by Wendy Vella
Marcus hadn’t thought he could get angrier; it turned out he was wrong.
“Cavorting! You bigoted bully,” he roared. “She is protecting and helping those in need. She is a bloody saint for what she has done and were you actually to know her as I do you would realize she is a kind and wonderful woman.”
“Women like that don’t change,” the duke snarled. “They are born whores and die that way.”
Marcus knew nothing he said would change the man’s viewpoint, so he stepped closer to the duke and aimed his pistol.
“Tell me where she is.”
“I-I don’t know, my steward was handling it.” For the first time, fear showed in the duke’s eyes.
“And who is your steward?”
“David Hollander.”
“We’re leaving now,” Marcus said, putting his pistol back into his jacket. “But if your daughter is harmed, I am coming back here to kill you.”
The duke’s fingers clenched around the arms of the chair. “You cannot kill me. I am a duke!”
“If”—Marcus shut his eyes briefly at the thought—“Charlotte is dead, then I have nothing to live for, so I will be taking you with me to hell, your grace.”
The man looked shocked.
“But if she lives and accepts me, then I will be marrying your daughter, and I expect nothing but support from you. You will acknowledge her, and you will mention her name in only the most complimentary manner. Because if that is not the case, I will be spreading news of what you have done this night far and wide, and I will do whatever it takes to blacken your reputation.”
“I’m a duke. You can’t ruin me!”
“I can, your grace, and I will, and I will not care how long it takes me. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Something in Marcus’s eyes made the man nod. Perhaps it was the promise of murder.
Minutes later, he and Nick were galloping through the streets.
“I have to say I’ve never wanted you as an enemy, Marcus, but after that display in there, I shall be ensuring that never happens,” Nick said.
“I have always loathed that man, but as he never gave me a reason to do so openly, I did not. That, however, is about to change. Now tell me, why do I know the name Hollander, Nick?”
“Cécile Hollander was a highly sought-after courtesan many years ago. I believe the King even showed an interest in her.”
“Where is she now?”
“Owns an exclusive brothel in Pennville Street, with only the wealthiest clientele. You can’t walk in there without an appointment and once inside you can’t move for nobility and some of London’s most influential industrialists.”
They found Leo and Jacob leaving Night Street and told them what had taken place with the Duke.
“I heard a rumor last year that Hollander’s had auctions, and the men can take the woman he wins away and keep her if that is his wish.”
Leo said this after Marcus had told him the name of the Duke of Marlton’s man of affairs.
“She’s there,” Marcus said suddenly. “She’s at Hollander’s, and they’re going to auction her off to the highest bidder.” He turned his horse and started galloping, with the sound of his friends following.
“How do you know this?” Jacob roared, pulling alongside.
Marcus raised a fist and thumped it against his heart, and that was all the confirmation Jacob needed.
They left their horses a street away from Hollander’s brothel and walked the rest of the way, arriving minutes later at the large brick house. Light blazed from the window, and as they approached, a steady stream of men were being admitted.
“Let me take the lead as we have no invitations,” Leo said. “And for pity’s sake, man, smile or we will not reach the doorstep,” he added, glaring at Marcus.
“I have nothing to smile about,” Marcus snarled.
“Do something with him then,” Leo said, looking at Jacob and Nick, who immediately put Marcus behind them.
“But why will they let us in because of you?” Jacob whispered as they started up the steps.
“Because Cécile Hollander has been trying to get into my breeches for many years.”
“Of course she has.” Nick rolled his eyes. “Your prowess between the sheets is legendary, after all.”
Leo merely shrugged and turned to address the large man on the doorstep.
“Good evening, we would like entrance into Hollander’s this evening, please.”
“Invite only,” the man said.
“Please tell Madam Cécile that Lord Vereton is here.”
The man didn’t look convinced but signaled for someone to go and ask Madam Cécile if Leo could enter.
“She’s here.” Marcus whispered the words, but his friends heard.
The doorman returned. “Madam Cécile would like to welcome you to Hollander’s.”
They were soon inside the lavish house. Women dressed in silks and satins walked between the men, seeing to their needs. Everywhere Marcus looked he saw extravagance. Gilt-framed paintings, ivory statues, and furniture of the finest quality and in the Grecian style. Curtains fell from ceiling to floor in heavy, gold silk, and thick carpets muffled their feet as they walked.
“Good lord, this place looks like a country estate.” Nick’s eyes were going everywhere. “Grace will kill me when she hears I have been here.”
“Don’t tell her,” Leo said.
Nick looked horrified. “I will not lie to my wife. Besides, she’ll know if I do.”
Leo shook his head. “Just another reason that love is not something that will feature in my future.”
“Lord Vereton.”
The woman coming toward them was tall and elegant in black silk, and Marcus wanted to wrap his hands around her slender neck and squeeze until she told him where Charlotte was. The tension inside him was growing, anxiety warring with rage. He was struggling to keep his breathing even and conversing at this point was beyond him.
“Madam Cécile.” Leo took her hand and kissed it.
“Finally you are here in my humble establishment.”
Marcus chafed while Leo complimented the woman, until finally his friend brought up why they had come.
“My dear friend wishes for some special entertainment tonight,” Leo said, waving a hand at Jacob. “He needs a distraction, Madam Cécile, as his heart was recently torn from his chest and now lies in tatters at the feet of a brittle woman who does not return his feelings.”
Marcus heard Jacob’s teeth snap together.
“How sad, but then women can be such fickle creatures.” The woman trilled out a false laugh as she looked the four of them over, taking her time studying each. Marcus managed to school his features to boredom before her eyes fell on him.
“As luck would have it, we do have a little something special happening tonight. However, I’m not sure if I can trust you.” She placed her hand on Leo’s chest and leaned closer.
“We are the souls of discretion, my dear.” Leo placed his hand over hers and leaned so close their lips were almost touching. “Perhaps later…”
Marcus watched the woman lick her lips at the prospect of what later with Leo would bring her.
“I must insist you sign a waiver that what happens here this night is kept a matter of secrecy between those present, gentlemen.”
“Oh, we’d be more than happy to do that, wouldn’t we, men?” Leo sent Marcus a glare, and he grunted his consent.
“It is my hope you have a great deal of money, as tonight’s offering will fetch quite a price,” Madam Cecile said after the forms had been signed.
“We have more than enough,” Leo said, sliding an arm around her waist.
Marcus followed his friends into a large room. Men were milling about, and before them was a black velvet curtain.
“I need to find her now,” Marcus growled. “If she is the woman they are auctioning tonight, I will not allow all these men to see her, not if she is to be my wife.”
�
��Yes, I can see that could be awkward for you,” Leo whispered.
“Not for me, but Charlotte,” Marcus hissed.
“Of course. Nick and I will create a distraction, you and Jacob then slip out and find Charlotte,” Leo said.
There were enough men in the room that Marcus and Jacob could wander to a door as they chatted, waiting for a diversion they knew was seconds away. Marcus was aware of several familiar faces. Some surprised him, others didn’t, but they had not stopped to converse.
“I say, Trindley, is that a rodent on your collar? By jove, it is!”
Leo’s words had all eyes turning, and seconds later, Marcus and Jacob had slipped through the door and into a hall. They searched several rooms, but none yielded Charlotte. She was there, Marcus could feel her close, and the urgency inside him was palpable now.
“Someone’s coming!” Jacob hissed. They slipped into one of the empty rooms and closed the door, leaving a small opening.
“Bring the girl, the men are ready.” It was Madam Cécile’s voice.
“Excellent, sister. I think we shall make a tidy profit this night.”
Madame Cécile laughed. “It is the first time I have auctioned an innocent woman of breeding.”
The man snorted. “She is a bastard, sister. Thus her blood is tainted.”
“Such a snob, my darling.”
The voices disappeared, and Marcus had the confirmation he needed that Charlotte was there, and about to be auctioned to the highest bidder.
“I’m going to burn this place down when she’s safe!” he growled.
“Perhaps we shall wait until it's empty first.”
“Let’s go.” Marcus slipped out the door and headed to the right, in the direction the man had taken. He found a narrow staircase and climbed, once again with Jacob on his heels.
Charlotte had managed to spit out some of the vile liquid they kept feeding her, but her head still felt light, and she was struggling to focus. Whenever someone entered the room, she tried to appear docile, and so far it had worked. She had allowed them to dress her in this horrid night gown. It was thin and silky, and her breasts were exposed, as were her thighs from the long splits in the skirt.
Lamplight lit her room, and she realized night had fallen, and that she had been missing now for many hours. Had anyone realized she was gone and started looking for her?
“I am extremely tempted to keep you for myself, Charlotte,” Mr. Hollander said, coming into her room once more. She let him touch her arm and trail his fingers over her chest and down one breast.
Fighting back the shudder of revulsion, she gave him a blank look.
“I used to watch you bathe.” The fingers touched her ribs. “I’d come into your room and watch you sleep sometimes, and I was tempted to pull back the covers and take you, but because your father wanted you a virgin when you married Squire Lorne, I did not.”
She said nothing, just looked up at him with unfocused eyes as she tried not to shudder at his words. She had thought herself alone in that room at night, but he had been watching her.
“Again I am to be thwarted, it seems.” He ran his fingers over her stomach. “But my sister is right, and you will fetch a high price for your innocence.”
“I-I am not innocent.” She shouldn’t have said the words, but they had left her mouth before she could stop them.
He laughed at her. “Given the life you have led, Charlotte, I would not be surprised were you not. I also know that you have the soul of a puritan, and would not give your innocence to a man you did not love, without force.”
And she had given it to the man she loved, so at least in that Charlotte could be thankful. Whatever this night and her future held, no one could take that away from her. She loved Marcus, and he had been the first man to know her intimately, even if he did not return her feelings.
“There is no need to weep, my dear.”
She hadn’t realized she was crying, but thoughts of never seeing Marcus again hurt so much that she knew they would not be the only ones she wept over him.
“Prepare yourself now, Charlotte, you are about to meet your future master.”
She let him pull her to her feet and stumbled as he led her toward the door. Her head reeled, and her feet felt as if they belonged to someone else as she stumbled against him. Dear God, what was to become of her if she could not manage to escape? Shutting out thoughts of Marcus, she tried to concentrate, tried to collect her thoughts so that if the chance to escape presented itself she could take it.
They had just stepped into the hallway when she was pushed back into the room, and the door shut in her face.
Pressing her face against the wood, Charlotte heard David address someone, questioning why he was on that floor. She could then hear no more as the voices grew distant.
Now was her chance. If she could slip from the room and find a way out, she could go back to Marcus. Could she be his mistress? Would knowing she could see him be enough for her? Her head hurt, she felt unsteady, and now was not the time to make this decision. That time would come when she was free; only then could she decide which course her future would take.
As Charlotte reached for the handle, it slowly turned under her fingers. Stumbling, she fell, landing on her bottom. Her heart plunged to her toes, knowing that she had missed her opportunity and David had returned. Watching the door open, she waited, but it was not David who appeared.
“Marcus.” His eyes lowered to where she sat on the floor. “H-help me, Marcus,” Charlotte sobbed, holding out a hand toward him.
“Thank God.” He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. Shutting the door, he leaned against it, holding her in a fierce grip. “Sssh, now.” He pressed her head into his chest and wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her close as she sobbed into his chest. “I have you, sweetheart.”
“I-I was dr-drugged, Marcus,” she whispered into his chest.
“I’m going to kill every person behind this,” he rasped, and she felt his lips in her hair. “Are you unhurt otherwise, Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“We need to leave now, love. Can you walk?”
His endearments sounded wonderful.
“Yes, I think so.” She wanted to touch the angles of his cheekbones, trail her fingers along his jaw and then do it all again with her mouth. “It is not safe h-here,” she managed to stutter out, then realized how foolish she sounded. “I—”
“I haven’t given you a reason to trust me, sweetheart, but I want you to try now because I promise to get us both out of here safely.” He spoke the words against her lips and then kissed her. It was soft and sweet and made the tears fall faster.
“I do trust you.”
His hands held her cheeks again as he looked into her eyes before he nodded and then kissed her again. Opening the door, he checked the hallway was clear before taking her hand and leading her from the room.
Head spinning from the drug and the fact that Marcus had come to rescue her, Charlotte stumbled after him.
They walked into another room, this one lit by moonlight coming in through the narrow windows, and Marcus locked the door behind them. It had a large bed draped in red silk, heaped with pillows. Releasing her hand, Charlotte watched Marcus walk to a row of clothing. He moved with such grace for a big man, always so confident. He was a man who knew his place in the world, unlike her, Charlotte thought. She’d never known her place and was not sure she ever would. Watching as he walked along the row of clothes, she thought he was quite simply the most beautiful person she had ever known.
“So handsome and graceful,” she sighed.
He turned with a long blue coat in his hands and Charlotte realized she had spoken her thoughts out loud. He picked up something from the floor before coming back to her side.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said solemnly, before he dropped to his knees and put the shoes on her, lifting each foot gently before sliding them into a slipper.
“I-I’m not myself.” Ch
arlotte felt compelled to whisper, should she say something else in an unguarded moment. Her head seemed filled with dust.
“Are you trying to retract that statement?” He regained his feet and fed first one arm and then the other into the coat sleeves before he buttoned it up to her neck.
“No.” Charlotte stared into his blue eyes. “You are those things and so many m-more.”
“And you are sweet and beautiful, and I would like to spend hours showing you how I feel about both your mind and your body, Charlotte, but as we are pressed for time, I shall do so when we reach the safety of my home.”
“Th-they drugged me.”
“You told me that, but if you had not, I would be able to tell by your eyes.”
“How do they tell you?” Charlotte wrinkled her nose.
His smile was gentle as he steered her toward the window. “There is danger in this house for us both, love, but most especially you. Therefore, we must leave now.”
“Oh, y-yes, of course.” How could she have forgotten that?
The window Marcus tried to open was jammed, so he had to use force.
“You’re very strong for a nobleman.”
“Thank you.”
“I would like to have muscles sometimes, so I could punch a few of the men I encounter.”
His laugh was soft. “I hope I am not counted among the people you wish to thump, my sweet?”
Charlotte shook her head, but as his back was to her, he didn’t see. “I could never punch the man I love.”
The window opened in a rush before he turned to face her.
“You love me?”
“I should not, but yes, I do.” Charlotte squinted as she tried to focus on him.
“Charlotte, sweetheart,”—he reached for her—“now is not the time for this discussion, but I want you to know that your words please me greatly.” Before she could draw breath, he had picked her up and was stepping out of the window and into the cool night air.
“M-Marcus.” Charlotte gulped in the air before looking down. “I do not like heights.”
“It’s all right.” He brushed his lips over her forehead, and she realized they were standing on a wide ledge that ran the length of the building. “We are going to climb down from the window, Charlotte, but you will be safe, as I will be with you the entire way.”
