The Lady Who Sinned

II. The Banished

'I hate him!' the little girl cried. 'I'll never marry that boy, Mama! He pushed me into the pond!'

Little Belinda stared at the little girl with awe. She could shout and her mother merely shook her head. Not only was she drenched and dripping pond water all over the elegant carpet, Cressida Belverst was also causing a scene.

'Never associate yourself with such girls,' her mother whispered disapprovingly beside her.

She looked at her mother, bewildered.

'The Belversts may be rich, but they cannot put a leash on their daughter. Just look at her.' Her mother shook her head, lips screwed in distaste. 'You can have as many friends, but none like the Belverst girl.'

But Cressida had been quite nice and fun until she was pushed into the pond.

Her mother gently turned her away. 'Go back to the playroom with Poppy and Posy.'

*****

For five years, he had been chasing after ghosts. But even before that, the women and children had been disappearing under their watchful eyes. Worse, hundreds of leads led them nowhere.

He did the right thing.

Belinda Carrington was not the first to come to him with a promise of information. There were others like her who always wanted something in exchange for valuable information.

Every day, people were being plucked from the streets, most of them homeless and not missed. They were not like the gentries banished by their family to a small village like Belinda Carrington. McKenzie could not afford to waste his time entertaining gossips.

The lady should know that her war was with her family, not the Town Guards or the League of Founders, who had actual problems on their hands. She should return to where her father took her and try to live a modest life like other banished gentries. And mayhap, in the future, she may be allowed to return.

He did the right thing.

Did you?

He silently cursed. Somehow, last night continued to bother him. Dartridge was too far away. It would take nearly a week to travel to Willowfair. He did not think that someone like Belinda Carrington would endure such long travel and knock on his door every day for a fortnight just to tell him gossips.

He entered the Mary House, one of the gentleman's clubs his sister-in-law owned. He ran up the stairs to the family room. There, he found his four-year-old nephew climbing a shelf. Not alone, of course, because the child's equally childish father was there to support his quest by holding the shelf steady. Both dark-haired Haverstons turned to stare at McKenzie.

"Uncle Mac!" Ernest cried with glee before jumping from the shelf like it was the most natural thing. He landed perfectly on the carpeted floor, his proud father beaming next to him. The boy ran up to McKenzie and tried to climb up, clinging to his coat, then staying there, dangling as McKenzie refused to hoist him up.

"Where's Mary?" he asked Adrien.

His brother tore his son from McKenzie. "Love! Mac is here!"

The door connected to Mary's office opened and his sister-in-law poked her head out. "Mac." And to her husband, she said, "Darling, Ernest needs to eat."

"I'm not hungry!" Ernest protested.

"You need to eat," Adrien said, putting the boy down. "What do you wish to devour, son? The monster or the witch?" McKenzie frowned, but Adrien just winked as he led his son out of the room.