Mistress of Scandal

by Sara Bennett

  Lil smiled. “Miss, you are talking about Aphrodite’s Club. To my mind there’re a lot of suspicious gentlemen around that place. Is there anyone in particular…?”

  “No, it was just a thought. Never mind.”

  But Francesca was more worried than she let on to Lil. Sebastian’s warnings and now the sandy-haired stranger were playing on her mind, and she felt guilty and concerned that she’d endangered those closest to her by her actions, well-intentioned as they were. What if these people had discovered where Rosie was hidden? What if they decided to take her back? Kidnap her?

  Dobson! Francesca remembered with relief. It would be difficult for them to get past Dobson. But her relief faded; Dobson was only one man. There was no time to waste.

  “I’m going to see Mr. Thorne in Half Moon Street.”

  Lil’s face was a picture. “Miss!”

  “I have to. It’s urgent, Lil. I’m worried…about Rosie.”

  Lil considered that, but she wasn’t mollified. “And I suppose you think you’re going on your own?”

  “Lil, I am perfectly capable of—”

  “I’m coming with you, miss. I’m not making the same mistake with you that I made with your sisters.”

  Francesca sighed, irritated and amused at the same time. “Lil, I am twenty-five years old and far too old to require a chaperone.”

  “No respectable man will want you if your honor is besmirched,” Lil said knowledgeably.

  “Good heavens! Do I care?” She rolled her eyes.

  “That’s what Miss Vivianna and Miss Marietta said,” Lil said darkly. “And they did care, eventually. I’m waiting to see what happens when their children grow up. You can be sure they won’t want them up to the games they played!” Lil was enjoying herself. “Oh yes, those little ones will lead them a merry dance, you mark my words.”

  Francesca decided it wasn’t worth arguing with her when she was in this moralizing mood. “I’ll go and change into my new dress and we can set off.”

  Lil narrowed her eyes. “What new dress?”

  “The modiste was able to fit one she already had made up. It only needed a few tucks here and there.”

  “And why are you wearing this new dress to Mr. Thorne’s rooms?”

  “Lil, even I know that men are much more likely to agree to a woman’s wishes if she’s looking her best. And Mr. Thorne is a man, after all.”

  “He’s a villain, miss.”

  Francesca smiled. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

  Lil shot her a despairing look and muttered, “Just like the other two.”

  They walked to Half Moon Street. It was only a short distance, and after the ride home in the carriage, Francesca felt she’d had enough of the noise and dust of London’s streets. Perhaps it was being able to walk freely, or perhaps it was the new dress, but Francesca was feeling very pleased with the world and everyone in it.

  Which was strange, when there was danger all around her.

  But she’d decided that a little danger was actually stimulating to the heart and brain. And, in a purely feminine way, she enjoyed the swish of her turquoise moiré dress and her five petticoats. Certainly the few gentlemen who passed them noticed her, all of them tipping their hats. One of them ogled her in a startling manner, until Lil gave him a glare and sent him on his way.

  Perhaps I am turning into a Londoner, with nothing in my head but the latest fashions? But it was more to do with herself than London. She’d changed. And she had the feeling that was to do with Mr. Thorne.

  “You look very happy, miss,” Lil said, suspicious, as they reached the building containing Mr. Thorne’s rooms.

  “Do I, Lil?”

  “You be careful, Miss Francesca,” her maid warned her.

  But Francesca wasn’t listening. She had already begun to climb the stairs to the front door.

  Sebastian had spent a wasted afternoon watching one of Mrs. Slater’s other houses. After another conversation with Dipper, he’d made his way to Hackney. Dipper believed Mrs. Slater lived here, in a sober-looking house with curtained windows, although she was rarely seen. Her neighbors knew her as Mrs. Brown.

  If she was here, Sebastian didn’t see her. She might well have gone into hiding, warned that he was seeking her. By the spy who had given him away in the first place. He had yet to discover the identity of that person, but he had his suspicions. That was the reason he’d set Pretty Polly on the trail.

  Dipper was as proud as punch. “Yer’ll see, guv’ner, she’ll find yer snitch for yer.”

  Sebastian was just preparing to go out again, to see how Pretty Polly was managing, and then to hunt up another acquaintance who owed him a favor, when there was a knock on the door.

  Sebastian frowned.

  Martin, his manservant, had yet to return from his own assignment, and Sebastian kept only one servant. He rented these rooms, and they were large and comfortable, but most important of all, they were private. He rarely gave out his address because he didn’t like visitors. He didn’t trust many people enough to tell them where he lived.

  The knock came again, this time more vigorously, as if whoever was out there was determined to be let in. He put his eye to the hole he’d had drilled through the wood for the purpose of inspecting his callers. It gave him a clear view of his visitor.

  Sebastian’s mouth twitched upward.

  Miss Francesca Greentree, looking extremely attractive in a dress the color of a tropical sea, with her dark hair swept up under a fetching straw bonnet. If he wasn’t very greatly mistaken, she had been touched by the hand of a London modiste. Had she come to dazzle him with her new finery?

  Well, he was dazzled.

  He opened the door.

  Her bright eyes widened. Those beautiful lips parted in a half smile, as if she were mocking him, or herself, or both of them. “Mr. Thorne,” she said in her melodious voice. “I find I need your help after all.”

  He bowed and stepped back to allowed her entry. Lil, her maid, trailed after her. At least she’d the sense to bring a chaperone. After the kiss in the hackney cab, Sebastian didn’t trust himself alone with her, but he relished the challenge.

  “Come in and sit down, Miss Greentree. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  She was examining her surroundings. The sitting room was furnished with some of his favorite pieces, and she paused a moment in front of the Gainsborough, admiring his grandmother.

  “What a beautiful woman.”

  “Yes.”

  “She looks like you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Oh?”

  He could see her watching him, considering whether it was polite to ask more questions. She changed her mind, perching herself on a straight-backed chair and folding her hands neatly in her lap.

  “Someone is following me.”

  His gaze sharpened. “When did this happen?”

  “We went shopping in Regent Street today…”

  He smiled, letting his gaze run over her just enough to annoy her. “I noticed.”

  She flushed and a crease appeared between her brows, but she didn’t drop her gaze from his. “He was also in the street on our way home. He was watching me. I’m not mistaken and it couldn’t be a coincidence.”

  “Did he threaten you? Do you think he meant you any harm?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I am here, Mr. Thorne. You seemed to believe I was in danger, and you’re the expert.”

  “Ah, now I’m an expert.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I never disputed that, Mr. Thorne. I’m sure you’re very good at what you do.”

  He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on hers. “Oh, I am. Very good.”

  Fascinating. She seemed unable to look away from him. She’d done that before. He wondered what she was thinking, and whether they were the same hot, dark imaginings that he had when he gazed into her eyes. Despite what she’d said last time, nothing had changed. They were meant for each other.

  The tap on the door
startled them, and she blinked as the spell was broken, and then turned as the key rattled in the lock.

  “Well, that was a complete and utter waste of time,” Martin declared loudly, as he erupted into the room, all long legs and arms. And then he froze, mouth and eyes wide, like a dying fish.

  Lil gave a little scream, and Francesca rose to her feet.

  Martin swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Excuse me, ladies. I didn’t realize you had company, sir.”

  “Martin, I have a feeling you are already known to these ladies, but I’ll introduce you anyway. Miss Greentree and Lil, this is my manservant and partner in business, Martin O’Donnelly.”

  Francesca turned accusing eyes on him. “This is the man I saw!”

  “Martin has been following you when I am otherwise engaged, Miss Greentree. You must understand, I can’t be everywhere at once. I am a busy man.”

  Her gaze narrowed.

  “I trust Martin completely. You are safe in his hands.”

  He could see she was burning to give him a good rollicking, and he took pity on her. “Martin,” he said, “take Lil for a little walk. Please.”

  At once Lil began to protest, but after a quick look at his master, Martin took her arm firmly in his and led her toward the door. “Come on now, Lil, we’re servants and we have to do as we’re told. Anyway, it’s a beautiful day, so why not enjoy it?”

  The door closed, and their steps, and Lil’s protests, faded.

  “Now,” Sebastian said, “Francesca. Is there something you want to say to me…?”

  She was standing over him, gloved fingers clenched, her body so taut she looked like she might burst with the effort of holding in her anger. He knew that, if he was a gentleman, he would stand, too. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

  “You should have told me about him! I was terrified!”

  Sebastian leaned back. “Terrified? Francesca, I don’t believe you know what terrified is.”

  “Terrified for my family,” she qualified, her voice trembling with the effort to subdue her emotions. “I’ve brought danger upon them. It’s up to me to protect them. That’s why I came here today—for their sake, not mine.”

  She was magnificent. He watched her struggle with her temper and decided at that moment that he wanted to see her lose it. He wanted to see her fly her cage. “Very noble,” Sebastian murmured, and smiled a mocking smile.

  He saw the lightning flash of fury in her eyes, and then, like the storm they had been caught in the first time they met, the emotion poured out of her. “You wouldn’t know what noble was,” she burst out. “You are a man who cares for nothing but the money he makes from his unfortunate and desperate clients. How else could you afford this?” She waved her arm wildly at his room and what was in it.

  “You’re quite right. I’m everything you say I am. But you need me, Francesca.”

  “I could hire a man off the street,” she retorted, her face flushed. “I don’t need you!”

  He stood up, so abruptly that she stepped back with a gasp. “But you do. You need me. You want me, Francesca.”

  “No,” she groaned. “No, no, no!”

  He smiled. “We’re alone, there’s no one here to see or hear. Tell me why you really came. Or better still…show me.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, and then launched herself at him. She was warm and soft and all woman, and he groaned as her mouth searched for his, bumping his nose with her chin until she got it right. His eyes watered. Her bonnet was in the way, and he removed it. She clutched at his shoulders, and then his hair, pulling him closer. Fire ran through his veins like a lit fuse, and he felt himself grow instantly hard.

  She was like a tigress in his arms, unrestrained, almost savage. Was this the proper Miss Greentree? No, it was Francesca, full of twenty-five years of passion, and now it was bursting to get out. Sebastian had no intention of bringing her to her senses. This was his chance to take what he wanted.

  “Come into the bedchamber,” he said, walking backward, half leading her, half carrying her.

  The bedchamber was even more private than the sitting room. A magical place of color and light, it was his sanctuary against this world he had chosen as his own.

  She was still clinging to him, her mouth hot and moist against his throat as she planted kisses wherever she could. “Let me,” he whispered, his hands delving for the buttons on her dress.

  “It opens at the back,” she gasped.

  He spun her around and dealt with the fastenings, planting kisses on her nape, then down her spine as each inch of skin was revealed. She trembled and shook as if she were ill, as if she had a fever. Her gown sagged, slipping down her arms, and he helped it, releasing her wrists and hands from the cloth. He ran his hands around her, reaching to cup her breasts above her stays, and she groaned, leaning back against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her throat arched.

  Her mouth was close enough for him to turn his head slightly and take it with his. She covered his hands with her own, pressing his palms against her flesh. He could feel the hard nubs of her nipples.

  “My stays,” she breathed, her chest heaving. “I feel light-headed.”

  “That’s me,” he teased, but began hastily to release her from the lacing. He tossed the garment onto the floor, and turning her in his arms, admired her naked breasts. “Oh yes,” he whispered, and bent his head so that he drew the nipples of first one breast and then the other into his mouth.

  She was sensitive and she enjoyed it. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, before she decided that it was time for him to remove his clothing.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” she told him breathlessly, wrenching at his coat.

  “You’re right. Not a thing.”

  “It’s a physical reaction. Any animal can experience it.”

  “Lust, pure and simple.”

  The bed was a four-poster with draperies drifting about it and a bright quilt. She pushed him down onto it and flung herself on top of him. Her mouth brushed his. She was still clothed from the waist down in her petticoats, and they formed a frothy barrier between him and what he wanted. He ran his hands up under them, cupping her bottom through her drawers.

  She straddled him. He found the opening in her drawers, delving into the heat of her. She gasped and wriggled against him, her hair falling in thick, loose curls about her. “Beautiful,” he whispered. He stroked her slowly, caressing her toward completion. Francesca cried out, her body clenching, carried away with her pleasure in such a natural and unembarrassed way that he was charmed.

  Here was truly a woman whose passions ruled her—if she would allow them to.

  He kissed her, murmuring reassurance as he tenderly rolled her over. Her body was pliant and warm, her eyes half closed and sleepy as she gazed up at him, her hair a cloud about her. “Sebastian,” she whispered, with a catch in her voice. “Oh, Sebastian.”

  He smiled, gently raising her skirts, and fitting himself between her thighs. He watched her face as he entered, pressing deep into her hot, slippery body. It was better than last time, and he had to fight to keep control of the urge to plunder her like the raiders of old.

  She didn’t help, clutching him with her thighs and her arms, gasping and crying out. In the end the pleasure snuck up on him, like the storm in which they’d first met, leaving them both shuddering and exhausted.

  Her eyes were wide open, gazing up at the canopy. She turned her head to inspect the furnishings and the wall hangings. “This is a beautiful room,” she murmured. “It’s like a robber baron’s cave.”

  “I promise you, nothing here is stolen,” he said, but in a way that made her wonder differently. He reached out to smooth her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’m glad you showed me why you came to see me, Francesca.”

  She bit his knuckle, her eyes sparkling. “You are wicked, Sebastian, and you make me wicked, too.”

  “Not wicked. I allow you to be free to be yourself.”


  Her expression sobered and she sat up, her hair covering her shoulders and breasts. “It was true, you know. I am worried about my family. I have placed them in danger, and now it’s up to me to make them safe.”

  “I’m already watching over you, Francesca…”

  “I don’t want you to. At least not without payment. I want to hire you. I want to pay you.”

  “No,” he said, and reached up to pull her down into his arms again. “This is payment enough.”

  Francesca was caught in a web and Sebastian was the spider. Why hadn’t she resisted him? And that in itself was a laugh. Resist! She had done everything she could to have connection with him, behaved in a manner that was completely unlike her usual respectable self.

  She shouldn’t have come here. Why didn’t she send Lil? Or better still, a note?

  But she knew that it was easy to tell herself what she should and shouldn’t have done, now that she was sated, and the boiling, writhing emotions that Sebastian stirred within her had calmed to a millpond. Of course it wouldn’t last. Already she could feel little ripples forming beneath the surface.

  Francesca began to dress, accepting his help without a word.

  “Will you come again?” he asked her levelly, when she was clothed in everything but her straw bonnet.

  Francesca laughed weakly. “I don’t know; I wish I did. I don’t seem to know what I’m doing from one moment to the next.”

  “My love,” he murmured, and tucked her wild hair behind her ear.

  She looked up at him, as if unable to do otherwise, and tears filled her eyes. “I knew you were a danger to me from the moment I first met you,” she said. “I tried to drive you away, but you refused to listen. I only stayed with you at the inn because you promised you were leaving. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “You saved my life, Francesca. I don’t want you to go away. I want to make love to you forever.”

  “I can’t allow that,” she said in a brittle voice. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Damn and blast it, every second day then!”

  She pulled away. “I blame Aphrodite for this,” she said bitterly.

  He seemed taken aback. “Why?”