Playing the Part

by Jen Turano

  Having no desire to pick up a book she’d already read, especially since all the words she’d read were firmly engraved on her mind, Lucetta blew out a breath, rose off the divan, and moved to the window, one that had been painted pink, and one that had been nailed shut. Since all the windows on the building she was being held in had been boarded over, having seen them from her vantage point of being slung over the shoulder of one of the menacing brutes who’d snatched her from Ravenwood, she knew it would be useless to break the window— something she’d contemplated numerous times anyway over the time she’d been held captive.

  She’d also been contemplating her relationship with God quite often, that contemplation brought about because she’d taken to praying for help . . . frequently. But as the days slipped away and Silas continued on with what could only be described as a cat-and-mouse game by not putting in an appearance, Lucetta had come to the conclusion that God might have abandoned her. Not that she could blame Him, of course, especially since, uncomfortable as it had been to admit it to herself, she’d faltered in her faith walk, had been faltering for a very long time, and simply kept up the pretense that she was a woman of faith because she hadn’t wanted to delve into the reasons behind her annoyance with God.

  Clearly, God had known of her annoyance with Him. What she was becoming more and more ashamed of, though, as the hours ticked away, was that she, like so many people who’d faltered in their relationship with God, had had no qualms about asking Him for assistance when disaster had fallen. And that—

  The sound of a creaking door pulled Lucetta from her thoughts. Turning from the window, she watched the door open, expecting to find one of the women Silas had paid to deliver meals entering the room. Unfortunately, as the door opened wider, it revealed none other than Silas Ruff, looking as confident as ever as he strode into the room, his gaze traveling from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes that were peeping out from beneath one of the red crushed-velvet gowns he’d left for her to wear.

  “Aren’t you just a vision,” Silas said, the intensity of his gaze causing Lucetta’s skin to feel as if it were about to crawl right off her body and hide behind one of the tacky pink drapes.

  Lucetta inclined her head, forcing down the bile rising in her throat as she summoned up her most arrogant demeanor. “Silas, how nice of you to come calling.”

  Silas smiled. “I knew if I left you to your own devices for a bit, you’d be anxious for my company.”

  “I’m anxious to be released,” she countered. “I’ve grown tired of my prison and have matters of great importance to attend to, so I demand you let me go.” Lucetta forced herself to meet his gaze, doing her very best to ignore the fact her knees had taken to knocking underneath the hideous gown she’d had no choice but to wear.

  She’d actually considered refusing to don any of the clothing Silas had provided, but since one of the women who’d been looking after her had made off with the clothing she’d been wearing while she was taking a bath, she hadn’t had much choice in the matter.

  Languishing about unclothed was certainly not a state she’d wanted Silas to discover her in.

  “I’m afraid you’re in no position to demand anything, my darling, and I have no intention of releasing you—now or in the foreseeable future.” Silas gestured to the divan. “What say you we get comfortable?”

  “I’m fine where I am.”

  “Sit down.”

  The ice in his voice chilled her to her very soul, and since her knees were now about to give out on her instead of simply knocking about, she moved to the divan and sat. Dipping her head, she took a moment to adjust the skirt of her gown, a moment she needed to collect her composure.

  It would not do to allow Silas to see her fear. He was a man who thrived on intimidation, depravity, self-indulgence, and cruelty. Giving him any ammunition would not serve her well in the end, which was why she knew she needed to present him with the Lucetta he thought her to be—cool, reserved, and . . . haughty. Lifting her head when she was relatively certain she’d gotten her emotions under control, she sent him an arch of a single brow.

  Taking a seat in a poufy chair upholstered in pink floral that was right next to the divan, Silas considered her for what felt like forever. The tip of his tongue darted out of his fleshy lips, moistening them, the sight of that tongue prompting bile to once again rise up in Lucetta’s throat.

  “I’ve decided to make you my mistress.”

  A small thread of temper mixed in with the fear traveling through her veins. “Have you now?”

  “I bought this building just for you, and had the top floor decorated in a manner I was quite certain, given your dramatic attitude, you’d appreciate.”

  Lucetta drew in a breath—refusing to allow Silas the satisfaction of even glancing at some of the more gaudy pieces in the room he was pointing out—and waited until he’d run out of words before she lifted her chin another notch.

  “I’d like to know, if you please, how you came to the conclusion I’d be receptive to the idea of becoming your mistress.”

  Silas settled back in the chair, folding his hands across a stomach that strained against the buttons of the jacket he was wearing. “Come now, dear. There’s no need to continue playing coy. You’ve led me on a merry chase these past few years, never affording me an audience after your performances, and neglecting to answer the notes I sent asking you to join me for a late-night dinner here or there.” He wiggled a finger in her direction. “You and I know full well that you did so in order to increase your value.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain about that.”

  He continued speaking as if she hadn’t voiced a reply. “I’m willing to allow you to live here, amongst this lavish setting, and will provide you with your very own personal maid, a carriage with matching bays, a driver for that carriage, and . . . give you the pleasure of my company until I tire of you.”

  She dug her fingernails into the tender skin of her palm so that she wouldn’t be tempted to rake them across the man’s face. “I have my own carriage, thank you very much, as well as a lovely place to stay, and while I’m flattered you want to spend time in my company, I do have a profession I need to get back to. That means I am—regretfully, of course—going to have to refuse your simply charming offer to become your mistress.”

  Her head snapped back from his slap before she’d even realized he’d gotten up from his chair. Blinking to hold back tears that longed to fall, she lifted her chin and ignored the pain in her cheek as Silas retook his seat and immediately took to staring at her.

  His eyes were filled with something hot, something she was certain verged on the edge of true insanity, and that insanity chilled her straight through her bones.

  “It wasn’t an offer, my dear,” he finally said quite pleasantly. “But enough about that.” He nodded to a piano across the room. “Since I’ve paid a small fortune to track you down, after spending far too much time on that wild goose chase your guard sent me on, I find myself in need of soothing. A nice tune by Bach would be lovely right about now. You’ll find the sheet music in the bench.”

  For a second, she thought about refusing, but the stinging in her cheek and the knowledge that he wouldn’t be opposed to slapping her other cheek if she didn’t comply with his demand had her rising from the divan. Shaking out the folds of her skirt, she made her way to the piano and found the sheet music exactly where he’d said. Not bothering to tell him that, even though she knew how to read music, she didn’t exactly have a light hand on the keys, she sat, squared her shoulders, and began to play.

  Before she’d made it through an entire page of notes, Silas was standing by her side, his face mottled and his eyes blazing. “Play it properly,” he demanded when she lifted her fingers from the keys.

  “That was me playing it properly.”

  Bracing herself for another slap when his eyes narrowed, Lucetta was spared another bout of pain when a knock sounded on the door right before it opened and one o
f the women Silas had hired stepped into the room.

  “The dinner you ordered is ready, sir.”

  “Wonderful!” Silas exclaimed. “We’ll eat at the small table, if you please.”

  While another woman pushed a tray filled with silver-domed dishes into the room, Silas turned back to her and offered her his hand. Not quite brave enough to decline the offer, Lucetta placed her hand in his, refusing a shudder when their skin made contact. He tightened his fingers around hers before tugging her to her feet, and then, with a hand settled against her back, he ushered her over to the small table, and then into a straight-backed chair. Taking his seat opposite her, he smiled as he nodded at all the dishes being set before them, too many to actually fit on the table, which had the two women leaving some of them on the cart. Bobbing curtsies to Silas, they left the room on silent feet.

  “We’ll be dining on terrapin tonight, my dear. A delicacy I’m certain you will enjoy, as well as the Madeira that will bring out the flavors of our meal.”

  Snapping a linen napkin open, Lucetta placed it over her lap. “I would have thought you’d choose a merlot, what with the rather unusual taste of terrapin.”

  “Are you bringing into question my ability to choose a proper wine?”

  Lucetta forced a shrug. “Not at all. I was just making polite dinner conversation, although I should tell you that I don’t actually enjoy terrapin, so there’ll be no need to serve me any. I’ll content myself with the vegetables those lovely women you’ve hired brought.”

  “Your father enjoys terrapin,” Silas returned. “And enjoys Madeira as well. Although . . .” Silas shook his head sadly. “It is a shame that Nigel overindulges in alcohol so frequently.”

  “Nigel is not my father, Silas, as I’m sure you discovered when you had someone run him to ground.”

  Silas leaned his elbows on the table as he pressed his fingertips together. “Of course he’s not. My mistake. Your father died when you were quite young, didn’t he—of an unexpected case of blood poisoning, from what I’ve been told?”

  Frowning, Lucetta tilted her head. “Did Nigel tell you all of that?”

  “Nigel doesn’t speak of your father, dear. I learned about your father, as well as a good deal about your entire family, from a tracker I hired to look into your past. I thought he was well worth his exorbitant fee, what with the discovery of Nigel. But then . . . after I won you fair and square in that card game, you did the unthinkable and fled.”

  “You and I both know that you didn’t win anything fair and square.”

  When Silas sent her a wink, she almost choked on the small bite of bread she’d put in her mouth. “Come now, dear, surely you’ve figured out that all of this”—he gestured around the room, and at the meal—“as well as the money it took to track you down, was my way of proving to you once and for all that you and I are meant to be together.”

  Lucetta narrowed her eyes. “Rumor has it around town that you’ve been short of funds ever since you and Oliver Addleshaw parted ways.”

  Silas narrowed his eyes back at her until he, curiously enough, laughed. “Is that why you’ve given me such a difficult time, my girl? You think I’ll be unable to keep you in style?”

  Blinking, Lucetta found she had no response to that piece of ridiculousness, but she was spared the need to respond when Silas continued.

  “You’ll be relieved to learn that my wife, harridan that she is, has a great deal of money—although she can be tightfisted with it at times, which means I have to encourage her to send money my way when I’m short on funds.” His smile widened. “But she’s learned over the years it’s easier to simply hand me money rather than have me encourage her to hand it over. That means I’ll have no problem keeping you knee-deep in lovely gowns and whatever other frivolous items you may want.”

  His words had Lucetta setting down the rest of the bread, unable to eat another bite. For a man to speak so casually about encouraging his wife, which could only mean abusing her, made Lucetta physically ill.

  “And while I’m sure that you’ll miss the theater, dear, do know that after you’ve accustomed yourself to me and my . . . needs, I may return you to the theater—if only to allow all of those gentlemen who salivate over you, and have done so for years, to see you performing for me, and only for me as I sit in a private box and watch your every move, and . . .”

  Whatever else Silas intended to say was lost when there was another knock on the door.

  “Go away,” Silas yelled. “Miss Plum and I are in the midst of dining and do not care to be disturbed, nor will we want to be—”

  Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off when there was a very loud explosion and the door blew straight off its hinges.

  As she dove underneath the table, Lucetta heard someone calling her name—someone who, even though she thought him to be a bit of a lunatic, was a far safer lunatic than the man who’d abducted her and had been holding her captive. Scrambling away from Silas, who was trying to grab hold of her leg, she crawled her way to the middle of the sitting room through smoke that made her choke. Pushing to her feet, her gaze settled on a most welcomed sight.

  Bram was striding through the smoke, covered in soot, with his hair standing on end, and he looked downright . . . dangerous.

  Gone was the affable gentleman who had such a charming smile, replaced with a man who had rage in his eyes and determination in every step as he strode ever closer to her.

  Lunatic or not, no one had ever looked more appealing to her than Bram did at that very moment, and when he stopped a foot in front of her and opened his arms, Lucetta didn’t hesitate to jump directly into them.

  20

  As soon as Bram’s arms closed around Lucetta, he felt a strong sense of relief sweep over him.

  Over the past three days, he’d imagined her experiencing one horror after another at the hands of her abductors, but finding her alive eased a little of the terror that had been his constant companion ever since she’d been taken.

  It didn’t ease the fury that still coursed through him, though—fury at Silas Ruff for having the audacity to steal Lucetta from Ravenwood, but also fury at himself for not being able to protect her from Silas in the first place.

  If only he’d been truthful with Lucetta, if only he had told her why he had a dungeon and torture devices and employees who were shackled to the ground, she wouldn’t have felt compelled to storm away from him, and . . . she wouldn’t have been in that hallway at the exact moment abductors, of all things, had come to call, and . . . she’d never have been in such peril.

  “I think you might be cracking my ribs,” Lucetta mumbled into his chest, her words having him release his death grip on her before he took a step—but only a step—away from her.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you” was all he could think to say.

  Lucetta smiled. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you as well, and”—she nodded to Stanley, Ernie, and Mr. Skukman, who were currently sitting on top of Silas Ruff, while Tilda stood guard at the door they’d blown open, looking rather menacing as she kept a pistol at the ready—“I’m delighted to see you brought some assistance as well.” She nodded toward the blown-apart door. “Assistance proficient in the use of dynamite, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “That was me,” Ernie said, sending Lucetta a grin. “Not that I use dynamite all that often anymore,” he hurried to assure her. “But my expertise with the substance does come in remarkably handy at the oddest of times.”

  “Should I ask why Ernie’s an expert with dynamite?” Lucetta asked, turning back to Bram.

  “I would suggest not,” Bram said.

  Wrinkling her nose, Lucetta nodded. “You’re probably right, but tell me, how did you find me?”

  “Using a wide variety of interesting contacts spread throughout the city.” Bram blew out a breath. “Everyone’s been so worried about you.”

  “I’ve been fine,” Lucetta began, nodding when he quirked a brow her
way. “Honestly, I have been. I mean, yes, the men Silas hired to abduct me scared me half to death—especially the man I heard was some sort of tracker—but as soon as they delivered me here, they left and I never saw them again. Truth be told, until today, it’s just been me along with a pack of intimidating women Silas hired to make certain I didn’t escape from this cozy little nest he’s been holding me in.”

  “Silas left you alone until today?”

  “Curious as that may seem, yes. He only showed up about an hour ago.” She smiled. “I do believe he had a most romantic dinner planned for the two of us, but matters got off to a rough start when he demanded I play him a piece by Bach, and discovered I . . . Well, let’s just say that, if you’d compared my playing with Ruby’s, your sister would sound downright competent at the keys.”

  Brushing a strand of honey-golden hair from her face, he returned the smile . . . but felt it fade almost immediately when he got a closer look at her cheek. “Is that a handprint on your face?”

  Lucetta waved it off. “It’s nothing.

  He leaned closer. “Did Silas hit you?”

  “It was more of a slap, but considering I was expecting far worse, well . . .”

  Bram’s hand clenched into a fist. “He touched you?”

  “Well, yes, slapping a person does entail touching, but again, it could have been much worse.”

  “Excuse me.” Stepping around her, he nodded to Mr. Skukman, who was sitting on Silas’s back, arms folded across his chest as if it were an everyday occurrence to lounge around on the back of a man he undoubtedly wanted to strangle. Bram couldn’t help but admire Mr. Skukman’s restraint even though Bram had no intention of following in the man’s footsteps.

  “Would you be so kind as to stand with Lucetta for a moment?” he asked Mr. Skukman.

  “Of course.” After making certain Stanley and Ernie still had Silas firmly under control, Mr. Skukman stood, walked around Bram, and then, to Bram’s surprise, pulled Lucetta into an enthusiastic hug, so enthusiastic that Lucetta’s feet left the ground even as she laughed.