A Pregnant Courtesan for the Rake

by Diane Gaston

  ‘It was not so difficult a thing for me.’

  He found his senses surging at her closeness. He glanced at her neck and noticed the pearl necklace, remembering her thanks in Paris for that trifling gift, remembering what had come after.

  He leaned down, closer. Her scent filled his nostrils. He wanted her and her lips were tantalisingly close.

  Her eyes dilated.

  But he pulled back and continued walking.

  ‘He called you vile names,’ she said a moment later. ‘I am so sorry. You did not deserve that.’

  He smiled. ‘I have heard such names my whole life, Cecilia.’ Bastard. Half-caste.

  ‘That is dreadful!’ she exclaimed.

  He lifted a shoulder. ‘It is what I am, is it not?’

  She resumed walking this time, but he heard her murmur, ‘You are much more.’

  His heart swelled at that.

  They reached the door to the club’s rooms, but she stopped again.

  ‘I forgot to ask you something,’ she said, her tone changing. ‘A favour, really.’

  His mistrust was roused. Was she manipulating him? A compliment, then a request? ‘What is it?’

  A wariness flickered in her eyes. ‘Um...when I was in the Green Room...Flo was there.’

  ‘This is not her night to perform,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’ Cecilia continued. ‘She asked me to ask you if she could spend the night here. Alone. Just this once. She cannot go back to her rooms tonight.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked. He’d not expected the request to be on another’s behalf.

  ‘She did not tell me, but she seemed...upset...and a little frantic about what she would do.’

  It was not something that he could allow on a regular basis, lest the workers move in completely, but it seemed churlish to refuse. Or perhaps it was merely difficult for him to say no to Cecilia.

  ‘Just this once, if she doesn’t make a thing of it with the others.’ His tone turned sharp. ‘I’ll tell Snyder and Mr Bell.’

  She shrank from him. ‘Thank you, Oliver.’

  They proceeded to the club’s rooms and he walked her to the doorway of the game room. He watched her take a breath and loosen her limbs and again turn herself back into Coquette.

  * * *

  The next morning Cecilia rose early and, with Mary’s assistance, dressed in one of her old dresses, her hair in a simple plait down her back. She hurried down to breakfast and learned that Oliver had already gone out.

  She ate quickly and told Irwin that she was going over to Vitium et Virtus to help Flo with something.

  ‘As you wish, ma’am,’ Irwin said.

  She tried the door she and Oliver always used, but it was locked. She crossed the garden again and walked back to the alley and to the front of the house. She sounded the knocker, and Snyder answered the door.

  ‘Coquette,’ he said by way of greeting.

  ‘I’ve come to see Flo,’ Cecilia told him.

  That seemed to be enough of an explanation for him. He let her enter, even took her cloak.

  ‘Flo is below stairs,’ Snyder said.

  ‘Thank you, Snyder.’ She walked down the stairs to the dressing room, but Flo was not there. She walked back out to the hallway and saw one of the kitchen workers.

  ‘Morning, Coquette,’ the girl said.

  ‘Good morning, Sally,’ she responded. ‘I’m here to see Flo. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘I do,’ the girl responded. ‘She’s finishing breakfast in the kitchen. Poor thing. She bruised her face. She bumped into a door.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cecilia said. ‘She told me.’

  She came to the kitchen and the cook offered her a cup of tea, which Cecilia gratefully accepted. They all chatted amiably until Flo, hiding her bruised face with her hand, finished eating.

  She and Cecilia returned to the dressing room, and Cecilia sat Flo down in front of a mirror and started to work on covering her bruise. Yesterday it had been red and blue; today it was purple.

  Flo flinched when Cecilia touched the injured area. Cecilia remembered the pain of a new bruise and she winced in sympathy.

  Cecilia started by dabbing Almond Bloom on the bruise. ‘A fist made this bruise.’ How well she remembered.

  Flo tensed.

  Cecilia continued. ‘I told you. I know how it feels. The fist hitting you. It feels like the pain will explode in your head. Your eyes blur. And then he hits you again.’

  She mixed a tiny bit of lip tint to the face powder and put the powder over the Almond Bloom. She repeated this.

  And kept talking. ‘You wonder what you did wrong. Maybe you should have known not to say what you said, or do what you did. After a while you start to think maybe you deserved to be punched in the face.’

  Flo’s eyes glistened with tears.

  Cecilia put on another layer of powder.

  ‘Won’t you please tell me about it?’ she asked Flo, keeping her voice low and soft.

  ‘’E—’E is a gentleman,’ she began, her accent making her sound like a little girl. ‘He gave me presents and said I was pretty and that I was special.’

  Cecilia felt a pang of pain.

  Duncan’s flattery had fallen on grateful ears. Cecilia had been so lonely. Her mother had been preoccupied by money. Her sisters resented and excluded her. She’d been so ripe for someone to pay attention to her and Duncan, so handsome, had told her everything she’d yearned to hear.

  Flo went on. ‘He asks me about Vitium et Virtus all the time. About Mr Gregory and the Duke and Mr Challenger—they are the owners, you know. He asks if they talk about him and he gets very angry when I say I never hear them say anything.’

  This was odd. The man’s connection was obviously with Oliver and the other owners, not with Flo.

  ‘Lately I’ve been thinkin’ he doesn’t care a fig about me; he just wants to hear about them. But he said he’d never let me go, so I might as well do as he asks, but I can’t because I don’t ever know anything!’ Her words were rushing out now.

  And her tears were flowing, washing away Cecilia’s handiwork. She started sobbing, and Cecilia took her in her arms and held her, smoothing her hair and trying to soothe her, but instead of being comforted Flo seemed to unfurl her pain and confusion and fear all at once.

  There was a loud knocking on the dressing-room door. Cecilia handed Flo a handkerchief and went to answer it.

  She opened the door a crack.

  It was Oliver.

  ‘What is this?’ he asked. ‘Snyder said you were here. I heard weeping.’

  ‘Fleurette is a little upset,’ Cecilia said.

  ‘Let me talk to her.’ He pushed on the door.

  She opened it. He walked in, but she hurried to Flo first.

  ‘Mr Gregory wants to see you,’ she said.

  Flo cowered. ‘No! I mustn’t talk to him.’

  Oliver reached the girl’s side. He crouched down so his face was even with hers. ‘Why not, Fleurette? Whatever it is that makes you cry so, you must tell me.’

  ‘It is about a gentleman who has been paying her particular attention,’ Cecilia said. She did not want to say too much for fear Flo would clamp her lips shut for good.

  Oliver handed Flo his handkerchief.

  Flo wiped her eyes with the handkerchief and rubbed off the careful cover Cecilia had made over her bruise.

  Oliver’s gaze darted to Cecilia and back to Flo. He touched Flo’s cheek very gently. ‘Did the gentleman cause this bruise?’

  Flo’s eyes grew very wide, but she nodded.

  He took Flo’s hand. ‘We cannot have this, can we? I do not allow anyone to hurt my entertainers, do I?’

  ‘’E—’E would not want me to tell,’ Flo s
aid.

  ‘What he wants does not matter a fig, does it?’ Oliver responded. ‘We cannot have you being hurt. You are too important to the club.’

  Cecilia felt tears burning her eyes. She’d remained dry-eyed when her father blatantly rejected her, but Oliver’s kindness to Flo was turning her into a watering pot. She knew how much such kindness meant. She’d needed it so desperately when Duncan went into a rage.

  ‘’E said he’d hurt me if I told anyone. He’d hurt me and never come back to me,’ Flo said, her voice small.

  ‘You cannot want him back!’ exclaimed Cecilia. She used to pray Duncan would leave her.

  ‘He wasn’t always mean,’ Flo shot back. ‘Sometimes he was very sweet to me.’

  That was how it was at first. The beatings came without warning, but afterwards Duncan had been so sweet and loving. She’d wanted so much to believe he was sweet and loving. Eventually, though, he beat that out of her as well.

  Oliver squeezed Flo’s hand. ‘You must have a man who treats you well all the time, is that not so? There are many men who admire you. Bide your time and another, better man will love you.’

  But, in this club, love would be fleeting. Or soiled by the knowledge that the man had a wife he would never leave.

  Oliver made Flo look directly at him. ‘Tell me who this man is. I promise you he will not hurt you. He will go away.’

  She nodded solemnly. ‘He is a member. He wants to own the club.’ She swallowed. ‘He is Sir Nash Bowles.’

  ‘Bowles?’ Cecilia exclaimed.

  She felt the emotion in Oliver change. ‘Bowles.’ His voice turned into a growl. He released Flo’s hand and it felt like rancour poured out of him. ‘Where is he likely to be?’

  Flo shrank back. ‘He could be at my room.’ She gave him the direction. ‘He stays there, waiting for me, lots of times.’

  He stood and put a hand on Flo’s shoulder. ‘Do not fear, Flo. He will leave you alone from now on. He will never hit you again.’

  He turned and strode towards the door.

  Cecilia caught up to him in the hallway. ‘What are you going to do, Oliver?’

  ‘I’m going to take care of Bowles,’ he responded in a rough voice.

  The rage inside him was palpable. He frightened her, suddenly so violent and untamed.

  She could not even say goodbye to him. She fled back to the Green Room.

  Flo, though, looked as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. ‘I never thought Mr Gregory would be so nice.’

  She seemed oblivious of the violent change in him.

  ‘He’s going to protect me.’ Flo sighed. ‘Nobody ever protected me before, not even Mum when that man she lived with made me bed him.’

  ‘Flo!’ Cecilia exclaimed. ‘How old were you?’ She seemed about nineteen now.

  ‘I was eleven.’ Her expression changed. ‘Do you know Sir Nash?’

  ‘I met him once,’ Cecilia responded, her mind horrified by what Flo had just told her. ‘That is how I learned about Vitium et Virtus.’

  Flo shook her head. ‘He sure talks about Vitium et Virtus a lot. Question after question about it, too.’

  Cecilia remembered taking an instant dislike to Bowles in Paris. She’d avoided him and was grateful he’d not tried to hire her for the night. Now she wondered if she’d sensed his similarity to Duncan. Both abusive, violent men.

  But there was violence in Oliver, too. She’d felt it.

  * * *

  Oliver brought Snyder with him to see Bowles, but they did not find him in Fleurette’s room. It took some searching to discover him at the Union Club, reading a newspaper and sipping tea.

  Bowles greeted Oliver with a pleased expression. ‘Gregory. A pleasure to see you.’ He gestured to the second chair at the table. ‘Do sit down. Shall I have the servant bring you some tea? Something stronger?’ He spoke with that slight lisp that always struck Oliver as a slippery affectation.

  Snyder remained standing a few feet away. When Bowles noticed the large man, his friendly countenance momentarily faltered.

  Oliver did not sit. ‘I’d rather you come with me.’

  Bowles looked alarmed. ‘Where?’

  Oliver signalled to Snyder, who strode over. They flanked Bowles, each taking an arm.

  ‘Not far,’ Oliver said.

  They lifted Bowles to his feet.

  ‘See here!’ the man protested.

  They half-walked, half-carried him out.

  Once outside Oliver said, ‘I learned something about you.’

  Bowles blanched. ‘What did you learn? It is not true. Not true. Who is talking about me?’ His words rushed out.

  They carried him to an alley at the back of the club and released him.

  He started to back away. ‘Two against one, Gregory? That is not a fair fight.’

  Oliver didn’t heed him. He advanced on Bowles, drew his fist back and punched him in the face.

  Bowles fell backwards to the ground, clasping his cheek.

  Oliver stood over him. ‘How does that feel, Bowles?’

  Bowles glared up at him.

  Oliver held his ground. ‘If I ever hear that you have struck any of the women who work for Vitium et Virtus, Snyder and I will return to finish this job once and for all.’

  Bowles looked puzzled, then relieved, which made no sense at all. ‘Who has said this?’ he demanded.

  ‘Never mind who. I have known you since school, Bowles. I’ve seen your cruelty.’

  Bowles had been behind many a cruel stunt in school, but always slithered his way out of being caught. When they were boys, he’d picked on the younger ones, anyone weaker than he. Now he was older, he’d not changed, obviously.

  Bowles’s lip curled. ‘Boyhood pranks. A long time ago.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Think, man. I want to own a share of Vitium et Virtus. Why would I damage the goods? Let me buy in to the club. I am certain I could find many creative roles for your beautiful women. If you, Westmoor and Challenger would allow me the opportunity, we could make a fine profit.’

  Bowles was one of the men who perceived the club as a brothel, which it was not. It represented freedom, but not profit and certainly not exploitation.

  Oliver advanced on him again, seizing him by his coat and lifting him to within inches of his face. ‘Heed me, Bowles. You will not approach any of our workers. Unless you want more than this sample of what Snyder and I can do, you will stay away.’

  Bowles lifted his hands. ‘Easy. Easy. I am a peaceable man. If it pleases you, I will avoid any liaisons with your women. Will that do?’

  Oliver released him with a shove. ‘Stay away completely. Your membership is revoked.’

  ‘That goes too far, Gregory,’ Bowles snapped. ‘I have been a member since the beginning.’

  They’d made him a member all those years ago so he would keep the club secret, not because they’d wanted him there.

  ‘No matter,’ Oliver said. ‘You are a member no longer. Do not set foot in the club or Snyder will toss you out. Do not engage with any of our women, or we will both be back.’

  Oliver turned away and he and Snyder walked away, leaving Bowles in the alley to stew in his own juices.

  They would return to Vitium et Virtus. Oliver would tell Flo that Bowles promised to leave her alone. He hoped she would inform him if Bowles ever broke that promise.

  He also hoped that Cecilia would approve of his action here today.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cecilia spent that afternoon in her sitting room, mending the purple costume she’d worn the night before. After she’d covered Flo’s bruise and the girl went off to see her mother, Cecilia was left with a Gordian knot of emotions inside her. She envied Flo’s easy trust of Oliver; she’d believed his word that
he could make Bowles leave her alone. She also envied Flo’s eagerness to see her mother, who would undoubtedly welcome her. Cecilia was glad of both those things. She was glad Flo’s abuse had not escalated to a more dangerous level. She was glad Flo had a loving mother from whom Flo wished to hide her problems. Just because Cecilia could not say the same did not mean she was not happy for Flo.

  She was confused about Oliver, which perhaps disturbed her the most. Which was he? A man capable of such kindness and tenderness towards a wounded girl? Or a man with violence inside him?

  She’d not sensed that level of anger when he’d spoken to her father, but the fear she used to experience with Duncan returned when Oliver left in pursuit of Bowles.

  He’d been angry enough to kill.

  She pushed the needle through the fabric and tried to banish that thought from her mind.

  A knock sounded at the sitting room door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said.

  To her surprise, it was Oliver who stepped into the room. She held the needle poised in the air.

  ‘I thought you might wish to know what happened,’ he said.

  Her hand shook. She immediately stuck the needle into the fabric and set the dress aside.

  ‘Please sit, Oliver,’ she managed, but her insides trembled at what she might hear.

  He sat in the sofa across from her. ‘Bowles was not at Flo’s room, but we finally did find him.’

  ‘We?’ Who had gone with him?

  ‘I took Snyder with me.’

  Snyder, the flash man of Vitium et Virtus. Snyder was intimidating on first sight. Tall. Muscular. Unsmiling. But she was always grateful he was there at the club.

  She nodded. ‘So what did you do when you found Bowles?’

  She sensed the violence again and gripped a fold in her skirt.

  ‘I hit him.’

  ‘You hit him?’ She touched her cheek, feeling the memory of Duncan’s fist against her face.

  ‘Of course I hit him. I know Bowles. He would not have listened otherwise. I told him if he touched any one of my workers, Snyder and I would finish the job.’

  She felt his ferocity. ‘Finish the job?’

  Oliver nodded. ‘Bowles knows I never back down in a fight.’