by Lavinia Kent
“Father says he had several men ready to marry you.”
“Men he was paying or bribing in some way. Is that what you want for me?”
“Surely it is better than this!” His deep voice spoke of a wide gesture that Cynthia could not see.
“Is it?”
“Sir Preston is still willing to marry you, according to Scarlett.” James’s boots began to tap with anxious energy. “I know he’s not who you’d want for a husband, but surely you can see that it would be better for all. Scarlett is still telling everyone that you are in the country, recovering from a bad chest cold. No one will know the truth—or at least they will pretend not to.”
Yes, Cynthia thought, the duke, their father, would keep up pretense as long as he could. No one would want this scandal to spread. Jasmine truly must leave.
“And my daughter, the child that I bore?” Jasmine asked.
A pause, Cynthia could almost hear James thinking before he spoke. “I am surprised you even speak of such a thing, but I will promise to find the child a proper family and see to all its needs. You know you can trust me, Jazzy. When have I ever let you down?”
Jasmine did not bother to answer. “I will not be parted from my daughter.”
“You can have another. Lord Preston had five daughters with his first wife.”
“And you think that I can just replace one child with another? Is that really how you feel?”
“It is the only reasonable answer.” He was speaking more powerfully now, clearly convinced that he was right. He’d always been sure he was right. Always.
Cynthia had not even met the baby, but for the first time she could understand Jasmine’s feelings.
“I do not think you understand. I will say it again: I will not be parted from my daughter. I do not care what is reasonable or respectable. All that I care about is my daughter.”
The boots stopped moving.
Cynthia pressed her face tighter to the floor, trying to get a better view beneath the settee, wishing she could see more than heels and polished tips. What did James look like? His voice had certainly deepened and changed since those long-ago days. It was a man’s voice, deep and resonant, not at all the soft, occasionally squeaky tones that she remembered.
“And do you really think being brought up in a brothel is the best thing for the child? I can find it a respectable family.”
“Oh, can you? And my daughter is a she, not an it. I rather think if I trust you, she’ll end up dumped on a local parish or given to a poor family that will do anything for the money you will provide. If she were yours perhaps you would understand more—or perhaps not, I have known many gentlemen who have not cared what happened once they spread their seed.”
“Must you talk so crudely—and I assure you that I would care. I would provide well for any child that I had, although I admit I take all possible precautions to be sure that I am not faced with the situation.” The settee groaned as James stood, beginning to pace again.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The boots became still, turned to face Jasmine dead-on, and he spoke again. “What if we said the child is mine? I could find a woman who would pretend to be the mother and be sure that it—she—is cared for. I could settle funds upon her, and even send her to school. I know that there are such places. I have friends who have made use of them. And if I recognize her publicly it may even be possible for her to make a decent marriage, a tradesman who wants to curry favor.”
“She is mine. I will not be separated from her.”
“God, Jazzy, you always were obstinate. Why will you not see reason?”
“I have seen reason. You simply do not like my conclusions. Why do you think it is reasonable to expect a mother to abandon her child?”
Cynthia’s heart clenched. After her own mother’s death two years ago, she had certainly felt abandoned and she had been nearly an adult. The thought of intentionally doing that to a child was horrible. The James she’d known would never have suggested such a thing. Could he have changed so much over the years?
God, was she starting to be on Jasmine’s side? No. This whole situation was unthinkable.
Again the pacing.
This time James stalked to the far window and stared out. Cynthia had to fight the desire to inch farther away. If he turned the right way, surely he would see her. Although this meant she could see him, or at least more of him. He was turned away and the settee—plus her position flat on the floor—still blocked a good portion of his body. He certainly had gotten tall. He must be a foot taller, and more muscular, sturdier, than he had been the last time she had knowingly seen him, and he had been tall then. His hair was about the same, dark and curly—perhaps slightly shorter. Or was it that his neck was longer. He wore a dark coat over tight buckskins and those shiny black Hessians she had already seen so much of. She wished he would turn, that he would give her a chance to see his face, to know if he were still beautiful, still…Although if she could see his face it would mean that he could see her, and…
“There has to be a way. There has to.” He spoke vehemently, but Cynthia was not sure whether he was addressing Jasmine or himself. “You cannot stay at Madame Rouge’s.”
“As I’ve said, I have changed the name to Madame Blanche’s. I believe it was Madame Noir’s before Ruby took over.”
James’s shoulders drew tight, the muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Goddammit, Jazzy. Are you trying to torment me? You know this cannot work.”
“Why, because it stops you from coming here? Oh yes, Ruby told me. She always noticed when you came. It made her most uncomfortable. She was never sure if you did it on purpose.”
“What on earth are you talking about? And why on earth should she share such a thing with you? Who tells a girl about her brother’s visits to a brothel? Did she tell you what I did here?”
“No, but I can guess. There seem to be three main reasons people come here. You have never shown a preference for other men, so that rules out one. You are not known to dally with married woman, so that rules out two. Which means you must have a fetish. I admit that I am not quite sure what it is, but even there I can guess. You always did like control. Do you like to cause pain as well? Do you use the rooms with whips and chains?”
What? Cynthia’s mind came to a jarring halt. What were they talking about? She knew something about what went on between men and women, but…
James turned, drawing her attention, and for the briefest of moments Cynthia caught a glimpse of a strong jaw and sharp profile. Her mind was still spinning and spinning, but the sight of his profile stopped her, held her. He was much changed, but still she could see the boy she had dreamed of marrying, the first innocent love of her young heart. Even as she stared she felt his arms help her down from a tree, felt tender fingers bandaging a knee, felt long fingers brushing her hair from her face—saw his smile, the smile that had always made her heart lift. Then the heavy tap of his boots drew her back to the moment. James strode toward his sister, out of Cynthia’s sight, his heels pounding hard on the floor. “Be quiet, Jazzy. I cannot believe you are saying these things to me. What has happened to you? I made myself believe that you had been cruelly used by some man, but now I begin to fear that perhaps you are—”
“Are what? A slut? A whore? I have not met one girl in this house who is mean or evil or less than me in any way except by chance of upbringing and education. I certainly take no pride in my birth.”
“How can you say that, Jasmine? Birth is what determines who we are.”
“Do you hear yourself, my brother? Do you really think you are better than any other man because your father is a duke? I certainly don’t, at least not anymore.”
A moment of silence fell, no sound except that of heavy breathing.
Then Jasmine continued, “And now I will ask you to leave.”
“And if I am still not ready? If I will not leave without you?”
“Then I will call for those foot
James turned and strode to the door. “No, dear sister, I will not put you to that much trouble, but be sure that I will be back. You will not be staying here. You will not live this life. I promise you that.”
The door creaked open and then slammed shut.
Silence again echoed through the room.
Jasmine walked quietly to the same window that James had so briefly stared out.
Cynthia pushed up to her knees, unsure whether to interrupt this moment of quiet. Did Jasmine even remember that she was here?
As if sensing her question, Jasmine turned back to her. “I wish you had not heard that. Would you believe we were once close? I thought he was my best friend in the world. I would never have believed I would not be able to depend on him.”
Cynthia braced a hand on the back of the settee and stood, searching for words. “Don’t forget how well I know you—both of you. Although I always thought I was your best friend in the world. And I do think he is trying to help you. His statements are not illogical. I think much the same. No, don’t give me that look. I do understand how you feel. Only…only you must be reasonable.”
Jasmine turned to stare at the door as if seeking an answer beyond. “You do not understand. My daughter needs me. And I need her.”
Cynthia let the thought work through her, trying to understand her friend.
Jasmine glanced back at her. “And now you must be going. I am sure my conversation with James answered any questions you might still have remaining.”
Cynthia nodded, knowing when she could not win. She was about to say that she would return, but held her tongue. She did not want to give Jasmine the chance to say no. “I will do as you wish.” She walked to the chair that held her pile of veils, glad that James had not noticed them. Although what he would have made of them she could not say.
Stopping, she turned back to Jasmine, fighting to be bold enough to ask the question that still echoed in the recesses of her mind. “What did you mean by whips and chains?”
—
Blast. Blast. Bloody hell.
That had not gone as he’d planned, not as he wanted it to. James stalked down to the street, heading to his club. He had expected that Jasmine would be happy to see him, delighted to know that he wished to help. He’d expected to be greeted as a rescuer, a hero. Instead she’d been almost belligerent. How could she have treated him so coldly? They’d always been close. His brother, Langdon, had been a bit removed, but Jazzy had been his, had always looked up to him, depended upon him.
Was Father correct that she was not right in the head?
Could having a child have done that to her?
He’d never seen any sign of madness in her and it certainly didn’t run in the family. He’d heard that sexual excitement could lead a woman to mental decay, but he’d never believed it. He’d known plenty of women, some quite intimately, who certainly enjoyed sex, relished it even, without any sign that they were not quite right. If anything, they were among the more civilized and sane women he knew.
He’d had appointments with several of them at Madame Rouge’s. He’d always found the establishment to be of the highest quality, more than ready to meet any need or desire he might have. He personally liked the place; that didn’t mean he wanted his sister there.
There was nothing that would be more unsuitable.
And that wasn’t even thinking about the child.
How could Jazzy be a mother?
His guts churned at the thought.
His sweet little sister had never even kissed anyone, to the best of his knowledge—and now…
Fuck.
If he knew who had ruined her, he’d kill the man and not gently—gutting might be appropriate.
Despite his comments to Jasmine, he could only believe that she had been forced. He refused to believe that she would willingly have gotten into this situation unless she’d thought herself in love and in that circumstance surely she would have married the man before it could be remarked that her child was early.
He should have kept a better eye on her these last years. He should have been sure that no one could take advantage of her. He should have…
There were too many “should haves.”
He would have to be sure that there were no more.
And that meant one thing.
He would have to take things in hand, have to make sure that Jasmine was removed to somewhere safe until reason returned to her. He would do whatever it took, whatever was required.
Chapter 3
“You promised you would tell me why you referred to whips and chains,” Cynthia said as she slipped once again into Madame Blanche’s parlor, pulling the uncomfortable veils from her head. It was not the first question she had meant to ask. Her manners were normally impeccable but the question had been eating at her for the entirety of the last day.
Jasmine looked up from her chair. Her face grew tight. Clearly she was not happy that Jasmine had returned. “I don’t believe I said any such thing. And speaking of promises, did you not promise me that we would be done once I answered your questions? I thought you were not going to call again.”
“I do not recall.” And in truth she did not, although she was pretty sure she had not actually promised. “And you should not have mentioned whips and chains if you did not want me to have more questions that needed to be answered.”
Sinking back into her seat, Jasmine gave a long exaggerated sigh. “I was talking to my brother, not to you. Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me. You never did know what was good for you.”
“Oh, I always know, I just don’t always care.”
“You should care. Think about what would happen if you were found here. It really is most unwise.”
“Then we will simply have to be careful. Now tell me…” She leaned forward, her curiosity aroused. “…what do you do with whips and chains?”
Jasmine pursed her lips, exasperated, and then gave a light chuckle, giving in—the comfort of old friendship falling about them. “You are right, I should have known better than to say anything when you were about. I do know you, curious as a cat. Perhaps I did want you to return, even if I know it is unwise. And I don’t do anything with whips and chains, but I admit that when I first learned what went on here, my response was not far different than yours. I thought of myself as quite sophisticated and then Ruby told me the things I’d need to know if I were to take over the house and I think my mouth hung open for a full day.”
“You must tell me all.” Cynthia sank into the seat across from Jasmine, enjoying the warmth of the nearby fire after the cold of outside. It felt so good to have her friend back—and that wasn’t even considering all the forbidden secrets she might now learn.
“I certainly am not going to do that.”
“We’ve always told each other everything.”
“You know that is not true, at least not anymore. I am sure we both have plenty of secrets.”
“I don’t have any deep secrets to keep from you.” And she truly didn’t. “I almost wish I did. You make me feel that my life is so boring. It never used to be this way. In the country I ride and read and paint, and when in Town it seems that I do nothing but think about what to wear, who to dance with, and listen to gossip—and not the good gossip. I only hear about who spilled a whole plate of biscuits or stepped in the mud in the park. Nobody wants to share the real secrets with me—and so you must. The only secrets I have are my thoughts and even there it’s not that they are secret, but that I have nobody to tell with you gone. Whips and chains? You must tell me or I will simply die of curiosity.”
A snort. “How many times I have heard you say that? And you are not dead yet. You are far more lucky than you realize to live such a life. I would do much to have a boring life again. And I am not really sure about the chains. There is a room upstairs that is set up for bondage and some more aggressive play. I confess I do not know too much about it. I suppose I will have to learn. At present one of the girls who has been here awhile has taken charge, but I cannot let it stay that way for long. It is my responsibility.”
“Bondage? You make me feel quite ignorant.” Cynthia shifted in her seat. That couldn’t mean what she thought it did, could it?
Jasmine pulled in a short breath. “Ruby said that many men, and some women, enjoy tying up their partner, enjoy the feeling of power and control. Others find pleasure being tied, enjoy not being responsible for what happens. Madame Blanche’s provides a safe place to explore such needs.”
Cynthia felt her heart begin to speed at such thoughts. What would it be like to be helpless, to have no control? “I can almost understand that. It might be nice to not have to worry about if one is doing as one should. I am always so worried about doing the right thing.”
Jasmine looked down at her hands. “I don’t think I would care for it. I feel that I have little enough control without giving some of it away.”
Cynthia could certainly understand that, but her curiosity pushed her on as her mind filled with the image of James’s strong back as he stood staring out the window—and she asked the question that had been preying on her all night. “And James, your brother—he is one of those who likes such things?”
Color marked Jasmine’s cheeks and she looked down. “I should not have said anything—and in truth, I don’t truly know. Ruby said something before she left, but it was not at all clear and I did not want to know. He is my brother. I must admit that it would not surprise me, however. He always has liked to be in control. Do you remember how he used to order us about?”
“That sounds much more like Langdon than it does James. James always liked to have fun—although you may be right. I do recall that he was always in command of our games and we did what he wanted or…Do you remember when he told us to go wading in the duck pond and you got a leech stuck to your calf? Although, he did run fast to fetch the salt to get it off.”
“Yes, and you are right, he was always the one daring us, having us do as he wished. It would not have worked if we had tried to suggest he do something. I think it is because he knows Langdon will become duke. It doesn’t matter that he has inherited a fortune from my grandmother. He is always fighting to be in charge of everything he can and that certainly includes me. He was constantly ordering me about when we were young. I think that is why he is so upset by everything that has happened to me. He does not like that I have made decisions without him. I have no doubt that somehow he will seek to gain control again, I just don’t know how.”
-->