And her heart did a frantic lurch to the top of her ribcage before settling like a stone.
“For a gentleman like me,” supplied Lord Harkom, easing himself into her orbit and elbowing Faith’s original admirer and his friend out of the way. For a long moment, he stared at her; a calculating gleam in his eye.
As if he’d run her to ground.
Faith turned her head, a frisson of fear making her mouth tremble.
All to the good. Let him see her fear. It would make him believe all the more powerfully in his mastery over her. He’d think he’d caught her by surprise.
He took a step closer. “Well, well, well,” he murmured. “Miss Faith Montague. Who would have thought to find you…here.”
Faith raised one shoulder as if in defiance and part self-protectiveness. She saw his gaze brush over her bare flesh, and the desire leap and dance in his coal-black eyes.
Oh God, she did not want to do this. And yet, she had to go through with it. Had to make him believe in her fear, her reluctance. It would stoke the abusing monster within him to act.
“Lord Harkom.” Her tone sounded husky and inviting. She swallowed. “Good evening.” What else could she say?
He settled himself beside her, his thigh pressing against hers on the love seat as he called to a waiter to bring them both brandy.
She took the cut-glass tumbler she was offered without a word, but was forced to answer when he remarked, “It’s been some time since we last met. Since you reneged on the agreement we had, in fact. I wondered where you’d gone. Yes, I’ve often wondered that.” He looked at her enquiringly, a note of menace in his tone.
“I found a friend who was good to me. Very good to me.” She took a sip of her brandy and allowed a note of sorrow to creep into her voice while her eyes rose heavenward. “Sadly, all good things come to an end.”
“So, you were quick to find a replacement for young Westaway. And me. Glad to know you weren’t brokenhearted all this time. But you’re at a loose end tonight, I can see.” He stood and put his hand on her shoulder, his fingers playing with the light fabric that edged her shoulder strap. Faith shivered, and he ran his hand down her arm and gently gripped her elbow, as if feeling its smoothness, its composition.
“Ah Faith, you and I have some unfinished business, don’t we?” With both hands on her shoulders, he drew her up. The familiar notes of leather and sandalwood filled her senses. She’d been too close to the smell of him before. “Come home with me and I’ll show you I’m not the man you thought you feared.”
Faith stared up at him and shook her head. “I don’t want to go home with you, Lord Harkom,” she murmured. “You can offer me nothing that I want.”
His lordship glanced about the room. “You think there’s someone here who can? Perhaps those two striplings who were courting you earlier?” Drawing her closer, he dipped his head and whispered, “I’m a rich and powerful man, and I think you know that I want you. Let bygones be bygones and I’ll show you how kind and…generous I can be.”
Faith stood her ground. “No, Lord Harkom.” She shook her head. “The first time I met you, you tried to take what I was unwilling to give. You would not take no for an answer.”
“A mere misunderstanding.” He gave a gentle laugh. “Your procuress sanctioned more than a little persuasion to break you in. Encouraged it, in fact, since she said you’d never learn what you had to do otherwise.”
“You were not gentle with me, Lord Harkom.” Faith’s trembling was real. “I have been fortunate to have enjoyed the protection of a man who was nothing but kind.”
“It was not kind to leave you, Faith.” Lord Harkom encompassed their surroundings with a sweep of his arm.
“He died unexpectedly, Lord Harkom. And left me with but a little provision. Not enough to tide me into my old age. I need to shore up my future while I can, while I am young and still—”
“Beautiful.” He dipped his head to breathe in the scent of her hair and murmured it again. “So beautiful, Faith, and you have taught me the lesson of valuing that which I want so very much.” Lightly, he placed both hands on her bare shoulders. “See how gentle I can be when it’s worth my while? I want you, Faith. Not just for tonight. Come home with me, and I promise that I will treat you like a precious China doll.”
Faith took a faltering step, her reluctance so from the heart, but at the same time furthering her purpose. Before they’d reached the doorway, she stopped. “You must woo me, take it slowly, treat me like a lady, if you are to enjoy me beyond tonight. If you think tonight is for settling old scores or teaching me a lesson, then that will not further your interests, Lord Harkom.”
“My, my, Faith. You’ve learned how to negotiate and dish out threats. How very sweet.” He laughed. “And intriguing.”
“So, you promise you will deal with me kindly? Yes? Then I shall tell Mistress Kate who I am going with tonight. That will be my insurance, Lord Harkom.”
She let him lead her through the throng, to stop to say a word to Mistress Kate, then out of the doors and into the street.
“Mind the step, Faith. I wonder if my offer of brandy was such a good idea. You want all your wits about you if you’re to enjoy what I have in store for you.”
“I hope you’re not accusing me of overindulgence, my lord.” Faith looked up at Lord Harkom, blinking as if to clear her head. “And I’m not sure I want what you have in store for me.”
“Yet you’re coming with me, aren’t you, Faith?” He flagged down a hackney carriage and helped her in. “All the way to my beautiful home where I can make you feel like the princess you are. The princess I could make you. You are intrigued, aren’t you? You want to know what kind of man I really am?”
Faith settled herself into the dark interior, sighing deeply as she dropped her head onto Lord Harkom’s shoulder. At least feigning sleep for a few minutes would give her time to think and dispense with the need for conversation.
When the hackney halted outside his townhouse, she straightened, rubbing her eyes as she stared at him in the light of the gas lamp on the pavement.
He jumped out and opened the door, but she remained on the cushion.
“I’m really not sure this is such a good idea, Lord Harkom.”
“Why, my dear? You considered it an excellent idea not so long ago.”
She looked mutinous. “You helped ruin my reputation. And you and I have never been friends.”
“But there is so much potential for us to be much more than that, eh Faith? Besides, I had nothing to do with the publication of the photograph, I assure you.” He took her hand and helped her out, while she went unresistingly. Like a lamb to the slaughter. Except it wouldn’t be hers. She was determined upon that.
When he put his arm about her, taking advantage of his close proximity to caress her breast, she slapped his hand away.
He laughed. “Oh yes, there are certain pretences to be kept up. I think that’s part of your charm, Faith. Now, let me help you up the steps. That’s a very tight skirt you’re wearing. Very daring but very delectable. I shall enjoy seeing the mechanics of how you get it to cling so alluringly to that lovely body of yours. Yes, I’m quite the lover, but quite the engineer too. One is never just the one thing, don’t you agree?”
“I don’t promise I’ll stay, Lord Harkom,” she warned him as he led her through his sumptuously decorated townhouse. “You shall have to work hard to persuade me that there is any advantage in furthering our…acquaintance. If you do anything against my will, you will regret it; I promise you.”
“Oh, I do love being threatened by a beautiful woman.”
His chuckle chilled her to the bone. Faith sent him an arch look as they passed along a dim corridor lined with family portraits. “Don’t think you can treat me as you treated me before when I was naïve and vulnerable.”
She dismissed his inevitable scepticism at her words with another warning. “I’m neither of those things though, of course, I won’t pretend I’m not l
ooking for a protector. I doubt it will be you for more than this one night, but given time I shall find someone to my liking. Someone worthy of me, and someone who will punish you if you dare do wrong by me. Do you understand?”
Still chuckling as he nodded, he escorted her through the door, closing it behind them, catching Faith off balance as he pushed her against the wall, pinioning her like a butterfly as he covered her mouth with his.
Faith brought her knee up with enough pressure to break the contact without hurting him excessively, saying brightly, “Too soon, my lord. What did I tell you? A little wooing to break me in is required, I thought I’d made that clear. Perhaps some champagne? My head is starting to clear and, increasingly, I think that coming here was a very bad idea.”
To her relief, amusement replaced the scowl that she’d feared was the precursor to greater menace.
He swept her an elaborate bow. “Of course, my dear, let’s bring out the champagne before we get down to business, if that’s what you want.” He gripped her forearm and led her towards the dining room where he pulled out a chair for her, before ringing the bell for champagne.
Faith took the bottle as he was about to open it, her mind reeling with the risk of doing what she was about to suggest, rather than staying safely here.
As he sank into the chair beside her, she tickled his cheek with the feather in her headdress. “We don’t have to drink it here, my lord.” Her tone was teasing. “I only wanted to make clear that I don’t expect to be hustled into any congress without the necessary preliminaries.” Rising, she pointed to the glasses before them. “Why don’t you take those, and I’ll take this, and we can remove ourselves from the proximity of the servants. We can partake of a glass while you compare me to the stars and the moon and the sun, and if your words are pretty enough, and I’ve consumed enough to make me insensible to the terrible mistake I know in my heart of hearts this really is, then we can proceed from there. How does that please my lord?” She looked playfully at him, astonished to see the transformation. Charity was right. He truly did like being ordered about by a woman.
But, of course, he’d got ahead of himself, and Faith could only hope she was able to reel him in, for once in his bedchamber, he marched her to the bed and tossed her down upon the counterpane, looming over her to kiss her throat and the swell of her breasts. Faith wriggled out from beneath him and stood with her hands on her hips.
“Really, my lord; it’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it?” She moved unhurriedly towards the small sofa in the centre of the room where she settled herself, tucking her feet beneath her and waving the uncorked bottle towards him.
“Now you can do the honours. I need a drink, Lord Harkom. Probably two if I’m going to enjoy what you have in store for me.”
“But not so much that you’ll be in danger of not remembering such delights, my precious,” he murmured.
Faith hiccupped as she took it, tossing back a long draft as he was in the process of sitting down.
“There’s no danger of that, Lord Harkom, though I will need you to top me up.” She waved her half-empty glass in the air while indicating the champagne bottle on the sideboard adding with a suggestive look, “I’m referring to my drink, as I’m sure you understand.”
He hesitated then visibly relaxed. Perhaps he liked what her double entendre suggested—that she was growing drunk and malleable, and he’d soon have her where he wanted her.
“Well, well, you are in a delightfully pleasing mood tonight and very different from the last time we met, Faith,” he remarked, his back turned to her for the few seconds she needed.
The less than two seconds it took for her to uncap the tiny vial around her neck and tip the contents into her glass.
“Having London’s most beautiful woman in my bed was beyond my expectations when I set out this evening.” He brought them both a glass of fizzing liquid before settling close beside her on the sofa, placing his free hand on her thigh.
She’d ignore it for now. The hand of a man on her person. A man she despised. It was intended as foreplay, but as God was her witness, Faith would do whatever was in her power to avert what Lord Harkom had in mind.
She studied him over the rim of her glass. Did he suspect anything? Or did he imagine that her desire for material goods could overcome the deep loathing that he’d whipped up in her when he’d manhandled her so roughly a year before?
It was a shock to realise that his experience must have seen the return of women whom he’d abused so that Faith’s behaviour tonight was not aberrant.
And yet, to her it was so very aberrant.
But then, wasn’t she the consummate actress?
For a year, she’d played her role as demure governess so well she’d never been suspected for the fraud she was. For the woman of notoriety she was. For three years prior to that she’d been trained in the arts of seduction. She knew how to whip up a man’s desire, how to spur him on when he might have second thoughts, how to pleasure him in bed. In an academic sense, only, of course.
And how to take control if a situation suggested danger. This was where her energies were being channelled now, for she had no intention of doing any of the former.
She’d rather die than have to practise those bedroom skills she’d silently sworn would be reserved for the man she loved.
Crispin.
But did she love him enough, after all this time, that he deserved the ultimate sacrifice?
Their love had been brief, passionate, and sincere. She still believed that.
But how quickly he had dismissed her.
Lord Harkom’s hand crept further up her thigh as he bent to refill their glasses at Faith’s mumbled direction.
“When we’ve finished the bottle, we can begin the grand finale!” she declared.
“Or the first act,” he responded with a throaty chuckle.
Lord, neither if Faith’s plan came to fruition.
But dutifully, and as her role required, she giggled, nibbling his ear as she leaned into him; distracting him with her pretence of embracing his overtures.
“Oh, but you are killing me with anticipation, my love,” he muttered, twisting his large body so that he suddenly seemed in danger of crushing her as he trailed kisses along her jawbone.
“Let’s drink to that!” she declared with a raucous laugh, raising her glass high, offering it to him with an impish look while she relieved him of his empty glass.
Obediently, he drained the contents of the glass before finding himself in possession of another glass filled with fizzing liquid while Faith declared with false joy, “Yes! Drink to tonight’s wild congress.”
And without questioning, Lord Harkom drained that glass, too.
Chapter 28
Crispin had never desired visiting Madame Chambon’s when it was lauded amongst his set as a place of high revels.
And certainly not after he’d learned it was Faith’s lodgings, for by then his heart had been eviscerated by her faithlessness, and Madame Chambon’s represented everything he despised. It had hothoused a woman who’d learned tricks to trap and entice a man when he’d thought himself so clever in sniffing out artifice.
He’d thought Miss Montague so uniquely innocent and unaffected by the world around her; a fragile rose without thorns, and he was to have been the gallant who would rescue her and gently teach her the ways of the world.
Now, surrounded by the far-from-innocent young women from whom he presumed Faith had learned the tricks of the trade, he felt out of place and deeply uncomfortable.
Lord Delmore had placed him in an impossible position. Crispin had no wish to delve into the overinflated mysteries that an imaginative young Cyprian had been hinting at, for surely they did not endanger him, and surely she was merely fishing for Crispin’s involvement for reasons unknown?
He suspected these reasons unknown had a very clear and calculating agenda.
“Charity?” he asked, when an elfin-faced creature sat on the arm of the sofa
he was sitting on, her chestnut hair brushing his cheek as she leaned towards him.
“I heard you were looking for me, sir. Come along, shall we?” She took his hand and he rose, silent as she led him along a corridor and up a flight of stairs to a bedchamber on the first floor. “Now, where shall we begin?” Her smile was pleasant and helpful as she waved him towards the large iron bed that dominated the room. A lamp upon the side table bathed the room in a soft glow, and the red-velvet counterpane and plumped-up pillows filled his senses with unexpected desire.
Not for Charity, who’d dropped one shoulder of her evening gown and who seemed pretty and pleasing enough.
But for Faith.
For all he knew, she was still here, and this was just the prelude for finding himself in the right bed.
Her bed.
Yes, he’d weaken if he saw her again. He knew he would.
And he despised himself for it.
Taking a seat on the edge of the counterpane, he said, “I want you to tell me what you know about Faith Montague.” He made no move to adjust his clothing, while Charity by this stage was hitching up her skirts to kneel on the bed beside him, one hand already insinuating itself inside his shirt.
She withdrew it as if stung. “Good lord, you’re Mr Westaway, aren’t you?”
With a scramble and a tugging of her clothing to appear more decent, she took up position at the end of the bed and regarded him, curiously. “I never thought you’d come here?”
“Where else might I find her?” Amusement swept away his discomfort. She seemed horrified to be in the company of a gentleman he hoped Faith had painted as not using women in such a cavalier fashion.
“Certainly not here!”
“But this is the only address I have for her.”
“She’s not lived here for a year. And before that, she never lived as one of us. You do know that, of course.”
Fair Cyprians of London Boxset: Books 1-5: Five passionate Victorian Romances Page 43