by Win Hollows
“If you want what I can give you…you have to marry me.”
She sucked in a breath. If only things were that simple now. Would she have accepted his proposal if none of the rest of it had happened? If scandal hadn’t turned Rem’s determined pursuit into something ugly and complicated?
Probably. She could admit that to herself, even though the private confession sent more tendrils of pain into her already shredded heart.
She could have been Lady Rothstone by now. She could have been Rem’s wife. An image came unbidden, of herself lying next to him in bed, spending blurry nights of passion with him followed by glorious mornings waking up next to his lovely face. Seeing the angles of his cheeks softened in early sunshine. Being able to touch him whenever she liked. Giving herself up to him completely as his hands roamed her body.
The thoughts halted as a tear spilled and turned cold on her cheek, making its way to dangle from her jaw. Her teeth clenched, and she swiped at the offending moisture. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. She had called Rem insane for daring to think they could be happy together. She had held him at bay, so sure that taking things slowly and logically would be the best course of action, especially for someone as new to the process as she. And now, because she had refused him then, she ached for him night after night, wondering what could have been. What could have been if society hadn’t decided the two of them were unacceptable together. If Rem hadn’t decided that marriage was a necessary step instead of a wondrous one.
If she hadn’t been such a fool all along.
She loved him. She loved him with every fiber of her being. Every second away from him seemed colorless. Pointless. Torture.
And she could never have him now. No matter how many calling cards he sent or how much time passed, their union would never be accepted by the society they’d been born into. They could never walk down the street or attend the theatre or send their children to Eton without the weight of society’s censure. Laura finally understood why her parents had been so protective, so hesitant to bring her to the London marriage mart. Because to everyone else, it wasn’t about finding your match- the one person who made you feel as if gravity couldn’t hold you to the earth any longer. It was about everything else that shouldn’t matter in the slightest- power, money, breeding, propriety, lording one’s own unhappiness over others in the form of censure and dirty looks, blame and public cuts. She wanted none of it, but neither could she escape it. There was no life for her with Rem, and none without him. She swallowed past the painful clawing sensation in her throat. There was nothing for her now. Nothing she wanted.
Her mind drifted to the proposal she’d received two days past. Grayson Fennimore should be a wonderful prize, but she feared she would always see him as a consolation prize at best. If she married him, she would spend the rest of her days longing for someone else. How was that fair to either of them? Laura knew from seeing the bitterness of those around her that the years would not be kind to someone who felt constantly disappointed in their life. She would grow into a shriveled and rancorous woman- one who would poison those around her with her own resentment. She couldn’t do that to him. He didn’t deserve it.
But what were her other choices? To be a burden to her parents living out her life in seclusion on Parrington lands? She would become the strange spinster that people whispered about in the village, the eccentricities that were tolerated now turning her into an object of ridicule and pity. Her parents would love and care for her, but she knew that there would be a gleam of sadness in their eyes when they looked at their only daughter. She wouldn’t give them grandchildren or holidays filled with the joy of family or the freedom of traversing society among their own friends and peers. She had disgraced them all and put them in the position of defending their daughter against people they had known their entire lives.
None of it was fair to any of them. No matter what she did, she would be ruining the lives of those she cared about.
Unless… A nauseating, serpentine leer and indecent proposal loomed up in her mind.
What if she did become someone’s mistress? She could free them all from her influence and let them live their lives without the taint of her scandal. If she cut all ties and lived her life in the dark, murky world of those who didn’t care about reputations, then they could live in the light.
Laura’s heart began to pound as her eyes scanned the leaping flames in the grate in front of her chair. Could she do it? Be intimate with someone without marrying them? Trade herself in exchange for her independence? It seemed like such a contradiction- giving someone the use of herself, but being free from all that held her back among those who had decided she wasn’t good enough anymore. And in the process, freeing everyone whom she couldn’t bear to overshadow with her mistakes.
The outrage she had shown at the idea just a few days ago seemed to have faded into a twisted pragmatism that left her both eerily detached and terrified at once. It was the only solution that left her loved ones intact.
She would simply have to trade her soul to pay for it.
Chapter 14
You’d better get down to Diamante’s fast. It’s the Parrington girl, and you’re not going to like it.- Tris
Rem mentally went over the note again for the hundredth time as he urged his horse faster through the throngs of carriages clogging the dark streets of London. The sound of hooves and the shouts of those he careened around didn’t pierce his panic, his mind doing somersaults trying to figure out what the devil Tris could have meant by those words.
Diamante’s was a lower gentleman’s club, still catering to the aristocracy, but with fewer scruples than White’s or Brook’s. The term “gentleman” seemed to be used loosely there, and the entertainments tended to be wilder. Rem had patronized the gaming hell more than once, especially in his younger days with the Alliterates. He remembered the loud gaming tables, the raucous drinking, and the members of the demimonde who lurked on the fringes of the establishment, tempting the patrons to indulge in other disreputable pursuits. If something concerning Laura was occurring there, it couldn’t be good, especially at this time of night when innocent misses should have been long abed.
Rem pulled his horse up sharply at the entrance to the club, throwing the reins to a horse tender as he jumped from the saddle. He didn’t stop to adjust his cravat or shake the rain from his greatcoat before barging through the two flamboyantly carved doors. Once inside, he blinked to accommodate the lights that bounced off of sconces and overhead chandeliers. The empty foyer was covered from floor to ceiling in a gaudy combination of Greek and Oriental plasterwork, as if the decorator couldn’t decide which would be enough to entice people further in, so they kept adding more until no space was left.
Rem’s eyes and ears scanned the area. Something was off. All was silent, which never happened in this place of vice. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the archways on either side of the foyer that he knew led to various gaming rooms, refreshments, and show rooms. There was a faint wisp of noise coming from behind a red door at the very end of the long foyer. Immediately, Rem headed for it, the voices growing louder as he wrenched the heavy thing open to a cacophony of noise.
The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold and then quickly turned to a raging boil.
The air was hazy with cigar smoke and a palpable anticipation. A crowd comprised of around three dozen men was jostling and vying to get closer to a central, octagonal wooden dais raised several feet above the rest of the small room. Many of the drunk men were yelling, straining to be heard above the rest of the unruly mob. On the dais stood Laura, dressed in a white silk dress that caressed her figure like a Greek goddess, her pale form glowing in the dim lighting as if she were some sort of angelic sacrifice. Laura’s face was stoic, but Rem saw the way her throat convulsed in a nervous gulp and her fists were clenched in the folds of her gown. Her large green eyes flitted from person to person, the fear in them underscored by the determined set of her jaw. What
in the name of all that was holy was she doing?
“Three thousand pounds!”
“Four!”
A man in spectacles lurking with a sheaf of paper and quill in hand near the dais, repeated for the crowd: “I have four thousand pounds, Gentlemen. Do I have five?”
“She’d better know a pretty trick or two for that price,” someone called, and the crowd laughed uproariously. The raucousness encouraged one man to reach up and tug on the hem of her diaphanous gown, causing Laura to stumble out of his reach, almost toppling off the platform before steadying herself. She smoothed her skirts and folded her hands in front of her, as if she were at Almacks rather than this dark, rowdy hell-hole.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his vision grew unfocused for one terrifying moment as realized rushed in.
She was auctioning herself. Here. At Diamante’s gambling hell, in front of every red-blooded rakehell the ton had produced this generation.
Rage unlike anything he had ever known filled his veins, turning his vision red with Laura a pinpoint at the center of it. He attempted to control it, but his body moved forward of its own volition, shoving slavering idiots to either side as he muscled his way towards the dais. Angry shouts followed in his wake, from both strangers and acquaintances alike, but he didn’t care. He was mindless with both anger and panic, knowing that any moment, this could turn ugly. And even if it didn’t, Laura was a moment away from selling herself to the highest bidder without any idea of what that would mean.
How could the situation have come to this? Did she think she had no other option?
He had practically begged her to marry him, for pity’s sake! Rem vowed to disabuse her of whatever idiotic notion had led her to this decision if only he could get her off that damned dais.
He reached the wooden structure as someone upped the bidding war to five thousand.
“Laura,” he barked. She turned, her eyes widening. Rem thought he could hear her visible gulp. “Get off of there,” he growled in tones brooked no argument. “Now.”
She straightened, and Rem’s fear tripled as he saw the stubborn tilt of her chin. “No.”
He didn’t have time for this. He had to get her out of here before…well, he supposed irreparable damage had already been done this night, but damage to her person with this rowdy crowd was still on the table. Literally. “Dammit, Laura, I’m not having this conversation with you. Not here. Come down.” He tried and failed to regulate his tone into something she would respond to.”
“This doesn’t involve you, Lord Rothstone,” she informed him primly, her skirts swirling around her ankles as she turned away.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” he thundered, slamming his hand on the hollow wood.
“Now see here, Sir!” The bespectacled man forced his way through the dense crowd toward him. Others were starting to notice the scene that was taking place near the dais. “This is a business arrangement being conducted. I must insist you leave the premises if you cannot be civil.”
Rem growled, baring his teeth at the smaller man, and watched with satisfaction as he took a step back, eyes wide. “There won’t be any business of this kind taking place tonight. Not with her.”
“I-I’m sorry, My Lord, but the lady has signed a contract.”
Rem prayed for patience as he sighed through his nose. He might have to break this little man’s bones soon. Just for fun. “What sort of contract?”
The crowd around them had quieted significantly, most of the men now paying attention to Remington’s conversation.
“I’m afraid that is priva-”
“What sort of contract?” Rem said softly, leaning over the proprietor.
The man must have known that Rem was at the end of his patience because he wisely didn’t argue, but began speaking rapidly in a breathy voice. “The lady has agreed to become the paid companion of the highest bidder. She cannot renege once a bid has been placed and must remain in the agreement for a minimum period of one year or she must pay back the bidding price and any further monies spent during the contract. The bidder agrees to pay the lady the bidding amount each year on this date if the agreement continues. Ten percent of the agreed upon price goes to the house for facilitating the agreement.” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and swallowed.
“Seems reasonable to me,” a leisurely voice chimed in. Rem looked to his left, where Trent Arberley stood smirking, leaning on his customary ruby-studded cane, surrounded by compatriots who seemed like they weren’t sure which side to take. “The…lady… has made her choice, Rothstone. After opening her legs to you, any of us would be better, apparently,” he drawled, eliciting chuckles from the men around him. The rest of the room stayed silent, watching the exchange.
“And yet,” Laura piped up from her pedestal, standing erect as a queen over her subjects, “I’m supremely thankful that you obviously aren’t in a position to be bidding.”
Rem snorted in spite of himself.
“Hear, hear,” a man commented wryly. Rem saw Treadstone a few feet away and nodded at his friend. If it hadn’t been for him contacting Rem when he did…
“You little whore,” Arberley snarled, taking off his pristine gloves and handing his cane to a nearby dandy. “You aren’t worth the wood you stand on. You should be grateful that a man like me even-”
But he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Rem’s fist found his face, the blow knocking the other man out cold on the soiled carpet beneath their feet.
The proprietor squeaked and fluttered his hands. Murmurs swept the room, but not one person bent to help the man.
Rem smiled. At least something good had come of this debacle. He turned back to the small man at his elbow who was close to hyperventilating. “You will release the lady from her contract immediately.”
“It’s-It’s n-not up to me,” he peeped, the sheaf of paper trembling in white-knuckled terror.
“Then what will it take?” Rem snapped.
“I’m right here, Lord Rothstone,” Laura huffed. “And I don’t need your misplaced chivalry.”
Teeth clenched, Rem continued speaking to the proprietor. “Sir?”
“There has already been a bid placed, My Lord. It m-must be honored.”
Rem didn’t blink, but simply asked, “How much?”
The man wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead and consulted his betting book. “The current bid is…five thousand pounds, My Lord.”
“And now it is ten,” he announced flatly. His eyes scanned the room of murmuring spectators. “Would anyone like to top my bid?” His tone made it clear that if anyone dared do so, he would lay them out flatter than Arberley, who still hadn’t moved from his awkward position on the floor.
No one said a word.
He nodded.
“No!” Laura stepped to the edge of the dais. “I won’t let you do this.”
“It’s not up to you,” Rem informed her, signing the document that would finally let this disaster end and nearly deplete his entire yearly income.
“This was all to keep you out of it!” she cried, kneeling down on the structure, her hands laying dejectedly in her lap.
Rem turned his head to her, shoving the papers back at the man. Fury still coursed through his veins, and the tears glistening in her green eyes didn’t deter him. “Did you or did you not agree to leave with the man that paid the highest bid?”
She sniffed, her lips trembling. “Yes,” she whispered. She had the grace to look chagrined, though she met his eyes steadily.
“Then it is done.” And with that, he reached for her, ignoring her yelp as he drug her from the dais and slung her over his shoulder. Her protests didn’t even register as his only thought was getting her out of the room and away from the blatant stares of the men. Aware that the crowd had erupted in shouts on all sides, he noted some of them as cheers, some outrage at the abrupt end of the proceedings. Rem stepped over Arberley’s prone form and strode from the room, the commotion behind him alrea
dy forgotten.
“Put me down this instant!” Laura shrieked, trying to reach out and grab something as they passed the doorway to the foyer. “You have no right to-”
“Correction,” Rem interrupted. “I bought and paid for it, Madam.” He gave her a pat on her bum as he said it, causing her to gasp and struggle even harder.
“I hate you,” she hissed, and Rem could hear the tears in her voice.
“So be it.” He was past caring about her emotions at the moment, but he knew her words would eat at him later.
Rem reached the front door of the bawdy establishment and trailed down the steps to deposit Laura soundly on his horse. Gypsy whinnied at the sudden awkward burden, but stayed where he was as Rem swung up behind her. He nudged the great horse to action, taking pleasure in the sudden weight of her hips against his as she sought to settle herself more securely.
He wanted to get her as far away as possible from the cursed gambling hell, but he didn’t immediately head straight for her residence. He needed to find out what was in her fool head that had led to this debacle. Steering his mount down the street and into a nearby alley, Rem swung himself down and then pulled Laura to the ground as well, not caring there were sounds and smells here that a lady should never have to experience. It was dark, and only the blurry light from upper windows shone gloomily down on them and the heap of rubbish piled at the end of the narrow nook. This part of town was rife with pickpockets and prostitution, but Rem was confident they wouldn’t receive unwanted trouble.
He didn’t waste time with preamble: “Why?”
Laura pulled her arms around herself, shivering, but stayed silent. She didn’t meet his eyes.
Rem grabbed her arms and gave her a single shake. “What’s going on, Laura? What could possibly make you- What would possess you to do such a thing-?”
