Duke of Decadence

by Tammy Andresen

  She held her chin high and forced herself to look him in the eye. “To work at the Den of Sins, of course.”

  His mouth fell open. “Isabella. You’re the daughter of a successful man. You can’t spend every night of the week traipsing through a gaming hell. You’ll be—”

  “Ruined,” she finished with a nod. “I know.”

  “Then why would you even consider it?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared down at her.

  Her shoulders wanted to hunch but she forced her spine straight. “To save my sisters, of course. Neither Eliza nor I can think of a way that doesn’t ruin one of us…” Her voice tapered off. Even she knew not to add that it would have been Eliza except His Grace had shown interest in Isabella instead of her prettier sister.

  A turn of events she still wasn’t certain she understood.

  He sucked in a breath. “You’re the sacrificial lamb.”

  She shrugged as her gaze finally dropped. “It’s my choice.” Her hands had clasped in front of her stomach, but she raised them up over her heart like that would somehow protect her. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me as long as you, in turn, protect my sisters from my uncle.”

  “Whatever I ask?” His voice dropped so low it was almost…dangerous.

  She ignored the trickle of fear that pricked at her skin. She wasn’t afraid of him. But she was petrified of the choices she was making.

  Isabella had attempted to keep that fear from Eliza, of course. Partially because Eliza faced fear head on and partially because she didn’t want her sister to feel guilty. If Isabella was taking on the burden, she’d take all of it. “That’s right. Whatever you ask.” Would he wish to take her into his bed? Make her his paramour? Her hands squeezed tighter. “But you must help my sisters make acceptable matches. Your social sway will surely see them with good husbands.”

  “And what about you, my little lamb? What will happen to you?” His question was a rumbled whisper that sent tingles all over her skin. “What do you get out of this deal?”

  She shook her head. “I get the satisfaction of knowing that they are safe.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you want. How will you feed yourself when this is all done?”

  She shook her head. What did that matter? “That is a problem for another day, Your Grace. If I’ve learned one thing in all of this, we must face each problem as it comes. If you try to look too far ahead…” She finally unclasped her hands and one fluttered in the air.

  “Isabella,” he said, then stepped closer again. “You may call me, Bash. Our relationship is not the sort that stands on formality.”

  She blinked up at him, her chin snapping back up. “Does that mean that you’ve accepted my offer?”

  Chapter Seven

  Damn it all to bloody bullocks. He’d like to swear a string of curses long enough to circle the entire house. He’d sound like Blasphemy. Accept her offer?

  Yes.

  Bash was going to accept.

  He didn’t want to. Didn’t think he should.

  He’d meant what he’d said to Mason earlier. She was dangerous for him. She stirred emotions he thought he’d stamped out long ago.

  But when he thought of that uncle marrying her off to some vulgar, filthy wretch of a man with a purse… It made good old-fashioned rage surge inside him. The kind that had gotten him the nickname of Bash to begin with.

  And that wouldn’t do either.

  He still wasn’t entirely certain what she’d offered. She’d said job…of course. But there was an implied offer in all the words she hadn’t said. An enticing promise. She wanted all the protection that she’d receive as his mistress.

  He shouldn’t bed her, yet longing rolled over him like a wave.

  But he wasn’t certain he could resist the offer either.

  He touched her face again but this time, instead of cupping her cheek he slid his fingers down her velvety skin. “It’s a fairly steep price. One dealer for three marriages.”

  Her lips parted as her face tilted up to his. Her brown eyes beseeched him with a sheen of unshed tears. She was completely open to him and the vulnerability called to him. “My wages can be their dowries.”

  His teeth snapped together.

  Isabella was a rare and delicate flower. Even a dunderhead like himself could see that. Her earnest answer stole his breath. He’d expected her to say something more rehearsed like, I’m worth it.

  Instead, her words made him feel as though he were taking advantage of her rather than her leveraging his position.

  But he slid his fingers behind her neck, pulling her closer. He dropped his forehead down until it pressed to hers. “Isabella.” Why did his voice sound so rough and emotional? He couldn’t say anything but what he really felt. “You’d be around drunken men without a male protector night after night.”

  “You’ll protect me,” she answered a small smile touching her lips.

  He groaned. Did she understand how that tugged at him? Trusting herself to his care. “Do you know what you’re implying?”

  She gave the tiniest nod. But this close, he couldn’t help but feel her tremble. “I’m prepared for whatever parameters you wish to place on our relationship.”

  Her admission nearly undid him. Tilting his chin forward, he captured her mouth with his own.

  She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t kiss him back either.

  In fact, Isabella drew in a sharp breath as though he’d completely taken her by surprise.

  Which meant he withdrew just a bit and then leaned in again, giving her lips another gentle press.

  This time, her mouth met his in a tentative kiss that sent hot need coursing through his body.

  But he forced himself to be patient as he kissed her again and then again.

  She more confidently kissed him with each return touch, her mouth lingering on his longer and longer every time.

  He snaked a hand about her waist and pulled her close, her body molding against his.

  Isabella slid her hands up his chest as he kissed her again, this time, slanting her mouth open to swipe his tongue across her bottom lip. Blood pounded in his veins.

  He heard her gasp, but he swallowed the sound as he probed deeper, tasting her sweetness, his tongue tentatively touching hers.

  Had he thought her a vixen? She was brave despite her obvious fear.

  But she was more the lamb he’d imagined earlier today or a baby bird that needed to be coaxed. He could feel her hesitation under her passion. And he wanted to wipe her worries away and explore her heat.

  As their tongues began to tangle, his manhood grew heavy with lust and his brain buzzed with a fog of need as he gathered her closer still.

  He tried to remember a time he’d wanted a woman this much. Been this affected by a simple kiss.

  She was wreaking havoc on him and when her fingers slid into his hair, he nearly came undone.

  He broke his mouth away staring down at her, which might have been worse than the kiss.

  Her lips looked tender and swollen, her eyes soft and glazed, her cheeks flushed.

  “Isabella,” he groaned, wanting nothing more than to drop his head and taste her again.

  “That was…” she started, her fingers flexing in his hair.

  “I know,” he replied. Striking a bargain had never been sweeter.

  She cleared her throat, blinking several times. “I just…I need you to know…I’m only asking that…” But then she nibbled her lip rather than go on.

  “What is it?” He pressed her stomach to his with the hand he still had around the small of her back. Attraction heated his body making the room overwarm. But that only added to the intimacy. Damn, he loved how tall she was. The way they fit together.

  “I’ve never done any of this before. I just need you to be a little patient with me as I…”

  “Fuck,” the word was whispered under his breath, meant for him and not for her but they were so close. She winced and pulled away. “Was that
your first kiss?” He should have realized already that it was. It was in her hesitation, her tentative touch. The way he’d had to coax the passion out of her.

  She looked back at him without answering. But her eyes crinkled as the lines of her face grew more tense.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said and he reached for her hand to bring her nearer again.

  She gave a quick nod.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d thought. The sisters had been trying to make a go of it on their own. He supposed he thought he might not be the first man they’d asked for help.

  He wasn’t sure which was worse. Picturing some other man with her or thinking of her offering her maidenhead to him to provide for her sisters.

  “Yes. It was my first.”

  He kept the litany of swear words he’d wished to say caged in his mouth.

  Even more than he wanted to bed her, this need to protect her rose inside him, making him tighten his grip around her waist.

  He wanted to burn down anyone who tried to hurt her.

  Which scared the life out of him. His chest tightened as he let her go and backed away again. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

  But he couldn’t set her loose. What would happen to her if he did? Still, that kiss had proven what he’d told Mason. He couldn’t be with her either. It was too dangerous. Anger bubbled inside him, threatening to surface. “If we’re going to enter into a bargain, I’ve got some parameters of my own.”

  Isabella squeezed his hand tighter. Was it strange that she looked for comfort from him even as she worried what he might say next? “Parameters?”

  She let go of him and wrapped her arms about her middle and hugged herself.

  “I won’t make you my mistress.”

  Surprise jolted down her spine. What did that mean? Was he not going to help her sisters?

  “But you are not, under any circumstances, to accept the attentions of other men.”

  She blinked trying to order her thoughts. What did all of this mean? “Of course not.”

  He gave a stiff nod. “We’ll see your sisters matched in short order, which will protect them and then, once the task is done, we’ll discuss your future.” He grimaced. “I need to think on it a bit more.”

  She didn’t know what to say. What sort of plan for her future? “All right.”

  “And you’re to dress nightly as a man.” He paused. “With baggier trousers.”

  “Fine with me.” Protecting her identity was better than fine. He was going to accept the bargain without the offer of a personal relationship. She was relieved of course. But also, curious. Why? And if she were honest, there was the tiniest niggle of disappointment.

  She was drawn to him and touching him…

  As if he understood that, he reached for her again and pulled her close. She willingly followed his lead because it was so much easier to talk when she touched him. In his arms, she felt safe and she relaxed into his body.

  “My carriage will pick you up nightly and return you home. You’ll have an escort of my choosing who will be stationed behind your table nightly.”

  “If you think it’s best.”

  He made a noise deep in his throat. It sounded…like the noise of a beast. Only it didn’t frighten her. It rumbled through her sending tendrils of desire to her core.

  He balled his fingers into a fist at the back of her dress. “I do.”

  She ran her tongue over her top lip. “And when do I start?”

  “Tonight.”

  “My uncle,” she said. “He thinks my mother’s sister is staying with us, which is why he’s left us unchaperoned. But he demanded she pay a visit, or he’ll remove us from the house.”

  He grimaced. “You should be chaperoned. We can’t launch your sisters without one. Even I can’t just escort unmarried women about town.”

  “Aunt Mildred hasn’t set foot on English soil in twenty-five years. She won’t come. We’ve already asked.”

  But rather than looked concerned, a smile spread across his face. “Twenty-five years? So no one really knows what she looks like anymore, do they?”

  Her mouth fell open as she drew in a sharp breath. “No. I suppose they don’t.”

  “Nor is the real Mildred…what’s her last name?” One brow drew low over his eye as he cocked his head to the side.

  “McLaren. Lady Mildred McLaren. She’s wife to a laird.” Her hands had come to his chest again. Because this was exciting. It was as though he’d cracked open a door and light was peeking into her dark world. There was hope.

  “Similarly, the real Mildred McLaren is unlikely to return to England to call out her imposter.”

  “She is very unlikely to do so.”

  “Then, I believe I know what the next step is.” Slowly, he pulled away, clasping both her hands in his. “Your next step is to go home and try to rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

  She nodded. “Bash.”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you,” she said as she quickly stepped toward him, and raising up on tiptoe, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet, Isabella. You can thank me when we’re successful.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve already done something.”

  “What’s that?” His eyes creased at the corners as he looked down at her.

  “You’ve given me hope.” And then she brought the backs of his fingers up to her cheek. “When I had so little.”

  “Hope can be a dangerous thing,” he replied even as his fingers brushed her skin again. “It can make the disappointment sting that much more.”

  She shook her head. She’d not worry about that yet. “Today is for breathing a sigh of relief.” Then she dropped his hands and headed for the door. Eliza was waiting for her in the carriage.

  But just before she left, she looked back over her shoulder. “You’re a good man, Bash.”

  Rather than smile, he frowned. “Don’t count on it.” Then he turned away, moving toward his desk.

  She covered her chest with her hand, but she kept moving. She didn’t know quite what his reaction meant but she wasn’t ready to find out.

  Chapter Eight

  Isabella once again sat at the dressing table as Abigail pinned her hair.

  She attempted not to wince as Abigail pulled and twisted the locks into place. “Abby.” She rarely called Abigail that anymore. It had been a childhood nickname. “The hair will not lay any better if you’ve pulled it all from my head.”

  Abigail sniffed, ignoring Isabella’s charge. “Why are you doing this? You made a small fortune last night.” But she softened her touch as she continued to work the locks into place.

  “Not a fortune,” Isabella replied quietly. Not even close. “Not nearly enough if Uncle Malcolm sells our house out from under us. Not enough…” But she let the words taper off. The money she’d made last night wouldn’t provide long for her sisters.

  Abigail frowned. “Still. This is beyond dangerous. In fact, it’s positively…”

  But Eliza tossed open the door, interrupting the conversation. “Isabella!” Her sister’s voice rose, sounding almost strangled. “There’s an elderly woman here who claims to be…Aunt Mildred home from shopping. I do believe she’s mad or—”

  “Drat.” Isabella stood. Her head had been swimming when she’d left Bash’s home and she’d forgotten to tell Eliza about Bash’s plan. She’d been too busy informing Eliza about his plan to have her deal nightly and in return, find matches for the other three Carrington sisters. “Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No,” Eliza huffed but a grin was already parting her lips.

  “What’s this all about?” Abigail asked.

  Emily stood behind Eliza. “Did someone say Aunt Mildred was here?”

  “She is,” Isabella answered. “She’s here to see you three launched into society.”

  Abigail gasped while Emily covered her mouth with her hands.

  But E
liza began to laugh. Hard and long. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Eliza,” an unfamiliar voice snapped from the hall. “Ladies do not laugh in such a way.”

  “Yes, Aunt Mildred.” Eliza immediately stopped, though her eyes continued to twinkle.

  “What the devil?” Abigail whispered.

  Isabella drew up. “I’m going to say this once and then we’ll never speak of it again. His Grace has provided us with a replacement Aunt Mildred. She’ll be living with us….” Isabella looked over at the graceful older woman whose brown hair was streaked with grey. She looked remarkably like Eliza, which meant no one would question the woman’s relationship with the girls.

  “For the next six months,” the woman said. “Just long enough to see my nieces matched with good husbands before I return to Scotland.” She had the slightest Scottish lilt to her voice.

  “We can’t save the business.” Eliza shook her head. “Or this house. But His Grace has agreed to help us escape Uncle Malcolm’s clutches.”

  Abigail thumped the brush she’d been holding in her hand on the dressing table. “At what cost?”

  Isabella gave a short bow, highlighting her outfit. “This is the cost, Abigail. Only this.”

  Emily pushed past Eliza, coming to stand at Isabella’s side. “I’m with Abigail. I don’t like this at all.”

  She sighed. If she were them, she wouldn’t like it either.

  Eliza came to join them, and she held out a hand to Emily and Abigail as all four sisters held each other, forming a ring. “I’ve met His Grace,” she said. “He’ll keep our Isabella safe from other men.”

  “Yes, but…” Emily tapped her slippered foot. “Who is going to protect Isabella from him?”

  The temporary Aunt Mildred entered the room too. “Ladies do not need protections from dukes. If such a man decides to lavish attention on a lady, she should know she’ll be rewarded for it.”

  Abigail scoffed. “This is our chaperone?”

  Isabella gave a small smile. The gesture was meant to soothe her sisters but even she could feel how hollow it was. They understood that Isabella was giving up her future and if she were in their place, she’d be terribly concerned for them too. “Try not to worry. My identity will be protected at the club. No one will be the wiser. And His Grace is only interested in my ability to keep track of cards.”