Andrea Kane (16 page)

This time he swiveled totally about, boldly scrutinizing the room.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that since you arrived,” Boyd murmured when Cynthia had gone.

One corner of Rem’s mouth lifted. “I’m glad to see you’re still alert … despite your budding infatuation.”

Boyd didn’t smile. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. Nothing probably. I just have this nagging feeling I’m being watched.”

“Were you followed?”

Rem frowned. “I don’t think so. In truth, I was so rushed, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Boyd replied, scanning the room. “Anyone who followed you to Annie’s would assume you’re merely enjoying the entertainment.”

The person who’d followed Rem was assuming exactly that.

Sammy, just moments ago, had realized what sort of establishment she was observing. Shocked and hurt, she’d crept closer, peering inside to convince herself that Remington was, indeed, a patron. Seeing him flash his dimple at the woman who was handing him a drink, Sammy’s eyes filled with tears. Not only was he frequenting this seedy brothel, but he had deceived her about the purpose for his hasty departure from the opera. What kind of hero, conventional or not, cavorted with prostitutes, and lied, as well?

The untainted entity of Sammy’s blind faith fragmented … a bit. Still, she refused to allow it to shatter completely. As a heroine, it was up to her to reform her hero.

Now, if she only knew precisely how to go about it …

Pensively, Sammy paced the length of the shadowy street. She’d never lain with a man; these women were proficient at it. Remington was deterred by her inexperience. He didn’t want her; yet he didn’t want her to lie with another. So, how could she gain the experience he obviously sought without angering him? This was all dreadfully confusing.

“ ’Ey, love! What’ve we ’ere? A little jewel, I’d say!”

The slurred male voice cut into Sammy’s thoughts.

“Pardon me?” She blinked into the darkness.

“Look, Blake! We’ve found ourselves a regular lady, we ’ave!”

Three unkempt, burly men loomed before her.

“Whatcha lookin’ fer, yer highness? Yer coach?”

A tight knot of fear formed in Sammy’s stomach. Furtively, she looked about, praying for another person to call out to. But the shoddy street was deserted.

Instinctively, she backed off.

“Where ye goin’, m’lady?” The first man stalked forward and snatched her wrist. “We ’aven’t ’ad the chance to impress ye yet!”

“Please,” she whispered, “let me go.”

“Ah, now is that nice?” He pulled her against him, so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She shuddered. “Ye’re a good lookin’ little thing, ye know?” He traced the top of her bodice. “Real good-lookin’.”

“Stop it!” Sammy began to struggle. “Unhand me at once!”

“Unhand ’er!” the second stalker mocked. “Well, maybe the lady prefers t’ entertain in private, Gates. What do ye say we find out?”

“No!” Wildly, Sammy fought against her unyielding captor. He dragged her with him as if she weighed nothing, with only an occasional grunt to indicate he was aware of her struggles.

“Feisty, ain’t she? ’Ope she’s as good when we get ’er ’ome,” the third derelict chimed in.

“Gates, just what do you think you’re doing?” A clear female voice rang out through the night.

Sammy’s captor came to a dead halt. “Cynthia?”

“I asked what you were doing!” Cynthia walked purposefully toward them, her eyes ablaze.

“We’re just ’avin’ a little fun, that’s all.”

“With one of Annie’s girls? You know better than that!”

Gates’s eyes bulged. “This ’ere’s one of Annie’s? But she looks like—”

“I don’t care what she looks like! Do you want me to march in there and tell Annie that the three of you are abducting her newest employee? If so, I will—and then I wouldn’t dare show my face at Annie’s again, if I were you.”

“’Ell, no!” the third man cut in hastily. “Ye know we don’t mess with Annie’s girls. We just didn’t know.” He averted his head. “Let ’er go, Gates,” he ordered his friend, who was still clutching a white-faced Samantha. “Now. My favorite woman works at Annie’s.”

With a muttered oath, Gates thrust Sammy at Cynthia. “First you, now ’er. Cynthia, tell Annie she should start hiring girls that look like whores, not blue bloods.” He turned his back. “Let’s go,” he muttered to his friends.

Sammy waited until they’d disappeared before she collapsed. Leaning against the brick wall behind her, she began to shake uncontrollably. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Gently, Cynthia steadied Sammy’s trembling shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I think so … thanks to you.”

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m … that is …” Sammy closed her eyes. “It’s too complicated to explain.”

“Try me. I’m a good listener.”

Opening her eyes, Sammy regarded her rescuer. “You’re the one who was serving him his drink,” she blurted out.

“Who?”

“My …” Sammy paused. What could she call Remington? He wasn’t her husband, nor even her betrothed. In fact, he regarded her as a burdensome child. And she certainly couldn’t explain to this … woman that Remington was her hero. “The gentleman at the far table. Remington Worth. The Earl of Gresham,” she said at last.

“Ah, I see.” A small smile played about Cynthia’s lips. “You’re concerned about your man’s fidelity, are you? Well, I wouldn’t take his visits here too much to heart. I’m sure he places you on the appropriate pedestal—his chaste and precious possession. Unfortunately, he, like all men, are governed primarily by their sordid needs. Sex is their compulsion, indulging in it their God-given right.”

“If you feel that way, why do you provide it?”

Cynthia’s eyes glittered with suppressed emotion. “The answer is ugly—I assure you, you don’t want to hear it.”

“What is it I don’t want to hear? That you’ve chosen to service men for a living?”

“Chosen?”
Bitterness clogged Cynthia’s throat. “Do you honestly believe I’ve
chosen
this sort of life? No, genteel lady, my vile job was thrust upon me.”

“You’re forced to be with men?” Sammy was horrified.

“I told you the truth was ugly.”

“How deplorable! I never imagined …” Reflexively, Sammy squeezed Cynthia’s hand, totally forgetting her own harrowing ordeal in lieu of this poor woman’s plight.

Cynthia stared down at Sammy’s smooth hand clasping her own work-worn one, a blunt reminder of the differences in their stations, the futures that awaited them. Suddenly all the repressed pain of the past weeks converged and exploded, sliding down Cynthia’s cheeks in a bitter flow of tears. “Forgive me … I don’t normally weep in front of total strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger—you just saved my life,” Sammy reminded her. “And I, too, am a good listener.”

Bleakly, Cynthia studied Sammy’s earnest face. “You’re a sheltered, innocent little thing. Nobly bred, of course. My story is not for your ears.”

“Who forces you to service these men?” Sammy demanded.

“Circumstances. The unshakable power of the nobility.”

“Cynthia … that is your name, isn’t it? I heard that horrid”—she shuddered—“Gates person call you by it.” Waiting only for a nod, Sammy continued, “I cannot deny my naiveté nor my heritage. But being titled does not preclude having a heart. I’d like to help. Truly.”

“There’s nothing you can do. The damage has already been done.”

“Damage? What damage?” Sammy gripped Cynthia’s hand tightly. “Tell me.”

“Very well,
my lady.
” Cynthia took a deep, shuddering breath. “I was born to a decent, hardworking family whose only misfortune was to be poor. Early on, I was encouraged to strive high, to be the first to emerge from my parents’ poverty. To that end, I studied incessantly. I was elated when my hard work paid off. After but one application, I was hired as a governess at a magnificent estate in Surrey. The gentleman who hired me was wealthy, titled … and very solicitous.” Cynthia gave a hollow laugh. “How naive I was! I believed he was the kindest of men, devoted to his wife, interested in his children’s well-being, and therefore in my suitability.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Oh, he was interested in my suitability, all right … but in the bedroom, not the nursery.”

Sammy gasped. “He made advances?”

“He raped me.”

All the color drained from Samantha’s face. “Dear God. What did you do?”

“What could I do? I cried until I was hollow and dead inside. Then I packed and left.”

“Who is this man? Surely he was arrested, or punished in some manner.”

“As I said, you’re a sheltered, innocent child. No, he wasn’t punished; I was. He? He came to my room mere hours later, stunned to find me packing. He assured me there was no reason for me to leave, that I’d pleased him enormously and that I could continue to do so. How proud he looked, as if he were bestowing upon me the greatest of honors.

“When I became hysterical, sobbing out my hatred, my intentions to seek out another job at once, he laughed in my face. He then assured me that, after he was finished spreading the word of what a common trollop I was, no respectable family would hire me. He was right. Time and again I was turned away … as if I were unwanted refuse of some kind.”

“What about your family?”

“My mother is gone now. My father is old, and very set in his ways. He wouldn’t even listen to me.”

“He thought you were lying?”

“It didn’t matter. The end result was the same. I was ruined. What was done could not be undone. Then there was the matter of money. We had none. My wages as a governess was our only hope—a hope I had extinguished. My father couldn’t bear the sight of me … and I couldn’t bear the guilt. So I ran.”

“To Annie’s?”

“Not right away. Not until I recognized the truth … that, thanks to what that
nobleman
did to me, Annie’s is all I’m suited for.”

“Oh, Cynthia, don’t say that.” Sammy dashed the tears from her cheeks. “How long have you worked here?”

“A week … the most torturous week of my life.”

“Well, it’s over now.”

“Another week will begin.”

“Not here it won’t. At least not for you.”

Cynthia blinked. “Pardon me?”

Sammy seized Cynthia’s sleeve. “You’re coming home with me.”

“I’m what? But I don’t even know you!”

“My name is Samantha Barrett. I’m in London for my first Season. I’m staying with my aunt Gertrude. I have a brother named Drake, a temporary guardian named Smitty, a puppy named Rascal, and a collection of books as long as this street. What more do you need to know?”

“Why would you do this for me?”

“Because I like you. Because you saved my life. Because I hate what you’ve endured. Because it causes me great heartache to think of you forcing yourself to lie with men you care nothing for. Are those reasons enough?”

Cynthia shook her head in disbelief. “Does the Earl of Gresham know what he’s getting himself into?”

The light in Sammy’s eyes dimmed. “Evidently, whatever he’s getting himself into tonight doesn’t involve me.”

“You’re in love with him.”

“Hopelessly.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Definitely.”

“Perhaps I will go home with you after all, Samantha,” Cynthia decided on impulse. “I begin to see that you need help as much as I do. By accepting your kind offer, I’ll be able to offer
you
the benefit of my insight.”

“Wonderful! Can you leave right away?”

“Let me talk with Annie.” Cynthia glanced curiously up and down the deserted street. “Is your carriage around back?”

“My carriage? Oh, goodness, I have none!”

“Then how did you get here?”

“In Remington’s phaeton.”

“He allowed you to accompany him to—”

“He didn’t know. I hid.”

Cynthia threw back her head and laughed. “Remington Worth has quite a challenge ahead of him.” She drew Sammy to the door of the brothel. “Stand right here. That way I’ll be able to see you, but your earl won’t. Once I explain the situation to Annie, she’ll arrange a ride for us.”

“Will she be angry?”

“No. Contrary to what you might believe, the women here are far more honest and straightforward than the men who visit them. Many do this only as a means of survival … and Annie knows it. She’s very shrewd. And, while I never told her exactly what happened to me, I’m sure she suspects. She won’t stand in my way.”

“Go ahead, then. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t wander,” Cynthia warned.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t even consider it.” Sammy huddled nervously against the door.

Twenty minutes later Cynthia and Sammy were settled in a carriage, speeding toward the fashionable West End of London and Abingdon Street.

“What will you tell your aunt?” Cynthia asked curiously.

“Something loud enough for her to hear. But Aunt Gertie won’t be my problem. My problem will be Smitty.”

“Smitty?”

“The guardian I spoke of—a trusted servant and family friend. My brother appointed him to watch over me … at least for the duration of the Season.”

“Where is your brother?”

“In Berkshire. His wife is about to deliver their second child.”

“And this Smitty won’t approve of me?”

“Smitty won’t even approve of me if I tell him where you and I met. He is terribly conventional … but he has the most loving heart. I’ll tell him as much of the truth as I dare.” Sammy tapped her chin thoughtfully. “He knows I attended the opera tonight. Therefore, I came upon you in Covent Garden, weeping. We spoke. You told me that your employer had made improper advances, forcing you to flee. Smitty’s protective instincts would never permit me to turn you away.”

“Samantha …” Cynthia fingered her plain frock. “What will I do at your Town house? I detest being idle. And I refuse to accept your kindness as charity. Is there no position open? A laundress, or a chambermaid?”

“That’s it!” Sammy sat bolt upright.

“What’s it?”

“Millie—my lady’s maid!” Impulsively, Sammy hugged Cynthia. “Just tonight she begged me to allow her to return to her customary position in Hampshire. She loathes her job in Town. But Aunt Gertie would never permit her to leave unless I had a suitable replacement. Well, now I do!”