It would again, she had no doubt.
But was it already too late?
~~~
“I raised you better than to maul a lady in the gardens, Fletcher Bartholomew.” Aunt Penelope’s voice cut sharply into the night air, her cane swinging at the evergreens behind Fletch and sending needles flying through the air.
Damn.
Fletch jerked away from Talia, his hands dropping from her body after instantly yanking up the top of her dress. Talia stumbled a step backward at his sudden lack of support, but she caught herself before he could reach out to steady her.
What could have been seen from the angle? Everything? Nothing?
He turned to look out of the alcove. Leaning heavily on her cane, Aunt Penelope took two steps toward him.
“Aunt Penelope, you have come upon—”
“I know exactly what I have come upon, Fletcher. We thought to follow you and offer assistance to Lady Natalia, as she was overly distraught. I imagined it was your doing and it would be better if I comforted her. Yet, perhaps it was a farce so you two could escape to the deep corners of the gardens. Despicable. I thought Lady Natalia a fine miss, but I can see now she is somewhat suspect as a lady. Perhaps she has lost her sense of propriety in the years since her father’s death.”
Fletch stepped fully in front of Talia, his hand lifting behind him to grab her arm and hold her in place when he felt her start to move around him. “Talia has lost nothing, Aunt.”
“Do not take that tone with me, Fletcher.”
“The fault of that display was mine alone, Aunt,” Fletch said. “It does not and it will not besmirch Lady Natalia’s reputation.”
“No?” Aunt Penelope slammed her cane into the cold ground. “My friends just saw the very same thing I did, Fletcher. Who do you think walked me back here?”
His hand still pressing Talia backward, Fletch took a step forward to look around the corner of the evergreen alcove. The devil. The dragons were already converging. A growl rumbled from his chest.
Before he could turn back to his aunt, Talia tore his hand from her arm and skittered around him to move out of the alcove. She stepped into the lane, and he saw Talia’s face fall as she spotted three of Aunt Penelope’s friends at the end of the walk, moving away slowly, their three heads bent together. He could only imagine the conversation.
Aunt Penelope moved her fragile frame in front of him, skewering him with her grey eyes. “Idiot boy. You do that business in a hallway. A coach with the curtains drawn. A dark study. In the carriage house. Hidden in a willow tree. Behind draperies. You do not do that in public. At least go farther into the gardens, Fletcher.”
His aunt knew far too many places for a clandestine tryst. He glanced over his shoulder at Talia. She was still watching the dragons at the end of the walk and he could see her anxiety rising, starting to spin her head. Dammit. He had just calmed her, and now this.
Fletch’s eyes swung down to his aunt as he turned to her. “I did not imagine an audience, Aunt.”
“No. But there you have it. You had one.” She swung her cane up to point at her retreating friends. “You say you do not want this to besmirch Lady Natalia’s reputation, then you make good on your lewd actions, Fletcher.”
Grumbling to herself, she spun as fast as her ancient bones would let her, hobbling away, her cane digging with fury into the ground with every step.
“Walk away, Fletch. I meant it earlier. More so now.” From behind him, Talia’s soft words floated up to his ears.
“What?” He didn’t turn around to her, his voice coming out through gritted teeth.
“Walk away from me right now. Walk down this lane with your aunt. I do not have a care for my reputation. You know that. I am so far removed from what this is—this life—what your world is. It is not where I belong anymore. So walk away, Fletch.”
He stared at his aunt as she joined her friends at the end of the lane. “I am not about to abandon you in the middle of Vauxhall Gardens, Talia.”
“So take me home and walk away.”
He turned around to face her. “I am not about to abandon you at all, Talia.”
She shook her head. “If you happen to find the man that bought Louise, you can send me a note with any information. But I hold you to no obligation. You can be done with me. I have not fulfilled my end of our deal, as I have not helped you at all. And now I am no longer of any use to you. Do not let misplaced honor hinder what you need to do. Walk away, Fletch.”
He leaned down, his mouth next to her ear. “I am not abandoning you, Talia. So you can cease your attempt to be rid of me this instant.” The vehemence in his own words startled him.
She blinked hard, her head craning backward.
He stepped to her side, holding his elbow out to her.
Her hazel eyes wide, she nodded, lifting her hand. She let him place her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Without another word, he marched them straight past his aunt and her dragons, and out of the gardens, his head held high.
He gave Talia no choice but to follow his lead, and out of the corner of his eye, he noted that she lifted her chin as well. Her steps were unsteady, he could feel it as she gripped onto his arm. But her eyes were level. Her face serene.
Still the lady.
And he found himself inordinately proud of her.
{ Chapter 6 }
A man snatched her upper arm, stopping her, and he leaned in front of her to spit into the chamber pot she was carrying as she weaved her way through the tables. She stood, waiting for him to hack up whatever putrescence was in his lungs, her eyes trained on the doorway next to the long bar that filled one end of the Jolly Vassal’s main room.
Talia counted the guards coming down the steps beyond the door and into the main room. She had waited all night for this. One, two, three. Only two guards had gone up to relieve them. That meant there was one floor without a guard at the end of the hall.
Her palms went sweaty around the pot she was about to empty. The owner was behind the bar, chatting with the barkeep. She also knew they would never leave the third floor unguarded. If she was lucky, the floor above her was the one without a guard. It was where the owner’s office was—she had been in there to empty the pot the first night she had been allowed onto the second floor—and she recognized this may be her only chance that night to sneak in there. She needed to find that list Fletch talked about—a ledger, she guessed, of all the virgins purchased and who the purchasers were.
She hurried through the tables to the back door, slipping out into the night. Dump this pot and then she could pretend it came from an upper floor. A quick scan told her the alley was empty.
She hurried through the shadows to the cesspit. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she flipped the wooden lid to the side with the toe of her boot. She dumped the pot, shaking it until she could hold her breath no longer. Kicking the lid back in place, she turned her head, scooting several feet to the side before she opened her mouth for a gasp of air.
A quick scratch at her itchy hairline under her handkerchief, and she started back to the door, only to be suddenly yanked to the left.
The pot dropped to the cold ground, shattering. Blast it. Another blackguard to deal with and her chance to get up the stairs broken at her feet.
Lesson learned from her neck that was still bruised, Talia started babbling in her ill-bred accent before the cur behind her could get his hand around her throat. “Aye, ‘bout time ‘e sees me pretty muff—it be primed ‘n ready fer ye.”
The man clamped an arm around her chest, dragging her backward and deeper into the alley as she kept blabbering. “I be awaitin’ all night fer ye to take me. Me itch ain’t bad tonight—no pus, so I be ready fer a good clangin’ with ye. Don’t charge like ‘e whores inside accountin’ on me bloody sores. Them bloody bast’rds pull me from the rooms cause of ‘em. Make me change their pots, they do, when I be better on me back.”
A thick hand clamped over her mouth, cu
tting her words.
Time to panic. The second she mentioned sores, the men always dropped her to the dirt. Talia twisted, trying to free herself from the arm dragging her backward on her heels.
“Cease, Talia.”
Talia froze. Fletch.
Her heels scraped along the muck of the alley as he dragged her to the next street over. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move for the vise he had her in. He may as well have tossed her over his shoulder for all the control she had.
The clamp around her chest tightened as Fletch’s voice, growling, filled her ears. “Truly, Talia—‘muff,’ ‘clanging’?”
His gait sped, jostling her as blood rushed to the tips of her ears. He had heard everything she said. She recognized he knew very well why she had said the words, yet still. Vulgar. He had heard her vulgar. Her only saving grace in the humiliation was that darkness hid her red face.
Fletch stopped at a black carriage, opening the door and lifting her. He tossed her—with a distinct lack of gentleness—inside onto the floor and jumped in after her.
He slammed the door closed behind him, sending the unlit interior into darkness as the horses jumped to a trot. Talia could feel him sit down, his legs brushing her arm. He didn’t bother to help her from her heap on the floor of the carriage.
“You are done here, Talia.” His voice came down at her from the blackness, seething.
Her fingers found the edge of the bench opposite him and she clasped it, yanking herself up onto the seat. “Why? But I—”
“No discussion, Talia. No pleas. No argument. You are done at the Jolly Vassal. You are done from ever setting foot near a brothel again.”
“But—”
“Done.”
The word left no room for explanations. No room for argument.
The carriage rattled down the street, taking a sharp turn that sent Talia onto her side. She righted herself, scooting along the bench to the side of the carriage to open the black velvet curtains. Flashes of dim light made it into the carriage from the random street lanterns.
She looked from the window to Fletch, almost afraid to witness in his face the violence that was in his voice. A flash of light verified his glare was exactly as furious as she imagined. She looked out the window. “You are taking me home?”
“I trusted leaving you at the boardinghouse earlier tonight after the gardens. I am not about to make that mistake again. I am taking you to my home so you can bathe and change out of those clothes that stink like the ass of a pig.”
Rage sent hackles along the back of Talia’s neck. “Of all the bloody high-handedness, you overbearing ogre.” She lunged to the side, reaching for the handle of the door.
His hand swift, Fletch snatched her wrist, stopping her movement before she could turn the brass handle. “So now you think to jump from a moving carriage, Talia? You are not that stupid.”
“And now you dare to call me stupid?” She wrenched her wrist, only managing to slightly jerk him forward.
“I said you were not that stupid.” He dropped her wrist, his eyes boring into her. “Prove me wrong.”
Talia glanced out the window. The carriage was going much too fast for her to jump safely. She was that angry, but not that stupid.
She shoved back onto the cushions, crossing her arms over her ribcage. “I do not care for your presumption that you can order me about, Lord Lockston. Our deal entailed no mention of your boorish tyranny.”
“I suspect you do not care for anyone ordering you about, Talia.” His head tilted, and he stared at her in silence for several blocks.
She refused to look at him as she was too consumed with attempting to stop her body from shaking in indignation.
He sighed, loud, filling the carriage. “Please, Talia. Please will you come to my home, wash the smell from your person, and change into a clean dress so that we may talk without a wall of stench between us?”
Her shaking eased, but it did not disappear completely. She looked across to him in the shadows. He had asked. And Talia guessed that Fletch rarely asked anyone for anything.
She swallowed the rage still wanting to send her tongue to lashing. “I stink that badly?”
He nodded. “I do not exaggerate. I will have to bathe as well after holding on to you.”
She shrugged, looking out the window. “Fine, I will come with you.”
One hour and one bath later, Talia sat in Fletch’s study, warming her bare toes by the fire. Fletch had procured proper stockings and slippers, but as she rarely got to indulge in a true fire to heat her feet and dry her hair by, she had foregone putting them on.
Waiting for Fletch to finish his own bath, she stared at the fire, trying not to look at her surroundings. The room was rich, she had noticed that the first time she had been in here. Elaborately carved woodwork framed the fireplace. A deep mahogany coffered ceiling loomed above. Bookcases filled with row after row of leather-bound tomes.
Fletch’s gleamingly polished desk alone took up a quarter of the room.
She didn’t want to look at it all, because she didn’t want to remember. Her father’s study in Rosevin had been much like this one. And she had spent countless hours in there, playing on the floor, interrupting her father every ten minutes.
She had loved his study. Loved how safe, how warm it always was.
It was just another thing lost to her that she couldn’t afford the energy to miss. Not when she still had to find Louise.
So she stared at the fire, racking her brain for how she could get into the brothel again to find the list of virgin purchasers. Fletch had taken it upon himself to know her every movement, and she was going to have to ignore his order that she stay away from the Jolly Vassal if she was going to find that list. She needed to find it, needed to hang onto the last vestiges of her tattered hope.
She would talk to Fletch and then leave. Return to the brothel, his anger be damned.
Talia was weaving her hair into a braid when she heard the study door open.
She popped up from the wide leather chair by the hearth and picked up the stockings she had draped on the ottoman.
“I should not be here, Fletch. Your staff has seen me and it is only a matter of time before their gossip reaches hungry ears.”
He closed the door behind him, pausing with his hands behind his back. Foregoing full dress, he stood in dark trousers that sat tightly about his waist and a simple white linen shirt that opened wide on his neck. Still wet from his bath, his brown hair looked dark, almost black in the shadow by the door. His feet were bare.
His left eyebrow cocked at her. “Should you not have been worried about my staff’s discretion days ago when you were here?”
She waved her hand in the air, the silk stocking she gripped fluttering. “That was before you set me in front of your aunt. She would be destroyed if she knew you were harboring me here in the middle of the night—even more so if she knew you were lying to her. That I was a farce in your life. Especially after what she witnessed at the gardens.”
He gave a slight incline of his head to her and stepped fully into the room, stopping within an arm’s length of her. “My staff will not breathe a word of your presence. They were hired long ago for their ability to be discrete.”
She rolled up one of the stockings and set her bare foot on the ottoman in front of the leather chair. She looked up at him as she slipped the stocking on and unfurled it up her leg. “Do you have need for discretion often?”
Fletch looked at her without answering, his face notably blank.
The left side of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “Ah, yes. I suppose you are just as discrete as your staff.”
“Why did you go back to the brothel, Talia? Your sister is not there.”
“It is possible that she may land there after…” At a loss to finish her thought with what she didn’t want to acknowledge, Talia cleared her throat as she tied the garter and then switched her feet on the ottoman. “And you said there was a list of buyers. I was on my way
to sneak into the office of the owner to search for the list when you so rudely stole me from the alley.”
“Dammit, Talia.” Fletch ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I didn’t tell you about the list’s bloody existence so you would go a fool and risk your neck looking for it.”
She stood straight. “Oh. I thought that was exactly why you told me about the list. So I should look for it.”
“What? Why would you not think I would handle it? Get the list by my own means?”
“It is just, in my position, I can move about the brothel much more covertly than you can.” Her fingers drew together in front of her, intertwining. “I was going to deliver that chamber pot into that office—make it look as if that was all I was doing in there, just in case someone came in. I was only in a little danger. The owner and the barkeep do think I am quite stupid. I am positive they do not believe I can read, so I could have easily prattled my way out. Whereas if you somehow made it into that office, your presence could not be easily explained. You cannot deny my logic, Fletch.”
“I cannot.” His chin jutted out, his tongue visibly pressing along the inside of his cheek. “But there is one rather large folly in your plan, Talia.”
“No. There is none.”
“There is—it is the fact that I already have the list in-hand. I received it this morning.”
“What—how?”
“I hired an investigator to get it for me.”
Talia’s teeth clamped tight, grinding. Of course. Money. Money would buy one anything. A virgin. A list. Whatever one fancied.
She stepped toward him. “You had it all day, when we went to the gardens—why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think I needed to, Talia.” He exhaled an aggravated sigh. “I told you I would find your sister, and that is what I am doing. I didn’t think you would not trust me at my word.”
“It is not my trust that is in question. It is your trust in me, Fletch. Why did you not think it a necessity to tell me what you found?”
“I did not want you preoccupied at the gardens and I in no way imagined you would take it upon yourself to go back to the Jolly Vassal. Especially when there is nothing that can be done at the moment.”
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