Engaged in Sin (7 page)

He had turned to the mantelpiece, his hands braced on the crisp edge of the marble. “No, angel. I have a mother.”

“Thank heaven.”

“It is a relief to you to learn I have a mother?” He had to admit, he was a fortunate man where his mother was concerned. She had been loving, gentle, and had finally lost her temper with him only when he’d dumped himself into scandal over another man’s fiancée.

“I just mean I would have felt terrible, having been your lover, if you’d had a wife.”

Her genuine relief and the gentle way she spoke told him she would have been plagued with guilt—a sensation he was familiar with. It surprised him, though. “Angel, explain how you could be so softhearted after working in a brothel.”

“I—I did not have many clients. I was very exclusive.” Now she spoke in a fast, nervous tone. “I always assumed they came to me because they weren’t yet married.”

Her naïveté astonished him. How had she stayed so ingenuous?

“Certainly I never asked any of my … clients about themselves,” she whispered. “They obviously did not want to have conversations of that sort.”

That brought a wry laugh to Devon’s lips.

Anne shivered as the duke gave a low chuckle. She didn’t believe she had revealed anything dangerous, but she had to take more care. She could not let him find out who she truly was. Distracting him was her best plan.

“Wait, Your Grace, I must open the letter.”

On a small escritoire positioned in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, she’d spotted a letter opener. As Anne snapped it up, she couldn’t help but look outside. Beyond the library lay a half-circle terrace of smooth flagstones, edged by a stone balustrade. Other terraces lined the sides of the building. Raindrops ran down the glass, and the rainy day deepened the green of the neat grass and lush, ordered gardens. Color still bloomed despite the approach of fall, flowers of gold and scarlet.

It was lovely. It was so much like Longsworth.

With shaky fingers, she slit the seal with the opener, then set it down—it was heavy, silver, and decorated with two exquisite and surely priceless sapphires. How easy it would be to take this. She could sell it for a fortune.

No. She couldn’t. Her mother had clung to pride, to propriety, even as she slipped down one rung after another, first working as a seamstress, then once, only once, letting a man buy the night. But to steal—that was to fall from the ladder completely and drop into hell.

Anne opened the crisply folded pages. There were two, and the letter was dated two days before. Clearing her throat, she began to read aloud.
“ ‘My dearest son …’ ”
Goodness, just that brought a little tug deep in her throat. She swallowed hard and continued.

Anne had to stop. To catch her breath. To let the words sink in. This was a private letter. Should she go on? But if she did not read it to him, who would? She bit her lip, then read …

“Stop,” he barked.

The words were blurry and Anne blinked two tears away. She lifted her head. The duke had bit out the word. His mother had poured her heart onto the page, was pleading with him, and he had snapped as though he was irritated. She eyed him fiercely. “Your mother yearns to see you. She’s missed you. For heaven’s sake, why would you not go and see your family?”

“I
can’t
see my family.”

“You won’t go because you are blind? But they won’t care about that.” She thought of her mother, who had been ashamed when she became ill—ashamed she had fallen so low in the world, ashamed she could not take care of her daughter. All Anne had wanted was for Mama to be well. Nothing else had mattered. “They simply want
you
.”

“I thought Ashton paid you to service me,” he snapped, “not lecture me.”

It struck her like a slap, but he was right. She had forgotten herself. “I’m sorry. I won’t use my tongue for anything but your pleasure, Your Grace.”

He groaned. “Damnation. Even when you’re obedient, you make me feel the blackguard.”

She should stop, but she simply couldn’t. “I must say one more thing. Your mother is correct. You shouldn’t stay here. You do deserve to find happiness.”

“That’s more than one thing. And I won’t marry anyone when I can’t see.”

“Surely there are more important things than a woman’s appearance—”

“I am not going to marry anyone when I have to be led around my own home like a dog on a leash.” He glowered. “I won’t have a wife turn into a trembling bag of nerves like most of the servants in the house have become because they are so afraid of me. Do you think I want to fall in love with a woman, then sentence her to life with a lunatic who can’t control his rages, who sometimes crawls around on his belly because he imagines cannons are firing at him? I won’t take a bride when I could have a nightmare and accidentally strangle her in our bed.”

“I don’t believe you can’t be healed.”

“Angel, admit defeat. I appreciate your pretty voice and your exquisite body, but I’ve made my decision—you’re to go home, where you will be safe.”

Not safe, but absolutely broke and with no hope. “I have no money left, Your Grace.” She had not meant to reveal as much, but she was desperate.

“What of the payment Ashton promised?”

She’d forgotten that, because, of course, it didn’t exist. Lord Ashton had no idea she was here. “Lord Ashton won’t pay me now. Not if you’ve rejected me.”

“I’m not rejecting you. I have no choice but to send you away.”

“I wish to do what Lord Ashton asked of me. But what I really wish, Your Grace, is to prove to you I would make an excellent mistress.”

Before she could argue further, her belly rumbled, then made the most embarrassing growl.

His brow lifted. “Did you eat any of the breakfast tray I sent?”

“No, Your Grace. I wanted to speak with you, and I was too nervous to eat.”

He sighed. “Well, angel, you must have some breakfast.”

There, she had done it.

Breakfast had arrived almost instantly after Anne tugged on the bellpull and the duke gave instructions to his nervous footman. After that, the duke had carefully avoided addressing her bold request. She had very little hope he would let her prove she could become his mistress, but at least he had not given her an outright refusal.

In the brothel, she’d learned all about waiting. Waiting for her next client. Waiting to escape. She’d never been patient when she was young. Whenever she had to wait, she was always frustrated and thoroughly unladylike—tapping her feet, pacing in circles, wringing her hands as though she wouldn’t survive.

That was how she felt as three footmen had brought enormous trays, a carafe of coffee, gilt-rimmed plates, and silver utensils.

She jumped up to pour coffee for the duke. “What do you wish on your plate, Your Grace?”

He waved away the idea of food. Apparently the ham, sausages, bread, and kippers were intended for her. She put the coffee cup in his hand, and he gruffly said, “Eat, love. Your poor stomach sounded hungry.”

It was true but embarrassing. Kat had tried to feed her, but even at Kat’s home she’d been too nervous to eat. The sight of food, the wonderful smells wafting
from the dishes, made her jaws ache in anticipation. She tentatively took a mouthful. The instant the sweet and savory taste of the ham registered on her tongue, her hunger exploded. The duke stayed quiet and still, and she looked up to realize he was listening to her eat. To ensure she
was
eating, she suspected.

Finally she set down her knife and fork and picked up her coffee. Accidentally, she made an unladylike slurp. It brought a smile to the duke’s beautiful mouth.

“All right, Cerise, how can I help you? If you believe Ashton won’t pay you, I am willing to give you a gift. Something to help you until you find another lover in Town. With money, you should be safe from your madam—”

“No!” she cried, far too vehemently, for his brows arched in surprise.

She swallowed hard. It was not only that she could not go back to London. The truth was, she didn’t want to search for
another
protector. She liked the duke. He was far more gentle and kind than any man she’d known, other than Father and Grandpapa. “I don’t want to accept charity, Your Grace. I propose a straightforward arrangement.”

“I can’t take a mistress, love. As delightful as you are, the idea is impossible.”

“But I liked … giving you pleasure.” Even as she said the words, she knew it wouldn’t work.

“Angel, I don’t want to send you back to London to danger. But I want the truth from you. I think that’s the best way to start. Tell me everything.”

“What sort of everything do you want?” she hedged.

He made a low growl in his throat. “What brothel did you work for? What’s the name of your madam? And what exactly did you do to make her determined to kill you? It couldn’t be simply because you escaped, love. Did you steal from her?”

“No!” Heavens, wouldn’t her life have been much easier if she could have turned to stealing?

“Then what was your crime, love?”

Murder
. She couldn’t tell him that. “I didn’t steal from her. I just escaped.”

“For her to pursue you, she would have to want something from you. Or want revenge.”

He might not be able to see, but he was astute and intelligent, and she was gasping with panic, trying to come up with a plausible story. Not the truth—not the fact that she had discovered that Madame Sin had kidnapped three young girls and was going to auction off their innocence. The thought of those frightened girls had snapped something inside Anne. She had found the room where they were held prisoner and had picked the lock.…

She couldn’t tell the duke any of this. She had no idea how many details had made their way into the news sheets. But she had to give him a reason for her flight that he would believe. “My madam kept us like prisoners.”

“Prisoners? You mean you were not allowed outside?”

She heard the skepticism in his voice. “No, not ever. My madam thought we would run away. She kept us locked up until we understood there was no real escape.”

The duke scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I was kept prisoner at one point by the French. A singularly unpleasant experience. You have my sympathies. But that’s not all, is it?”

Warring emotions burst in her. A flood of warmth and hope at his gentle tone. And deeper, colder fear. “It is. W-when I escaped, I proved it was possible. Obviously other girls might follow. Our madam would lose her control. Her power.”

How Madame had relished the power she held over them all. Anne remembered the madam’s smirk of triumph as Mick Taylor, Madame’s bodyguard, dragged Anne and the girls into the brothel’s private offices. Madame had threatened that Anne would be given to the clients who enjoyed whipping their women and causing pain. She had slapped the youngest, then threatened the eldest, Violet, warning that she would be sent to the most brutal clients too. Anne had pulled the frightened girls to her skirts, determined not to let them go. Madame had calmly drawn a pistol and pointed it at Violet’s head.
Let them go, Anne, you stupid fool
, she’d said,
or I will shoot that one between the eyes
.

Next thing Anne knew, the poker was in her hand, and she’d swung it with a roar of fury at the pistol. Madame lurched back and stumbled, and the poker slammed into her head—

“Cerise?” The duke set his coffee cup down carefully.

She took a deep breath. “I know my madam is capable of killing me, and I can only ask that you believe me. My madam doesn’t like to be thwarted. It would be nothing for her to pay a man to hunt me down and kill me.”

“Where do you come from, angel, with your lovely voice and your lady’s accent? How did you end up in a brothel?”

Oh, these were treacherous questions. The news sheets had used her “little duchess” nickname. She had to take care. She must distance herself from her past. “I lived in London’s stews, but I was born in the country. My mother was widowed and became a … a housekeeper. Then she lost her position and she brought me to Town to find work. I was very young, but I’d learned how to speak well.” This was all a fabrication.