His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 8

Avery Russell stepped into the chaos of the White House, his eyes taking in the Bow Street Runners and the local magistrate, a man named John Dearborn, as they took statements from several brothel patrons. Three men were restrained by iron shackles and seated at a card table in the main gaming room.

"Russell." One of the Runners, a man called Sam Cady, nodded and spoke to Avery as he came over. "We've put a stop to the auction. Unfortunately, the madam threw her account books into the fire, destroying the names of the men who paid to attend. All of the ladies have been placed in an adjoining room, but..."

"But what?"

Cady shrugged his large shoulders and nodded toward the restrained group of men. "One of the gentlemen here swears another man bought a slave, the first one to be sold. He and the girl aren't here."

"Someone got away?" Avery's hands curled into fists as he thought of some poor woman being carried away to a place where no one would find her, where she would be abused and defiled, where she would most likely never leave.

"Did this talkative fellow give us a name?"

Cady shook his head.

"Which man was it?" Avery demanded. He headed toward the prisoners. Cady shadowed behind him.

"Bloke on the left, the young one."

Avery grabbed the man, who seemed close to Avery's age, and snarled into his face.

"Who took the first woman? Give me a name!"

The young man gasped as his chair was pushed back to balance on two legs. "I-I don't know, but I got a good look at him! I swear!" With his hands bound behind him, he would have a nasty fall if the chair toppled over, which was exactly what Avery wanted him to fear. A threat of violence could be more effective than actually using it. A man's imagination was his own worst enemy.

"What did he look like?" Avery growled.

"He looked like you!" The man screeched as his chair teetered on its back legs.

Avery froze. "What?"

"Lawrence Russell – One item – £7,000."

Lawrence, what have you done? You damned fool.

Pulling out a match from his inner pocket, he re-lit the fire and tore out the final page, casting it into the flames. There could be no evidence, no trace of his brother's actions.

I will fix it. I will find the woman and protect my family's name. No one need ever know about this.

He turned and left the madam's office. The magistrate was in charge of the scene now, and Avery could easily disappear into the darkness. He had reports to make. His superior, Sir Hugo Waverly, would need to be informed of the success of the breakup of the slave ring. With several influential Arab and Persian ambassadors in London for secret peace talks to stem the war between the Ottoman and the Qajar empires, it was crucial that this event never be discovered.

Avery slipped out of the White House and called for his horse. He needed to get home and rest, but come morning, he would go to Lawrence's home and demand answers. He would also have to take the poor woman to the port at once with the rest of the women and ship her home.

He only hoped he could keep Lawrence from facing the law if his brother had done something so foolish as to truly buy a slave. He would be hard pressed to save his brother if that was the case.