Promise: A Lords of Action Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  He spun away, walking to the door next to the fireplace where he stopped, but he did not turn back to her. “The bubbles are almost gone, Lady Natalia. There is a dress on the chair behind you that should fit. Wash the rest of that black crud and stench from your hair, and then put it on. I will speak to you downstairs in my study.”

  He left the room.

  Talia stared at the closed door, fury steaming with each exhale.

  The man was pompous. Insufferable. Overbearing. Condescending. A cad.

  And also going to help her find Louise.

  And aggravatingly handsome.

  And respectful as possible, given the situation.

  Talia heaved a sigh, grabbing the lavender soap from the tray next to the tub. She knew she should have been highly offended at his notice of the disappearing bubbles. But she couldn’t quite conjure true offense at that particular infraction.

  Yet what exactly was going to be his price for helping her?

  ~~~

  Talia tugged the span of silk down along her hips. The cerulean blue dress had been made for someone shorter than her, without as ample a bosom, and she had to keep tugging the fabric down as it was wedged awkwardly under her breasts. The sleeves were short on the dress, the lace trim ending in the middle of her upper arms—completely inappropriate for the chill outside, but Lord Lockston’s home was unusually warm. Or maybe it was just that she had grown accustomed to the constant chill on her skin.

  Practicality aside, the silk almost made her feel like a lady again, though she had foregone the slippers that sat on the floor near the dress and tugged on her boots instead. Silk slippers would do her no good against the sludge on the London streets—especially the streets near her boardinghouse.

  She had waited for a few minutes in the washing chamber for a maid or Lord Lockston to appear, but as she had apparently been abandoned, she was now tiptoeing her way through the darkness of the townhouse. Two lit sconces by the curved staircase were the only illumination against the night. It was still early in the morning—so early she heard no movement in the house—not even a cook clanking about several levels below.

  From the foyer at the bottom of the stairs, Talia recognized the drawing room from the previous day. She spun around the hefty newel post and went down the center hall, peeking into dark rooms. It wasn’t until she neared the back of the townhouse that she saw a warm glow of light past a half-closed door.

  Stopping alongside the frame of the doorway, she leaned forward, peeking into the room. It was a study. A large, but not ostentatious room. Full bookcases lined one wall across from Talia, several large windows along the back faced a garden, and a wide fireplace with a black marble surround anchored the wall opposite the garden.

  Lord Lockston sat in a dark leather wing chair facing the fire, his feet propped up on a leather-encased ottoman footstool. His thumb and forefinger balanced a tumbler of amber liquid on the arm of the chair. Talia could only see the edge of his profile, but his eyes were open, staring at the healthy fire.

  She watched the flicker of light from the flames dance off his face. He was handsome, she had not mistaken that earlier. He possessed a strong but not too big nose, a chin that cut sharply to his neck, not a hanging jowl in sight. His brown hair sat slightly longer than fashionable, but it stayed off his face due to a natural swirl at his brow, setting his hair back. Individually, everything about his face was hard—intimidating—yet as a whole, he still radiated approachability.

  The man was approachable, but clearly not by the likes of her. That was made apparent by their conversation yesterday. So what could he possibly want from her? She had not a thing he could not buy for himself.

  Talia braced herself, adjusting the few pins at the back of her head valiantly trying to hold up her wet hair. Lord Lockston was about to demand a price, and she was about to find out if she could stand by her words—that nothing was beneath her when it came to finding Louise.

  Clearing her still raw throat, she stepped into the room.

  At her footsteps on the wood floor, his face turned to her.

  Talia clasped her hands in front of her belly, wishing she had tugged once more on the dress before stepping into the room. “Thank you for your assistance in the alley, Lord Lockston. The happenstance of you or some other stranger coming upon that scene was my only escape.”

  “You are welcome. How is your neck?”

  “Bruised. Nothing more.” Talia swallowed. Talking felt like she was swallowing jagged rocks, but he did not need to know that.

  With a nod, he stood, stepping behind the chair, his hand patting the top of it. “Please, sit, Lady Natalia.”

  “I would prefer to stand.”

  “I would prefer you to sit.”

  Talia eyed him. For all his approachable charm, his grey eyes were quite solidly set on this demand of her. She swallowed her innate defiance that her mother always chided her for possessing. She would be no closer to finding her sister if they stood at a ridiculous impasse in his study.

  She walked forward, stepping widely around Lord Lockston’s form as she tried not to notice how closely he watched her, his eyes consuming her every move.

  Dipping down, Talia sat at the edge of the leather chair, her spine straight, her chin tilted slightly up as she watched him.

  “You still sit like a lady. That is good.”

  “Why is that good?”

  The left side of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “We will get to that.”

  “You would like to start elsewhere?”

  “Yes. I would like to start with what you saw at the Jolly Vassal the other night. With me buying the virgin.”

  “The reason why you buy virgins to save them?”

  He moved to stand next to the fireplace and faced her fully. “Yes. But only if you can promise absolute discretion.”

  “I would no more want my current station in life to be discovered, than you would your business at the brothel.”

  “I imagined that to be so. Then we can agree to mutual confidence?”

  Talia nodded. “We can.”

  “Very well. I do purchase the virgins to save them. You are right about that.”

  “Why?”

  “I inherited this business from a close friend, and I do it because it is something of value I can contribute to the world.” He shrugged. “My part may be small, but it is an act I can do for the way of good. How my friend’s involvement in this business began is another story, but as it stands now, I purchase the virgins from the brothel, and then I hand them over to women who work for me. The girls that are saved are given a choice—they can start a new life here in London with our assistance, or they can be delivered back to their homes from where they were stolen.”

  He tilted his forehead to her. “Which is what I assume must have happened to the girl from your village you spoke of—the one that told you of me.”

  “You do not know what happens to the girls after you buy them?”

  “No. I deliver the girls to the women who can either guide them home or through starting a new life in a much better way than I ever could. That is what you saw when I set that one girl into the carriage the other night.” His thumb rubbed the scab on the back of his hand. “I doubt that any of the girls ever even see my face, as they almost always have hoods over their heads until they get to the carriage.”

  A chill shot down Talia’s spine. She had seen the hoods over the heads of the girls on the stage in the brothel—saw how they quaked, could feel their fear. She had vomited into the chamber pot she carried the first time she had seen it. Louise could have gone through that very thing.

  Talia’s head dropped, her chin tucking into her shoulder as bile threatened upward.

  No. Do not think. Do not imagine.

  “You are thinking about your sister’s fate?” His question came soft, wrapped in concern.

  She forced a breath deep into her lungs and looked up at him. Shaking her head, she couldn’t stop the tears from welling
in her eyes. “I cannot afford the energy wasted on imaginings. It does not bring me closer to the reality of finding her.”

  His grey eyes pierced her, waiting several breaths, waiting for her tears to fall. Talia held them in place, tilting her face upward. Tears meant defeat. And she was far from defeat. She would find Louise. She would.

  “Exactly. Concentrate on reality.” Lord Lockston took a sip from the tumbler in his hand. He shifted, setting his elbow on the fireplace mantel. “So the girls that choose to stay in London, they build a new life here, learn a trade or marry, whatever they desire to do. We have a home on Baker Street where they live as long as they see fit to.”

  “You think Louise may be there?”

  “No. I am the only one that buys virgins, and I have not purchased any in the past weeks with the description you told me of your sister. There is no other way to find the Baker Street home except through me.”

  Her shoulders slumping, Talia’s head cocked. “So why tell me of it?”

  “I want you to live at the Baker Street house.”

  “No. I am quite comfortable in my room at the boarding house.”

  “That you are staying at a boarding house alone tells me it will not only be much more convenient, but also safer for you at the Baker Street house.”

  “Yes. But it is not mine—it is charity.” Talia’s shoulders straightened. “I have paid my own way at the boarding house. I will continue to do so.”

  His elbow slid off the mantel and he took a step toward her. “With what? You have already admitted you lack funds.”

  “I can afford the room with the pittance I get from the brothels.” She bit down on her tongue. No matter that she had missed last night’s pay after falling unconscious and ending up here in Lord Lockston’s home—she could make her last coins stretch. Beg for more time from the landlady.

  He took another step toward her, his knees almost touching the skirts of the silk dress. His voice hardened as he looked down at her. “You have worked at more than one brothel?”

  “What?”

  “You said ‘brothels.’”

  “Yes, there was the first one I worked at, the Seahawk Den, until I assured myself Louise was not there. Then I moved on to the Jolly Vassal.” Her hands clasped together on her lap. Must the man know everything about her current situation?

  “How did you find work at them?”

  “I show up, talk to the barkeep. I came to realize quite quickly that establishments of nefarious dealings are always in need of maids to do the dirtiest work. It is hard to keep a girl emptying chamber pots when she is surrounded by a much more lucrative profession. The brothels hire and pay nightly.”

  “So you are concerned as well about being paid?”

  Her chin jutted out. “I will not accept charity, Lord Lockston, nor be dependent upon any man.”

  His grey eyes narrowed, and Talia stretched her spine tight. She would have to fight him on this.

  Instead, his eyes softened. Softened almost to coddling, if she believed the man capable of coddling. Which she didn’t.

  “Fine, Lady Natalia. Stay at the boarding house. That part of the deal was merely for your comfort.”

  “So we are finally to speak of the deal.” Her forehead crinkled. “What is the price of your assistance in finding my sister?”

  Lord Lockston turned from her, stepping around the ottoman to stand before the fire, his back to her. Several moments passed before he spoke, his voice low. “It starts with my great aunt—my Aunt Penelope. She raised me, my older brother, and my sister after my father died when I was seven.”

  “Where was your mother?”

  “My mother died when I was four.”

  Talia eyed the long stretch of his dark jacket along his back, shoulder tip to shoulder tip. “You need me to do something for your aunt?”

  “She desperately wants to see me wed. See the Lockston line continued.”

  “So do so.”

  “I would prefer not to.”

  “So then, do not do so. You are a marquess—with all the wealth and power that accompanies the title—no one controls you so what care do you have?”

  He spun to her, his grey eyes skewering her. “My care is for my aunt. I love her dearly, and I do want to assuage her worry for me.”

  Talia shrugged. “So then do so. What do I have to do with any of this?”

  “I would like your assistance, Lady Natalia. I would like you to accompany me to several events. I would like it to appear as though I am seriously pursuing you as my wife.”

  Talia jumped to her feet, hearing, but unable to believe his words. “You want me to what?”

  “It will soothe my aunt’s worry. It will merely take a few hours of your time every few days. You are the perfect candidate for the role, as you are a lady, even with your recent disappearance from society, but you are not attached to an overbearing family that would insist upon moving forward with a wedding.”

  A coarse chuckle erupted from her ragged throat. “You do understand I am a maid at a brothel, Lord Lockston, and so far removed from the ton it is entirely laughable?”

  “Yes, but that is hardly common knowledge. And you have disguised yourself well—I barely recognized you in that alley tonight.”

  “So I appear as your possible intended, and you will help me find my sister?”

  “Yes. That is the price I am asking. I do not think it too great a burden for you to bear. I will supply the clothing, and you will receive a few hearty meals at the events.” His eyes dove to her left arm. “And from the looks of it, your body would appreciate a few full meals.”

  Her fingers flew to her upper arms, wrapping around the bare skin. Yes, her arms were skinnier than she would like them to be. But she didn’t care for the gall of his opinion. “None of this, Lord Lockston—including seeing me in that bathtub—entitles you to make judgements upon my person.”

  Eyebrow cocking, he looked her up and down. Talia attempted not to fidget under his stare.

  Silently, his eyes settled on her face.

  “No judgements.”

  “I said nothing.” He gave a half-hearted shrug.

  Talia drew a breath, attempting to ignore the judgement running rampant in his look. She was skinny. Haggard. No longer representative of a lady. She knew it. But she also didn’t need the fact tossed in her face. His help had better be worth this humiliation. “If I accept your trade, when will these events I am to attend take place?”

  “The first one is tonight.”

  “Tonight—no, I have to work at the Jolly Vassal.”

  “It is an early event, a dinner. We will be excused to move on to the next affair while the eve is young, which will give you plenty of time to make your way to your…job.”

  Talia’s eyes fell to the fire as her fingernails dug into the muscles in her upper arms.

  Two choices. She could continue forth as she had been, alone, with no progress. Or she could accept his absurd offer and pray that the trouble of him was worth it and he could truly help her find Louise.

  A week ago—days ago—she would have rejected his offer. But every day that passed with no evidence of her sister, with no lead to follow, was another day that Louise slipped further from Talia.

  She looked up to him. He already knew her answer—the twitch of his lips told her so. She almost changed her mind.

  Instead, she nodded. “I will play the part.”

  A restrained smile touched his lips. “Splendid. Then I would like you to call me Fletch. Only close personal friends do, and it will add credence to our relationship if you do so in front of my aunt. So you may as well begin.”

  Her eyes closed, her head shook in disbelief at what she had just agreed to. She opened her eyes to him. “I will do so.”

  He stepped toward her, setting his palm at the small of her back as he began to usher her out the door. “Do you prefer to be called Natalia? Or some other term of endearment?”

  “Talia. It is what my family
calls me.”

  “My carriage will take you to your boarding house so you can sleep. The maid should have already cleaned your clothes and placed them inside.” They stepped through the doorway of the study. “Can you arrive back here early—six—by way of the mews? If you wear your maid’s clothing, no one will note your presence. Plus, your clothes will be readily available to change back into after we are done and you leave. I will have a gown and a maid available to work your hair.”

  He opened the back door of his townhouse, his hand going to her elbow as they descended the three stairs into the pathway going through the dormant gardens.

  “I will be here.” She craned her neck to look up at him in the early morning darkness. “And you swear you will help me find my sister?”

  “I promise. I will begin posthaste and I will do everything in my power to find her.”

  His voice held such conviction, Talia had no cause to question it.

  His feet stopped as he looked down at her, his jaw slipping to the side. “I did not figure on this cold with that dress.”

  Talia looked down at her bare arms, goose bumps covering her flesh. She hadn’t even noticed the cold with Lord Lockston’s heat next to her.

  He shrugged out of his jacket, draping it on her shoulders before she could protest. Just as she opened her mouth to do so, he started propelling her forward as he leaned down to her ear.

  “I do not want to argue about my jacket. I rarely have to choose clothing for a woman, and I was the one that chose that dress, so I am the one remedying the problem. I will not send you home cold. But if you must argue it, do so quickly, as I am tired.”

  His words took every bit of resistance from her mouth. She offered one slow nod with a smirk as they stopped by the open carriage door. “As I am tired as well, I will save my defiance for another time, and instead, thank you for your chivalry.”

  “Chivalry?”

  “Something akin to that. It has been a long time since I have been around a man with honor.”