To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (25 page)

Arabella smiled, dimples pressing into her cheeks in a way that lit up her pale face. Certainly she could land a lovely doctor or lawyer at the least, if introduced to the right people. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it is better than living on the streets.”

“You know you are very much like your brother.”

She flinched at the comment, and Eleanor had to resist the urge to set her down a peg or two. The brat should be honored to be like James. Eleanor sighed, feeling worse than before she’d arrived. James was right, it was better if he didn’t meet his sister, didn’t know the truth. “You both did what you had to in order to survive.”

“Survive?” Arabella released a harsh laugh that belied her gentle disposition. “My brother abandoned us to live a life of sin!”

Eleanor frowned, growing annoyed with the ungrateful chit. “Your brother abandoned you so that you might have the life you couldn’t have with him there. Do you think you would have lived so comfortably had he been working on the docks? Or in a factory?”

“Comfortably?” Arabella shook her head, a lock of auburn hair falling from her coif and caressing her pale cheek. “I don’t know what you consider to be comfortable, begging on the streets, sifting through garbage…”

Eleanor felt ill. There must have been a mistake… but no. She’d known from the very beginning that something was wrong. She’d known she could not trust Lady Lavender. “Did your mother receive money from Lady Lavender?”

“If she did I didn’t know about it.”

“Perhaps… perhaps she didn’t tell you.”

“I promise you, my lady, if we received money of any kind, I would have known. My mother would not have died attempting to steal a loaf of bread, and I would not have almost perished from hunger.”

“Oh dear God.” She pressed her hand to her thumping chest. She had lied. Lady Lavender had lied, and James had no idea. “How?”

“Let me enlighten you,” Arabella said. “My mother stole bread from a baker. When he caught her she had two options, either service him in another, more sinful way, or go to prison. She chose the first. Once word got out, she was known as a whore. Men would come to her for favors and she allowed it because she knew her reputation was already ruined. It was one of those men who murdered her and was never caught. I was so young and very easily could have ended up selling myself on the streets as well. I was fortunate enough to be taken in here.”

Eleanor shook her head, feeling the sudden sting of tears. All for nothing. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When your brother was a child, not yet a man, he was approached by Lady Lavender. She told him that if he worked for her, she would send the money he made to you and your mother. She would see that you were taken care of.”

“She lied,” the woman whispered, finally understanding the horror of the situation. A variety of unsettling emotions swept through Arabella’s eyes. Despair, horror, even acceptance… all at once.

“It would appear so.”

“James…” The woman paled, but shook her head, obviously still confused. “He didn’t leave us?”

“No. Everything he did was for you.”

A single tear trailed down the woman’s pale cheek. For one long moment they were silent. From somewhere in the distance a church bell rang the hour… two o’clock. Her five minutes were
long since over, and she wondered why the mother superior hadn’t interrupted. Eleanor reached into her reticule and handed the girl a handkerchief.

Arabella swiped at her cheeks. “Even if I believe you, it does not change anything. I must pay for the sins of my family.”

Eleanor pulled her chair closer and took Arabella’s small, cold hands in hers. The delicate child would have been destroyed on the streets. Perhaps she was better off here. “My dear, the only sins you can pay for are your own. Your brother and mother did what they had to.”

But Arabella didn’t seem to hear her, lost in her own musings. “If I hadn’t been welcomed here, where would I have gone? The factories? The streets?”

She was right. Eleanor had thought there was nothing worse than living with Lord Beckett. She’d thought that only married women were imprisoned. But now… now she realized there were prisons of all kinds. James was imprisoned because of Lady Lavender, and Arabella, she was imprisoned because she had nowhere else to go, no money, no family, no station in life.

“I can’t leave here.” Arabella’s eyes pleaded with Eleanor, as if begging her to understand. “Surely you must realize that?”

Ellie had a feeling it was fear of the outside world holding the girl captive. “I could find you a position in a household, perhaps, as a lady’s maid.”

“And if the world uncovered the truth about my brother?” She smiled kindly at Eleanor. “Besides, I wouldn’t have a clue how to dress a lady.”

Arabella returned her handkerchief. Ellie was torn… torn between her desire to help this woman and her need to flee London. Time was running out.

“Arabella, you cannot blame your mother, or James. No one is perfect. We merely do what we can to survive. Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them evil, especially when what they do, they do for others, for love.”

“I had resigned myself, you know,” Arabella whispered. “To this life. I had no family, I had no one. I had nothing else but this. And now… now…”

A glimmer of hope whispered through Ellie. “Will you contact your brother?”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears once more and dashing Ellie’s dreams of reconciliation. “I cannot. It would be best for both of us if we went on with our lives.”

Ellie grew grim, her lips compressing tightly. “You are resigned?”

She gave a jerky nod of her head. Eleanor could read the hesitation in her gaze. No person, no one, dreamt of a life of dreariness. Perhaps there was time for her yet. But now… right now Eleanor had more important things to worry about. It wouldn’t do to court her husband’s suspicion.

Eleanor stood. Time was of the utmost importance, and as much as it pained her to know she would hurt James, she must tell him the truth before she left London. “If you are sure you will stay here, then I offer you good wishes.”

“Will you visit again?”

Eleanor wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “I’m afraid not.”

The disappointment in the girl’s face pierced her heart. She didn’t belong here. Hell, it was obvious Arabella didn’t even want to be here. Eleanor started toward the door. There was nothing she could do for her at the moment.

“Do you love him?”

Eleanor froze; her pulse throbbed. She didn’t need to ask of whom Arabella spoke. Slowly she turned to face her. Even the dourness of St. Anne’s had not destroyed the girl’s romantic notions.

“Of course not.” She forced her lips to turn up, giving the girl a kind smile. “I would never be stupid enough to fall in love with a man who loves so many others.”

Arabella seemed disappointed, as if she had actually hoped her brother could find true happiness, true love. She didn’t understand the ways of the world, having been cloistered in a nunnery for years. She didn’t understand, but then again, neither did Eleanor.

Without another word, she pulled open the door and stepped into the hall. She would send a note to James and tell him the truth. Then she’d send a note to Arabella, asking her once more if she would like a position in a genteel household. It was all she could do for them. And then… then she would do something for herself… she would leave her husband, leave the country.

She turned to flee the dark and dreary establishment, but the tall, male form speaking with the mother superior at the end of the corridor drew her up short. Even though his broad back was to her, Ellie recognized that figure. A shiver of horror raced over her body, freezing her in place.

As if sensing her presence, slowly, Lord Beckett turned.

Her husband’s gaze met hers, and a slow, tight smile drew up the corners of his cruel mouth. “Hello, darling. Please say you’re not thinking of taking vows merely to escape our marriage?”

Chapter 13

It was easy enough to escape the house. James merely left his bedchamber, strolled down the steps, and walked down the hall and out the door. No one stopped him, of course, as there was nothing suspicious in his gait. Or perhaps they assumed he would never flee because he needed Lady Lavender. His family needed Lady Lavender. At least he had thought they did. But his mother was dead. Gone. And his sister was… he didn’t know where.

All he knew was that if he didn’t uncover the truth he would go mad. And if he had to work in the factories to support his sister, he would.

“Anything is possible,”
his father had always said. And the old man had believed it; after all, he’d merely been a poor Irishman, yet he had secured a position as a driver with one of England’s most known families. And they’d had a wonderful, lively life until the day his da had been let go.

James managed to slip unnoticed from the house and headed toward the stables. The crunch of gravel underfoot was the only sound in the quiet estate. The evening was their free time, to do as they wished. Some played cards, some went riding, most
took naps, preparing for morning. Come morning, he wouldn’t be here.

He carried no bag, for he owned nothing anyway. The clothing, food… it belonged to her. All he pocketed was the measly money she allotted them. Enough money for a train or coach ticket, perhaps. He left the path and followed it to the back of the house. The stables loomed at the far end of the garden, just as clean and well taken care of as the rest of the estate. His heart did not hammer wildly; he had no urge to run. He was oddly calm. Calmer than he’d ever been. Nothing and no one would stop him.

He stepped off the path and started across the grass toward the stables. The dew soaked his boots. If not ruined, the fine leather would at least make a few shillings. He had no doubt he could sell his jacket and vest to a seamstress. Aye, he’d have enough to escape, anyway. He prayed he’d find his sister easily. And Eleanor… hell, maybe someday he’d be able to help her escape as well, if it wasn’t too late. He pulled open the stable door and breathed deeply the comforting scent of hay. As a lad he’d spent more time in the stalls with the horses than in a proper house.

“Mr. McKinnon,” Lowe said, pausing with a rake in hand. Dust particles had been stirred into the air and created a hazy fog in the fading sunlight that poured through open windows. “What brings you here?”

When the old man’s eyes darted nervously from side to side as if looking for assistance, or a weapon, James knew. Hell and damnation, Ophelia had warned Lowe not to let him leave.

James reached over a stable door and patted the nose of a brown mare. The horse shook her head and neighed, sensing the unease. “Thought I might go for a ride.”

“Sorry, sir, the horses are resting today.”

“Really?” James stepped away from the mare, in no mood to play games. Hell, his entire life had been one big bloody lie after another. This man would not stand in his way… no one would. “Why don’t you tell the truth?”

He gripped the rake tightly in front of him, his jowls quivering. “I don’t want any trouble.” The man lifted his pitchfork, pointing it at James. “You’re not allowed to ride. You’re not allowed to leave the estate.”

“And who will stop me, Lowe?” James asked kindly. He didn’t want to hurt the man, but he would. Hell, he’d die before he’d remain here. “You?”

“I vill,” Wavers growled behind him.

He should have known the beast would follow. Lady Lavender was having him watched. Slowly, James turned. “I don’t wish to hurt you either, but I will.”

The man released a wry laugh. It was the first and only time James had ever heard him laugh. “You think to get past me?”

“I’m not so bad at sparring,” James said mildly. Wavers was strong, but his large size would make him slow. If he kept his wits about him, James had no doubt he could win this match.

“Aye, but I know your strengths, and veaknesses.” The big, burly man was rolling up his sleeves. “Vhat vill you do anyvay?” He quirked a thick, black brow. “Attempt to have a normal life outside these gilded valls?”

James shrugged, glancing around the stables to search for a weapon. “It’s amazing what people can do when determined.”

Of course he didn’t believe it, and hell, he might not even tell his sister the truth. Perhaps he could fade into the world, become one with the pulsing life around him. Another lost soul on the streets of London.

Wavers snorted. “Vill you tell your lady you love her?”

James frowned. What was the man getting at? Before he had time to think over the matter, Wavers threw his fist forward. The man might have strength on his side, but he wasn’t exactly quick on his feet. James easily ducked out of the way, stepping to the left.

“Not quite sure what you’re talking about,” James said casually.

Wavers regained his balance and narrowed his dark eyes. “Aren’t you?”

A shiver of unease raced over James. Dear God, was Wavers implying that they knew about Eleanor? James stiffened, his mind spinning. That’s when Wavers struck. The man’s huge fist hit him hard in the side of the face. James’s head jerked back with a snap. His legs buckled, sending him stumbling as pain radiated from his head down his neck and spine. He fell into Lowe.

“The horses!” The man skipped out of the way, more worried about his stables than James.

“If your lady is still alive,” Wavers jeered. “Her husband vasn’t too pleased vhen he found out she’d been visiting Lady Lavender’s.”

Oh God, Eleanor. What had they done? The monster would kill her. “You’re lying. Ophelia would never break her code of silence.” James managed to stand his ground and glare at Wavers, though inside he trembled.

“Perhaps she is more interested in revenge than her code.”

The words brought him up short. “Revenge?”

The bull charged at James, giving him no time to contemplate the man’s odd comment. James had only a moment to react. He snatched the pitchfork from Lowe, spun out of the way, and brought the flat of the fork toward Wavers. It hit his face, bouncing off the man’s bulbous nose. The giant cried out, clasping his face as blood poured from his nostrils. He fell to his knees, the entire stable shaking.