Anne remembered all too well the heady experience of finally having money of her own. She’d had to work from an early age to help her sick mother and younger sister. She’d worked in one of the fabric warehouses, then when she turned sixteen she’d found better paying work as a pattern model. Or at least that’s what she’d been told. She’d had little idea that the men who came to watch her model the clothes were simply whetting their appetite for the brothel next door. Shortly before her seventeenth birthday she learned she would lose that job too, unless she allowed one of the favored customers to take her maidenhead.
She remembered that day all too well. She told the proprietor in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t do it, then quit her job. But within the month, her mother’s health deteriorated so much that she was on the verge of dying. She needed medicine and they had no money for it. Anne went back to the warehouse and asked for her job back, knowing what that would entail.
She was then trained for her new career and told if the man liked her enough there was every chance she would become his mistress, which would guarantee a steady income for at least a year. She did her very best on the night she spent with him, ignoring the pain and humiliation and trying to appear the willing supplicant. But he wasn’t interested in her as either a person or even a vessel of his pleasure. He paid to deflower another girl the next week and another the week after that.
With the loss of her maidenhead, the proprietor told Anne her worth had greatly diminished. But since she was still fairly young and quite attractive, she was able to find a protector within a few weeks. The relationship lasted a little more than a year. He was young and strong with a face every girl dreamed of. He treated her very well at first, and despite the warnings from the madame and every other girl she’d worked with, Anne found herself falling in love with him.
For the first time in her life she had a good income – minus the madame’s placement fee. She didn’t have to worry about having enough money to support her family or keeping a roof over her own head. And also for the first time, a man was interested in her. She knew it was primarily a physical relationship. But he was most attentive and listened to her. He showered her with trinkets and gifts, which were especially appreciated since she’d never had anything nice to call her own before. There were long periods of time when she didn’t see him. But when she grew lonely, she used to take out the gifts to admire them, imagining a life with him. Isolated from her family – it wouldn’t do for a courtesan to be seen with them – she took comfort from these reminders that she wasn’t alone in the world. Someone did care for her. She didn’t see her protector as often as she’d like, but she thoroughly enjoyed his company and even came to enjoy what they did in the bedroom.
Due in part to the funds she sent them, her mother’s health began to improve and her sister was courted by a clerk. Anne didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her sister’s chances of being married, so she communicated with her mother and sister mainly through letters and the occasional meeting outside of their neighborhood. She kept sending money home and even came to see the best of her situation.
But then everything changed.
The first beating had come out of the blue. Completely unexpected. Her lover had been in a bad mood and nothing she did made him feel better. When she teased him about his being out of sorts, he backhanded her. An instant later, he was as contrite as she was shocked. He cleaned the cut above her eye, apologized profusely and gave her several guineas to buy herself something nice.
Two months later it happened again, but this time he wasn’t as quick to apologize. The next time it was a punch, and the time after that it was a beating so severe he split her lip, loosened a tooth and blackened an eye.
She spoke to her madame, who was sympathetic but said nothing could be done about it. Anne didn’t dare call in the Watch, who could all too easily be paid off. She couldn’t break the contract because her lover had proven to be extremely possessive of her.
She decided her best course of action was to go back to her mother’s house. Fortunately, she’d always been careful to hide any evidence of her family life from her madame. If she fled, she could hide there until she convinced her mother to move away with her. She had enough money saved up. She could disappear and if she was careful with her spending, they could live for several years on it, while supplementing her income with honest work. She’d take in laundry. She’d cook and clean. Anything would be preferable to what she had been doing.
She finally gathered the courage to steal away to her mother’s house. Her sister was livid that she’d come to visit in the daylight. Her mother was worried that Anne would ruin her sister’s chances for a good marriage. Even when Anne told them about the beatings, her mother said it was best that she worked out the problems herself. Perhaps her next protector would be more kind.
Her mother turned her out that night.
A week later, Anne’s lover came to visit and flew into a rage. He’d known all along about her mother and sister. In fact, he’d paid the sister to keep him informed of her whereabouts should she disappear. He gave Anne a beating so severe, she wanted to die to stop the pain. Then he sliced her face and body.
The next day, be broke the contract with the madame, claiming Anne was so ugly he wouldn’t get any pleasure from her anymore. He demanded another girl to take her place and that Anne be thrown out of the house he was renting for her.
Bloodied and barely able to walk, she took the few possessions she’d owned before she met him. She sewed the money she had into her clothes, then ventured out into the streets. She knew no one who would take her in. She slept during the day wherever she could, and tried to keep safe in the alleys of Mayfair at night.
On the third day, she was barely able to walk. Her wounds were infected and she was running a fever which grew so severe that she collapsed on the street. Then the greatest miracle of her life occurred. The servant of an eccentric recluse found her. Anne woke up in a soft bed, with her wounds being tended by a surgeon. She was in the boarding house owned by Mrs. Mitchell, who came by to check on her. The lady told her she could stay there until she recovered and found work. When Anne became distressed by the thought of looking for employment given her wounds, Mrs. Mitchell kindly allowed her to stay in exchange for working as the housekeeper.
The past three years had been the happiest she’d ever known.
Even if she never did go outside. Even if she feared seeing him. She heard about him from time to time, but he never tried to contact her. He made appearances in her nightmares, but she’d so far been safe from him. She prayed she would never see him again.
Not surprisingly, her experience had made her wary of men. She interacted with very few, mostly tradesmen and the occasional footman from Mrs. Mitchell’s home. No men were allowed in their boarders’ bedchambers since that would hardly be conducive to reforming their ways. She had initially been nervous to meet Lord Henry Kellington, even though he was a friend of Mel’s. But while she found it difficult to trust her instincts, she felt Lord Henry would not harm her or any woman. She even began to feel safe around him.
Mr. Parker was another matter all together.
Not because she feared him. In all their brief interactions, he’d been quiet and polite, even respectful, despite her past. He wasn’t just deferential because he was a gentleman. It was as if he understood her fears, which embarrassed her even as it endeared him to her.
She’d never taken the lead speaking to him, knowing as she did the vast differences between them not just in class, but the fact that he was a gentleman and she’d been a whore. But he often tried to gently engage her in conversation and she found herself enjoying their talks. They didn’t last long and were often about the most mundane of matters, such as what the weather might be like or sights he should see in London. But somehow those simple conversations were some of the most meaningful in her life.
If she had to be completely honest with herself, she hadn’t just stayed up pas
t midnight to finish the darning. She was waiting for Mr. Parker. She’d wanted to see his smile and hear his voice again, even if it was just to tell her whether he’d like a meal before he retired. She knew she was being foolish. But it had been so long since she’d felt this way. It was wonderful to have a secret tendre for him. It was foolish, but it was also healing.
She heard the sound of someone fumbling with a key at the front door. Her heart lurched and she cursed herself for the first thought she always had when she heard an unexpected noise in the night. It always scared her. It was a constant underlying fear that her former protector had found her and had come to finally kill her. But that was foolish. It was probably Angela or Lydia, even though it was early for either of them to come home. And, best of all, it might be Mr. Parker.
She set aside her darning and was halfway down the hall when the door lurched open and Mr. Parker all but fell into the house. He was injured and looked to have been in a fight.
She ran to help him into the house, then closed and bolted the door behind him.
“Mr. Parker!” she said. “What happened?”
“I am proud to say it took four ruffians to do this,” he said with a half-smile, wincing as he limped down the hall, “although I’m ashamed to admit they got away with my purse.”
“You’re lucky you came away with your life!” said Anne, as she put her arm around his waist and helped him walk. “Come to the kitchen. I want to examine your cuts.”
“I cannot put you to so much trouble,” said Parker, who nonetheless leaned on her.
“Hush,” said Anne. “You are a guest in this house. The least I can do is help you.”
“Perhaps I just wanted to lick my wounds in private. It’s not very manly of me to have to rely on your assistance.”
“No one could ever doubt your manliness,” said Anne without thinking, then immediately wanted to melt into the floor. “I mean, no one would presume to question someone who’s injured. London is unsafe, Mr. Parker. Perhaps I feel the need to make amends for my city.”
She set him on a bench by the table, then busied herself with gathering the supplies to clean and dress his wounds. She was relieved that he didn’t seem too badly injured. Nevertheless, her hands shook as she poured the water, then she dropped the roll of bandages on the floor.
“Please, permit me,” said Parker, as he bent to pick them up. His fingers brushed hers as he gave her the bandages and she felt the touch throughout her body.
“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” she said, as she moved the candles closer so she could better see what she was doing, as well as give herself a chance to catch her breath. He was handsome in the bright light of day. In the evening he looked like sin. She must focus her mind on other things. “Did you tell the Watch about the theft?”
“No, I came straight home. Do you think it would do any good if I report it tomorrow?”
Her slight smile was apologetic. “Probably not. They might pay you some heed since you’re a gentleman. But in this neighborhood, not even all the murders get attended to. But Lord Henry’s brother is with the Home Office. There may be something he can do for you.”
“I shan’t be asking Kellington for any favors,” said Parker, right before wincing as Anne touched a wet rag to his face.
“I’m so sorry. I’m trying not to hurt you,” she said, as she tenderly washed his cuts and scrapes. She knew it was much too intimate of a situation for her own good. “Perhaps we should send word to Miss Sutton tonight. I’m sure she would like to be informed.”
“Tomorrow will be soon enough to let her know. I wouldn’t even like to tell her then, but fear there will be no hiding the evidence.”
“You should heal well. The cuts don’t seem deep enough to leave bad scars.” Anne froze for a moment, because she never said or did anything that would direct attention to her own scars. He also stilled and she wanted to kick herself for speaking without thinking.
He gently turned the left side of her face to the light. She resisted. “Please,” he said. “I’d like to see you.”
* * *
Richard could tell it took much of Anne’s courage – and she was a woman with no short supply of it – to show him the physical scars of her earlier life. He knew she must also have emotional scars that eclipsed the ones he could see. As he carefully examined her cheek, he could see that most of them were faded to a light pink. But there was an especially deep and savage scar that bisected one cheek and ran down to her lip.
“It must have been terrifying and excruciatingly painful,” he said, aware of the inadequacies of his words.
She shook her head, as if to minimize what had happened. “Many have suffered worse on the streets. Some don’t survive. Or worse, wish they were dead.”
Richard brought up a finger as if to trace the red marks, but stopped before touching her when she flinched. “I hope the bastard who did this is dead. Please excuse my language.”
She smiled and the scarred portion of her lip went downward as always. “I thought Quakers were a peace loving people.”
He smiled in spite of the situation. “I am not a Quaker. And I am a man. I would dearly love to get my hands on the person who did this to you.”
“He is not worthy your thoughts,” she said. “But thank you.”
“Good,” said Richard with some satisfaction. He wanted to say more. He found himself wanting to do more. But, instead, he pulled back from her.
After a moment’s hesitation, she did as well. The spell was broken. “If you need anything further,” she said over her shoulder as she walked toward her rooms, “please ring for one of the servants. I’m sure they should be able to attend to you.”
Richard watched her leave, then walked to his own room.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Melanie looked up at the imposing mansion before her. Riverton House was one of the most elegant homes in Mayfair. Her uncle’s carriage had just dropped her off and was preparing to leave again. For one panicked moment, she considered jumping into it again and going back home. But she wasn’t a coward, even if she very much felt like one at the moment.
The invitation had been a complete surprise and had sent her Aunt Evelyn and cousin Mary into the boughs. The new Lady Riverton had been almost a recluse since marrying, although it was rumored that was due to her not feeling well because of her pregnancy. Of course, no one ever used that word. But Mel was still an American and felt language should do more to convey meaning than cover it up.
The invitation was, surprisingly, addressed to her alone. At first she thought it had been a mistake. She’d never been introduced to Lady Riverton, so that in itself made the invitation highly unusual. The fact that it excluded her aunt and her cousin bordered on being rude. But they’d been only too happy to overlook any boorishness since they were drawing conclusions based on the fact Lady Riverton was Lord Hal’s sister. To them, it seemed only natural that she would take an interest in a lady her brother was courting. Mel didn’t think he was courting her, but couldn’t tell her relations that since his visits enabled her to do her work.
She realized suddenly, that the door was open and the butler was waiting for her to enter. She took a deep breath, then ascended the stairs and entered the house.
She was shown to a sitting room that was rather garishly decorated in the Egyptian style so popular from a few years earlier. She wondered what Lady Riverton had been thinking.
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” said a lovely woman who entered the room, followed by two other striking women, one of whom was quite clearly pregnant.
The first woman, while a bit pale, had black hair and green eyes and was clearly Hal’s sister. She also had a warm, welcoming smile that was so different from most women of the ton. But then, so did the other two ladies with her.
“I am Elizabeth Redmond, but everyone calls me Lizzie. Please forgive me for a whole list of offenses, not the least of which is making you wait in this horrid room. I’m very slowly renovating the house and this
room hasn’t been touched yet, though it sorely needs work. These are my sisters-in-law, Jane, who is married to my second eldest brother Ned…” She indicated the very pregnant woman with blonde hair and light brown eyes. “…and Vanessa, who is married to Arthur.” The other woman had dark red hair and beautiful sapphire eyes that were studying her with some curiosity. “Would you care to have a seat? I’m afraid I must sit down as I’m not feeling particularly well. Jane must sit also because she’s rather pregnant. And Vanessa deserves a seat from listening to us complain about our conditions these many hours.”
Melanie immediately liked Lady Riverton just from the use of the word “pregnant” alone. But all three women were so free of the artifice of society, that she felt more comfortable here than at any place other than her uncle’s house.
All four ladies took their seats, then Lady Riverton rang for tea. As soon as the servant left, Lizzie turned to Melanie. “Are you in love with my brother?”
Mel wouldn’t have expected that question even from her blunt American friends. She stammered as she thought of a response.
“Lizzie, you’re terrible!” said Jane, whose laughing eyes softened any rebuke. “Can’t you at least allow poor Miss Sutton to take tea before interrogating her?”
“If this were an interrogation, I would let Vanessa do the questioning,” said Lizzie, who then explained for Melanie’s benefit. “She’s one of the top agents at the Home Office and really quite brilliant. Jane here is the best surgeon you could ever hope to meet. She’s certainly been a Godsend with my roiling stomach. And please forgive me for being so blunt. But we’ve never heard Hal talk about a woman the way he does about you. We’ve been intrigued and, well, hopeful.”
“Why hopeful, my lady?” asked Mel, trying not to let her own hopes show.
“Please don’t ‘my lady,’ me. I’m Lizzie. It’s been rare these past several months to hear Hal talk about anything at all that didn’t have to do with drinking, gaming and his adventures with Charles Francis. But suddenly he’s courting an eligible lady and engaging in a mission to help others.”
Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) Page 19
