Page 14 of A Dream of Redemption
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
“Help yourself.” Hewashungry, but not for food. He always wanted to be held by a woman when he witnessed the cruelties of life, but the lady sitting across from him could never give him what he needed.
“Now I understand why Marisa is so passionate about her work. If I’d known the conditions in which these children had to live, I would have tried to do more before now.” She sat up straighter and added, “I will do more.” She held out her glass for more wine. “But first I want to discuss that list of crossed out names.”
Damn. He should have known she’d pick up where they left off.
“A young girl told me her friend went missing two nights ago. They told Anne that Claire had run away, but Anne swears Claire would not have left without her.”
He swallowed back bile. “How old was Claire?”
Lady Helen shrugged. “Same age as Anne, I suspect, around thirteen years of age. What has that got to do with it?”
Everything and nothing. He rubbed the back of his neck desperately thinking of something to tell her that would make her leave the investigation to him.
“Mr. Brown and I are aware of activity around the children, and we are making inquiries.”
“Good. Please keep me updated.”
He’d almost let out a sigh of relief when she suddenly stopped eating and said, “Activity round the children? You already have an idea of what has happened to the missing children.” She must have read his face. “But you don’t want to tell me? Are you afraid to upset my delicate disposition?”
Absolutely. He doubted she could fathom why anyone would steal a child. He’d already quizzed Mrs. Thorn and learned what he had suspected, that every child who went missing was attractive. He thought back to when he’d found himself living on the street with Simon. While he’d hated every minute working for Angelo, he was intelligent enough to realize that had he not had his looks, he and Simon would have died on those streets in a gutter, either from cold, disease, or starvation. Instead, they had been used and abused but kept healthy long enough to be given a chance to live another life.
But the ghosts of his past remained…and always would.
After the first time Angelo had given him to a customer, Clary had gone to the kitchen and found a knife. He’d been about to slash his face to pieces so that he wasn’t so attractive, but one of the few women in Angelo’s employ explained that his face was his way of staying alive. By using his looks he could perhaps escape this life. Without them he’d be dead in the gutter within six months and then Simon would have no one to watch over him.
Saving Simon came first and Clary had failed at that too. He would not fail Simon again.
How did he ever explain the cold, harsh realities of life to a woman who thought the world was full of gentlemen who acted like gentlemen? The opposite was more often true.
“If you won’t tell me I’ll ask Mrs. Thorn, and as I represent the owner, she will be forced to tell me. I know you’d not like to put Mrs. Thorn in that position.”
Her countenance challenged him and in that moment he didn’t want to protect her. If more of society understood how cruel this world was then perhaps reforms would happen sooner.
“They are likely being sold.”
She put down her knife and fork very carefully. “Sold,” she choked out. “I don’t think I want to know. Sold to whom, for what—slaves?”
“You did ask.” He pushed his plate of food away; his small appetite was completely gone. “Children who have no one to look out for them are easy targets. There are unscrupulous men and women who will do anything for money, and children are a rich currency.” Lady Helen’s face went quite pale. “Are you all right, my lady?”
“I refuse to have this conversation with you addressing me as ‘my lady.’ My name is Helen, please use it. May I call you Clary?”
“Of course, my—” He could not bring himself to oblige her. First names were familiar, and they could not be familiar—in any way.
“Would you tell Marisa what you know?”
He had her there. “Of course.” However, Marisa had seen the life he’d led; she knew about the cruelties of this world.
“Then you will tell me, please, Clary.”
So, still the lady demanding what she wanted.
“I suspect Mr. Glover sold children. People could order what they wanted and he’d fill their order. Usually those who had no siblings would go first, as no one would care where they were, or what was happening to them.”
“What sort of things are the children purchased for?”
“Anything. To be trained as pickpockets on the street, to become chimney sweeps…to be used in brothels—anything.”
