“A lady in distress, eh Bert? I’d say it’s our Christian duty to come to the rescue, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d say that when a little lady says ‘no’ a real gentleman wouldn’t want to try and drag her off against her will! Course—there’s a difference between a gentleman and a toff...”
“Bert’s right. Now a gentleman would apologize for letting himself get carried away and walk off, wouldn’t he, Bert? And then Bert and I will make sure her Ladyship’s returned safe and sound to her friends!”
“Ah, but what happens if you are not dealing with a gentleman?” Nicholas’s voice was soft and almost pleasant, but with a certain undertone that suggested the unpleasant and made Alexa give an involuntary shudder as if she had just been chilled. It was partly the way he just stood there with his feet astride; such an easy-seeming and almost relaxed stance on the surface, while underneath she could almost feel like a physical thing the vibrating, couched tension of a wild beast ready to spring but waiting for its prey to move first.
While they had been speaking with each other the two men had begun, almost imperceptibly, to move apart, and one of them had a cudgel! “There is really no need...” Alexa had begun in the calmest tone of voice she could muster, when she was cut off by Nicholas’s short ugly laugh. “Obviously, my love, these gentlemen are anxious to be your knights-errant! Shall we joust for your fickle favors? They are most expensive to purchase, I should warn you two gallant knights! But if you or whoever paid you for your gallantry tonight should be prepared to pay the necessary price, then you might ask at Madame Olivier’s for the lady in distress!” As every intentionally brutal word assaulted her like stones meant to hurt and maim, Alexa felt herself grow cold, then hot, then cold again. And during those same slow seconds she saw the dull, dangerous gleam of the knife blade in his hand, remembering suddenly the way he had quickly disposed of her corset earlier that day.
“Well?” Nicholas taunted as the two exchanged uneasy glances before turning wary eyes back on him. He smiled, but it was a feral baring of his teeth only as he said softly, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a real fight—or killed a man. Which one of you is first? Or shall it be both together?”
“You’ll never take us both, toff, for all that bluster... Ahh!”
When had he moved? How fast, for it to happen in seconds like a blur before her eyes? He must have moved, because one man writhed on the ground fighting for breath, with his hands clasped over his belly, and the other one had dropped his club to clutch at his arm, blood dripping from between his fingers already.
“Christ! Ah, Jesus! I’m bleedin‘ to death! We didn’t mean any harm, guv. I...I swear it! Just...just trying to help a lady, that’s all! Bert, tell him I’m right, for... Ohmigawd!” Bert, attempting painfully to sit up, was straightened out by a carefully placed kick that left him lying motionless almost at the same time that Nicholas said softly and savagely between his teeth, “Who paid you?”
“For God’s sake, guv! I’ve already told you—no...!” There was a bloody line down the side of the bewhiskered, jowly face and across the back of the hand the man had lifted, and he had suddenly begun to make grotesquely whimpering noises through his open mouth as he started to back away with his eyes flickering from the knife blade to the hard, expressionless face and narrowed, deadly eyes that were like death looking back at him.
“I could take off an ear very easily, or slit your nostrils for you. And then there’s always the belly, and yours is easy to find. You might live that way, with your guts spilling out, for a few days at least! I could give you lessons, my friend, on the uses of a knife and the many ways of carving a man up into bloody segments while he still lives. Must I show you or will you give me the name I asked for? I’m in too much of a hurry to ask again, so...?”
Unable to help herself, Alexa turned her head away and began to retch miserably, her hands sliding down the wall as she sank to her knees with her forehead pressed against the roughly uneven surface, her whole body shaking with revulsion. He had actually meant every coldly dispassionate threat he’d made—she did not doubt it now. Accused of murdering his wife, he’d admitted openly and even casually. And how had he killed her? Had she died slowly and painfully, poor miserable woman? And dear God, what was she doing with a man who could talk so calmly of torturing another human being? “I could give you lessons on the uses of a knife...” he had said and had gone on to elaborate on those uses of a knife. Alexa felt herself heave again and was even sicker this time, a cold sweat breaking out all over her body in spite of the chilly night air and the cashmere shawl she’d worn for protection against it.
“We had better go before someone else decides to stroll along this particular pathway. You are quite through with being sick, I hope?” Too weak to put up any resistance, Alexa allowed herself to be pulled none too gently to her feet again and made to walk beside him, her skirts brushing against the poor wretch who sat moaning weakly as he continued to clutch at his arm. Nicholas, she noticed, did not bother to spare the unfortunate fellow or his unconscious (or dead?) companion a second glance; and that evidence of heartlessness and hardness made her shudder again and press the back of one hand against her mouth to prevent herself from being sick once more.
“I had thought that since you used to go hunting and enjoyed it you would not collapse at the sight of a little blood,” he said in a harsh voice, his fingers tightening over her arm as she almost stumbled.
“It...it wasn’t the blood at all,” Alexa managed to choke out through her dry, constricted throat. With an effort she swallowed hard. “It was you! What you did and what you said. I cannot even bear to talk about it yet! But you were...you were worse than an animal to do what you did to that poor devil. And what if you’ve killed his friend? Or if he should die from loss of blood? Dear God! I do not know you at all, do I? You could never force me to marry you! Do you think that I am so stupid and thoughtless as to let you marry me for my fortune and then arrange for my convenient demise? Or had you planned to murder me yourself, just as you murdered your first wife?”
She thought she heard his sharply indrawn breath as his grip on her arm tightened painfully enough to elicit a cry from her. But then he relaxed his hold almost at once and his voice seemed to hold nothing more than wry amusement as he said, “Do you imagine me as some Bluebeard? If you do, then perhaps you should remember never to wander inquisitively into locked chambers—or ask too many questions!”
“That will hardly happen since there is no question of our ever being married!” Alexa retorted heatedly. “And what did you mean by that filthy insinuation you dared make to those men? Why, if I had a knife or a pistol with which to defend myself I would have...”
“I’m under no illusions as to what you would have done given the chance, my sweet Alexa, despite the inevitable bloodletting! But as to the reference I made to Madame Olivier, she is your aunt, is she not? And considering your obvious fascination for bordellos and your knowledge of what goes on in such houses of pleasure, what other conclusion could be drawn?”
More flung stones, carefully aimed and meant to injure. And—he knew! For how long had he known and how much? Hell-bent on vengeance now, it was that knowledge that acted like a glass of cold water thrown in her face and made her choose her next words more carefully. But in her preoccupation Alexa had hardly noticed his handing her up into a carriage and climbing in beside her until she heard the door slammed shut and felt herself jerked back against padded velour as the coachman cracked his whip. Ostentatiously, Alexa moved as far away from him as she could while she pretended to stare with fascination out of the window, saying frostily over her shoulder without once turning her head, “You really had no need to take the trouble to hire a vehicle to take me home, since I had my own carriage with me. Now I shall be obliged to...”
“You do not have to worry on that score, mi corazon. I sent your coachman and his sleepy attendant back to Belgrave Square when I first arrived, knowing how much
we have to talk about in private. And although I appreciate your concern as to my financial capabilities, I should assure you that this carriage is mine, and not hired.”
“I don’t in the least care...!” As she turned back to face him Alexa could feel herself positively tremble with fury. “How dared you presume enough to act in such a high-handed fashion! To take so much for granted... Ohh! I cannot wait to get back home and to be free of your presence! And please, I would prefer not to have any further conversation between us until then. I’ve made myself quite clear, I hope?”
As she turned her head around again, her shoulders squared and stiffly unyielding, Alexa heard his lazy, aggravating laugh, which this time contained an undercurrent of genuine amusement.
“Sweetheart, if you really mean that, you would be the perfect woman, you know. I have always thought the eternal babbling of a typical female a damned waste of time, especially if she has an adorably sensuous mouth that should be occupied with deeds, instead of senseless words.” Alexa’s back became even straighter as she used every ounce of self-control she could muster in order to keep silent in spite of the way he was baiting her. She kept her head stubbornly turned away and her lips pressed tightly together, even when his voice took on, surprisingly, a coaxing, almost caressing note as he murmured thoughtfully: “You do have an adorable mouth, sweet witch. And an adorably rounded little bottom as well. Straight, long legs... Do you know how unusual and delightful that is? And as for your skin, it’s like gold silk, querida mia. The kind of skin that a man could never tire of touching—or kissing.” It was all Alexa could do to remain sitting there unmoving as she felt the warmth of his lips against the nape of her neck and where her neck and shoulder joined. She felt, unwillingly, the heat flood through her body as he murmured softly against her shoulder: “And your sweet, pointed breasts with those coral nipples—you should be painted in the nude—as a sea nymph perhaps, but only by a great painter who could do you justice.” His fingers brushed very lightly and almost tantalizingly across her breasts for just an instant, and Alexa gasped as if she had been burned by his touch.
“Stop! I don’t want you to touch me again, do you hear? I...”
Almost to her surprise, Nicholas gave an indifferent shrug and leaned his shoulders against the opposite corner of the seat they shared. “No? Very well,: my love. In that case I will leave it all up to you without having to feel selfish. I’m sure you’ve learned a great deal more about pleasing a man than you’ve let me discover so far.”
Gritting her teeth together, Alexa managed to keep from uttering the heated words that were on the tip of her tongue. Damn him to hell! Why was it that he seemed to find some malicious satisfaction in taunting and insulting her and trying her patience and control to the utmost? Her head ached from all the thoughts that tumbled around in her mind, and she would have given anything to be safely at home in her own bed at this moment— alone! She needed to be able to think without distraction, and there were urgent decisions that had to be made, if only so that she could keep her own peace of mind.
When the carriage jerked to a halt at last, Alexa gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. She was home at last, and at this time of the night even he would not dare to force his way in as he had done before when he’d taken her unawares. This time, if he tried to use the same forceful tactics she would scream for help as loudly as she could.
As she gathered up her skirts to descend from the carriage, Lord Embry, who had come around to her side, put his hands on either side of her waist to lift her down; and it was only while she was in midair, so to speak, that Alexa realized with a sickening jolt that this was not Belgrave Square that he had brought her to after all.
Continuing to hold her before him, a stunned, unwilling captive, Nicholas said in the same dangerously soft voice that Alexa had already heard him use earlier: “If you have any idea of making a fuss I hope you will be wise enough to put the notion out of your head at once. I would be sorry if you forced me to leave ugly scars on that lovely golden body of yours. Comprende, mi dulce amor?‘”
No doubt he would do exactly as he threatened without a qualm. Alexa had to force herself to stand still and tilt her face up to meet his unreadable look with a semblance, at least, of courageous defiance. “Am I permitted at least to ask where you have brought me? And why?” Despite her efforts her voice emerged as a husky whisper, but at least it did not shake.
“Why, I thought we might visit one of the establishments managed by your aunt! The two houses sit side by side. Or had you already noticed? One caters to what you might call the regular trade, and the other is for special purposes. And privacy of course. There are suites that are rented out—I keep one rented myself for occasions when I might find such accommodations useful. And I can assure you, my sweet, that you’ll find these quarters much cleaner and more tastefully done up than the sleazy little chambres de convenance at Cremorne Gardens, or even those above certain little boutiques in Burlington Arcade. But you will be able to see for yourself in a few minutes and draw your own comparisons, won’t you?”
Chapter 38
Adelina, the Dowager Marchioness of Newbury, was in the habit of keeping late hours, as everyone in the family knew; and so, when her grandson Deering was announced by a sleepy-looking butler at well past eleven o’clock, she merely waved an impatient hand and said that the Viscount should be directed to come upstairs to her rooms. So, had Charles finally got up enough courage to tell her something that she already knew? She had only agreed to see him in case he happened to have learned something she was not yet aware of, and she would soon find out if that was the case or not.
“Obviously, my dear Charles, you were not successful. Oh, for heaven’s sake, sit down! There— on the divan. And now you shall relate everything to me in detail, omitting nothing, if you please.”
All through Charles’s rather jerky recital and even for some time after he had stopped speaking, his grandmother continued to watch him in the rather unnerving fashion he remembered all too well from his childhood. Soul-searching, he had heard it called, and although he had always despised himself for being afraid of her and in fact almost hated her, he was unable to prevent himself from wanting her approval and fearing her disapproval. “I...what could I have done, after all? Embry of all people! Perhaps I took too much for granted, but, Belle-Mere, you said...”
“Ah yes, I know exactly what I said, Charles. That I would tell him some things that should change his mind about this ridiculous ‘engagement’ to our rich widow.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps that’s what is behind the rather forceful manner in which he took her away. Perhaps if you still want this particular wealthy bride— you should be more forceful yourself. That is probably why she allows Embry to control her! Hmm...I wonder?” The Dowager chuckled to herself, as if something had just occurred to her, and her grandson stiffened before leaning forward to say in a voice that held suppressed anger:
“Her carriage was sent back home by Embry some hours ago, as I understand it. And she went with him! If I thought, by God, that...”
In an exaggeratedly patient manner that managed to convey impatience as well, the Dowager Marchioness raised her eyebrows and said: “My dear boy! Even if Embry is bold enough to take her, and even if she managed to keep herself a virgin after poor Sir John passed away—or even before, for that matter, he could never have accomplished such a feat, poor man, as I’ve told you! For God’s sake— are you such a romantic that you cannot think of a marriage as a matter of either convenience or expediency? Once a marriage has made you rich, why should you not be able to afford a virgin every week or every night for that matter? And how many females can you think of who are as rich as Lady Travers? My poor little fellow, you are not wise enough yet, obviously, to realize that enough money can buy you anything and everything you crave, including power. Is barely managing to keep up appearances, thanks to the goodwill of your creditors, your only goal? Well, good night, Charles. And perhaps Embry...”
&n
bsp; Lord Charles leaped up from his seat, his handsome face flushed with a mixture of emotions, saying at the same time in a suppressed kind of voice, “I think I understand everything even more clearly now, and that from now on I shall be easily able to act in a more detached manner.”
“I should certainly hope so for your sake, Charles, and especially since your mother has told me tearfully that your father will no longer be good for any of your gambling debts or for certain other expenses he does not approve of. And I am glad that at least you had enough sense not to ask me!” Although the tone of Adelina’s voice was one of boredom, her eyes had not mistaken her grandson’s response to her words. Anxious to dismiss him, she repeated, “And so, good night once more, Charles. I have just noticed how late it is. I shall see you again tomorrow night, I presume?”
“Tomorrow?” he said at the door, mildly surprising her by his vehemence.
“If you can manage such a feat cleverly enough, I think it should be before supper, just in case Embry might decide to make sure of her fortune before you do.”
How she needed, yet at the same time despised, the sheep she had always found it so easy to use! Adelina thought contemptuously after Charles had left. While she had still been young and attractive enough it had been through the giving or the yielding—for a time at least— of her body, and through sighs and whispered half promises. After that it was through year. She knew every weakness and every guilty secret of them all, did she not? And coupled with that, they had all realized by now that she would always ensure that her will prevailed in the end. But how many of them had faced the reason why? Ah, the weak, silly fools! Almost without being aware of it, the Marchioness had left her straight-backed chair to cross the room. And in front of her mirror she had courage enough to confront her own image without flinching—in fact, even with a little smile. Her youth and her looks had been useful enough while they lasted, of course, but the real reason for the power she wielded was and always had been her total dedication to getting her own way. Amoral, unscrupulous, witch... She had never bothered to concern herself with the words that had been used to describe her—and why should she? She was stronger than any of them precisely because she despised, and had never let herself be governed by all their so-called ethics and morals even though she had always been aware that it was necessary for her to pretend she did sometimes. Fools! she thought again, walking back to her desk and the blotter that was covered with splotched words and drawings she had made while she was listening to Charles’s apologies for his lack of strength. The only one of them she could neither read nor manipulate was Nicholas, the grandson, ironically, of her Nicholas, who had been the only man she had known who had meant what he had said when he’d turned his back on her. The only one she’d actually wept over for a time; and she had only been fifteen or sixteen then.
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