owe me for this.”
Pure O’Hara. The invitation to sit was a privilege extended only when O’Hara was inclined to be pleased with one. The offhand nature of it put Chris on notice that Billy had not yet made up his mind to be generous. The nickname was a reminder that Billy knew where Chris came from and could put him back there. And the comment about owing Billy? It was no more than Chris had expected.
Chris held Miss Wright’s seat for her and then took the one next to her. She even smelled expensive, as if she moved in an invisible cloud of flowers and spices.
She sat in comfort, her back straight but the rest of her body relaxed. She was frowning slightly, as if wondering how much to tell her host.
“I would like to help you, Miss Wright,” Billy said. “Whatever you can tell me about your errand would be most appreciated.”
Those who knew him had learned to be wary when Ramping Billy O’Hara was being charming, but Miss Wright relaxed still further. “It is not I who need help, Mr. O’Hara, but my maid. My ex-maid, I should say. Amanda Brown.”
Billy and Chris exchanged another look, and Billy’s voice was carefully devoid of emotion when he asked, “You dismissed your maid and then came to visit her?”
“Oh, I didn’t dismiss her. Father did. The other servants accused her of theft, and of leaving a window unlatched for a burglar. It was just because she was the most recent hire, and all the others have worked for Father for some time. Also, I think they might have been jealous, because being my maid meant she was not under the housekeeper’s authority. It was most unfair.”
“I see,” said Billy.
