Page 24 of An Inconvenient Duke

“The men you’ve been meeting with,” he interjected.

“No. Jenkins and Kimball work with us only once the women have left their homes, if they need to flee London.” She idly traced a trembling fingertip over the edge of the bench seat beneath her. “Once a woman asks for help, we work together to help her. We usually relocate the women into homes with relatives who will protect them. But sometimes, we have to make the women disappear completely and create new lives for them, usually in America.”

She could practically feel the puzzled frown he gave her through the shadows. “How many of you are there?”

“Less than a dozen.” That was as detailed an answer as she ever planned on giving. “There are also contacts we work with outside the network, such as innkeepers and shopkeepers, who don’t know our real names or identities. People like Kimball and Jenkins, the two men tonight. They’re former smugglers who know how to get in and out of London and the ports unseen, who are only involved for the money.” Which brought its own layer of distrust. But she’d always thought money could buy a certain level of anonymity and protection, until tonight. “Every meeting is carefully arranged so that the contacts outside the network never learn the women’s true names or where they lived. It’s how we keep both the women and ourselves safe.”

“Is that what happened tonight, do you think? That one of the men discovered what you were doing and hired that man to kill you because he wanted revenge for you taking away his wife or sister?”

“Unlikely. Harming me wouldn’t tell them what happened to the women who had fled from them.”

“And Elise?” His icy voice sent a chill tingling through her. “She was part of your network, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Frustration and confusion pulsed from him. “For God’s sake, why wouldshebe involved in something like this? Her husband was a good man. He never laid a hand on her.”

“Your sister was the most selfless person I’ve ever known. She would never turn her back on anyone in trouble, whether it had a direct effect on her own life or not. Those women needed her help. That was all she had to know to devote herself to them.”

“And it killed her.”

She shook her head and stared down at her hands, now folded uselessly in her lap. “She wasn’t working for Nightingale that night.” Dani knew that much with certainty at least. “I personally arrange all the vanishings. I know when they’re going to happen and how, if an additional transfer is necessary—I make all the final decisions. There was nothing scheduled that night.”

When his expression darkened, she knew he understood what she meant. “Elise arranged it on her own.” He leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he sought answers she couldn’t give. “That’s why you didn’t recognize John Porter’s name, because he wasn’t one of the men who worked for you. She’d hired him on her own and didn’t tell you.”

“Yes.” But that answer did little to ease down her rising guilt. “I believe so.”

He reached for her hand. When she tried to pull away, his fingers tightened around hers. Instead of letting go, he moved across the compartment to sit beside her and covered both of her hands with his.

“I need answers, Danielle.” He squeezed her fingers. “I need to know that my family is safe, and the only way I can do that is to uncover the truth about my sister.”

“I can’t give you any more answers.” She turned toward the window and the dark city beyond. “I don’t even know them myself.”

“You have to try.” He cupped her cheek in his palm and gently turned her face to look at him. “Please.”

Nodding faintly, she began in a voice that was little more than a whisper, “I told Elise about Nightingale because I needed her help with the money. We couldn’t use a bank because women aren’t allowed to open an account without a man to sign for them, and we couldn’t use our household accounts without husbands or relatives seeing. Except for Elise. Her husband was dead, and you were away at war. No one was at Charlton Place to question why large sums of money were being moved through the accounts.”

“That was all she did, help with the money?”

“With Nightingale, yes. We all had our own responsibilities. I arranged the vanishings, other women made certain the women had everything they needed for their new lives, and Elise served as the bank. It worked well, for a while. But you know how your sister was. She wanted todothings. Secreting out money wasn’t nearly enough for her.”

“No, it wouldn’t have been.” He tenderly stroked her cheek. “What happened?”

She tightened her fingers around his hand as he continued to hold hers, and she tried to explain in a way he would understand. “There are certain women whose situations are so dangerous that helping them puts their lives at risk, and ours. If we attempt to help them and something goes wrong, they might be hurt even worse. Or killed. Sometimes we simply can’t help them,” she admitted in a guilt-rasped whisper. “But Elise wanted to rescue everyone, and as soon as possible. We argued about it. When I refused to change how Nightingale operated, she wanted to start her own network so she could arrange her own vanishings. I told her that it was too dangerous, that she would be putting her life at risk—” She choked. Swallowing hard, she finished, “She promised me that she wouldn’t.”

“But she did anyway, didn’t she?”

She nodded, lowering her face so he wouldn’t see her grief. “I believe so.”

“And she hired John Porter to help her, a former smuggler like the men who work for you?”

“I suppose, but…” When she hesitated, he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip in entreaty for her to continue. “But he might be connected to a brothel.”

He paused, his thumb stilling as it looped up to lightly trace the outline of her lips. “Why do you think that?”

“The women who are in the most dangerous situations are usually connected to brothels. They’re forced to sell their bodies and are beaten by the managers if they don’t. But it’s all about profit for the owners. If they discovered that someone was helping their women escape and hurting their profits…”

“They’d put a stop to it,” he finished grimly.