Secrets of Sloane House by Shelley Gray

ruthless. And secretive.” She gazed at him, not trusting him entirely, but needing for someone to know the truth of what she was saying. “Mr. Armstrong, she began to fear the family, that she would lose her job. I think she may have discovered some of their secrets. But she needed the job, needed the recommendation that only staying—no matter what—could bring her. But she was not terribly happy.”
    “Chicago is a dangerous city, Rosalind. Especially now, with somany foreigners and tourists here. The police are overwhelmed and underpaid. Anything could have happened to a young woman on her own.”
    “Yes, sir. I am aware of that.” Feeling more frustrated and confused than ever before, she made to stand up again. “I must go. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d be very grateful if you kept this between the two of us.”
    He closed his eyes, obviously striving for patience. “Rosalind, I want to talk to you about this some more. I want to help you.”
    “There is nothing you can do.”
    “I disagree. By the very nature of your job, you have limited access.” Lifting his chin a little, as if he were daring her to disagree, he said, “I can speak to people you cannot. I can speak to the men and women of my society, see if they have heard of any tales about a missing housemaid.”
    “Don’t you imagine that they’d find your sudden preoccupation with missing housemaids peculiar?”
    “Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not.” He turned his head so that he was looking at her directly. “I think, at the very least, it is worth a try.”
    “Why would you do this? Miranda is nothing to you.” She swallowed hard and removed the last bit of her pride. “I’m nothing to you.”
    One of his eyebrows arched. “Does someone have to mean something to a person in order to do the right thing for them?”
    His voice had turned haughty. In that moment, he was very much the wealthy society gentleman. His arched look, combined with the dizzying emotions running through her veins, caused her own voice to become painfully sharp. “I don’t know, Mr. Armstrong. I would usually say yes. Because though I might have been aware of all sorts of dangers women faced in the big city, until it was my sister I feared hurt, I never did anything. Do you often make it your business to help others?”
    He looked away first. “No. But I want to help. And once more, I think you need my help. Let someone help you, Rosalind.” Lowering his voice to a mere whisper, he added, “Let that someone be me.”
    His words were dizzying. The offer was tempting.
    But more than that was the feeling for the first time that she didn’t have to be alone any longer. If she accepted his offer, she would have someone to discuss her suspicions with.
    “Rosalind, now that I know, I fear I am already involved. I’m going to try to help you, with or without your approval. You might as well give in.”
    He was right. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. She could either give in gracefully or perpetuate the myth that she was strong enough to do this on her own.
    “Thank you, Mr. Armstrong. I will appreciate any assistance you may give me.”
    The faintest of smiles hovered on his lips. “I am glad you’ve seen things my way. Now, when is your next afternoon free?”
    “Not for almost a week.”
    “I’ll try to find a way to see you at Sloane House. And don’t fear, Rosalind. I will be nothing but proper at all times.”
    The reminder of how precarious her job situation was made her stand up and back away. “Until then,” she said before turning and walking away.
    And though the afternoon sun shone on her back, she had the strangest feeling that it was Reid Armstrong’s concern that was warming her insides.

CHAPTER 10
    U nwilling to stop himself, Reid watched Rosalind walk back to the Sloane estate, bypass the front door, and walk to what must have been the servants’ entrance. Not for the first time, he reflected that the somewhat utilitarian