Tangled in Sin

by Lavinia Kent

  She dug her heels in. No luck.

  Screaming would only bring people and that was the last thing that she needed. If she could just get away then surely she could find someplace to hide. The man in the first bedroom hadn’t actually been frightening. Perhaps he would protect her. Or she could hide beneath the settee…Or…

  But first she had to get away.

  Blast it all. If she could fight James she could handle this much smaller man.

  Pulling back her free hand, she swung with all she had, feeling a crunch as she connected with his nose

  He stopped, his fingers loosening.

  She pulled back one more time, and this time came free. A quick kick in the shin, to leave him hobbling, and she darted back down the hall. She would have liked to kick him a little higher, but didn’t have time.

  Escape was the only thing that mattered.

  It was only a second before she heard him behind her.

  She turned the corner. There was a lock on the door to Jasmine’s room; she could hide there if nowhere else.

  And then the angels finally smiled. A maid stepped out of the wall, her arms piled high with linens. Cynthia darted behind her, holding a finger to her lips. The girl looked startled but nodded.

  The wall closed behind her, a servants’ corridor, dark and narrow. A couple of brackets held low wicked lamps and she hurried farther on. Voices echoed behind her, but the wall did not open again.

  However, was she safe?

  It occurred to her suddenly that she had no idea where she was going and that even if she could figure out how to open doors into other locations she had no idea where they would be. She’d never been in a servants’ hidden hallway before. She knew that many great houses had them and that they often opened right into bedrooms so that servants could discreetly enter and leave. She rather thought the Duke of Scarlett’s house had them, seemed to remember Jasmine mentioning one that led into her mother’s bedchamber. But what about here? Would they enter into guest chambers? Was she right back where she had begun—only without her mask?

  Lifting a hand, she touched her bare cheek. Lord Thorton must still have it. Would he know it was Jasmine’s? He probably would. Who else wore white satin with touches of crystals? It didn’t seem like something you would wear simply for disguise. It was definitely a costume.

  That probably didn’t matter, however. Jasmine wouldn’t mind and an excuse could always be made for how somebody else might have picked it up.

  What mattered now was that Cynthia had no disguise, and clearly the cosmetics only went so far.

  And she was stuck in this narrow, dim hallway, with no way to get out.

  Leaning against the wall, she let her head sag, clarity taking her. For days she had fooled herself about her choices, about what she risked. When Lord Thorton had tried to pull her downstairs, suddenly she had understood all. Jasmine had been right. She was not ready to be shamed and shunned, to be an outcast.

  She swallowed hard.

  It had been so easy to say no to James, to pretend she knew what she faced, but she had never truly thought it could happen. Now she knew differently.

  And James? He might be far from perfect, but surely he was better than what would have awaited her if she had been dragged down those stairs. The life that he offered might not be perfect, but if she was honest with herself, it was far from bad.

  Or was she still lying to herself? Did she want James no matter what? She’d felt more comfortable with him in their few days together than she’d ever felt before. With him she felt able to reveal her true self—and who else would laugh with her after a mud fight?

  If only he’d expressed the same desire. Although, desire was the wrong word. The man had definitely expressed desire, it was emotion she wanted, emotion and caring.

  Well, she might want more, feel that she needed more, but she knew that if she could have run into his arms in that instant, she would have.

  A week ago her life had been so simple, and now—just because she had wanted to help a friend—everything seemed upside down and dangerous. If only she could curl up in a little ball under the covers and not come out for a year.

  She did allow herself to slide down the wall until she was sitting on her heels, allowed herself one more minute to wallow in pity. Then she raised her head. This angle actually allowed her to see more detail, as the low lantern light cast shadows. She could see where the catches were—and the doors must definitely enter into at least some of the rooms. There were far too many catches for them to just release panels into the hallways. And what were those squares? It looked almost like somebody had placed thin blocks of wood every ten feet or so along the entire length of the wall, right at eye level. There were about twice or three times as many squares as there were latches.

  It was very strange.

  Pushing herself back up the wall, she stood and went to the first square. She placed a single finger upon it. It moved, swinging slightly as if on a pivot.

  Curious.

  She pushed with more force. It swung up and to the side, revealing a small hole, light shining through.

  What?

  A peephole—the term came to mind, although she could not remember where she’d heard it. Perhaps Jasmine had used it when discussing the servants’ hallways. There must have been some way for them to be sure they were not intruding.

  Pressing her eye to the hole, she peered through.

  Occupied. Pulled back.

  And pressed forward again, unable to help herself.

  Was he really about to? He was? Was that what James had been talking about? What she had seen in the picture? It must be. It looked so uncomfortable, although the woman didn’t seem to find it so. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it, urging him on, rising on her knees to push herself more tightly against him.

  Cynthia pulled back, letting the square swing closed, images of the couple still flashing before her eyes.

  Would James want to? And would she let him?

  No. No. No.

  She was not going to think about him. She’d already thought about him far too much.

  Her thighs quivered though, her body having its own ideas about what thoughts should be going through her head.

  Determined not to give in, she eased down the hall to the next square.

  Did she dare? She placed a finger upon it. Did she have a choice?

  With some trepidation she pushed it to the side. Only the faintest trace of light shone through. If the hallway had not been so dimly lit she would not have thought there was any light. They probably left it lit just enough for the maids to come in to straighten the rooms.

  An easy breath filled her lungs. Empty. This room was safe.

  To be sure, she put her eye to the peephole—and stopped.

  The floor was a tangle of bodies.

  A real tangle.

  There were far more than four feet. She could see at least—at least seven.

  Was that even possible? And there were at least five…

  Straightening, she let the square close.

  Why would anybody…? And several sets of those legs had been quite masculine.

  For a moment she could feel only disbelief. She’d known she was innocent, but this was unbelievable.

  Only it wasn’t. It took a scarce moment for her mind to adjust. Although she didn’t think she’d heard of such a thing, even in rumor, it did make a strange sort of sense. She’d known plenty of boys—and men—who always wanted more toys. The number of men still didn’t quite work, but then maybe they were good at sharing.

  And didn’t that raise some bizarre images.

  She moved on to the next square and pushed it before she could think too hard. She could not stop now.

  This room was brightly lit—and empty, from what she could see. It was, however, filled with strange wooden frames and whips. And what was that? It looked far too much like the steel trap her father’s game warden set to catch wolves on the far northern estates. She’d tho
ught them barbaric then, and this—whatever it was—did not look any less so.

  The flat swung shut. She was not going into that room unless there was no choice.

  It might not be a smart decision, but it was the only one she could make.

  The next square.

  No, definitely not.

  The next.

  This room was again dim. She peered in. No sign of life—and nothing frightening. A simple bedroom, admittedly one with far too many closed bureaus and silk scarves hanging from the posts of the bed, but she could manage that.

  Only there was no entrance.

  Drat. She should have thought to check and only looked in rooms that granted access.

  Moving on to the next square, she pushed it aside.

  Again, light. It looked empty. A large pile of brightly colored pillows and a low, wide table were in the middle of the room. There was nothing else that she could see. Holding her breath, she pushed on the latch, the door slid open soundlessly. She stepped forward.

  Nothing save the lingering scent of Oriental musk.

  She released a deep breath and looked about. It was more sumptuous than it had looked from without. The pillows all lush satin of brilliant colors and interesting patterns. An ornate brass candlestick stood on the table. The rest of the room was simple, although hung with billowing drapes. A single set of white columns stood a foot out from one wall, far more Roman than the rest of the room. There were some odd metal rings placed in the walls and floor, but the room was otherwise empty save for one inlaid chest.

  Most important, it was completely unoccupied.

  Hurriedly, she moved to the door and took a couple of deep breaths.

  Please, please, please, let the hallway be empty. Her stomach roiled with dread at the thought of running into Lord Thorton again.

  The room she’d chosen was near the far end of the servants’ hallway, so perhaps she would be in luck.

  With one last breath, she opened the door and stepped out cautiously, prepared to duck back in.

  Nothing.

  There were some sounds drifting from down the hall—and perhaps down the stairs. Laughter and perhaps raised voices, but it was hard to be sure. She turned in the other direction.

  At first she thought the hall a dead end, but after a moment she spotted a small wooden door, discreetly placed in one corner. This time she didn’t hesitate. It was the type of servants’ door she knew well. Stepping through, she hurried down the steps—and finally let her nose lead her to the kitchen and a bowl of hearty stew.

  Chapter 21

  “What do you mean she ran into Lord Thorton? If you had told me Cynthia was still here I would have insisted she leave,” James exclaimed.

  Jasmine sat, her lips in a tight frown. “Which is exactly why I did not tell you. She was not ready to leave and you would have caused a bother, unwilling to leave without her. I refused to have her dragged physically from my house. And after the abduction you planned, I would not put it past you. The only other way you would have gotten her to leave would have been to tell her father—and I do not even want to imagine that scenario.”

  His sister still had not forgiven him, not that he had expected her to. If only she could understand that he had only wanted what was best for her and now he only wanted what was best for Sin. “I could have told our father.”

  “And I am sure that would have ended exactly as you wished. Do you even know if Scarlett will allow you to marry her?”

  “I believe that my choice of wife is just that, my choice.”

  Jasmine didn’t answer, only continued to stare at him.

  Actually, Scarlett had always been more than fond of her and James had no doubt that he would be pleased with the marriage, but…“No, that would not be a good plan. Father can be unpredictable. Still, you should not have let her roam the house.”

  Jasmine pulled her shoulders back, her eyes flashing anger. “I did not let her do anything. She was in my chamber. It never occurred to me that she would leave, or I would have left a footman to guard the door. And no, he would not have laid a hand on her, but he would have alerted me if she went roaming, as you call it. And yes, I know Sin and should have realized that she was unlikely to sit peacefully.”

  “But Thorton.”

  “That was most misfortunate, although he did not actually recognize her beyond being sure that she was a lady. I think he believes she was some married woman cuckolding her husband or—and for some reason Thorton finds this even more scandalous—a married woman meeting her husband here. I do not understand that man.”

  “None of us do,” James added. “Although, I don’t remember him always being this way. He was rigid and not good company, but he was not a man to cause trouble. If anything, I thought him a milquetoast.”

  “I could only wish. I am afraid I may have to ban him. Ruby advised against it, but he does make himself a nuisance. He screamed at me for ten minutes about how I should have prevented ‘that perverted young lady’ from being here. He kept waving a mask in my face and telling me he knew it was mine so I had to know what was going on and who she was. He was most irate that I would not reveal her identity, which he kept insisting I must know. I was frightened he was going to slap me.”

  “He’s never been known to be physically violent,” James said, trying to calm her. Not that he actually felt that excused Thorton’s actions in any fashion.

  “You clearly have not seen Sin’s arm. The bruises left by his fingers are positively black. She’ll be marked for weeks.”

  He stood up straighter. “Nobody said she was injured.”

  “They are only bruises—just dark ones. She is fine, if more than a little shaken. I think it was the first time that she truly understood what discovery would mean to her. Who knows, it may make her more inclined to your marriage proposal.”

  His fury that Thorton had touched her did not abate. “I still cannot believe that either of you would be so stupid.”

  “I would advise that you not take that tone with her if you wish to win your case. Women are not prone to marry men who call them stupid—at least not before the wedding.”

  “I will take that into consideration. Now, I understand that you will allow me to see her.” He filled his tone with sarcasm at the idea that he was being “allowed” anything.

  Jasmine looked at the ceiling, but the roll of her eyes was unmistakable. “I believe I said that she had agreed to see you. I wasn’t sure she would. I think she may be feeling that you are the root of all her problems.”

  “I would have thought that was you.” He wished he could take back the words as soon as he said them. His feelings about Jasmine’s chosen profession had not changed, but he was beginning to accept that he was helpless before her determination.

  “Do you really wish to cause me offense, my dearest brother?” Her tone dripped with honey.

  “Please forgive me. I am still upset by Thorton and took my feelings out on you.”

  “Forgiven, but do not let it happen again. I will have Simms show you up.”

  “Up? I would have thought we would meet in a parlor.”

  “You are less likely to be disturbed in one of the rooms and if voices grow loud less likely to be overheard. Forgive me if I find myself mistrustful of your discretion at the moment.”

  He bowed his head, accepting the subtle scolding. He would accept anything that would get him to Sin.

  Jasmine smiled, slightly. “I’ve put her in the Arabian room. She found herself in it last night and was strangely fascinated. Also, it has no bed, which will perhaps help you keep your mind where it should be.”

  His thoughts filled with lush cushions and exotic perfumes. He hardly thought the lack of a bed would be a hindrance—it never had been in the past. Not that he had anything in mind beyond talking. Still, he could not resist, “The red room has no bed.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “You are lucky I know you are not serious. I hardly think a room full of whips and stockades would he
lp your conversation. I am not sure whether Sin would run screaming or want you to explain each device.”

  And wasn’t that an entertaining thought. There were several items in that chamber he wouldn’t mind explaining at all. He wondered if she even knew the word dildo. He rather doubted it.

  “Get that look off your face. There will be no seduction.”

  “I am not sure that is your decision to make.”

  “It is my house.”

  “And will you be at the peepholes watching us?” He knew exactly how Ruby had assured her girls’ safety and would guess that Jasmine was no different.

  To his surprise, a light blush colored Jasmine’s cheeks. “No, I promised Sin that I would stay away. She wants privacy to talk to you—not that I had intended to watch anyway.”

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment as silence lingered.

  “I will have Simms show you up,” Jasmine said at last, although her eyes said there was more she wanted to say. She stood and walked to the door.

  He followed a step behind. As she reached for the handle, he said, “I really am sorry, Jazzy. I never wanted things to go this way. I do wish I could change things. I only want for you to be happy. I do care for you.”

  Her hand froze on the lever. “I know you do. I think it is why I can only hold so much anger for your actions.” She paused. “And perhaps sometime soon you will come and visit with Hope. She really is a dear.”

  “Perhaps. And perhaps you can tell me about Ruby then, too. I still do not believe, but I do want to understand.”

  He could not see her face, yet he could feel her small smile.

  “Perhaps,” she answered.

  —

  Cynthia stood in the middle of the room and looked about. It was exactly as she remembered it from the previous evening, although this time the candle on the center table was lit and the other lamps dimmed, exotic shadows dancing in the corners. The air was filled again with something rich and mysterious, some type of Oriental incense.

  Considering that Jasmine had been insistent that they were only meeting here so their discussion would not be disturbed, it was strange that the room was steeped in romance. Her friend was definitely sending very mixed signals.