The Dark Regent

by Catherine Lloyd

  “Surely we are on a first name basis, Wilfred.”

  He had the decency to blush. “Fawn, I am ambitious. More important than money to my rise is a wife who is respectable—above reproach. She must fit in with the other officer’s wives to advance my career. This business with Captain Wolfe ... is concerning.”

  Fawn ran her tongue over dry lips. “Have you spoken about your concerns to your cousin?”

  “I have and she is of the opinion that I’m being overly stuffy on the subject. She knows nothing about the military—of the importance of a spotless reputation. I like you very much, but in light of information that came out after Wolfe’s arrest—I mean, everyone knows, Fawn! The salacious details of your relationship are the talk of London! Lady Gillian will deny the rumors as long as she gets what she wants. I cannot be so cavalier with my future. Is what they say true, Fawn? I believe I could endure the gossip if the story is false.”

  She dropped her gaze. “But not otherwise.”

  “No, not otherwise. What more can you expect?”

  She watched her hands folding and unfolding in her lap. It would be easy to lie, even sensible. Save yourself. Crispin doesn’t want you. “The story is not false,” Fawn murmured. “I was going to tell you everything. I would have kept nothing from you, Wilfred. Of all people, I was certain you would forgive me and stand by me. You were my friend. At least, that is what I believed.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Wilfred pleaded. “You must see the situation from my perspective. A man of my rank cannot be too careful—”

  Fawn rose abruptly to her feet. She clenched her hands together in an effort to control her emotions. “Thank you, Wilfred. I have enjoyed your company and I bear you no ill-will. I accept your withdrawal of affection. Good day, sir.”

  Wilfred stood, dumb-struck and red-faced. Fawn did not wait for him to collect his thoughts. She strode out of the room with her head held high.

  It wasn’t until she was in the privacy of her room that she allowed the tears to flow.

  §

  THE DINNER at the Savoy was delicious and a much needed distraction after the heartbreaking meeting with Crispin and then with Wilfred. The wine Lady Coleridge ordered helped blunt the terrible feelings of abandonment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have had the third glass. She was beginning to feel warm and the room was spinning.

  They linked arms as they strolled from the restaurant to the waiting carriage. Gillian had been sympathetic about the break with Corporal Jameson but she thought Fawn should have given her cousin more time to sort out his feelings. Fawn replied that if he needed time it was unlikely she could make him happy.

  “Well, of course you know best, my dear, but I fear you have both been hasty. My cousin has a charming manner but his charm will only carry him so far. Wilfred must marry well. He cannot afford to take the moral high ground with the debts he’s incurred. Wolfe could have been persuaded to cover his debts if he was married to you, but my fiancé will not be moved to bail him out now. Wilfred is truly the stupidest young man.” Lady Coleridge sighed impatiently.

  Fawn was aghast. “I would not take Captain Wolfe’s money in any case! Do you mean to say that was the sole reason for your cousin’s interest in me?”

  Lady Coleridge flicked an irritated glance at Fawn as they were handed into the carriage. “Of course it was. Don’t be naive. You needed a husband. Wilfred needed his debts settled. Neither of you was in any position to argue the matter.”

  “Was Crispin aware of this?” Her heart pounded. Really, she had no reason to feel any dread; Crispin had already made his feelings clear. Lady Coleridge’s answer would only confirm that what he had said to her in the prison was true.

  “The alliance was his idea. He wanted to see you settled as any guardian would.”

  Gillian chattered on, oblivious to Fawn’s silent anguish. The blow was felt in her core. Wolfe would have paid Jameson to marry her. The beneficial effects of the wine were beginning to wear off. She felt in that moment utterly friendless and alone.

  “Here we are,” Gillian announced as the carriage drew up to a beautiful London mansion. Light poured from every window.

  Numb to all sensation, Fawn was assisted to the pavement and entered the glittering home. The last thing she remembered clearly was Crispin’s voice in her ear warning her about Lady Coleridge.

  She cannot be trusted.

  THE DRAWING room was lit with candles set on low brass tables. It was the strangest sort of room Fawn had ever entered, in a fine house owned by one of London’s prominent matriarchs. She remembered how her aunt Jocelyn would campaign to be admitted to such a salon as this.

  The gentleman had joined the ladies and the conversation was as sparkling as the champagne that flowed. Her head had begun to swim and the room appeared darker and smokier than before. Gillian peered into her face, concerned. “My dear, you are much too warm. Come with me. I have something for you to wear.”

  Fawn had no wish to change her gown but she allowed Gillian to lead her to a room upstairs.

  On the bed lay a gown of fine cobwebby material.

  “Here, put this on. You will look utterly charming in this costume!”

  Fawn protested but Gillian and another lady whom Fawn did not recognize removed her gown and undergarments as though she had not spoken a word. Perhaps she hadn’t, Fawn mused. The room was very hot and her head was very dull.

  The gown of cobwebs was dropped over her shoulders and a wreath of daisies was set on her head. Very peculiar. The dress was cooler but she wondered how she could possibly join the party in such a costume. The fabric was see-through.

  “Dearest Fawn, I have a special surprise for you. I promised to introduce you to Lord Drake. Do you remember? His lordship is a very important man. If he likes you, his friendship could help you enormously in the future.”

  “Indeed, the friendship of everyone of us could help you, Miss Heathcote,” said the other lady.

  “I don’t understand.” Fawn tried to focus. “Whose friendship?”

  “The Society, darling,” Gillian said swiftly. “Tonight is a meeting of the Society. I had a long conversation with Mr. Laleham on the matter of your diminished prospects due to your dalliance with Captain Wolfe—no, no—don’t blush or burst into tears! I am not in the least bit angry. Am I, Mrs. Rice?”

  “Not in the least,” Mrs. Rice agreed. A woman Fawn had never met before. “Jealousy has no place in our company. We understand your situation. A clever girl could use such a fall from grace to her advantage. So might you, Miss Heathcote, if you are willing to be sensible.”

  “What do you mean?” Alarm rose in her breast, cutting through the alcohol. “Who are you?”

  “Now, Fawn, there is no need for hysterics. Mrs. Rice runs a reputable establishment for young ladies in similar positions to yours. We have called on her services for our Society meetings on occasion. Her discretion is highly valued.”

  Fawn tried to move to the door. Her limbs felt weighted with lead. “I see—you are a madam. I have no opinion to put forward, only I don’t see what your industry has to do with me.”

  “Darling,” Gillian said soothingly, “Albus and I are both in agreement that the safest course of action is for you to become a member of our Society. You will live with Mrs. Rice and the other girls, but you will be our special pet, reserved for our activities. Our luminaries include judges, politicians and some of the lesser members of the royal household. It is a great honor to be chosen, Fawn. You will make a name for yourself as London’s most admired courtesan! I almost envy you.”

  “I-I cannot! Crispin would never allow it!”

  Gillian’s expression hardened for an instant and then she appeared sorrowed by Fawn’s response. “Captain Wolfe has resigned his membership in the Society. He has given his word that he will keep his silence about the Society. We know we can trust him. Regretfully, we cannot say the same about you. According to Mr. Laleham, you threatened to expose us and we take such threats very s
eriously, Fawn. We will not bend to blackmail.”

  The air was close, stifling. Fawn struggled to hold onto her argument. “I said that under duress. Mr. Laleham had made some grievous insinuations—”

  “They were not insinuations as it turns out—but hard, cold fact.” Gillian’s face smoothed. “Let’s not quarrel. Albus was in the wrong and he knows it. He’s working round the clock to make amends to Captain Wolfe by securing his release. Just as I am doing everything in my power to secure your future, Fawn. Lord Drake is offering you a chance to join us. The chance will not come again. You must decide tonight.”

  She looked from one woman to the other. “What would I have to do?”

  Mrs. Rice stepped forward. “I have planned a very special presentation that will show you off in the best light. You will be carried out on a bower like a water nymph. I vow you will have your pick of gentlemen after this display,” the madam said excitedly. “You’ll command a handsome price, my dear.”

  “Price?” The room was swimming.

  “As in theatre—as an actress commands a price,” Gillian said hastily. “This is playacting. You have your costume; now be a good girl and sit on the bower.”

  Fawn turned, bewildered by the reference, but it was just as Lady Coleridge said. Behind her was a stretcher arrayed with ferns and wildflowers. Two gentlemen from the party appeared at the door wearing white togas. They had coronets of gold leaf on their heads and bare hairy legs.

  The men assisted her in perching on the bower. Fawn gripped the sides to keep her balance as the bower was hoisted to their shoulders and she was carried down the grand staircase like a prize lamb.

  The drawing room had been transformed into a woodland dream. The guests—she could only pray they were the same people she had sipped champagne with only a short while before—they had been transformed into wood nymphs, satyrs and all manner of mythical creatures. The room was festooned with ferns, flowers and lit with tiny candles.

  It was rather beautiful and in any other situation, Fawn would have been enchanted. A tall man sat on a throne at the end of an aisle that was carpeted with rose petals. The toga-wearing bower-bearers carried her to him. All eyes were on her as the bower was set down at his feet.

  The man she recognized as Lord Drake. He did not say anything nor did he acknowledge her presence. He only gazed at her, taking a long while to examine her body from her bare feet to her collarbone. The gown Lady Coleridge had given her was virtually invisible, though Fawn felt confident that she was, in the main, covered. Her hair concealed a good deal.

  Lady Coleridge shifted beside Fawn, nervously. Fawn examined Lord Drake with the same degree of exacting interest. He had a large handsome face, fair-haired and dark-eyed with a forceful gaze and authority in his bearing. His shoulders were broad under the blue velvet cloak slung from his neck. His lordship was regal enough to be a king even without the gold crown he wore on his head.

  “Lord Drake, may I present Fawn Heathcote. Fawn, this is my friend, Lord Drake.”

  “I remember meeting his lordship at my aunt’s home many months ago. It is good to see you again, sir.”

  “Miss Fawn Heathcote.” Drake rose to his feet and stood over Fawn. “I was sorry to hear about your aunt.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Did Lady Coleridge explain to you the evening we have planned?”

  “A play of some sort.”

  “And you are willing to join in our revels tonight, Miss Heathcote?”

  In the fog of the alcohol she had consumed, the dim lighting of the room and the profusion of foliage, she was aware of eyes watching her every move from the corners of the room. And she became aware of something else—a shuffling and shifting of bodies and positions.

  Fawn realized with horror that the men and women were groping each other, in groups of threes and fours in an orgy of naked bodies seething and moving together. Drake removed his velvet cloak, revealing the man he was beneath—broad shouldered, thicker about the waist than Crispin, but long-legged and well-muscled.

  “What is this? No, no—I am not willing to be a part of this, Lord Drake!”

  He bent forward and lifted a lock of her hair. “It is natural to be nervous the first time. There’s nothing to it. When we’re finished this shall remain our little secret. If you are a very good girl, a lucrative world of pleasure awaits you.”

  Fawn recoiled in disgust and mounting horror. “I am not a good girl, sir! You have been deceived. I am not what you believe me to be.”

  “I know exactly who you are. You are Crispin Wolfe’s beautiful young niece. His continued interest in you has activated my jealousy. He always has the pick of the finest girls. Has he plucked you already? I do not judge you. I shall take care of you, Fawn, if you will take care of me.”

  “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do.” Lord Drake stood in front of her. “Wolfe was selfish to keep you to himself. Why should you be put in peril? You have done nothing wrong. Lady Coleridge has explained everything. If all goes well tonight, I pledge to take care of you and any bastards you may bear. You’ll live with Mrs. Rice as my mistress, serving my needs until you reach twenty-one, at which time I shall settle you with a packet of money and a steamer ticket to America. A penniless orphan will not get a fairer offer than that.”

  These last words burned through the fog in her brain. Fawn leapt from the bower. “You must be mad! Crispin will hear of it—and he will hate me for it! No. I’m sorry but I wish to leave immediately.”

  She moved to seek out Lady Coleridge in the murky depths of the room.

  “Stay where you are,” Lord Drake ordered. “You owe Wolfe nothing. He refused to be your legal guardian. Did you know that? He could have assumed guardianship of you after Jocelyn died but he refused. He wanted to put you out. Indeed, he was planning to do just that before his arrest. Do not concern yourself with Captain Wolfe’s opinion. He is nothing to you.”

  There was nothing shocking or upsetting in his lordship’s harsh statement. Crispin himself had already informed her of his disinterest. Fawn’s thoughts flitted from one man to the other. What was there to choose between them? Both were handsome, both were rich and both were despicable. But only one had cared enough to save her when she desperately needed saving. Only one had taken her virginity and only one had made her love him out of black hate.

  “You are wrong about one thing, my lord. Crispin Wolfe is not nothing to me. He is everything and I fear he always will be. Thank you for your offer, but I must decline.”

  She struggled to free herself and rise from the bower. Gillian arrived out of the dark fringes of the room, a look of deep disapproval on her face. Her mouth was fixed in a tight line.

  “You have made your choice and you may go, Fawn. You’ll find your clothes upstairs. As you are unwilling to help your friends in anyway, I must withdraw my friendship. Please leave my house as soon as can be. In fact, I would prefer it if you were not home when I return.”

  Fawn’s mind clouded as though the walls were closing in. She clutched at her throat, unable to breathe. She nodded rapidly and raced for the door as pricks of light burst across her field of vision. She heard Lord Drake say as she left the room:

  “That’s a pity. She could have been made rich. It’ll be the gutter for her now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Five Months Later

  FAWN’S NEW JOB at Whitechapel Union Workhouse was a slight improvement over her old one for it allowed her to escape the premises for the entire day.

  She and five other women, under the supervision of Matron, were sent out before sunrise to scour the pavement outside the shops. It was tedious back-breaking work but at least she was out-of-doors. The smell of the slum in the early morning was foul but every now and then, there was a waft of fresh air that revived her.

  Her cough had been troubling her and with fever going through the children’s ward, Fawn had reason to be glad of being out-of-doors. She
wasn’t afraid of dying—she was serene on that score—but she’d witnessed what happened to those who died in a workhouse and she had no intention of going that route if she could help it.

  Excessive coughing could cause Matron to remove her from this work detail, consequently Fawn kept her head down and vigorously scrubbed at a black smear glued to the pavement with her wire brush and lye, and enjoyed the fresh air.

  The sound of laughing voices across the street drew her attention. It was rare to find anyone awake at this hour, but she saw by their dress that they had not gone home. Two gentlemen and two ladies in evening clothes were leaving an opium den in Whitechapel. ‘Slumming’ was all the rage with high society at the moment, in which fashionable people arrived in glossy carriages to mingle with prostitutes and opium dealers. They never gave the poor and homeless any notice and this time was no different.

  Fawn started, dropping her wire brush in shock. It had been five months since she saw him last, but he had not changed. Corporal Wilfred Jameson. He had a young lady on his arm. Accompanying him was Lady Coleridge and Albus Laleham. Fawn ducked her head, watching their progress with keen attention.

  Lady Coleridge’s careless lilting voice carried in the quiet streets. “I am half-starved! Is there no place to eat? Shall we ask one of those poor creatures over there? They might know where one can purchase a bite of bread and cheese. Even those living in squalor have to eat.”

  “The demands of your stomach are exhausting, cousin. I would not risk my health on any recommendation those slatterns might make. Good God, one has to only look at them to know they are riddled with disease.”

  “My dear boy, you can afford to be squeamish—you have a lovely wife to address the needs of your stomach. A bachelor such as I am must forage for sustenance. What do you say we hire a hansom cab to leave this dispiriting dump and breakfast on the Strand?”

  So the young lady on Wilfred’s arm was his wife. They could not have had a long engagement, Fawn thought. She was exquisitely dressed and had fine, pretty features. Wilfred appeared to be happy as well.