by Lavinia Kent
“God, Jazzy, you always were obstinate. Why will you not see reason?”
“I have seen reason. You simply do not like my conclusions. Why do you think it is reasonable to expect a mother to abandon her child?”
After her own mother’s death two years ago, Cynthia had certainly felt abandoned, and she had been nearly an adult. The thought of intentionally doing that to a child was horrible. How could James even suggest such a thing?
Again the pacing. This time James stalked to the far window and stared out. Cynthia had to fight the desire to inch further away. If he turned the right way, surely he would see her. Although this meant she could see him, or at least more of him. He was turned away, and from her position flat on the floor the settee still blocked a good portion of his body. He certainly had gotten tall. He must have been a foot taller and more muscular than he had been the last time she had knowingly seen him, and he had been tall then. His hair was about the same, dark and curly—perhaps slightly shorter. Or was it that his neck was longer? He wore a dark coat over tight buckskins and those shiny black Hessians she had already seen to much of. She wished he would turn—that he would give her a chance to see his face, to know if he were still beautiful, still…Although if she could see his face it would mean that he could see her, and…
“There has to be a way. There has to.” He spoke vehemently, but Cynthia was not sure whether he was addressing Jasmine or himself. “You cannot stay at Madame Rouge’s.”
“I have changed the name to Madame Blanche’s. I believe it was Madame Noir’s before Ruby took over. I am undecided on whether I should give myself a new name beyond Madame Blanche. I was thinking Diamond, or perhaps Camilla. Something white. Daisy? Although Jasmine is white, so perhaps I can simply stay the course.”
James shoulders drew tight, the muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Goddammit, Jazzy. Are you trying to torment me? You know this cannot work.”
“Why, because it stops you from coming here? Oh, yes, Ruby told me. She always noticed when you came. It made her most uncomfortable. She was never sure if you did it on purpose.”
“What on earth are you talking about? And why on earth should she share such a thing with you? Who tells a girl about her brother’s visits to brothel? Did she tell you what I did here?”
“No, but I can guess. There seem to be three main reasons people come here. You have never shown a preference for other men, so that rules out one. You are not known to dally with married women, so that rules out two. Which means you must have a fetish. I admit that I am not quite sure what it is, but even there I can guess. You always did like control. Do you like to cause pain as well? Do you use the rooms with whips and chains?”
What? Cynthia could not even imagine such things. Well, she did know about married men and women, but…Her mind spun with curiosity. There were so many things she would have to ask Jasmine.
James turned, drawing her attention, and for the briefest of moments Cynthia caught a glimpse of a strong jaw and sharp profile. Her mind was still spinning and spinning. Whips? Chains? What was Jasmine talking about? And men with men? How was such a thing even possible?
James strode toward his sister, out of Cynthia’s sight, his heels pounding on the floor. “Be quiet, Jazzy. I cannot believe you are saying these things to me. What has happened to you? I made myself believe that you had been cruelly used by some man, but now I begin to fear that perhaps you are…”
“Are what? A slut? A whore? And what are you? I had relations with one man, once. How many women have you been with? And how often have you paid for your pleasure? And what other things have you done?” The chair creaked as Jasmine rose from it. “I have learned much since I came here—things that if I’d known before would have made my life better, would have saved me much trouble—but do you know what the big thing I’ve learned is? I’ve learned how harshly men judge women. I mean, I always knew it. I knew there were different rules. But being here as shown me how different—and what little thought men even give to the subject. I have not met one girl here who is mean or evil or less than me in any way except by chance of upbringing and education. I certainly take no pride in my birth.”
“How can you say that, Jasmine? Birth is what determines who we are.”
“Do you hear yourself, my brother? Do you really think you are better than any other man because your father is a duke? I certainly don’t, at least not any more.”
The baby, whom Cynthia had almost forgotten, gave a single loud cry and then a series of bleats.
Jasmine continued, “And now I will ask you to leave. You are upsetting Hope and nobody and nothing is allowed to do that.”
“You would put your bastard above your brother?”
“Without a second thought. Now, do I have to call for those footmen we discussed earlier?”
James turned and strode to the door. “No, dear sister, I will not put you to that much trouble, but be sure that I will be back. You will not be staying here. You will not live this life. I promise you that.”
The door creaked open and then slammed shut.
Silence echoed through the room, interrupted only by a few more little noises from Hope.
Jasmine gently shushed her daughter a few times and then turned and walked to the same window that James had so briefly stared out.
Cynthia pushed up to her knees, unsure whether to interrupt her moment of quiet. Did Jasmine even remember that she was here?
As if sensing her question, Jasmine turned back to her. “I wish you had not heard that. Would you believe we were once close? I thought he was my best friend in the world. I would never have believed I would not be able to depend on him.”
Cynthia braced a hand on the back of the settee and stood. “Don’t forget how well I know you—both of you. Although I always thought that I was your best friend in the world. And I do think he is trying to help you. His statements are not illogical. No, don’t give me that look. I do understand how you feel….Only…only I am not sure that I would have before I held Hope, felt how small and fragile she is, felt how much she needs you.”
Jasmine lowered her head to stare down at the baby, the baby who had quieted, although her tiny limbs still waved occasionally. “You do understand. And I need her. I think that is what I was not expecting. She opens up some part of me that I never knew was there. She makes me be a better person than ever I have been before.”
Cynthia smiled. “You are starting to sound like a novel. All you need is to fall to your knees and declare something to the heavens.”
Jasmine did not laugh. “I think I am coming to understand that such words have been written because on many levels they are true.”
Cynthia let the thought work through her. “I must admit that I have never felt such a thing. Nobody has ever made me want to better than I am.”
“That is because you are already perfect.”
“Hardly that, or I would not have waited so long before I came to find you. I am sorry, Jasmine.”
“Release yourself from that guilt. There is nothing you could have done—and I know you were still suffering from your mother’s loss. It was my decision that sealed me to this fate, no one else’s. And when I look at Hope I cannot even regret it.”
“That I cannot quite understand, but I do believe you.”
Jasmine raised her head again. “And now you have met my daughter, so it is time for you to go.”
“But…”
“You do not want to be late returning, and it is time for this little one,” she nodded down at Hope, “to settle in for a good nap so that I can get ready for this evening.”
Cynthia was about to say that she would return, but she held her tongue. She did not want to give Jasmine the chance to say no. “I will do as you wish.” She walked to the chair that held her pile of veils, glad that James had not noticed them. Although what he would have made of them she could not say.
Stopping, she turned back to Jasmine, fighting to be bold enough to ask the fi
rst of the questions that still echoed in her mind. “What did you mean by whips and chains?”
—
Blast. Blast. Bloody hell.
That had not gone as he’d planned, not as he’d wanted it to. James stalked down to the street, heading to his club. He had expected that Jasmine would be happy to see him, delighted to know that he wished to help. He’d expected to be greeted as rescuer, a hero. Instead she’d been almost belligerent. Was father correct that she was not right in the head?
He’d never seen any sign of madness in her, and it certainly didn’t run in the family. He’d heard that sexual excitement could lead a woman to mental decay, but he’d never believed it. He’d known plenty of women, some quite intimately, who certainly enjoyed sex, relished it even, without any sign that they were not quite right. If anything, they were among the more civilized and sane woman he knew.
He’d had appointments with several of them at Madame Rouge’s. He’d always found the establishment to be of the highest quality, more than ready to meet any need or desire he might have. A slow smile started to spread across his face—and then vanished.He might personally like the place, that didn’t mean he wanted his sister there.
There was nothing that would be more unsuitable.
And that wasn’t even thinking about the child.
How could Jazzy be a mother?
His guts churned at the thought.
His sweet little sister had never even kissed anyone to the best of his knowledge—and now…
Fuck. If he knew who had ruined her, he’d kill the man, and not gently. Gutting might be appropriate.
Despite his comments to Jasmine, he could only believe that she had been forced. He refused to believe that she would have gotten into this situation willingly unless she’d thought herself in love, and in that circumstance surely she would have married the man before it could be remarked that her child was early.
He should have kept a better eye on her these last years. He should have been sure that no one could take advantage of her. He should have…
There were too many should-haves.
He would have to be sure that there were no more.
And that meant one thing.
He would have to take things in hand, have to make sure that Jasmine was removed to somewhere safe until reason returned to her. He would do whatever it took, whatever was required.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
randomhousebooks.com
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
* * *
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
