“I couldn’t let him ruin you,” her voice was muffled against Grace’s shoulder.
Grace pulled back, looking down into her sister’s upturned face. A pretty face on the verge of becoming beautiful. “He won’t. No one will be ruined. We will find a way out of this situation.”
Patience nodded, giving Grace a wavering smile, but it was obvious even to Grace, her sister didn’t believe the lie.
********
Alex slouched over the scarred, wooden table, staring into the amber ale inside his mug. Two hours later his clothes were still damp from the rain, but he had made no move to stand by the fireplace in the pub. It didn’t matter that it was the only clothing he owned, nor that he had just spent his last pence on his third cup of ale. Nothing mattered.
He had nowhere to go. He had no money. He had nothing.
He deserved nothing. A common whore. Dirty. Without soul. How he wished he could tear the skin from his own body. Be free of his sin. Be free of this life.
He could return to Lady Lavender. Perhaps he would. Yet, he couldn’t seem to stand and leave. Only three other men sat in the place, all slouched, all staring at nothing in particular. All lost.
And he was lost without Grace.
Grace.
How he wanted to go to her. How he wanted her for his own, to make him smile, to make him laugh, to make him believe once more.
Grace.
His hands curled against that worn table. Hardening his heart, he pushed back and stood. He could not ruin her. He wouldn’t. She deserved more than what he could offer and he could offer nothing. He’d been ridiculous to think he’d return to his old life and all would be forgiven.
Alex turned to leave. The fist came out of nowhere. Hard knuckles connected with his chin and propelled him backward. He hit the table, the edge digging painfully into his back. Before he could regain his bearings, hands gripped his shirt and jerked him forward. Two men grabbed his arms, holding him immobile, while another man stood before Alex, wavering in and out of focus like a vague dream. Alex shook his head, fuzzy with an ale induced haze.
“You’ll pay, you scum.”
The familiar voice sent hatred pulsing through his blood.
Rodrick.
Alex growled low in his throat and focused on the dandy he despised. Anger like he’d never known poured through him, simmering, bubbling in his veins. He might not be able to punish Ophelia or his parents, but he sure as hell could do some damage to this arse. Alex jerked forward, freeing his right arm. With a quick jab he slammed his fist into Rodrick’s gut.
The man stumbled back, gasping for breath.
“He’s a fighter,” John said, stepping into view. The bastard was hiding behind Rodrick. “You stay away from my sister,” John said, but in his eyes, Alex saw the truth. The man was scared. Alex shoved his hand into the man’s chest, sending him flying back into the table. John cried out, stumbling to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
Alex didn’t have time to gloat. Firm fingers bit into his biceps, jerking his arms behind his back. Alex growled, struggling to regain his freedom. None of the few patrons offered any help. Most didn’t even look up from their mugs. The owner was worse, glancing away when Alex met his gaze.
“I’ll kill you,” Alex growled, meaning every word.
A burlap bag was thrown over his head, musty and dirty from use. Rough rope was twisted around his wrists, pulling his arms painfully behind his back.
“Outside with ye,” the pub owner finally growled.
Rodrick’s men jerked him forward. Alex stumbled and would have fallen to his knees if they hadn’t been holding him upright. Shuffling, he forced his instincts to become alert. How many were there?
“We’ll be seen,” John grumbled from somewhere ahead.
“Don’t be an idiot. No one will interfere,” Rodrick snapped back.
Rodrick, John, and the two dragging him forward. Cold air hit his exposed hands and he could hear the muffled sound of carriages on cobbled stone. They were outside, but no one in this part of town would assist him. They would not get involved, especially since Rodrick was obviously a lord.
From somewhere near a horse snorted. Hands shoved him forward. Alex was tossed into what he assumed was a carriage. He fell to the floor with a muffled grunt. Someone climbed in beside him. Rodrick, for he could smell his sandalwood cologne. Alex’s legs were shoved inside, the door closed with a thump. It all happened within moments. Before he could react, the carriage jerked forward.
For a heartbeat, he merely lay there, his breathing harsh and warm against the rough bag. Suddenly, hands gripped his upper arms and jerked him up onto a soft seat. Alex sat stiffly, waiting. He knew there were others in the carriage with him for he could hear their breathing, but wasn’t sure how many.
“We have something to discuss,” Rodrick said from across the carriage.
Alex’s lips lifted into a snarl. How he wanted to kill the man.
“You were hired to do a job,” the dandy continued. “And that was to prepare Grace… for me. Somewhere along the way, you seemed to think you could actually have her as your own. I don’t know if you’re toying with her, or if you’re serious, but it will end now.”
Had Rodrick sent Grace to Lady Lavender’s? Someone grunted beside him. Someone smelling of stale beer and regret.
John, Grace’s stepbrother, most likely.
“And what if I tell you to fuck off?” Alex hissed. His voice was muffled, but he knew they heard him all the same.
There was a soft rustle as someone moved. Fingers gripped the burlap sack and jerked it from his head, pulling his hair in the process. Alex glared at Rodrick, aware that John sat cowering in the corner next to him.
Rodrick dropped the sack to the floor. “Do you think anyone will notice if you disappear?”
Alex didn’t respond. He knew where Rodrick was headed with his statement and he wouldn’t take the bait.
“Perhaps your Lady Ophelia might take up the search for a day or two, but your disappearance would not alarm Scotland Yard.”
Rodrick leaned forward, a smirk marring his face. Alex couldn’t quite help himself. With a growl, he jerked his head forward, slamming his forehead against the man’s nose.
“Shite!” Rodrick cried out, falling back.
“Lord,” John muttered, tapping on the roof of the carriage with frantic movements.
The vehicle slowed, but Alex was barely aware, he was taking too much glee in the site of blood running down Rodrick’s lips and chin. The carriage stopped and the door was ripped open.
John was the first to leave, stumbling outside as if his coattails were on fire. Rodrick, who had managed to find a handkerchief and was holding it to his injured nose, followed. Left without assistance, Alex hopped outside, grinning for the first time that night. John lifted his arm, a pistol clenched in his hands. Alex kept his grin in place, not daring to show weakness. The idiot was trembling so hard, Alex wouldn’t be surprised if he shot him by accident.
“You will leave Grace alone,” Rodrick demanded, his voice muffled behind the handkerchief.
“Why, will you marry her?” Alex jeered. “Live happily ever after?”
John shifted, glancing at the ground. Certainly a suspicious movement. What were they up to?
Rodrick snarled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Alex jerked his gaze from John to Rodrick. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. His gaze went to John once more. “He is going to marry your sister, isn’t he?”
“Rodrick doesn’t wish to marry,” John mumbled.
But by the way the man was avoiding his gaze, Alex knew there was more to the tale. “What does he wish to do then?”
Rodrick grabbed the lapels of Alex’s jacket and jerked him forward. The man’s pretty face was smeared with blood. “Grace will become my mistress. I’ll use her, and she’ll enjoy it and I can thank you for preparing her.”
Alex saw red. He lifted his knee, hitting Rodrick between the legs
. Rodrick gasped and stumbled back into a rock wall. Frantic, Alex turned toward John.
“You’ll do this? Allow your sister to be used?”
“Fuck off,” John muttered.
Alex gritted his teeth. He’d kill them. He’d kill them both.
Surely Grace hadn’t agreed to this. Yet… yet he knew Grace would do anything for her mother and sister. No, he wouldn’t allow her to sell herself as he had. He’d kill her brother and Rodrick first, even if it meant he’d hang in prison.
“You will stay away from my mistress.” Rodrick shoved his fist into Alex’s gut. Pain rippled through his body, adding coal to his anger. Alex stumbled back. John grabbed his arms, holding him immobile as Alex gasped for air.
Finding courage now that Alex was immobile, Rodrick stepped closer, smirking. “Shall we mess up those pretty-boy features of yours?”
Alex hadn’t time to prepare. The man hit him in the face, the knuckles connecting with the area under his eye so hard, Alex heard the skin split. His head jerked back, hitting John in the chin. The sting gave way to wet warmth as blood dripped down his cheek.
“Now for the nose.”
“You’ll stop now, or you’ll regret it, my lord,” James’ familiar voice was surprising and welcome. John’s hold loosened.
Rodrick narrowed his eyes, studying his opponent as James strolled from the shadows and into the light of the streetlamp. He was dressed just as richly as Rodrick and Alex knew the man was trying to decipher James’ identity. Perhaps Rodrick wouldn’t fear James, but he would fear Ophelia’s men who stood behind him.
“Well, well.” Rodrick quirked a brow. “You have friends. How sweet.”
“Friends who know how to fight, friends who own pistols,” James said.
As grateful as Alex was, he knew James wasn’t there to help, merely to protect Lady Lavender’s property. John dropped his hold completely and stepped away. The coward knew when to flee. He didn’t even look back as he jumped into the carriage.
Rodrick glared at Alex, weighing his choices. “Stay away from her.”
“Sod off,” Alex muttered.
He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, but instead he strolled to the carriage an easy gait that belied the fear he’d seen in the dandy’s eyes.
“She sent you to find her property,” Alex said, watching the carriage as it jerked to life and disappeared around the corner. With Rodrick’s absence, he had to focus his anger somewhere and James would make a lovely target.
James reached forward, using a knife to cut Alex’s biddings. “She was worried.”
Alex released a harsh laugh and slumped back against the brick wall of a building. How had his life become so utterly ridiculous? If he returned to Lady Lavender he would die a slow, torturous death, his soul crumbling from the inside. Yet, why leave when he had nothing? Was nothing? He slid down the wall until his arse hit the dirt. He felt numb, cold, alone.
He could start over as a coal miner, a fisherman. Anything. He drew his knees up and rested his forehead in his hands. Truth was, he didn’t know if he could leave Grace. Could he let her become Rodrick’s mistress and make the same mistakes he had made? Perhaps she would reject Rodrick’s offer, and then what? She’d starve?
“Alex,” James said. “What are you doing? What is this about?”
Alex leaned his head back against the hard wall and stared up into the starless night, the sky hazy with smoke from the London factories. A hysterical bubble of laughter clogged his throat. “I don’t know. I don’t bloody know.”
James sighed. “It’s the girl, right? The one who visited a time or two?”
“Grace,” he whispered her name.
James reached down and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. His face only inches from Alex. “Then go to her,” he whispered low enough so Wavers and the other man wouldn’t hear. “Tell her the truth.” He hauled Alex to his feet and shoved a small, leather pouch into his hands. “From Gideon and me.”
Alex gripped the pouch, the clank of coins a merry greeting in the dark night. He shoved the pouch toward James, but he refused to take it. “I can’t ruin her.”
“Hell, Alex. She has a brother ready to sell her to the highest bidder and a man who wants to make her his mistress. I don’t really see how you’re a worse choice!”
God help him, but James’ argument was starting to sound reasonable. Alex glanced behind James at Ophelia’s two henchmen who stood guard as silent as ever. They would not argue with James, Ophelia’s prized pupil. “Lady Lavender will—”
“She’ll understand,” James whispered.
She wouldn’t, but he didn’t care to argue with James. No, because for the first time that night he felt the slightest stirrings of hope.
The offer was tempting… so tempting.
Chapter 19
“You told me three pounds just last week!”
The woman before Grace shrugged her thin, French shoulders. “Times have changed. I can only give you duex now.”
“Oh stuff and nonsense!” Grace grabbed the velvet dress and shoved it back into her carpet bag. Perhaps she was letting her pride get in the way, but blast it all, she was tired of people taking advantage of her dire state. “I will sell it for three pounds and nothing less.”
The woman shrugged again, looking completely unconcerned. She wasn’t going to budge. She knew how badly Grace needed the coins. But this seamstress, with her velvet curtains, chandeliers, and ideal shop on Bond Street was thriving. She had no need for the dress.
Fuming, Grace ignored the stunned expressions of the two women working with Madam Nicolette and shoved the door wide, the bell overhead tinkling. She left the fancy shop, smelling of French perfume and stepped into the brilliant spring morning. But the warmth and promise of summer did not lighten her mood.
Yes, she refused to sell even though they’d only had potatoes and chicken broth for dinner last night. Even though the maid had left this morning, fearing if she kept working for them, her next payment would never come. And even though Grace wanted to see Alex so badly, it actually hurt. Lord, she was a silly twit.
Overwhelmed, Grace paused there, in the middle of the footpath, heedless to the people pushing past her, making her stumble off balance. Although she should be worried about her future and her mother and sister’s welfare, the person forefront in her mind was him.
Damn Alex to hell!
She’d paced her room last night, attempting to understand her infatuation. He was a whore. He pleasured women. That fact alone made her ill, so how could she possibly want to be with him? Because…because she’d seen into his soul. His lovely, broken soul.
Ahead, Patience waved from the window of the hired hack. But Grace felt frozen with indecision, want, and need. Dare she send a note to Lavender Hills, praying the missive would make it to Alex’s hands? Would he even respond if she did?
Blast it! She wanted to curse Alex for abandoning her. Curse him for making her care. But mostly, she wanted to curse Madam Nicolette for making her take two pounds.
With a sigh of resignation, Grace forced Alex from her mind and turned back toward the dress shop. She had taken only two steps when a muscled arm wrapped around her waist. She didn’t have time to cry out. There was not a moment to think, nor time to search for a weapon. A hand clamped over her lips and suddenly she was jerked into an alley, pulled behind a stack of crates.
“Shhh, tis me.”
Fear faded, leaving her trembling with relief. The familiar voice swept away the cold chill of unease. She must be dreaming. Perhaps she had gone mad. She couldn’t dare hope it was truly him.
“Alex!” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or hit him.
Instead, she turned and threw her arms around his neck. He stumbled back, hitting the brick wall of the building behind. The darkness of the alley hid them from prying eyes, but she knew they could easily be caught. She didn’t care. Didn’t bloody care. Only cared that she was with Alex, finally.
“I never th
ought I’d see you again,” she said, her voice catching on a horrifying sob.
“Please tell me you haven’t accepted Rodrick’s offer,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, refusing to cry. Instead, she focused on the scent of morning and spring flowers that clung to his jacket. Which offer he was referring to, she wasn’t sure. Did Alex think Rodrick had proposed, or did he somehow know of his sinful proposition? “No, of course not,” she said. “Never.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank God.”
“Alex, where have…”
She finally managed to pull back and that’s when she noticed the dark bruise marring the area under his eye. Outraged, she cupped the sides of his face. “What happened to you?”
He still wore the clothing he’d worn when they’d visited his family only yesterday, although the material was quite wrinkled. His hair was mussed, shadows marked the area under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept. Her worry burst anew.
“It doesn’t matter what happened,” he said, taking her hands in his. His blue eyes were serious, so bloody serious. “What matters is that we have little time before they come searching for us.” His words sent a shiver of unease through her body. Alex turned, pressing her against the hard, brick wall. His face was intense, so intense that it made her nervous. “Listen to me. I’m leaving. I can’t stay here any longer, there is nothing for me.”
She flinched over his harsh words. Nothing? Not even she could keep him?
“Grace,” He cupped the sides of her face and stepped closer, his body pressed to hers. “I have no life without you.”
Her heart swelled with hope and possibilities.
“Will you?” he whispered.
She didn’t dare breathe for fear that this was all a dream and breathing would wake her. She didn’t dare move, not wanting to disrupt the image of his intense gaze. Vaguely she was aware of warm tears slipping down her cheeks. He gave her a quivering, hesitant smile as he brushed them away with his thumbs. He hadn’t forgotten her after all.
“What are you saying?” she finally managed to ask.