Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  Maggie gasped and staggered back into someone else, who practically snarled at her and gave her another push back, undoing all her progress.

  But Maggie wasn’t one to give up so easily. She took a couple steps back and ran at the edge of the crowd. She pushed against it as hard as she could, forcing the sea of bodies to part to allow her through. People shouted at her, but she wasn’t afraid.

  She couldn’t be afraid for herself when she knew what Joseph was about to do. She craned her neck as she pushed, trying to see over the crowd so that she could keep an eye on her brother. “Joseph, don’t!” She shouted again.

  “Shut it, it’s starting!” Someone sneered at her. This man put his hand against her back and shoved her forwards. Maggie stumbled, but this time there was no one to break her fall. She fell through the crowd and into an opening.

  She found herself looking down at the floor, her hands outstretched in front of her to keep her face from hitting it. During her tussle with the crowd, her hood had fallen back, exposing her. Her cheeks were rosy from the exertion, and her hazel eyes were wide with dread.

  Looking up, she realized that she’d slipped beneath another ring of rope, but this one separated those who were forced to stand from those who paid for a seat.

  There were a number of small tables, closest to the fighting ring. Each of them had one or two gentleman sitting at them. They were dressed in very fine clothes, and Maggie knew in an instant that these were not typical townsfolk.

  These men were members of the ton.

  Had she had the time to really look at them, she would have felt disgusted. Coming here to bet on the lives of poorer men.

  But Maggie didn’t have the opportunity to feel derision. She scrambled to her feet and fixed her eyes on the ring. Joseph was putting up his fists. He looked formidable. Steady.

  But she knew her brother. He wasn’t as brave as he looked. He’d always been a good actor though, which had bothered their father immensely. It had always been impossible for their father to tell when Joseph was lying. But for Maggie, it was easy.

  She was about to call his name again, when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. Maggie yanked instinctively, certain that someone had come to haul her to the back again. She felt vicious and ready to bite. She clenched her teeth and whipped her head around so that she could confront whoever had grabbed her.

  Maggie fell silent when she saw the gentleman’s face. He had smile lines around his eyes and a soft smile that seemed out of place in the pits. “Would you join me?” He asked. His voice was like velvet, and it cut through the ungodly noise.

  “Pardon?” She replied, with a perplexed look.

  He let go of her and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. After a moment, he pulled free a handful of money. An impressive amount of it. With it outstretched towards her, he waited.

  Maggie looked down at the money, then up at his face. She blinked several times, trying to understand what he was doing. What he was suggesting. There must have been some part of her that knew, but it was so unbelievable – so incomprehensible – that it wouldn’t fully register.

  And then it hit her, and her jaw slackened. “Do you-” Her voice shook with incredulity and horror. “Do you think I’m a prostitute?” She balked.

  The man’s brows pulled together, and he tilted his head to the side. Before he could say anything in defense of himself, she pushed his hand away in utter disgust. “How dare you? You impudent man.”

  He blinked quickly. It was clear that, given how well he was dressed, he was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way. But neither was she. Maggie whipped around, with every intention of reaching the ring.

  But it was too late. Just as she turned, she heard the announcement. It was starting. Maggie was frozen still as she watched the man with the broken nose launch himself at Joseph.

  Her eyes were transfixed. The sight of it seemed to swallow up her other senses. She forgot the crowd. Forgot the man behind her. All she could see was her brother dodging a punch to the head, and all she could feel was her stomach lurching and flipping.

  ***

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  Henry didn’t come to this place often. Only when nothing else would work. Sometimes going to a local tavern and drinking himself into a stupor was enough. Sometimes finding another woman to bed would suffice.

  But the trouble was that Rose had been his distraction that evening. A distraction which had backfired awfully. The moment she’d spoken those words about his wife, Henry had known that liquor and sex wouldn’t be enough tonight.

  So he’d come here. There was something about the violence, the sense of life or death, of importance, which kept him transfixed. It kept him from thinking about Amelia, because it was so far removed from anything he might have associated with her.

  This was a place for men. And the few women who came here were there for his entertainment. So when he reached out and gently took hold of a passing woman’s wrist, he’d never imagined being spoken to in such a way.

  ‘Impudent’, she’d called him.

  Henry didn’t know of any common whore who spoke like that. Astounded by her rebuttal, he released her hand and sat back down. But he didn’t stop looking at her. She was wearing a long cloak, with a hood that had fallen back to reveal the face of a porcelain doll.

  Henry couldn’t imagine a more perfect visage. It was as if she’d been carved by some visionary sculptor and painted by an equally remarkable painter. She was rosy in all the right places, with soft hazel eyes and a delicate jaw. Her blonde hair shone, even in the gloom of the basement, and her faintly parted lips looked as velvety as the inside of a petal.

  How he’d mistook her for a whore, he didn’t know. It was clear to him now that she was anything but a whore. Then what was she doing in this place?

  Henry followed her eyes to the ring.

  The fellow with the broken nose was still going strong, as he had been for the last two fights. But there was a new chap now, who appeared to have the young woman entranced. He was lean, but defined. His arms were muscular but he was light on his toes, so he could move quickly and dodge heavy blows with ease.

  A lover, he thought. That would explain it. The woman clearly wasn’t like the working class townsfolk in the outer ring of the crowd. He thought that she must be a lady. A lady naïve enough to fall for someone far below her rank, which had brought her here… to this ugly place.

  Henry could see the fear in her face, and he almost pitied her. But there was another part of him that just thought she must surely be stupid. That wanted to drag her outside and tell her to go home, where it was safe. He’d tell her that, lover or not, she belonged with her own kind.

  This was no place for a lady.

  Chapter 3

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  When the fellow in the ring - who had mostly been running circles around his opponent - took a solid hit to the gut, the lady sucked in an audible breath and covered her mouth with her hands.

  Henry felt increasingly invested in this particular fight and watched with a keener eye. It was clear that the new fellow didn’t have much experience fighting hand-to-hand combat. But he was, nonetheless, extremely quick.

  So Henry wasn’t surprised when he delivered a blow that knocked his opponent down into the dirt. One final fist to the head, and the lady’s lover was declared the victor.

  He was swaying on his feet when his arm was lifted and pumped into the air, to the sound of the crowd screaming their excitement. He spat blood and met his lover’s stare through heavy eyelids.

  He staggered out of the ring, where he was handed a wad of money, and then came towards her. She lifted her hands, which were trembling, and tried to cup his face. “Stop it,” Henry heard the man snap. He was looking around himself agitatedly and pushing the woman’s hands away. “I’m not a child,” he reminded her, sternly.

  “You’re hurt,” she answered, but not with pity. She s
ounded angry. The lady grabbed his chin, yanking his face down so that she could look at his bloody lip. “Are your teeth intact?”

  “Maggie, pull your cowl up,” he whispered between gritted teeth. He pulled his face from her grip and took hold of her wrists. “I can’t be seen with you doting on me like a mother hen,” he hissed at her.

  The woman, Maggie, lost her temper then. She wrangled her wrists free of his hands and delivered a hard thump to the center of his bare chest. “Don’t you dare treat me as though I am some feeble, stupid woman. Don’t treat this as though it is nothing, Joseph.”

  “I understand that it is not nothing!” The man named Joseph replied, his voice growing louder. “It is you who does not understand. You who refuse to understand the severity of our situation. Do you think I want to be doing this? We don’t have a choice, Maggie. Do you fully comprehend that they’re taking the house away? Unless we can pay off at least a portion of the debt, they’ll take it away.”

  “Then let them take it! I’d rather have you alive!”

  “Then you’re even more naïve than I thought you were. How do you imagine that a woman like you would survive in this world? You have no idea what the real world is like.”

  “Then help me understand! I want to know! I want to help, Joseph!”

  “You can’t help!” He shouted, at the top of his lungs, which drew some unwanted attention. The owner, who Henry knew well, quickly approached the pair of them. His name was Carlisle, and he was always flanked by two enormous men with dumb, brutal expressions.

  “Out,” Carlisle said, in a tight voice. “We save the fighting for the ring here. If you want to have a lover’s quarrel, have it outside.”

  “Excuse me?” Joseph answered, with a stare that was so viciously derisive that Henry started to have premonitions of the owner having him beaten to a pulp.

  “I said get out. Or you’ll be thrown out.”

  “Joseph, let’s go,” the lady said, quickly, putting her hands on Joseph’s chest and trying to push him back. But Joseph stood his ground, still sweating from the fight, eye-to-eye with Carlisle.

  Henry knew what was going to happen long before Carlisle decided to escalate matters. When he looked over his shoulder, back at his henchman, Henry approached. “Steady now, Carlisle,” Henry said. “They’re with me.”

  “These children?” Carlisle sneered, with his arms crossing his chest.

  Henry smiled and clapped Carlisle on the back. “Pardon them, on my account?”

  Carlisle looked at Joseph, who hadn’t relaxed his posture. It was clear that his henchmen were itching for a fight, but Carlisle knew better than to risk Henry’s good opinion of this establishment. “Alright,” he conceded. The henchmen deflated, disappointedly. “But you’ve been warned,” he added, with his eyes fixed on Joseph.

  Carlisle took his leave, with his men following close behind, and Henry heard the woman expel a sudden, shaky breath. “Would you take a seat?” Henry asked.

  Joseph looked at him, unblinking. “Me?”

  “The pair of you,” Henry clarified, as he returned to his table and pulled up two empty seats. At the table, he had a bottle of brandy and a bottle of whiskey, with two glasses so he didn’t have to tarnish the taste either, but so he could still drink from both over the course of the evening.

  He topped up his glass of whiskey and filled the second glass for Joseph. He gestured towards the glass, which lulled Joseph closer.

  Henry saw the woman grab his arm, but he resisted her pull and continued towards the table. He took a seat.

  “Will you not sit, my lady?”

  “Now I’m a lady?” She responded, in a tight voice that made him smile.

  “An easy mistake to make in this place, I’m afraid,” Henry answered, gesturing to the second seat. “Please sit.”

  “What do you mean?” Joseph asked, as he wrapped his hand around the glass of whiskey and looked down at the liquid. It was clear that he wanted to drink it, but that he wasn’t sure of Henry yet.

  “He mistook me for a whore,” Maggie said, through pursed lips. Still, she wouldn’t take the seat.

  Expelling a breath, Henry leaned back in his chair and gave her a long look.

  “What?” Joseph stood abruptly, almost knocking his chair back. “You called my sister a whore?”

  Henry could see the situation escalating very quickly and was determined to keep that from happening. He was interested in this strange pair, who were clearly more like him than he’d first realized. He had to know what had brought them to this place.

  “It was a mistake,” Henry said, in a calm voice. “And she has my apologies. But that is not why I have called you over. If you will sit, you can listen to my proposition. I think you may regret it if you don’t.”

  Joseph hesitated, looking about ready to fight Henry too. But then, after a tense moment, he sat down again. “What proposition?” He said, in a stiff voice.

  Henry regarded Joseph for a moment, his confusion rising. At first, he’d thought Joseph a common man who’d managed to win the affections of a lady. But the more he heard Joseph speak, the more he sounded like a gentleman. Like a man born of rank.

  “Have a drink,” Henry recommended, pushing the glass of whiskey a little closer. “Nerves are high after a fight. And you fought very well.”

  This placated Joseph slightly, and he took a sip of the whiskey.

  “Now, would you ask your lady to sit?”

  “My lady?” Joseph frowned and looked up at Maggie. “She’s my sister.”

  Henry quirked his brow. “Your sister,” he echoed.

  Maggie still hadn’t moved, and Henry could feel her burning stare on his face. He met her gaze, steadily. “If you would care to explain your circumstances to me, my Lady, I believe that I can keep your brother from ever having to return here again.”

  He addressed this to Maggie, instead of her brother, in the hopes of easing her wariness and coaxing her curiosity. And it seemed to work. After a moment, she took the spare seat and sat in an extremely upright fashion, with her hands folded in her lap.

  Henry took this as an indication that she was ready to listen.

  “I’d like you to tell me how a gentleman and a lady who are clearly of fair rank have wound up in a place like this.”

  “How do you know our rank?” Joseph answered.

  Henry smiled. “It’s obvious. I need only listen to you speak.”

  “You’re a gentleman,” Maggie replied, though her tone implied that she didn’t quite believe it. “In a sense,” she added, which made his smile widen. “Why should you be here and not us?”

  “A good question,” he acknowledged, with a nod. “But I am not fighting. And I am not a lady.”

  He took another sip of his drink, then continued.

  “I’m a spectator, which is a great deal more acceptable than a fighter. It is my understanding that the only men who fight here are in great need of the money. Carlisle tells me that he sees an average of three deaths a night. I think you’ll agree that those odds aren’t especially appealing. This isn’t sport, my lady.”

  “And yet you watch it as though it is,” she retorted, hotly.

  Henry tapped his finger on the edge of his glass, watching her closely. She was not like most women he knew. She’d come to this place for a start. And she spoke to him as if she knew no fear whatsoever.

  “Maggie,” Joseph hissed at her, his voice hard as stone. “Be quiet.”

  “You needn’t silence her,” Henry interjected. “She has a right to speak her mind. Now, you were going to tell me why you’re here.”

  Neither of them answered, and Henry was starting to grow impatient. He sighed audibly. “I would prefer not to be kept waiting.”

  “We’re not common folk,” Joseph said, abruptly.

  “Joseph,” Maggie said, warningly.

  “What harm could him knowing do?” Her brother replied, sounding almost desperate.

  Maggie fell silent again.
>
  “We’re from Brambleheath.”

  “Brambleheath,” Henry echoed. “Yes, I know of it. The Baron and Baroness passed away last year, did they not?”

  Joseph didn’t answer, but shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and it finally dawned on Henry. “You’re the son and daughter,” Henry said. “But what misfortune brings you here? The Rileys were a wealthy family.”

  “We were,” Maggie said, lifting her chin a little higher. “But father had debts none of us knew about. And since their deaths, we’ve been chased by those debts.”