“Of course, your lover will want to have exclusivity as a requirement. And would most likely want you to take some of that as gifts rather than cash. Most men enjoy adorning their lover.”
How disgustingly rich were these men? Even fifty pounds per year would feel like untold riches to her. They could afford to give twenty times that to a lover? And a house besides?
“What sort of a house?” she asked.
“Somewhere moderately fashionable. Convenient to your protector. If you like I could fetch the carriage and take you on a tour of the sorts of houses that I mean.”
“No,” she said abruptly. “No, I'm quite- It's quite fine. I don't need to see them.”
“And that brings us to what I think you would find the least appealing part of this.” He stopped and looked at her appraisingly. “The charm of bedding an unobtainable girl will wear off quickly. Your lover would expect something to keep him coming back or you would find your contract ended rather quickly.”
She'd never felt her flesh creep so violently before, as though a whole army had crossed her grave. Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a step back. “I'm not sure I can continue this discussion.”
He crossed his arms and continued his open perusal of her form. “A Papist girl from Ireland, but you seem well-spoken enough. Do you read?”
Did he have to be so horrid? “Yes.”
“Finn, Lord Cole, has an active mind. I suggest you read the newspaper to stay apprised of goings-on. Who is your favorite author?”
“Swift,” she said. “The Irishman. You may have heard of him.”
“Jonathan Swift? Indeed.” His head tilted as though he considered the information. “I'd not think you the fan of a satirist.”
“Satire is only the truth told with a dry wit, something we Irish happen to excel at.”
He chuckled and smiled at her. Not one of the sardonic or polite smiles she had seen from him before, a true smile that lit his eyes and made his serious face suddenly handsome. “Point taken, Miss O'Malley. But wasn't Swift a Protestant?”
“As are you, I assume, yet here I am trying not to hold it against you.”
The smile bloomed into a grin. “Miss O'Malley, I see you aim to bruise more than just a man's arm.”
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
With his mention of a bruise, she worried her lower lip. “Did I bruise you? Then I should apologize for that. Although,” she added more darkly, “not for the reason I did it.”
“Indeed not,” he agreed, turning to take her back to the Enchanted Cave. “We'll blame my ill humor on my travel and leave it with my promise to never do such a thing again.”
“Very well,” she agreed.
“So I have the right of it, you've your eye on Lord Cole?”
She took a deep breath as he'd learned she did whenever facing a harsh reality. “He's pursued me for some time now, so I suppose I'm considering letting him catch me. Only considering it, mind you.”
Galen was glad that he had come out today after all. Having Finn settle his interest by taking Miss O'Malley as a lover was far preferable. Perhaps he never should have worried about it. Finn was by far the most charming man of his acquaintance. Miss O'Malley may have led him a merry chase, but of course Finn would win out in the end. It was inevitable.
Should he worry about the other girls and the hold they had on the rest of the Mad Clan? From what he had seen, those girls seemed capital at fishing the pockets of three men who could ill afford it. Oscar's father had restricted his allowance so many times that Galen was certain it was no more than a tenth of where it had started. Neither Bran nor Conan had much of an allowance to start with. With the amounts he had seen them spend on gambling and drink at the Enchanted Cave, not to mention the women, they were undoubtedly piling up debts. It behooved him to find out who they might be lending from. Could Finn be giving his friends additional funds so that he could justify lingering here and flirting with Miss O'Malley? That sounded like something Finn might do, and an easy enough way to purchase the compliance of the other three. Not that any of the Mad Clan went against Finn, but Galen hadn't heard so much as a grumble from the men about missing some of their favorite entertainments.
Be that as it may, things were finally going well. Miss O'Malley would become Finn's mistress, hopefully well before the suggested bout with one of Gentleman Jackson's fighters. Then Galen could go back to what he enjoyed. Things such as travel and reading. A Swift novel seemed in order, certainly. Something by which to remember the redoubtable Miss O'Malley.
* * * *
The walk back to the Enchanted Cave was mostly in silence. It wasn't uneasy, just two people who had much to think over. For her part, there was far too much to think about. Would it be worth her soul, possibly eternal damnation, to have the blunt for her family to do whatever they wanted? Her sister could join the convent. She could purchase a apprenticeship for her brother. Her parents need never worry over food or wood for the fire again. The little ones could grow up to be whatever they wanted.
But was this, then, another devil's trap? It sounded so good to be able to provide for them all. Too good. She would pray on it for some time.
Quietly taking her leave of Lord Mornay, she entered the house to hear shouting and then glass breaking. Louella Cage grabbed her arm.
“Do something about your sisters! They've lost what little minds they had.”
Louella pushed her into the parlor, where the other three sisters were faced off against one another. Their hair was wild and bodices ripped. They had undoubtedly been fighting. Glass had been smashed against one wall, most likely one of the bowls Louella loved to set out all over the house.
Feeling a good deal more like her mother than she ever had before, Maeve crossed her arms and demanded, “What's this then?”
“You're planning to steal him, aren't you?” Eva accused.
“Who?” Maeve asked, although she suspected she knew the answer.
“Lord Mornay,” Bridget said with a sneer. “We saw you go walking with him.”
“And you kissed him last night,” Margie said, her tone as cold and angry as Maeve had ever heard it.
“So you've all decided to rip into each other because of something you think I'm doing? Back home that would earn you the nickname eejit.”
Eva smirked. “Bridget the eejit.”
“You're horrible!” Bridget yelled. “All of you. I hate you.”
The little strawberry blond stomped out of the room.
“Well,” Maeve said, “two to one is still pretty good odds if you want to fight over it.”
That seemed to take the wind from Margie's sails. “I don't want to fight over it. I just want a man like Mornay to myself.”
“As far as I'm concerned you can have him. You can all have him.”
Eva frowned. “Then why-”
“I asked him about Lord Cole.”
Margie smiled. “That's a good girl.”
It felt odd to be praised for trying to find a protector to prostitute herself to. Eva joined in as well.
“The viscount who will be an earl. Certainly better than a baron. Although hasn't he, I don't know, turned almost brotherly toward you of late?”
Maeve felt a little snake of fear in the garden of her nascent dreams. “What do you mean?”
Eva shrugged, looking to Margie as though for agreement. “He stopped calling you 'lovely Miss O'Malley' and started showing you a better way to throw a punch.”
“He has been a bit that way of late,” Margie agreed, “but he may be trying not to scare our poor little duck off.”
Eva shrugged again and rubbed at her bruised knuckles, then turned a smile on Maeve. “So did you tell Lord Mornay all about me?”
Margie chuckled. “You'd best hope she didn't.”
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Galen wasn't at all surprised when Oscar strolled into his office on Tuesday morning.
“You've been a hard man to find of late,” his friend complained.
“I haven't meant to be,” Galen returned.
Oscar settled into the chair across from him, expression attentive. It was possible that watching this drama unfold was the most fun Os had had all year. “So?” Oscar prompted. “What happened on Saturday?”
“You mean when Cage set that drunkard onto Miss O'Malley?”
“Yes, and then I thought you and Finn might tear the crowd apart to get to her.”
Galen paused for a moment. Oscar's description sounded intense, desperate. He hadn't been desperate, had he? It had just seemed the thing to do at the time. No woman should have to face a large, drunken man in a contest, even if she was capable of putting him down in the first round. He wouldn't think too much on it now.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose it was a worthy investment, because Miss O'Malley has asked me what would be required for her to be Finn's mistress.”
“Oh ho!” Oscar slapped his leg and laughed. “Jolly good! And what did you say?”
Galen's smile slipped a bit. He'd counseled her to protect herself with a contract, to argue for cash and a house. To keep herself interesting so that Finn wouldn't cast her off when the exultation of conquest had worn thin. He'd neither sung his friend's praises nor tried to glaze the truth of the thing with her. “That's she'd best catch him before his interest fled elsewhere, of course.”
Once the humor of the tale wore off, he saw Oscar looking at him with that insightful gaze he sometimes had. “Are you sure she was asking after Finn?”
Galen frowned. “What do you mean?”
“And not you? Many people will only speak indirectly about a thing.”
“She clearly doesn't care for me at all.”
“And yet she spoke to you about becoming another man's mistress?”
“Who else could she talk to?”
“Me, Eva, fairly much anyone else she knows. But she picked you.”
His friend's line of questions was making Galen feel out of sorts. “I waylaid her when she was walking back from church. Perhaps it just happened to be on her mind.”
“On her way back from church!” Oscar hooted with laughter again. “Yes, every girl considers her lovers on her way back from church.”
Galen didn't find it nearly as funny as Os did. Miss O'Malley was clearly a serious and cautious sort. If something was weighing on her mind then of course she would consider it when walking back from church. She probably thought on it still.
Oscar settled himself again. “I must say, if father didn't keep my purse strings so tight I'd consider setting Eva up in a house for myself.”
“Don't get too attached to her, Os. She's a wild one and far from settling down.”
“That's what makes her so entertaining.”
“Off in a house by herself she would bring in a string of lovers, and who knows what else.”
Oscar lowered his brows in the way that signaled annoyance. “Are you trying to be my older brother again, Gale? You know I have far too many of those as it stands already.”
“Of course not,” Galen said hastily. “I was only thinking of your happiness.”
“Then stop being such a horrid host and pour the brandy.”
* * * *
Tuesdays were given to training the less experienced girls. Now Maeve was sore and sweaty. If this latest collection of girls were to have any hopes of showcasing as fighters, they would need to toughen up. Willy, now given more choices as the house became more popular, was obviously picking them for their looks rather than any interest or talent in fighting. It was frustrating. He didn't have to train them and didn't care how much time Maeve spent making sure they were at least safe in their bouts. That they at least knew the rudiments of rules. Everything could go terribly wrong in a fight, especially if tempers flew high. That was how people lost eyes, teeth, and hair. It was one thing to have blood on the sand because of a split lip, quite another because an ear had almost been twisted off or some skin raked open from long nails on an open fist. If that was the sort of fighting ring that Willy wanted to run, then he could jolly well run it without her.
She knew those were big words as soon as they ran through her mind. She had no choices. If she were lucky, if she could convince herself to do it and Lord Cole accepted her, then she could escape to the role of mistress. Otherwise, she saw no avenue that led to anything other than privation.
After giving herself a quick sponge bath she went downstairs to find something to eat. Passing through the main floor, she saw Louella, Ruby, and Bridget talking in the corner. Bridget started guiltily upon seeing her, which struck her as odd. But working most of the day had left her famished and she hurried on without thinking on it much.
In the kitchens she found her other sisters. Eva was turning out a crust for pies and Margie was turning the spit for roast. As they ate, cooked, and chatted it almost seemed like old times. Like before Lord Mornay had arrived and upset the sisters with his promise of choosing a mistress. They teased about starting a coffee shop where Eva would bake her pies and Margie would serve guests and keep her eye on the money. Maeve wished she could believe in such a dream. It was far preferable to her than imagining herself some man's whore.
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER TWENTY
Galen decided to stop worrying about the Enchanted Cave, but the more he told himself that, the more he worried. Had Finn and Maeve discussed terms yet? Did they need someone to negotiate for them? Was Maeve planning to fight this Saturday? Surely Finn wouldn't want to risk her being injured. Was Oscar even this minute being foolish about Eva?
If he was too foolish, he would have the duke cutting his allowance yet again. That would probably only lead to Oscar playing too deep in cards. He was a good enough player to make money on average, but a poor enough drinker to lose horribly at precisely the wrong time. It was just that sort of behavior that had led to the duke restricting his budget in the first place. The less he had, the less his little addled brain would assume he could lose. At least, that was the logic the duke had hoped would work. At times it did, but at other times the duke had to quietly settle debts across Town and demand his son return to their country seat for the duration.
Suffice to say, his father's absolute control over everything in his life drove Oscar quite mad. Sometimes that led to Oscar being as little trouble as possible, so as to stay out of this father's way. Other times it led to bad behavior. Galen hoped this wouldn't be one of those times of bad behavior.
Meanwhile, none of this rumination was helping him to review grain reports, answer correspondence, or plan out his planting season. Needing more room on his desk to spread out his papers, he covered the copy of A Tale of Tub he'd been reading earlier. It made him wonder if their little Papist paragon had read Swift's religious satire. How did she reconcile her catechism with more intellectual pursuits? Not that he knew her to be necessarily intellectual. Perhaps she had only thrown out Swift's name because she knew him to be Irish, but didn't know anything of what he wrote.
Bloody hell, he was thinking about the damnable Enchanted Cave again. Tonight he would find Finn and they would go. The sooner negotiations were started the sooner he could put all this behind him.
* * * *
Wednesday was another day when the sisters practiced together. Bridget ran late and Maeve wondered if the girl would avoid them all completely. The little minx had been snubbing them since the fight on Sunday, and missed Monday's practice. She'd had to gall later to say she had forgotten. Forgotten! They'd been practicing three times a week for the entire six months they had been here.
Bridget strolled out to the courtyard a good ten minutes after the clock had struck, but her demeanor was cheerful instead of dour.
“I need to speak to you all!” It came out as an excited whisper and she waved the others close. “I've been talking to Louella and we have an idea.”
Maeve already didn't like it.
“Sinc
e we can't get our boys to take us on as mistresses, we must find another way to make them pay.”
Eva gave a shrewd smile. “What's this idea?”
“There has been some talk that something your Oscar did two years ago sent his father, the duke, to paying off a lot of people. Your Oscar spent an entire year away from town.”
“Do we know what this thing is?”
Bridget shook her head. “That's where we come in. One of our boys has to know. All of them might know.”
Eva nodded, considering. “We find out, we make them pay again to keep it quiet.”
“Exactly. Then none of us has to have a protector because we all have enough money to take care of ourselves.”
Maeve shook her head. “This isn't right.”
“It's also dangerous to tangle with a duke,” Margie cautioned. “Not to mention the viscount and baron.”
Bridget cajoled. “But the baron is just going to keep stringing us along for his own entertainment. He's made us dance to try to please him, and to torture his friends. Isn't that worth some revenge?”
“Oscar didn't do anything to you,” Eva pointed out.
“But he's the key,” Bridget said. “They'll want to protect him. His father will want to protect him.”
“And who will protect us?” Margie wanted to know.
Maeve felt as though her world was falling into darkness. First, she had to consider becoming a man's mistress. Now, her friends were considering extortion and blackmail. She crossed herself and wished, once again, that she could have joined a convent.
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Galen felt like he had almost bodily dragged Finn to the Enchanted Cave for the evening, and indeed found that he might have been fully capable of such a thing. He wanted this resolved. He wanted to move on, get back to his normal life. There was a reason he no longer ran with the Mad Clan on all of their adventures. He was a quiet and solitary creature by nature. He preferred to do his work, read, and take his exercise mostly with walks, especially back home in Cumberland. The lakes and ridges of his home were peaceful and serene. Completely unlike this garish hell hole.
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