“I’m afraid so,” he teased, hoping that she would smile. He sighed when she just stared at him. “A favor has brought me to your door. If I can bend your ear with a few more questions, I will leave you in peace.”
She laughed, but she sounded more exasperated than amused. “Do not make promises that you cannot keep, Lord Sainthill.”
He moved closer. Encouraged that she did not step away, he touched her on the shoulder. “There was a time when you called me Saint. It would please me if you would do so again.”
Madame Venna lowered her gaze at his humble request. After a moment, she said, “Very well, Saint. You will explain this favor, and if it is within my power, I will answer your questions.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “But not here. Someplace where the air isn’t so foul, oui? Follow me.”
Saint deliberately slowed his pace as he followed Madame Venna upstairs. He stared at the name written on the wrinkled piece of paper.
Catherine Deverall.
Who the devil was this woman? Madame Venna’s visitor was an unsavory character. Was he selling a young girl to work at the Golden Pearl? Saint grimaced at the notion, aware that it was rather naive and hypocritical of him to judge the business practices of the brothel.
And yet it troubled him that some young country girl could be held prisoner while her captor negotiated a price for her maidenhead. His gaze drifted downward to the gentle, innately feminine sway of Madame Venna’s hips.
She had been an innocent once. Unfortunately, no one had been willing to save the lovely proprietress.
Perhaps there was something he could do to spare Miss Deverall from her unpleasant fate.
Chapter Twelve
“Who is this man you seek?”
Between Royles’s threats and Saint’s unexpected visit, Madame Venna sat primly on the drawing room sofa. She left her tea untouched as she watched the marquess explore the room.
“Lord Perry. Are you acquainted with the gent?”
Suddenly cautious, she kept her face carefully blank. “A possibility. I know many people.” In fact, she was familiar with Lord Perry, and she knew he was not a member of Nox. “Why do you seek him?”
He picked up an eleven-inch ivory figurine of Hercules and Antaeus to admire the artistry. “I have little time for games this afternoon, Madame. If you would just give me the answers I seek, then I shall be on my way.”
His dismissive tone displeased her—as if she were a servant expected to do his bidding. “The patrons of the Golden Pearl pay well for certain services, Lord Sainthill. One of them is discretion.”
“Would you prefer that I check every room?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Is that a threat? You astound me, monsieur le marquis. You are usually more delicate in your approach.”
Saint set the figurine down hard, causing her to close her eyes and mentally cringe. Like many of the artworks and decorations in the drawing room, the carving was old and rather expensive. He circled the furniture until he towered in front of her.
“Is Perry here?”
While she despised the disadvantage of her current position, it had been a long time since she had cowered in front of a man. “Why does my answer matter to you?”
“It doesn’t,” he said flatly. “I am doing a favor for a friend.”
“Who?”
“It is no concern of yours.”
“On that, we agree. However, what you ask requires me to break house rules, and I need to know the reasons for it.”
“Do you wish me to pay you?”
“Now you insult me. I am not in the business of accepting bribes.”
He shrugged. “I mean no disrespect. What I am seeking are answers and expediency, and you can provide me with both if you stop being difficult.”
“I am waiting.”
Saint gave her a look of pure frustration. Finally, he admitted, “Lady Cockrell sent me to collect Perry.”
“And who is this Lady Cockrell?”
“My mother.”
His reply managed to startle her.
“I did not realize you had family in town.”
“I don’t. Not really.” Saint absently scratched the side of his jaw. “My mother married again after my father’s death. I was sent away to school while she got down to the business of giving her husband an heir.”
“So you and your mother are close?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, her request has brought you here, has it not?” She gazed up at him with a slight frown marring her expression. “It would please me if you would be seated. Staring up at you is straining my neck and giving me a slight headache.”
He gave her an odd look before complying. Instead of taking one of the chairs opposite her, Saint sat down beside her on the sofa. “Perry is married to one of her daughters.”
“Your sister.”
“Half sister, but the Cockrells rarely acknowledge the connection. Word has reached Lady Cockrell’s ears that her son-in-law has fallen in with vulgar company and often patronizes the Golden Pearl.”
“How fortunate that gentlemen falter and stumble at the first taste of temptation. Moral men would beggar me.”
“How fortunate that there are few left in London.”
Madame Venna offered him a pleasant smile, and tried to resist grinding her back molars. In fairness, she highly doubted Saint was judging her and the services the Golden Pearl provided to its patrons. However, there were many who were more than happy to indulge in the various activities of her establishment, while condemning it publicly.
She despised hypocrites. Unfortunately, they were some of her best patrons.
“Lady Cockrell believes Perry takes a room here.”
“You expect me to confirm your mother’s suspicions?”
“Lady Cockrell will suffice. The lady shook off her maternal shackles toward me long ago.”
“Very well.” Clearly, the Cockrells were a sore subject with the marquess; she mentally filed this information away to contemplate later on. Not that she could find fault with his logic. Her mother and father had been found lacking as well. “You still have not explained why I should break my own rules for you.”
Madame Venna reached for her cold tea to conceal her regret for her thoughtless words. Nor was the double entendre lost on Saint.
He grinned. “It would not be the first time.”
Her throat grew dry and her stomach fluttered as she sipped from her teacup, marveling at his masculine beauty. The tea was dreadful, but it dulled her physical reaction to his closeness. This was business, she reminded herself. He wanted something from her, and she had to decide if she would pass along the information.
“I doubt Lord Perry would appreciate his mother-in-law’s interference.”
“I agree.” He waited until she set down her teacup. “You must know every sordid secret London has to offer.”
“A few,” she modestly admitted.
“You have my word of honor that no one will learn of your part in this. I will consider it a grand favor if you tell me where I might find Perry. You will free me from my obligations to Lady Cockrell, and, with luck, I will not hear from my relatives for the rest of the year.”
She sighed, and gave him a considering glance. “It isn’t what you suspect.”
“Is Perry here?”
“If you plan to drag him from this establishment like an errant child, you will ruin my business.”
“I can be discreet.” Since she did not seem convinced, he added, “All I require is a private conversation with the gent. Once I have delivered my message, I will leave.”
“Upon your honor? I will hold you to your promise.” Madame Venna rose from her seat and extended her hand. “Come, I want to show you something before we proceed.”
Leaving the drawing room, they strolled in companionable silence as she escorted him upstairs to a door that was considered off limits to the patrons of the Golden Pearl.
Madame Venna slippe
d an iron key into the lock and turned. She lifted her gaze and noted his curiosity. “If I learn that you have told a soul about this, I will order Abram to break all of your bones and toss you into the Thames.”
“To keep your secrets safe, Madame V?”
“No, to protect those of my patrons,” she replied. “And to offer my girls a small measure of protection. From this point onward, I must insist on absolute silence. Do you agree?”
“I am at your mercy.”
She opened the door and inclined her head. “We shall see, no?”
Saint entered the narrow passageway first and waited while she shut and locked the door. She crossed over to him and, without asking, took his hand. His soft inhale hinted at his surprise that she would touch him without an invitation, but he squeezed her hand, letting her know that he was willing to follow her lead.
That the passageway they had entered even existed was not common knowledge even among the staff. She had learned from Mrs. Sweete that it was wise to oversee a few of the special rooms. A zealous patron in the throes of excitement might injure himself or his companion. Madame Venna took no pleasure in her oversight duties. It was a task like any other. However, if she were in the business of blackmail, she could have profited quite handsomely from her knowledge.
She silently counted four bedchambers and halted. Thankfully, Saint was true to his word and remained silent. Wordlessly, she ascended three steps, which placed her higher than the average person, then slid a thin wooden panel to the right and peered through the small opening.
Yes, this was the correct room.
Madame Venna beckoned Saint to join her. The only visible light came from the room on the other side of the wall. He stealthily climbed the steps, but the perch was so narrow he had to wrap his arm around her waist to join her on the top step.
She turned her face toward his, and her nose brushed against the underside of his chin. Of course, she was not in a position to apologize. Instead, she slipped her arm around his waist and tilted her head away from the small opening. Saint took the hint and leaned forward in anticipation. She knew the moment Saint recognized Lord Perry. His arm tightened around her involuntarily as he watched the activity within the room.
A few minutes later, he slid the panel shut.
His arm around her waist slipped away, but he caught her by the wrist and led her down the stairs. Retracing their steps, Saint paused and allowed her to move in front of him so she could unlock the door.
It was not until the passageway door was locked and they had returned to the drawing room that Saint found his tongue.
“So that is why Perry keeps a room here.”
“Oui,” she said, moving away from him as she walked to a table with several decanters and selected the brandy. “Now you understand why Lord Perry wishes to keep his vices a secret from your family.”
“His, not mine,” Saint said without any heat. “How long has he been patronizing the Golden Pearl?”
Madame Venna saw no reason not to tell him the truth. “Almost from the beginning. I do not know how long he has been married, but I can assure you that his friendship with these unsavory gentlemen Lady Cockrell mentioned has nothing to do with his private sessions with Honoria.”
Saint shook his head and chuckled. “Lady Cockrell will take to her bed if she learns of Perry’s predilection for rouge and ladies’ undergarments.”
Nor would the lady be pleased to learn that her son-in-law found intense pleasure when Honoria played the role of ravishing scoundrel. “Will you tell her the truth?”
He seemed startled by the question. “His wife has a right to know.”
“Does she?” Madame Venna returned to him and offered him the glass of brandy. “Lord Perry visits the Golden Pearl only a few times each month. His sessions with Honoria are sensual and pleasurable, but he does not bed her. At least, not in the manner, you would. According to His Lordship, he finds these sessions therapeutic and somewhat necessary for his well-being.”
“He is placing himself in a position to be blackmailed.”
“In truth, I am the one who has done this by breaking house rules.” Her stare was unwavering as he downed the brandy in several gulps. “I decided that I could trust you to keep your brother-in-law’s secrets. He’s a decent man, and his choices harm no one. If you tell Lady Cockrell the truth, he will lose the respect of his family and perhaps his marriage. Do you hate your family so much?”
Saint audibly exhaled. “No … no, I don’t.”
“C’est excellent! Then my trust in you has not been misplaced.”
Her expression softened with amusement at his mild annoyance at being nudged into keeping his silence. She doubted he needed much encouragement, but she was content to accept the blame for his good deed if it made him feel better about it.
“So what do you suggest I tell Lady Cockrell?”
“The truth, or at least the part that will ease her concerns. Tell her that Lord Perry’s new friends have not led him astray. As for the rest…” She trailed off.
His mouth quirked at her hesitation. “Yes, how do you suggest I overlook those particular details?”
Madame Venna gave him an exasperated look. “You do what all men do when it comes to acknowledging their visitations to the Golden Pearl. You simply lie.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was not his concern.
Miss Catherine Deverall was not family, nor was she acquainted with any of his friends. He had only heard part of a conversation, one he would have never overheard if he had not sought out Madame Venna to appease the woman who had given birth to him.
He would have never discovered the paper with the lady’s name.
Perhaps it was the fool’s errand Lady Cockrell sent him on, but his conscience would not rest until he learned more about the woman who had ties to Madame Venna and the Golden Pearl.
Once his curiosity was satisfied that the young woman was in no danger of being harmed, he would let the matter drop. His instincts prickled his spine, warning him that there was something peculiar afoot. Particularly if it involved Madame Venna’s companion. Saint did not trust the man. Nor had he contemplated the sort of people the proprietress dealt with beyond the elegant gallery and drawing rooms of the Golden Pearl. While the woman would be furious if she learned of his meddling, he was attempting to protect her as well.
After making a few discreet inquiries on Bow Street, Saint had secured Miss Catherine Deverall’s general whereabouts. A casual stroll about the square and some friendly conversation in a local tavern proved quite helpful.
Unmarried, the young woman lived with her housekeeper in a modest terrace house. He had yet to discern her means of income, though the fact that she lived alone hinted she might have a wealthy protector. She would not be the first woman to use her body to fill her belly and put a roof over her head. Nevertheless, a friendly neighbor dissuaded him of the notion when she told him that Miss Deverall lived a quiet, respectable life. Perhaps, then, her independence was the result of an inheritance?
Her neighbors could only speculate. According to the gossip, Miss Deverall was a shy, sweet-natured creature who was charitable to the downtrodden. She visited hospitals, donated foodstuffs, and was generous to those who sought her assistance. She was a veritable paragon, Saint mused. He could not fathom why she would have gained Madame Venna’s notice.
That was, until he caught a glimpse of her.
Seated in his coach, Saint had been about to order his coachman to drive on when a hackney coach slowed in front of Miss Deverall’s residence. A few minutes later, a young blond woman disembarked. Even from a distance, it was evident that she was lovely. Taller than most women, she strolled away from the coach with enviable confidence and grace. The mulberry pelisse she wore was made of silk with a narrow skirt and a high ruff collar. Saint was no expert when it came to ladies’ fashions, but the dress seemed akin to the popular styles this season. Lemon kid gloves and half boots complemented her attire, as di
d the fancy straw bonnet with several ostrich feather plumes tucked in the right side and dyed the rich color of her dress.
Unaware that she was being observed, she continued up the short walk and up the stairs. The front door opened and she was greeted by the housekeeper. Eager to catch up to his quarry, Saint was tempted to chase after the lady and boldly knock on her front door. Unfortunately, he had no reason to approach her. In fact, if she was truly the shy, gentle creature her neighbors described, his boldness might frighten her.
No, it was best to retreat and make plans. A public setting was required for their first meeting, he decided. It had worked in the past. A year earlier Vane’s mother, Lady Netherley, had conspired with Miss Isabel Thorne to ambush his marriage-wary friend. Warned in advance that Vane would be patronizing a particular dressmaker’s shop with his mistress, Isabel had brilliantly executed a stratagem that had fooled Vane into believing their meeting was accidental. The couple had gone on to marry.
Saint did not require an intricate scheme to capture Miss Deverall’s interest. He needed only a brief introduction to satisfy his curiosity that the lady was not in any danger of being ensnared by Madame Venna or the Golden Pearl. Then he would bid farewell, and leave the good woman alone.
Virtuous ladies, even beautiful ones, held little appeal.
Saint preferred a woman whose nature was as wicked as his.
* * *
Later that same evening, Madame Venna sat in a nondescript black coach outside the Black Keys tavern on the outskirts of town. It was near midnight, and the flintlock pocket pistol hidden beneath her shawl on her lap provided a little comfort for her meeting with Mr. Royles. Her coachman was also armed with a brace of pistols.
It was just good sense that she traveled with an armed guard, although she had no personal qualms about emptying her pistol into Mr. Royles’s black heart. If it came to it, she would help the coachman dig the old man’s grave and dance upon it. However, she was not quite ready to leave London. The Golden Pearl was a profitable venture, and she was too young to retire.
All Afternoon with a Scandalous Marquess Page 8
