The brothel was warm, thick with the scent of rose oil and smoke curling lazily in the air. William Thornton inhaled deeply, anticipation pulsed in his belly. The low hum of conversation drifted from behind silk-draped partitions, punctuated by the occasional, breathy laugh of one of the girls.
When he walked, his hand kept brushing the edge of his pocket, where the weight of sapphire and gold pressed against his palm. The necklace was exquisite, delicate filigree and stones so deep blue they seemed to hold shadows. It was far too costly for Lily, of course. But then, Lily was special. She was everything he wanted. Black silky hair shown in contrast against her creamy white skin. She was barely old enough to understand the value of the necklace but considering she's worked here some number of years, William was sure to Lily would see her only chance at love.
He imagined her wide eyes when she saw it, the way she'd press a soft hand to her chest, speechless. She was always so lovely when she was speechless. Yes, this would make up for the sourness she'd shown him lately, the hesitance when he'd asked her to stay longer. As if there were anything better waiting for her beyond these velvet-draped walls.
He stopped at the counter, tapping twice on the edge with gloved fingers. The madam appeared with a knowing smile, folding her arms beneath her ample bosom.
"Mr. Thornton," she purred, tilting her head. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."
William's smile widened. "I've come to see Lily. Where is she?" His fingers brushed the necklace in his pocket again.
The madam's smile faltered, and for the briefest moment, William saw something flicker in her gaze. Pity, was it? No, that wasn't right.
"She's gone, Mr. Thornton," the madam said with careful measure. "Left two days ago. But I have plenty of kittens just like her. In fact we just got one in, her name is Rose, all smiles and sweetness. Named for how she's fresh and untouched."
The warmth in his chest dissipated, like air seeping from a punctured balloon. His hand stilled, tightening around the sapphires. "Gone?"
The madam nodded, her tone growing firmer as if she anticipated the shift in his mood. "She's gone to the country. Said she needed a fresh start. Seemed quite upset about her friend's death. That gentleman, you were his friend, right? Felt it best to return to family for a while."
William stared at her, the words slow to settle in his mind. Gone. Lily was gone. His Lily. And she hadn't even told him.
The brothel suddenly felt stifling, the soft candlelight too dim to cut through the weight pressing against his ribs. He exhaled through his nose, forcing the smile back to his lips though it no longer reached his eyes.
"I see," he said calmly, slipping his hand from his pocket. The necklace felt cold now, the sapphires biting against his fingers. "A shame, really."
The madam relaxed slightly, though her gaze remained watchful. "I can send Rose to the red room. I'm sure she—"
"Don't bother." His voice hardened, though the smile stayed in place. He turned, his footsteps echoing louder than before as he strode toward the door.
By the time he reached the street, the delicate gold chain was crushed in his fist.
The night air hit him, sharp and cold, but it did little to cool the seething fire rising beneath his skin. She had left him. Just like that. Because of Henry Ashford, even in death.
His lips curled, but this time the smile was all teeth, sharp and gleaming under the lamplight. It wasn't Henry who would pay now. No, he was already rotting in the ground. But his daughters… oh, they were still here.
His grip tightened around the ruined necklace, shards of sapphire biting into his palm.
Let them think they could outrun him. Let Amelia Ashford play at being the dutiful daughter. Charlotte would belong to him soon enough. And through her, they would all pay.
Every last one of them.