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She entered her room and her steps slowed. But wasn’t that

exactly what he wanted? She took a deep breath, followed it with

another, waited until her body stopped shaking so violently. She

was no longer an innocent seventeen-year-old bride. She’d fought

to become a better woman, survived the double tragedy of losing

her son and her husband.

She sat down on the bed and allowed her mind to replay

Blaize’s answers. He’d suggested that her apologies meant

nothing because he’d deliberately killed Nicholas. Instantly her

mind rejected his statement. She’d seen him with Nicholas, knew

that he would never harm his son, whatever he now said.

Then why say it with such conviction? Jane opened her eyes

and frowned. That was the part she didn’t understand. The

doctor who had examined Nicholas’s body had found no marks

of violence on him, nothing to indicate that he had been

murdered in a rage. He’d been a sickly baby, prone to catching

colds and fevers that Jane had been unable to prevent. It was if

he had simply given up the struggle to live.

She rose and paced the carpet, her thoughts in a whirl. Even if

she couldn’t understand why Blaize felt the need to blame

himself, it explained why he had never returned to her. She’d

imagined it was her harsh and hysterical accusations that had kept

him away, but had he simply used her as an excuse when it was

his own guilt that paralyzed him?

She stared unseeingly out of the window into the small garden

below that led to the mews. It was true that Blaize was found

alone in the nursery with Nicholas in his arms and that Nicholas

was dead. Jane wrapped her arms around herself and slowly

rocked back and forth. How would she have felt if their positions

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Kate Pearce

had been reversed? Would Blaize have instantly believed the

worst of her, called her a murderer, forced her to leave? In her

heart, she suspected he would have defended her against the

devil himself.

Jane straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. She

wasn’t leaving yet. Blaize might have shaken her resolve and

destroyed her attempts to sexually resist him, but she wasn’t

giving up on him. How could she believe that he was really at

peace with her and his family when he still refused to talk about

his father?

Her gaze slid to her clothes chest and the boy concealed there.

Unable to resist the compulsion to check that the contents hadn’t

been disturbed, she locked her bedroom door and retrieved the

ornate red leather box. It smelled old and musty and the lie

creaked when she opened it.

Despite having viewed the contents more than once, she still

had to brace herself to look at them. Blaize’s father, the Earl of

Swansfore’s diary lay on the top. THE LITTLE

GENTLEMAN’S CLUB was embossed in faded gold lettering

on the front. She took it out and opened it at random. Each page

was very similar, containing the date of the meeting, the boys

involved in the fights and the name of the eventual winner.

Blaize figured on almost every page and she’d charted his

horrific progress from his twelve-year-old self to eighteen when

the diary abruptly stopped.

She traced his name and the list of other boys, twelve in all on

this particular page, all called by their first names as if to protect

the identity of their fathers, the fathers who made them fight

each other until only one boy remained conscious.

Under the list of boys and the knockout schedule came a

description of each fight, its duration and a list of the bets placed

on each contestant. The huge sums made Jane wonder anew at

the cruelty of men and their obsession with winning, even

wagering on their son’s lives.

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In the beginning, being one of the youngest, Blaize had lost all

the time. By the end of the journal he was winning consistently

and beating all the older boys. Jane shuddered at the thought of

just how he had achieved that supremacy. It wasn’t surprising

that he wanted to dominate everyone around him. He’d learned

that lesson far too young and from a man who should’ve been

protecting him.

She put the book aside and stared at the pile of documents

underneath. And this wasn’t the worst of it. The Little

Gentleman’s Club had been run by the same group of aristocratic

families for at least three generations, each father putting one of

his sons into the ring, each father passing on the legacy of

violence.

Had Blaize been horrified at the thought of carrying on such

an appalling tradition? Or could he have decided, while in a rage,

that his son would never live to be forced into participating in

such a horrific legacy? Jane shuddered. She would’ve fought him

on that, fought him with every weapon at her disposal rather

than let any child of hers be deliberately hurt. But she still

couldn’t imagine him killing his own child purely to prove a point

to his father. He’d be far more likely to refuse to resurrect the

club completely.

She stuffed the book back into the box and couldn’t bear to

look at the sadistic little pen and ink drawings showing various

boys being beaten to a pulp. But who had fought for Blaize? No

one. His mother either hadn’t known or hadn’t cared what

happened to him every summer. And she’d died when he was

thirteen. He’d had to fight to survive and she suspected his father

hadn’t made it easy for him at all.

She replaced the heavy box back at the bottom of her clothes

chest and shut the lid. She was staying. Despite her doubts, she

had to convince Blaize to face his past and deal with the twisted

legacy his father had bestowed on him. With renewed energy, she

rang the bell. Somehow she doubted Blaize intended to have

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Kate Pearce

dinner with her tonight. She had to be ready to go out with him

whether he wanted her company or not.

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9

What exactly do you think you are doing, Jane?»

Minshom studied his wife who was dressed in her men’s

clothing, hair braided tightly down her back. She’d invaded his

bedchamber uninvited and was now interfering with the ritual of

his dressing.

«I’m coming out with you.»

«You damned well are not.»

He allowed Robert to help him into his dark blue coat and

settle it over his shoulders. Before Robert could step back, he

deliberately swung him around to face Jane and ran his fingers

down the front of Robert’s breeches to cup his balls. Robert’s

breath hissed out as he squeezed hard.

«I’m not in the mood to bear with you tonight, wife.»

She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the unsubtle movements of

his hand as he forced Robert’s cock to swell between his fingers.

After downing half a bottle of brandy to quell the maelstrom of

unwanted emotions she roused in him, he still felt dangerous,

needed sex, needed to dominate.

«I want to come with you.»

He gave Roberts cock one last yank and released him. «So

does Robert, but I’m going to deny him release all night and keep

him erect like this so that everyone can see how much he wants

it.» «That’s cruel.»

Minshom shrugged. «I know. So don’t come out with me.»

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Kate Pearce

«But I want to.»

«Because you are still feeling guilty?»

She met his gaze. «Perhaps.»

He bared his teeth at her. «If you come out with me this

evening, I’ll take your guilt and use it against you.»

She nodded as serenely as the queen. «I understand.»

He smiled at her and inclined his head, sudden excitement

thundering through his veins at the thought of having her, the

source of all his sorrows, at his mercy again. «No, you don’t, but

you soon will.»

He took Jane back to the pleasure house and played with

Robert’s cock during the short carriage journey just to annoy her.

Robert’s hips surged forward off the seat and Minshom

immediately stopped touching him, watched as sweat broke out

on his valet’s forehead.

«Don’t come, Robert.»

«No, sir. I won’t.»

Jane touched Robert’s arm and glared at Minshom. «You

should, Robert. It can’t be healthy for a man to be denied release

like that.»

«Are you offering to suck him off?»

Jane raised her eyebrows. «If you like.»

Minshom’s own cock swelled at the challenge in her voice

«But then you’d both enjoy yourselves too much.»

«And you prefer others to suffer.»

«You know me so well, my dear.»

Jane ignored him and turned back to Robert. «Please don’t

make yourself ill just because of my husband’s stupid obsession

with being in charge.»

Minshom laughed. «You think he doesn’t like it? You might

know me, but you don’t know Robert very well at all. He’s more

than content to be mastered, aren’t you, Robert?»

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«Unfortunately, his lordship is right, my lady.» Robert stared at

him for a long moment. «He is my master and I’m quite content

with that.»

«You could learn a lot from Robert, my dear.»

«In what way?»

«Complete obedience to my will, a desire to give me sexual

release whenever and however I want it.»

«I am being as obedient as I can, my lord.» Jane answered as if

the words were being forced from her lips.

He stopped smiling, «We’ll see about that won’t we?» Robert

shifted uneasily in his seat and Minshom reached for his cock

again. «Now where were we?»

«Wait here.»

Robert frowned as Lord Minshom escorted his wife into one

of the more intimate rooms on the third floor and shut the door

in his face. What was he supposed to do? Stand here all night

watching hardened sexual libertines pass on their way down to

the more public salons on the lower floors?

He knocked on the door and Minshom opened it, his

expression irate.

«What?»

«What do you want me to do, my lord?»

«I told you to wait.»

«Do you wish me to strip for the pleasure of others or simply

stand here like an invisible footman guarding the door?»

Minshom’s blue eyes turned to chipped ice. «I don’t like your

tone, Robert. Perhaps you should take off your shirt and leave

your breeches unbuttoned for anyone who wants to grope you.»

Robert exhaled. «I didn’t mean it like that, my lord. I...»

«Do what I said.» Minshom indicated a hook high up on the

wall. «And keep your hands up there.»

Minshom waited as Robert stripped off his coat, waistcoat and

shirt. He shivered as Minshom nonchalantly pinched his nipples.

There was a coldness about his master tonight that didn’t bode

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Kate Pearce

well for his wife and yet it excited Robert—it always had. Robert

lifted his arms and grasped the lamp hook above his head.

Minshom took the discarded cravat and secured Robert’s wrists

to the metal, then stepped back and nodded.

«Have a pleasant evening, Robert.»

Robert exhaled as Minshom stepped back inside the room and

shut the door. His beleaguered cock was already throbbing with

the anticipation of being touched, of being handled without his

consent. A deep shame burned low in his gut. He craved this and

Minshom knew it, understood him better sometimes than he

understood himself. He closed his eyes and settled back against

the wall to wait.

Minshom circled Jane, who had remained in the middle of the

room, one hand resting on the leather contraption he intended to

bind her to. By the pleasure house standards, it was a small,

intimate room. The narrow bed was only meant for one, the

floor space dominated by the leather horse in the center and the

various sexual toys hung on the darkly painted walls.

«Are you sure you want to do this, Jane?»

«Yes, my lord.»

He placed his hand on her shoulder and she jumped before

turning to look at him.

«Are you quite sure? Because once I tie you down, that’s it;

you’re my plaything for as long as I want.»

«I know that.»

He admired her courage even if he knew it was a front. «Then

as long as we understand each other...» He stepped back and

settled himself into a chair by the small fire. «Strip.»

He watched her slender pale body emerge from its male

trappings until she faced him, her expression calm, her skin

tinted pink like the finest Italian marble. He deliberately allowed

his gaze to wander from her head to her toes, paused to study her

breasts and the neat triangle of brown hair at the apex of her

thighs.

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«You’ve remained remarkably slender, Jane.»

«I’ve been too busy managing your estate, my lord, to lounge

around eating sugar plums.»

He wagged a lazy index finger at her. «From now on, you’ll

only speak when I ask you a direct question. Do you

understand?»

She nodded, her mouth set in a determined line that amused