The Bride of Devil's Acre

by Jennifer Kohout

  “We’ll leave just as soon as the lady picks out a treat.” Moose nudged Jacqueline toward the counter displaying rich chocolates and delicate confections. “Which one is to your liking, my lady?”

  Glancing up at Moose, she found him watching her expectantly. He’d done this for her, she realized. Somehow, he’d known, and he’d brought her in here to make sure she was served.

  Jacqueline smiled, her heart lifting a little with the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Turning, she looked over the counter. “We’ll take a box.”

  The chocolatier started to object. Beside her, Moose unfolded to his full height. Jacqueline blinked. She hadn’t realized the man had been hunched over, no doubt in an effort to make himself less conspicuous. It was a wasted effort.

  Moose leaned one meaty arm on the counter, the chocolatier’s eyes going wide as the delicate glass groaned under the weight. “Lady J here would like a box of chocolates. Are you going to get them for her, or do I have to come around and help her myself?”

  The chocolatier jumped for a box, quickly filling it with pieces of chocolate. The shop was unnaturally quiet, the patrons watching wide-eyed as Moose ordered the box wrapped, with a bow.

  With a smile, Moose handed the box to Lady J and reached for his coin. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him. Lady J shook her head.

  “Allow me,” Jacqueline said. It was all the same, both his coin and hers coming from her husband. Still, she would finish the show they were putting on.

  Moose nodded, waiting while the chocolatier made change and handed over the chocolates. Just for good measure, he flashed the man a smile that hardened his eyes, baring his teeth.

  “Good day,” Jacqueline said, bowing her head at the neck. I will be the better person, she thought. Pride wouldn’t let her do any different. She turned and headed for the door. A shift in the crowd to her right drew her attention. “Henry?”

  Henry stiffened, and his face colored as men and women shuffled, clearing a space around him.

  “You know her?” a shrill voice asked.

  Jacqueline’s eyes dropped to the young lady on Henry’s left. The girl’s hand tightened possessively on his arm. Jacqueline didn’t recognize her, but that wasn’t a surprise. Every season saw the release of a new hoard of young ladies looking for a husband. This one must certainly rate as an incomparable with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and perfectly pouty lips.

  Jacqueline wondered briefly if Henry could see the cold calculation behind those blue eyes and the cruel lift to those lips.

  Henry covered Lady Rosemary’s hand with his own. “She’s nobody,” he said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Come, I believe this place has lost its appeal.”

  Jacqueline closed her eyes briefly as pain lanced at her chest. She understood; she really did. Henry had to live in this world, a world in which she was no longer welcome. She was quickly coming to understand just how cold it was on the outside, and she couldn’t fault him for not wanting to join her in exile.

  Jacqueline opened her eyes in time to watch Henry walk purposefully by, the young lady’s hand tucked protectively in the crook of his arm. Eyes straight ahead, he avoided looking at her, his face a clear mask of disapproval.

  She waited, watching the door close behind him before following the departing couple outside. There, she allowed Moose to guide her up into their waiting carriage.

  Regent Street quickly fell behind them, the carriage taking her back to Devil’s Acre. “You didn’t have to do that,” Jacqueline said, turning to Moose. The man sat on the bench beside her, his big frame an uncomfortable fit for the small carriage.

  “It wasn’t right, the way they were all judging you.”

  “Not that long ago, I would have been one of them.”

  “Nah, I don’t see you being mean. I know mean, and you’re not it.”

  They were quiet for a minute, Jacqueline watching the familiar streets roll by. “I don’t belong here anymore.” It had been like putting on an old dress. The fabric was familiar, but the fit was no longer right.

  “I’m thinking that’s not such a bad thing.” Moose didn’t like this place. It reminded him of fruit left too long, pretty and soft on the outside, rotten on the inside. Both left a bad taste in his mouth.

  “Where does that leave me?”

  Moose smiled at Jacqueline, and once again it changed his features. His face was still wide and his nose crushed, but he had beautiful eyes that lit when he smiled.

  “You belong to us!”

  Jacqueline caught the pleasure in Moose’s voice. Too bad she didn’t think her husband shared his man’s excitement.

  Moose cradled his package carefully as he ambled through the front door of Purgatory. Lady J had insisted they share the chocolates, dividing them equally and wrapping his half back in the box.

  He had a mind to share them with Carly. No one had to tell him that it was good to give a woman gifts. Even whores liked gifts, and Carly was giving him a regular tumble these days—off the books.

  “Back so soon?” Finn stepped out from Devil’s office, closing the door behind him. The man was not in a good mood. The idea that someone was talking to the coppers sat on his shoulders about as well as a set of stocks. “What have you got there?”

  “Chocolates.” Moose held out the package for Finn’s inspection.

  Finn frowned at the box. Those weren’t from Devil’s Acre.

  “Lady J gave them to me. I was taking ‘em up to Carly.”

  Finn smiled. “Good man, something sweet goes a long way with the ladies.”

  Moose nodded, frowning down at the box in his hand. “They weren’t very nice to her.”

  “To who? Carly?”

  Moose shook his head. “Lady J. I could tell she was sad, even though she said it didn’t matter.”

  Understanding, or at least a suspicion, dawned. “Come on, big man,” Finn said, slapping Moose on the shoulder and turning him toward the back of the club. “I think Devil had better hear this.”

  Jacqueline was trying to enjoy her sitting room. Back home after her failed shopping trip, she had wandered the house. Feeling like a stranger, she’d finally retired to her room.

  It was growing late. Mrs. Thompson had already been by to ask if Jacqueline wanted a tray sent up for dinner. Emme would be dining with the others, while Jacqueline took her meal alone. She was trying not to feel sorry for herself, and failing miserably.

  I’m very lucky.

  It was the mantra she kept repeating silently to herself. She had a husband, someone willing to marry her after what had happened, and she was free from her father’s suffocating grasp. But as Mrs. Thompson had left, closing the door behind her, Jacqueline couldn’t help but feel as if the door had closed on a very pretty cage.

  A knock on said door was a welcome relief from her thoughts.

  “Enter,” Jacqueline called, surprised when her husband strode into the room. “Devil.”

  “Good evening.” Devil examined his wife’s face carefully. Moose had told him about the events in the sweet shop - the rest, Devil could fill in for himself.

  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I came by to check on you.”

  “You didn’t—” Jacqueline broke off, her cheeks heating. “You talked to Moose.”

  “He seemed to think something happened this afternoon to upset you.”

  “I’m fine, really.” Jacqueline waved the incident away, embarrassed to have her husband hear of it.

  “Are those the chocolates?” Devil indicated the plate beside Jacqueline’s chair. He’d examined the box, the chocolatier’s mark a glaring reminder of where his wife was from, and the life she was used to living.

  Jacqueline nodded.

  “Why were you shopping on Regent Street?” Devil didn’t like the idea of his wife leaving Devil’s Acre and was curious as to why she felt the need.

  “I…” Jacqueline shrugged, unsure how to respond. “That’s where I always shop.”

&
nbsp; “We have shops here, in Devil’s Acre.” Devil stared at his wife. “Ones in which you will be treated with respect.”

  “Because I’m your wife?”

  “Because no one cares who you are.”

  “You’re angry with me.” Jacqueline plopped down on her chair. “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

  Devil sighed, running his fingers through his hair and pushing it back from his face. “I’m not angry with you.” But he was, or he had been upon learning she’d gone back to Regent Street to shop. “I just thought you would be curious about getting to know your new home and had planned a day in Devil’s Acre.”

  “I am curious,” Jacqueline insisted. “So far the only things I’ve seen are this house and your office. But I have no idea what is available to me, and you’ve demonstrated very little interest in showing me.”

  Devil stiffened.

  “I understand this marriage to be a business arrangement, and it occurs to me that having completed our transaction, you are content to leave me to my own devices.”

  Very few people took him to task and got away with it, but his wife was right. “I apologize,” Devil said, tipping his head. “It never occurred to me that you might require my assistance. I’ve never had a wife.”

  “I suppose I could have asked, but I didn’t want to be a bother.”

  “It’s no bother, believe me.” Devil considered his wife. She was still dressed from the day, her hair piled high on her head. “Would you care to join me at Purgatory tonight?”

  Jacqueline blinked, the invitation unexpected.

  “I should warn you. It’s bound to be unlike anything you’ve experienced. But if you’re curious, we might as well start there.” Devil offered his wife his hand, curious to see if she would take it and accept his offer. It was one thing to talk about exploring new shops, but quite another when speaking of a notorious club that catered to the wicked.

  Jacqueline eyed her husband’s hand, the long fingers looking warm and inviting. Glancing up at his face, she found him watching her, his green eyes dark and intriguing. She had the impression that he would make this offer only once. If she refused him now, she would be shutting the door on some unknown possibility.

  His wife’s fingers shook slightly as she slipped them into his hand. Devil gave them a gentle squeeze and smiled down at her as he tucked her hand in his arm.

  They were halfway to the door when she called a halt.

  “Wait!” Jacqueline slipped her hand free, turned, and hurried back to her sitting room. Picking up the plate of chocolates, she dumped them into the small waste basket beside her writing table.

  Devil watched his wife, smiling when she dusted her hands off dramatically before hurrying back to his side. “That was unnecessary. They looked delicious.”

  Jacqueline shrugged. She’d eaten chocolates from the sweet shop before, and they were sublime. But something told her she was in for an even better treat tonight.

  “Is that a trapeze artist?” Jacqueline stood and stared. Her mouth was hanging open, but at that moment she was beyond caring.

  “Identical twins, actually,” Devil said, taking his wife’s arm and leading her inside. She had insisted they come in through the front door.

  Jacqueline stumbled, catching herself on her husband’s arm. “They’re naked.” They were also beautiful with generous hips and ample breasts.

  “You might want to watch where you’re going.”

  Jacqueline tore her gaze from the trapeze artists swinging from the domed ceiling with considerable difficulty. Purgatory lay spread out before her, a den of iniquity if ever there was one. An elegantly elongated room, the main floor showcased the gaming tables, and lords and their ladies for the evening playing for fortunes few of them could afford to lose.

  The bar, an enormous creation of carved wood inlaid with marble, reigned from the back of the room and separated the members and their guests from the stage where an ever-changing company of actors contorted and performed tantalizing acrobatics.

  The mezzanine level, held aloft by intricately carved columns, looked down over the main floor, foliated arches marking private boxes that could be secured for intimate parties.

  Perhaps most surprising were the stewards. Men and women of the house, the stewards wore white shirts, black vests, and black trousers. Their hair was slicked back, and their faces were painted with rouge and lined with coal, regardless of gender.

  One such enticingly dressed young woman bowed to Jacqueline, offering her a tray of fluted glasses. “Champagne?”

  “Yes, please.” Jacqueline took a drink of the cool liquid. The bubbles tickled her throat, and she resisted the urge to laugh. Oh! This was delightful!

  Devil watched his wife’s delicate throat as she drank. Her eyes hadn’t stopped moving, taking in all Purgatory had to offer. When they finally landed on him, they were bright with pleasure, and her smile blazed. “What do you think?”

  “It’s marvelous!”

  Devil smiled, and his shoulders loosened. Purgatory was a dream he’d spent years building. He hadn’t realized it, but his wife’s opinion mattered. “Come.”

  His hand on her back, Devil took Jacqueline on a tour of the gaming tables. There were the usual—baccarat, faro, whists and hazards—as well as many others she was unfamiliar with. There were also private games of loo, cribbage, and backgammon.

  “How do you make money on those?” Jacqueline stopped to watch the last roll in backgammon, the players seemingly unaware of the chaos reigning around them.

  “The house takes a fee for the use of the table, or a percentage of the winnings, depending on the game and the agreement with the players.” Devil looked around. “Would you care to join a game?”

  Jacqueline shook her head. “I haven’t any money.”

  Devil smiled. “The house would be happy to stake your hand.”

  Jacqueline hesitated and bit her lip. She’d never played more than a friendly game of cards, never betting more than her pin money.

  Devil’s eyes dropped to his wife’s mouth. White, even teeth tugged at her bottom lip causing it to pink and plump up. He remembered their wedding kiss, the way her mouth had firmed and her lips parted. He wondered what she would think if he kissed her again.

  Someone jostled Devil, bumping into him and jarring his attention. Remembering where they were, Devil silently promised himself another taste of his wife later. After all, he would be taking her home.

  “Come on,” he said, taking his wife’s hand and leading her across the room.

  Seeing their notorious host, the crowd parted easily. Jacqueline watched men nod in greeting and women cast her husband appreciative glances from under lowered lashes.

  Jacqueline’s eyes narrowed. This was where her husband spent his nights. Surely he had indulged in more than one assignation with the bevy of beautiful women filling the club. He certainly appeared to have his pick.

  Glaring at his back, Jacqueline wondered just how many women he’d enjoyed and if he expected to continue to indulge now that he was married. Only, as they made their way to the hazards table, she couldn’t help but notice her husband seemed unaware of the lingering looks. There were no heated glances, at least not from him, and nothing to indicate he knew any of the women on a more personal basis.

  Devil slipped into an open space at the hazards table, pulling Jacqueline in beside him and nodding to the dealer. The young lord currently playing immediately stepped back, handing Devil the dice.

  “My wife will roll for me.”

  Devil explained the game to Jacqueline amid murmurs of surprise and congratulations, bending his head and whispering in her ear. “Pick a number between five and nine, and then roll the dice.”

  Jacqueline shivered. Devil’s breath stirred tendrils of her hair and tickled her neck. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” Devil, conscious of the audience waiting to play, resisted the urge to nuzzle his wife’s neck. He could smell the scent of her skin,
a delicate scent that was surprisingly dark and sensual.

  “What happens then?”

  “Roll the dice and find out.”

  The awareness that they were no longer talking about hazards rippled over Jacqueline’s skin, warming her flesh. With hands that shook, she tossed the dice.

  “Winner!” the dealer announced, gathering the dice and handing them back.

  The game was a blur, Jacqueline riding the thrill of winning and losing up and down. The table erupted in moans of disappointment when she called a halt, needing a break and hoping for something cool to drink.

  “You did marvelous,” Devil said, smiling with pleasure. When was the last time he’d enjoyed an evening at one of his tables? Hell, he rarely stepped out on the floor anymore. He spent most of the night in his office going over the books, preparing orders, and handling the myriad emergencies that came with running a club such as Purgatory.

  “How much did I lose?” They were headed back toward the bar, the trapeze artists still swinging slowly overhead.

  “I have no idea,” Devil admitted, and didn’t care. “But I’m sure you’re good for it.” He couldn’t say what he had hoped to accomplish by showing his wife Purgatory. To impress her, maybe? Whatever it was, he hadn’t expected to partake in her enjoyment, the experience surprisingly new and exciting.

  “That was fun, but I don’t understand the point.”

  “Of gambling?” Devil signaled to John, the barkeep. “Champagne for my wife.”

  John nodded. Word had made its way around that the boss had married and had brought his new bride with him for the evening.

  “Yes, it seems a bit of a waste to spend money on a chance of winning more. You’re already guaranteed what you have, and the chance is rarely worth the risk.”

  “Thankfully, most of my patrons do not feel as you do,” Devil said, handing Jacqueline a glass of champagne. A moment later, John poured Devil’s preferred glass of brandy. “But, to answer your question, let me ask one of my own: Did you have fun?”

  “I did!” Jacqueline admitted. It had been a thrill, never knowing what was going to happen and trying to predict the roll of the dice. Her heart was still beating fast, and the excitement of the crowd had fed her own.