Wedded in Sin

by Jade Lee

  “Take as much time as you need. I will wait.” And with that he disappeared down the stairs. And she, idiot woman that she was, hated every second that they were apart.

  “My God,” she whispered to Tommy as his eyes began to droop. “What’s to become of us? I’ve fallen for a mad toff!”

  Tommy didn’t answer, and ten minutes later, she was busy changing her gown and dressing her hair. She told herself it was simply to make talking to Ned easier. A pretty girl always got more information out of a man. But inside she knew the truth.

  Especially since she selected a gown that unbuttoned easily down the front.

  Chapter 17

  Samuel hated waiting anywhere for anything. He truly despised having to do it while Penny was upstairs with Tommy and he was banished like an errant child. It wasn’t a rational reaction, which made him all the more surly. The truth was, he had been enjoying his time with them and was now surly for being denied his treat.

  So he sat downstairs, intending to sulk out his annoyance in the main parlor. But he could not keep his mind focused on it for long—especially since it was an illogical emotional response and not worthy of his brainpower—so all too soon he wandered to the back workroom.

  Mrs. Appleton was there chatting with the buyer, Mrs. Irene Knopp, and the new apprentice, Tabitha, who had indeed gotten her glasses. He heard precious little of their discussion, but knew that it stopped immediately upon his entering the room.

  “Discussing me, were you?” he asked lightly, though inside he sighed. He knew that women more than men valued the good opinion of their friends. And from the looks on the ladies’ faces, they had precious little use for him.

  Normally when faced with a hostile audience, he said his piece and left. Or just left. But for the first time in a very long time, he wanted someone’s good opinion. The reasons why didn’t matter. All that he cared was for them to speak well of him to Penny. So he did something he rarely ever did. He invited the women to vent their criticism.

  “I can see that I have done something amiss. Pray enlighten me so that I can redress it.”

  The apprentice’s eyes widened. It was clear she’d never heard words so big or ones spoken so sweetly. Not the case with the other two ladies. Their eyes narrowed and their faces grew tight. He was already mentally shifting his attention to something—anything—but the dressing-down that was to come when the purchaser did something that surprised him: she spoke rationally to him and in the language of money.

  She began with the simplest of approaches. “I understand that you are a man of investment.”

  “I am not quite sure what that means,” he lied.

  She flashed him an irritated grimace, and he realized she was not a woman used to playing with words. “You invest in companies. In shipping ventures, in stocks, in a variety of ventures all designed to make money. You are a man who invests.”

  He nodded. “Yes, that is certainly true.” Though how she had learned of it was beyond him. Perhaps from her father-in-law, who was also a man of investments, to use her language. If he recalled the details correctly, her father-in-law was the owner of Knopp Shipping. “If I might inquire, how did you learn—”

  “You may not. What you can tell me is how you are faring lately.”

  He reared back. He had not expected such blunt speech from a gently reared lady. “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly.

  “I apologize,” though it was clear from her tone that she did not feel badly about what she’d said. “Let me express it differently. I understand that you are in arrears on your investments. Truth be told, you are in quite the soup.”

  Yes, that was indeed the image he presented. And truthfully, if things went badly—or more slowly than he expected—then quarter day would not be the salvation he envisioned. “My financial situation,” he said stiffly, “is none of your concern.”

  “On the contrary, it is exactly my concern because I wish to offer you a job.”

  He was so stunned that he was robbed of breath. Imagine a woman—a cit’s widow, to be exact—thinking to offer him a job. All his slim aristocratic heritage reacted to the insult, tightening his chest and flushing his face hot. He was just the second son of a baron, but still, the insult was a palpable blow. Had he truly fallen so far?

  “No, don’t answer. I can see it in your face. And no man wishes to work for a woman. But I need a man of some intelligence around. A man who can discourage ruffians and watch for sharks and shoals alike.”

  Her language was colorful and likely a product of her father-in-law. Still he understood her desire. She probably did need a man to help her in all the ways that a man was useful in business. Some situations were simply not safe for a woman.

  Unfortunately, he was still feeling the insult to his very masculine pride. He answered with as much civility as he could muster. “Are you still being followed then? If so, I would look to your seamstress rather than to me.”

  Mrs. Knopp didn’t answer, but Mrs. Appleton reared back in shock. “What does that mean?” And when no one answered her directly, she stepped forward. “What does Wendy have to do with this?”

  “Only that Miss Drew is gambling. And when one dips too deep, all manner of difficulties follow.”

  “Preposterous!” the lady snapped. “Wendy despises gambling!”

  Samuel merely shrugged. Willful blindness only irritated him. Meanwhile, the purchaser stepped forward, her head tilted as she studied him. “Reconsider, Mr. Morrison. It would allow you a reason to hang about near Penny, give you some stability as you await return on your existing investments, and most importantly, you might prevent a disaster that could destroy Penny’s only means of income.”

  “So you wish to trade upon my affection for Miss Shoemaker to allay your fears. An endless dance, in my experience, for women are always dreaming up new fears. And what would I be paid for such a Herculean task?”

  She named a small figure. Enough to significantly reduce his current financial strain, but not the loss to his dignity or the insult to Penny. On another day regarding a different woman, he might have considered it. There was a true mystery surrounding both her and the shop. After all, someone had been following Mrs. Knopp for some reason. And mysteries of that nature always intrigued him.

  But the idea that he would barter a position just to remain close to Penny was insulting and vaguely dirty. He did not want the taint of commerce to pollute their relationship. Logically, such an attitude made little sense. After all, he had begun this dance with Penny as a wager. And gambling was perhaps one of the dirtiest form of commerce, as the seamstress was no doubt discovering.

  But whatever the problem facing this shop was, he would not use it to court Penny. In truth, it bothered him that he was using their wager in just that manner. Which meant he needed to end the problem with Addicock, thereby removing the taint. The last thing he wanted to do was add yet another layer to their relationship. Purity was his choice, not further taint. And so he lifted his nose and spoke with as much aristocratic disdain as he could muster.

  “You insult me and cheapen Miss Shoemaker. I would think that, as her friend, you would want her to attract or discard men at her choosing without forcing the taint of commerce upon her relationships.”

  As expected, all three women reared back at his cold words. Even Tabitha, who didn’t seem to understand his words. But it was Mrs. Appleton who narrowed her eyes in fury and spoke with a disdain he could not match.

  “Taint?” she mocked. “You believe commerce taints her? Us? How bloody arrogant! This is how we live, how we survive, and no man can damn us for it!”

  “And if I choose to lift my relationship with Miss Shoemaker above such mundane concerns, you have no cause to damn me for it.”

  Mrs. Appleton opened her mouth to say something, no doubt to blast him from here to eternity. But the purchaser held up her hand. The room held in silence as Mrs. Knopp studied him, pursing her lips as she thought. In the end, an incredulous laugh burst for
th.

  “You are trying to be chivalric. Good God, Mr. Morrison, you are styling yourself as a knight errant worshiping your lady fair from afar.”

  Samuel stiffened, though truthfully, he couldn’t really stiffen any more. He had already postured himself as a man with wounded dignity. Now his body moved with natural shock at the woman’s intelligence. Because the bloody female was right. He did want to be Penny’s knight errant. He did want the purity of such an honorable and holy worship of his lady fair.

  “And what is it to you if I do?” he asked stiffly.

  “Because it isn’t from afar!” snapped Mrs. Appleton. “I woke when she came to bed that night. I do not know what happened, but it wasn’t noble or chivalric.” She snorted. “You are no Sir Galahad!”

  Samuel swallowed, knowing that she was right. Everything that he had done with Penny—and at a brothel no less—burned in his gut. The weight of his sins nearly crippled him. But he did not crumple. He was a man after all, and had his pride.

  “I do not accept your offer of employment.”

  “No matter,” returned the purchaser. “I have retracted it anyway. I would not have you in my employ. In fact, I do not wish to know you at all.”

  And she would counsel Penny against him, he realized with a heavy heart. Bloody hell, he should have remained in the main parlor for he had just turned all Penny’s friends against him. There was nothing to do about it now but to execute a strategic retreat. So with a stiff bow, he turned to leave. Sadly, worst had come to worst. Penny stood at the base of the stairs. She had no doubt heard every word.

  “Miss Shoemaker,” he said, barely keeping the words from being a cry of alarm. “Are you ready to go? I believe time to get to Shoreditch grows short.”

  She nodded slowly, and he noted that her face was pale beneath the cosmetics and that her hand trembled where it touched the wall. Her gaze jumped between himself and the other women in the room. Sadly, the others made their opinion of him quite clear without any words at all.

  How to turn her back to his favor? He didn’t know, and that bothered him at a fundamental level. In nearly a week’s acquaintance, he knew less and less of Penny’s thoughts and heart. So he kept silent and simply held out his hand, silently praying that she took it.

  She did, and the relief of that shuddered through him even as he guided them out the door and hailed a hackney headed for Shoreditch and Ned Wilkers. But once in the cab, the silence held dark and oppressive. She was thinking hard, and he was insane with the need to know her decision. Thankfully, she did not keep him in suspense for long.

  “What does ‘chivalric’ mean?”

  “Do you recall childhood stories of King Arthur and his knights?”

  “Yes. They went out on quests. They did knightly things—defending the innocents, punishing the guilty.”

  “And they loved according to the Christian ideal. That meant—”

  “No kissing, no touching, no marriage because Queen Guinevere was already married.”

  He nodded, no longer surprised that she easily cut to the heart of the matter.

  “So you don’t want to touch me anymore?”

  He laughed, though the sound was strained. “I want to very much, Penny. But…” He sighed. It was good that they were sitting there in the dark. He did not think he could reveal himself were it the broad light of day. “I was very young when I realized that I saw things that others did not. That I understood a great deal more than others.”

  “You’re the smartest man I have ever met,” she said.

  He took it as the simple truth. “But I used my intelligence badly,” he said. “I made fun of others, manipulated events to show that I was smart and they were dumb. I made a farmer spend a day searching for imaginary gold. I sent my brother and father off chasing a leprechaun. I did so many bad things, Penny, you have no idea.”

  “What did the farmer do to you?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “I doubt you were carelessly cruel. What did the farmer do to make you angry?”

  “He, um, he beat a dog. It was his own dog and so he had the right. But…”

  “So you sent him off chasing after gold. Did you save the dog then?”

  He had. And he’d given the animal to a traveling tinker. “I saved that dog, yes. But it was theft, Penny. And besides, he got another dog and beat that one, too. I changed nothing.”

  “But you were young and your intentions were good.”

  “And my brother and father?” He knew the reasons why he had done that. He’d known for years now, though he had never spoken of them to anyone.

  “Families are difficult.” She reached out and touched his hand. “I have lived with such anger that my father could not see past my sex to what I could do as a cobbler. Perhaps you were angry that your brother inherits everything merely because he is the elder. And you are left with only your wits.”

  “I used to be very angry,” he said softly. In truth, the resentment still simmered. Especially on days when the hunger bit deep, when he had to dance attendance on some ridiculous society woman just so he could dine at her ball.

  “What happened, Samuel?” she asked softly. “What happened to turn you into Sir Samuel, my knight protector?”

  He laughed at her honorific, but he couldn’t deny that it pleased him enormously. He did wish to save her from her dragons. Every single one of them. But honesty forced him to correct her. “I am no knight errant, as your friends will take great pains to explain to you.”

  “What happened,” she repeated, “to keep you from becoming cruel and malicious? To bring you to help me instead of laugh at my woes?”

  “Penny—”

  “Do not fob me off, Samuel. I know how easily anger can turn to bitterness.”

  She was right. Something had changed the course of his life. Or more specifically, someone. “A tutor. He handed me the tale of King Arthur and his knights—in the original French no less—and he taught me.”

  “Taught you to be less bitter?”

  “If I had what I felt I deserved—the baronetcy and all that it entailed—what would happen to my brother? He is not so smart as me. Kind and jolly as Father Christmas, but not so bright. He would be penniless in a fortnight. Too proud for a trade, too bumbling to manage on his wits, he would enter the army and be blown to bits equally fast.” In his mind’s eye, he noted the parade of young men he remembered who had suffered just that fate. “God was right to give him the title and me the ability to survive on my own.”

  “Are you?” she asked. “Are you surviving? I heard what Irene said. Are you close to debtor’s prison?”

  “No, my dear. No debts or at least not ones so substantial as to fear the law.” Though if he were truly honest with himself, a disaster could indeed bring him to his knees. It was a delicate time for him, financially speaking. But he had faith that his investments were sound. He had studied them very carefully.

  Meanwhile, she took what he said at face value, and the silence enfolded them again. Then he surprised them both by speaking.

  “My mother caught me once teasing my brother. I’m afraid there were times I was very mean to him. She grabbed me by the ear and dragged me aside and said something I will never forget.” He paused, remembering the exact moment and the force of her words. His ear even throbbed in remembered pain. “She said, ‘To whom much is given, much is expected.’ As I’d been given brains, I ought to find something better to do with them than trick Greg out of his best toy soldier.’”

  He sighed, and acting on impulse, he tugged her across the seat and into his arms. He heard her gasp in reaction, but her body was pliant as she settled into his arms.

  “I haven’t,” he said to her hair. “I’ve looked and looked, but I haven’t found anything of value to do yet.”

  “You are getting me back my inheritance.”

  “I have been scheming to get you into my bed. I took you to a brothel.”

  He felt her body tremble at that, b
ut she didn’t speak. He had no idea if it was fear or anticipation.

  “I am trying to be a better man, Penny. If you will but be patient with me, I will find a way to treat you as you deserve.”

  “Like Sir Lancelot treated Queen Guinevere? Loving her from afar?”

  “You clearly do not remember the rest of the story,” he drawled.

  “I don’t care about their story,” she said as she pushed out of his arms. “I am not a queen. You are helping me. And Irene had no right to use your kindness for me to try and get you to work for us.”

  “It’s not kindness I feel, Penny.”

  “Good. Because it’s not what I feel either.” And with that, she stretched up and kissed him.

  His arms wrapped around her and his renewed determination to be a good man was not proof against her body pressed to his, her lips on his mouth. Especially as she began to nip at his lips.

  Lust roared through him. He was already hard. It was a chronic condition whenever they were together. But now, a wave of hunger engulfed him. Where she was still teasing at his lips, he opened his mouth and thrust into hers. She was gripping his shoulders, encouraging closeness, but he rolled over her, pressing her back against the squabs as he began to take what he wanted.

  He thrust his tongue into her mouth. He slid between her knees and ground against her. She moaned in response, which pushed him to further excess. One of his hands moved easily to her breast while the other sought the edge of her gown at her shoulder. He was intent on pushing it down, on stripping her bare, and doing what he wanted without regard to anything but the way she thrust her pelvis against his and gasped his name.

  But they were in a carriage, for God’s sake! All too soon they would arrive at the pub where young Ned passed his evenings. Penny was not a bored society matron reveling in a dashed tumble against the squabs. And he was not a beast to take what he wanted without regard to the woman beneath him.

  But it was hard, so very, very difficult to pull himself back, to stop the way he grabbed at her gown, to force himself to sit back on the opposite side of the carriage. Especially since, even in the dark, he could see her red lips and disheveled gown. He could hear her rasping breaths, timed perfectly with his own. And he knew a thousand and one ways to manipulate her into his bed within an hour.