A very large body hit her from the side and threw her to the floor. She fell hard, and the wind was knocked out of her. As she gasped for air, she saw the grinning face of Jacques, Madame’s major-domo, hovering over her. Jessica screamed in frustration as he hauled her to her feet. He pulled both her arms behind her and held her wrists together in one large hand. Struggling was useless. Then he propelled her back up the stairs and into her prison.
“That was a foolish thing to do,” Madame said. “You are fortunate that the auction is tomorrow night, and there will be little time for bruises to heal. Otherwise, the consequences of your attempt to escape would not have been pleasant. Perhaps, though, we can still find a suitable punishment.” She turned to Jacques. “Strip her.”
“No!” Jessica cried and struggled to free herself from Jacques’s grip. “I will do it,” she muttered.
Madame studied her a moment, then with a jerk of her head and a wave of dismissal, she ordered Jacques to leave. Frowning unhappily, he released Jessica and retreated out the door. Madame locked it behind him. Jessica slowly removed her clothes, folding each piece and placing it on the bed to delay. She was finally dressed only in a shirt.
“Remove that as well,” Madame said.
Jessica was about to refuse when she saw the cold glint in Madame’s eyes. With a silent sigh, turning her back, she removed her shirt. Humiliated, she stood stiffly, her hands clenched at her sides.
Her head snapped up in shock when the fat man touched her. He squeezed her flesh, touched her here and there, turned her this way and that, smoothed his hand across her stomach and her bottom. Jessica endured it in silence, but when he pinched the sensitive tips of her breasts, she cried out and jumped away. Le Cochon turned to Madame with a satisfied nod. “She is valuable property,” he said. “Beauty, good skin, responsive, spirited. It is a shame about her hair, but it will grow. I can start the bidding very high.”
“How high?” Madame demanded.
He turned back to Jessica and regarded her thoughtfully. “Five-hundred gold guineas.”
Madame’s eyes gleamed with avarice. “You will be well rewarded, Le Cochon. Come down to the kitchen. I believe the cook baked fresh pastry today.” As they walked to the door, Madame glanced at Jessica with a sly grin.
“Enjoy your last few hours of innocence, ma petite,” she said. “After tonight, you will learn what the world is truly like.”
Jessica pulled her shirt over her head and sank to the bed. Thoughts of Damien filtered through her head. Damien whispering to her, Damien kissing her, Damien loving her. The memories were all she had now. The memories and the child she carried.
Somehow, no matter how long it took, she would escape and let Damien know he had fathered a child.
Le Cochon, propped up on many pillows because of his enormous weight, slept the sleep of the innocent. Snoring thunderously, he did not hear the muffled scrape of a boot on the parquet floor of his bedroom. Nor did the soft hiss of a dagger drawn from its scabbard awaken him. Two dark shapes watched him sleep, one from beside the bed, the other from deeper shadows in the corner of the room. It was not until one of the shapes knelt on the bed beside him and pressed the cold steel of a knife against his throat that he became aware that he was not alone.
With a snort, Le Cochon reluctantly opened his eyes. He had been dreaming of roast pheasant with chestnut stuffing, of puff pastry filled with orange-flavored cream. It had been a wonderful dream. Now he was awake, and hungry. He felt the blade nestling between the folds of skin on his neck and realized it was not morning. He would have to wait before he could eat again.
“What do you want?” he demanded testily. He was not afraid. There were few who would dare harm him, no matter how much they desired his disappearance or demise. He was too valuable a source of information. And he had many safeguards in place as insurance.
“Please, Le Cochon,” a silky voice entreated from a black corner of his room. “A little civility would be appreciated.”
Le Cochon knew that voice. It was the only one which could inspire fear in him. A few months ago, that voice had kept him prisoner and hungry for two days. Two whole days! All because of some tiny bit of information Le Cochon had conveniently forgotten. Gingerly, because of the dagger at his throat, he turned his head toward the shadows and tried to make out the figure who lurked there.
“Monsieur Le Chat,” he said meekly, “please forgive me. I did not expect to ever see you again.”
Le Cochon felt, rather than saw, the cold smile which appeared on those handsome lips.
“Ah, you heard, then, of our misfortune, of our betrayal. Did you truly believe I had used up all of my nine lives, Le Cochon? Perhaps you know something more about the trap Fouché set for us?”
The knife against Le Cochon’s throat pressed harder.
“No, no, monsieur, nothing,” he denied. “I know only what I hear in the streets, in the bistros.” Le Cochon sent a pleading glance at the shadow hovering over him.
The pressure against his neck lessened.
A movement from the dark corner drew his attention again. Le Chat stepped forward onto the Aubusson carpet which covered the center of the floor of Le Cochon’s bedroom. He appeared to drift above the floor like some dark angel.
“Fortunately for you, Le Cochon, I have not come seeking revenge,” Le Chat said. “I came for information. There is a woman. Small, beautiful, with raven hair and eyes like sapphires. I want her.”
Le Cochon swallowed against the knife. He should have known the girl belonged to someone of significance, especially because of the lack of secrecy involved. Word about her had spread through the back rooms of bistros and the shady world of the demimondaine faster than the plague. That bitch, the du Barré, wanted her to be found. If he told this devil where the woman was, he would lose the tremendous profit he had been expecting to get for her. The knife wiggled against his throat, and he felt a sting of pain as the skin was broken. But he could still make this venture worthwhile.
“There will be an auction, Monsieur Le Chat. She is to be sold to the highest bidder.” Becoming cagey, Le Cochon added, “The rest of the information, monsieur, you will have to pay for.”
Le Cochon felt the anger emanate from the dark figure standing across the room as if it were something tangible. For a moment, he thought he had pushed too hard. Then, he sensed the tension release.
He had no doubts that Le Chat would appear at the auction. Le Cochon knew what the great spy was after. She was exquisite. He assumed that Le Chat had more than a nodding acquaintance with her. Why else would the devil risk returning to France? As for his payment, he knew he would receive that, also. Le Chat harbored an unusually honorable streak for such a ruthless rogue.
Damien had expected to pay this pig. He had used him as a source of information before, and the price had been steep. But Le Cochon’s information was always accurate, so it was worth the exorbitant cost. Now, he prayed that it would be so again. If Le Cochon was wrong, then he and Jessica and all his men were lost.
“You will get your payment at the auction, Le Cochon,” Damien said. “I will bid for the girl. And I will win her. You will get more than what you dreamed possible. Now, where is the auction to be held, and when?”
As soon as Le Cochon had given them the time and place of the auction, Damien and Edward slipped out of the bedroom. They had no fear of being discovered, for they had incapacitated all of Le Cochon’s servants, having either knocked them unconscious or tied them up.
At the bottom of the stairs, they turned toward the back of the house. The rest of Damien’s men lounged outside, waiting. As Damien emerged, Higgins pushed away from the garden wall.
“The cook’s been tied up and hidden in a stable a few houses away, sir,” Higgins reported.
“And the food?” Damien asked.
Higgins grinned. “Distributed to the poor of the city, sir.”
Chapter 15
Late the next afternoon, the silent maid who delivered Jessica’s meals arrived with several other servants who carried in a hip bath and buckets of steaming water. For a moment, she wondered at the sudden kindness of Madame du Barré, but then realized the reason for it. The auction would be held that night. She would be put on display like a horse to be sold to the highest bidder. It would be to Madame’s advantage to make her merchandise as attractive as possible. When the servants had filled the tub, they all left except for the silent maid.
“Madame du Barré said you were to bathe,” the girl said timidly with her eyes downcast. “She told me to help. Please, don’t get me into trouble.” She glanced at the door as if she expected it to open at any moment.
Despite her own dire predicament, Jessica’s heart twisted. The girl was obviously deathly afraid of doing something wrong and being punished. She was shorter and younger than Jessica, not fully grown. Fine, dark strands of hair escaped from her cap.
“I promise not to try to escape,” Jessica said. “What is your name?”
The girl raised large brown eyes. “Marie.” The word was barely above a breath.
“Why didn’t you talk to me before, Marie?” Jessica asked.
Marie glanced at the door again before she answered. “Madame Rousse told me not to speak to you or she would beat me. Please, I should not be talking to you now.” She silently indicated a tray of food that had been placed on a table beside the bed.
Jessica had little appetite, but she made herself eat for the babe. She looked forward to stepping into the heated tub. She hadn’t had a proper bath since leaving Damien’s home.
By the time Marie had finished Jessica’s toilette, night had fallen. Jessica sat alone, naked, huddled in a blanket as she waited for whatever came next. She tried not to imagine the coming hours. The minutes seemed to crawl by. She prayed for the auction to be over quickly, so that she could at least be free from fear of the unknown. Finally, she heard the scrape of a key in the lock, and Madame du Barré entered. She carried a white garment over her arm.
Madame smiled. “It is almost time to go, little one. Stand up and let me look at you. And take off that hideous blanket.”
Jessica’s gaze went to Jacques, who hovered just behind the woman. His face was expressionless. He appeared to care little if Jessica was clothed or not. Raising her chin proudly, she stood and allowed the blanket to drop. There was no point in fighting. Her fate was already sealed.
Madame nodded in approval as she studied Jessica. “Very good. Marie has done well. I will have to tell Madame Rousse to commend the girl. Now, for the finishing touch.”
She shook out the white material that had been draped over her arm. It was not a garment at all, but a large square of diaphanous, white silk. She wrapped it about Jessica, pulling it under one arm and tying two corners at the other shoulder. It concealed and revealed at the same time, for it remained open down one side of Jessica’s body.
Madame stood back to survey her work critically. When she was satisfied, she held out her hand to Jacques who gave her a warm cloak. This she carefully placed about Jessica’s shoulders and pulled the hood over her head. No one would guess that Jessica wore next to nothing.
“Now, you are ready, little one,” Madame told her. “Just a short ride, and then you will enter a new life.”
Jessica gazed impassively at her. She was determined not to reveal her overwhelming fear. Don’t let them know you are afraid.
They descended the stairs and left the house by a side door. A coach was waiting for them. Jessica breathed in the chill, night air. She relished the tiny feeling of freedom it gave her. She had not been outside for many days, and the fresh air made her giddy. She climbed into the coach, followed by Madame and Jacques. With her head bowed, she sat in the corner of the seat and prayed that fate would not be too cruel to her this night.
“For whom are you praying, little one?” Madame sneered. “For yourself, or for your lover, Le Chat?”
Jessica’s head snapped up at the mention of Damien. What diabolical scheme had Madame planned? Did she really believe that Damien would come after her?
Madame laughed. “Oh, yes, little one. He will be there tonight. Feast your eyes when you see him, for it will be the last time you will be able to gaze upon his handsome face.” Madame shook her head. “A terrible shame to kill such a perfect male specimen. But perhaps he will only be captured, and I can turn him over to Fouché. Either way, I win, and he loses.” Madame’s smile was cruel.”
Instead of pleading or bargaining with Madame to let Damien go free, Jessica bit her lip to refrain from making a reply. Invoking Madame’s anger now might lessen any chance she would have to warn Damien of a trap. Once again, she lowered her head.
The auction was to be held in a country house several miles outside the city, less likely to be discovered by the authorities than if it were held in Paris. Jessica wondered what type of person actually attended these affairs. She knew, of course, of black slaves, and she had heard whispered rumors of the slave markets of North Africa where white women from captured European vessels were sold, never to be heard from again. Would she disappear into oblivion, also?
As the coach pulled around to the back of a large chateau, her heart quickened, and her hands began to shake. She was determined not to show her fear, and she clenched her fists to hide her tremors. Keeping her face expressionless, she descended from the carriage. With Madame on one side of her and Jacques on the other, she walked through the door to meet her fate.
They entered through the kitchen and passed down a long hall into a small sitting room. Jessica counted nine other girls waiting to be auctioned besides herself. They were all dressed in a similar fashion to what she wore. Some sat waiting quietly, some cried, the rest looked as if they were in shock.
Madame took the cloak from Jessica’s shoulders, and then she and Jacques left. Jessica shivered in the chill air. There was no fire on the hearth. Glancing about, she realized that even though she had been left alone, escape was impossible. A very large, rough-looking man stood to one side of the door and watched everything closely. Jessica found an empty chair in a corner and sat down to wait.
It was not long before the door across the room opened and an older woman beckoned to a tall, buxom girl. Before the girl went out the door, she turned and waved to the others waiting. “Good luck, my friends,” she called.
So, the auction began. One by one, each of the girls was taken out the door to meet her master. At last, only Jessica remained. The door across the room opened again, and the woman who had been escorting the girls entered. She held a length of long, white, satin ribbon in her hand. She stopped before Jessica.
“Hold out your hands, child,” she said kindly.
Jessica gazed at her in confusion and did as she was told. The woman wrapped the ribbon about Jessica’s wrists and tied them together, leaving a length of ribbon trailing on the floor. None of the other girls had been bound. Jessica raised questioning eyes to the woman.
“I was told to tie you,” the woman said. “I do not know why. We only tie those who have been unruly.” She gave Jessica a sympathetic smile and a gentle pat on the arm as she finished. “Come along. It is your turn, now.”
Jessica knew that Madame du Barré had something to do with her being bound. Why else would she have been the only one?
The woman led Jessica through the door and into a room filled with people. The crowd was mostly made up of men, but a few women were scattered among them. A raised platform stood between Jessica and the crowd. The woman handed the end of the
ribbon tying Jessica’s wrists to the fat man, Le Cochon. He led her onto the platform.
Le Cochon began the bidding. “Our last sale of the evening, ladies and gentlemen. A lovely pearl from the shores of England. Gently born and raised. Intelligent, yet endowed with spirit, guaranteed to make bedding her an experience to remember.”
At this last, he winked and grinned at the crowd, then placed his fat hand on one of Jessica’s breasts and pinched her. Jessica gasped in pain. Knocking away his hand, she swung both fists and hit him in the arm, then moved as far away as the length of ribbon allowed. The crowd laughed and applauded. Jessica stared stonily at a spot in the wall straight ahead.
“The opening price is five hundred guineas!” Le Cochon announced. “Who will bid?”
“Five hundred!” came a bid from the right side of the room.
“Seven hundred!” a man sitting directly before the platform bid.
“One thousand!” a third man called out.
So, the bidding went on: eleven hundred, twelve, fifteen hundred, two thousand, up to three thousand guineas.
“I have a bid of three thousand guineas,” Le Cochon told the crowd. He gazed out over the faces expectantly. “Come, come,” he exhorted them. “Is that all you will bid for such a ravishing creature?”
He reached out and tugged at the knot at Jessica’s shoulder holding her garment in place. It fell to the floor with a whisper. The people murmured with approval at Jessica’s nakedness. Appalled, humiliated, she shivered, but raised her chin and stared straight ahead.
Le Cochon gave the crowd a sly look. “I have heard it rumored that she is the mistress of Le Chat. Gentlemen, does that not fire your loins? Imagine, having this beauty under you, moaning, knowing that you are taking the place of that devil Le Chat.”
“Four thousand!” a dark haired man with beady, evil eyes offered.
“Forty-five hundred!” another bidder shouted.
“Five thousand!” the dark haired man returned.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 19