Dawn of the Duchess

39. The Mastermind

Lord Patrick Day stared. For three seconds. Five seconds. Ten. He still couldn't believe it. What...?

"Gwen!" Before he could stop whatever the hell was going on, in fact, before he could do anything, his mother took a step forward. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"What do you think, you stupid bint?" Lady Gwendolyn hissed in a tone Parick had never heard before. "God, I'm so glad I finally don't have to pretend anymore! Do you have any idea how mind-numbingly infuriating it was to spend my time ingratiating myself with an inane, charity-obsessed twat like you? Gwen, will you help me set up this charity auction? Won't you come to the orphanage, Gwen? Why don't we organize a benefit for Christmas, Gwen? I'm. Sick. Of. It!" Breathing hard, the woman Patrick had thought of as an aunt glared at both of them. Then a smile spread over her face. A smile so ugly, so alien, it made Lord Patrick want to take a step back. But he didn't, for one simple reason.

Amy.

She. Had. Amy.

"But you know what?" The woman asked, that sick smile still on her face. "It was worth it! It was all worth it, Lady Chairwoman of the London Society for the Aid of Orphans and the Poor."

That was when it clicked. Lord Patrick felt a sick chill spreading through him. He had to resist the urge not to vomit.

"What a fool I've been," he murmured, staring at the old lady as if he'd never seen her before. Maybe he never had. Not her real self, anyway.

"Ah, little Patrick is finally starting to put two and two together, is he?" The woman gave him a smile that was so cold, so utterly emotionless, that it sent a cold spike of fear right through his chest.

"Orphans," he whispered. "Orphans. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Orphans?" Titus demanded. "What are you babbling about? What the hell is happening?"

"Orphans," Patrick repeated, feeling as if he were having a strange out-of-body experience. Or, rather, out of reality. His entire reality had suddenly shifted. This was his mother's friend! A woman he had known ever since he could remember. And yet...looking at her now, had he ever truly known her? "Orphans. God, it's so obvious! Who is in the best position to find vulnerable children? Who would easily know victims that wouldn't be missed, that would just slip between the cracks and go unnoticed?"

Titus paled. "The board of governors of the London Society for the Aid of Orphans and the Poor," he muttered. "Oh my God."

Lord Patrick Day felt like beating himself over the head with a hammer. No...not quite correct. First, he'd bash the witch's face in, then he'd whack himself over the head.

"I can't believe I didn't realise." His fists clenched. "I was there, dammit! At the very beginning! I saw people trying to snatch those children from an orphanage. From my mother's orphanage, which just happens to have tighter security than Buckingham Palace! I should have seen it! How the heck did they get in there if someone didn't let them in? If someone didn't tell them exactly when and where to go?"

"So..." Lady Gwendolyn's eyes—no. Not lady. No creature like that deserved to be called a lady. The woman's eyes narrowed. "That was you interfering in my business that time? I should have known! You've always been a bloody little goody two shoes!"

"Oh, I've done more than that." Fists clenched, he stared her down without blinking. "Much more."

"You...it was you!" The words came from her mouth like the hiss of a snake. "The one interfering in my business, going after my customers, stealing my wares—it was you!"