Burning Lamp by Amanda Quick Page A

asked.
    “Yes. Luttrell was very busy for about a year securing what he could of Quinton’s empire. But he was young and he lacked experience in management. Not surprisingly he lost a lot of territory.”
    “I assume he lost some of that territory to you?”
    “Yes, but he lost far more to a young up- and-coming crime lord who called himself the Director,” Pierce said.
    “I see,” Adelaide said. “You know, this story is a lot more interesting than the play we are watching. Please go on.”
    “Things remained fairly calm for a time. But Luttrell was nothing if not ambitious. When he decided he was ready, he went after his most serious competition.”
    “The Consortium?” Adelaide asked.
    “Yes. If Luttrell had managed to crush Winters, there is no doubt but that I would have been next. I could not have mustered the army that would have been required to defeat Luttrell’s enforcers. After me, the smaller players would have gone down easily enough.”
    “In the end, Luttrell would have been the last one standing,” Adam said.
    Pierce cocked a brow. “You can see that I am very much in Winters’s debt.”
    “I understand,” Adelaide said. “But it does leave me holding the bad end of the bargain I made with him.”
    “Who knows? The day may come when you will need another favor from Griffin Winters, one that he is willing to grant you.”
    Adelaide finished the last of her champagne and set the glass on a nearby tray.
    “I cannot, for the life of me, imagine what that would be,” she said.
     
     
    THE CURTAIN CAME DOWN for the last time shortly before midnight and not a moment too soon as far as Adelaide was concerned. She walked outside with Pierce and Adam, eager to go home.
    The scene in front of the theater was awash in the usual noisy chaos that always ensued when a play ended and the crowd spilled out of the lobby in search of carriages. In the street, the drivers of the private vehicles struggled to find their employers in the throng. Cabs and hansoms vied for fares.
    “We’re going for a late supper,” Pierce said. “Will you join us?”
    “I would love to but I think I will go home instead,” Adelaide said. “I need my sleep. I have a feeling that Mr. Winters will be calling on me at an unfashionably early hour tomorrow morning. He is very eager to get started on his project.”
    “Winters is right about one thing,” Pierce said quietly. “You are playing with fire when you stage those raids. Your goal may be admirable but you will not do the girls you have managed to rescue any good if you get yourself killed by one of Luttrell’s enforcers. Who will finance the charity house and your Academy if you get your throat slit?”
    The last thing she needed was another lecture on the subject, Adelaide thought.
    “I am aware of the risks,” she said.
    Adam exhaled his jaded sigh. “You cannot save them all. A handful at most. As long as there is poverty and despair there will be young girls searching for a way out.”
    “Don’t you think I understand that?” Adelaide whispered.
    “The raids make excellent fodder for the sensation press,” Pierce said. “But you could save more girls by spreading the word of your charity house and the Academy on the streets.”
    Adelaide wanted to argue but she was well aware that logic was not on her side. Maybe Pierce and Adam were right. Perhaps she had pushed her luck far enough.
    “I will give the matter some thought,” she promised.
    Pierce nodded, satisfied. “I see your driver has found you. He is just across the street, waving madly. We will bid you good night.”
    Adelaide glanced in the direction Pierce indicated and saw the carriage and driver she had hired for the evening.
    “Good night,” she said. She gathered her cloak around her and made her way swiftly through the throng.
    She was out of the theater at last. She should have been feeling some sense of relief from the too-close, slightly frazzled sensation that had been plaguing