Mistress in the Making (3 page)

“Well, well, the prodigal son returns at last.”

Sebastian’s drawl was as arrogant as he’d remembered. He responded with silence.

“Why did you do it?” Sebastian asked.

“Do what?” What did his brother think he’d done?

“Bid on her. Do you really want her?”

“She’s a beautiful woman.” He leaned back in the chair as if he had all night to wait for the chit to gather up her belongings.

“She’s all right.” Sebastian shrugged. “It’s not in your character to bid on a woman. Does that mean you’ve stopped spouting that nonsense about marriage and finding a like-minded woman with whom to share a home?”

“People change.” It was his turn to shrug, but his twin was closer to his true feelings than he cared to acknowledge. Bidding on a woman as he’d bid on a horse unsettled him. He’d been gone from London seven years, and now returned intending to find a wife as soon as he’d settled the ugly business with his brother.

“Perhaps.” Sebastian opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and looked to be carefully plotting his words. “I wanted to win her quite badly, you know.”

“Why?” He knew the answer, but wanted to hear if the bastard would own up to it.

“I’m in the market for a new mistress. I’ve left my old one.”

Left her with a broken arm and bruised face, if the rumors were true, but he disguised his revulsion and nodded. “There are other places to find beautiful women willing to warm your bed. Perhaps you’ll have better luck there.”

His twin leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “You don’t own those women. They demand things. Madame Bella trains her girls. Invitations to tonight’s auction were highly sought after and hard to come by. She’s been dropping rumors for months that she’d soon be offering women well trained in the art of pleasing a man.”

Lucas swallowed hard at that. In his travels, he’d seen a lot, and in fact, had seen places where young girls were trained in the art of pleasure. As a western white man, he’d never been granted access to such places. Perhaps now he’d learn some of the mysterious secrets.

No. He tamped down that line of thought. He’d bought the girl to hurt his brother and save her from a cruel future. He’d set her free, not demand her sexual attentions.

“Well, well. Who would have thought? Perfect Little Lucas has a dark side. You want her. You love the idea of owning her, of forcing her to submit whenever you demand.” Sebastian’s eyes bore through him as though seeing every disturbing, lurid fantasy he’d ever had. “How will you take her the first time? I’m surprised you’re still even in this room. Me? I’d have followed her up to the room and grabbed a quick sample up against the wall before paying. Make sure she’s worth the price.”

Images of following Charlene up the stairs, pressing her front to the wall while he lifted her silky gown from behind, flashed through his mind. Before he could respond or curb his body’s sudden unruly response, a gasp had him whipping around to see his new mistress in the doorway looking shocked at his brother’s frank language. The incongruity of her response bothered him. She was a mistress, a whore, supposedly a virginal one, but still, she’d been trained for months at the hand of London’s most legendary mistress.

He rose. “Shall we go find Madame? I’m done here.” He stepped toward the woman, refusing to spare a last glance for his brother. Let him gain a false sense of comfort. There’d be time later to let him know he was going to expose him for the murdering fraud he was.

“If it is your wish to ‘grab a sample before leaving’, then I am at your service,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Would you care to have your brother join us?”

“Hell no.” His disgust rang through his negative response. “Let’s find Madame and then leave here.”

He yanked her elbow to his side and exited to sign over the exorbitant sum he’d bid.

“Enjoy your new property, Lucas.” His brother’s taunt followed him down the hall.

Charlotte’s cheeks burned as she was led down the hall to Madame’s private parlor. How could she have said something so bold, so vulgar? What would she have done if the men agreed? Ruck up her skirts and lie back? She gave a little sob and tried to disguise it as a cough. Vulgarity was now expected of her.

From everything she’d learned from Madame these past weeks, welcoming two men in her bed was now acceptable behavior. The man holding her inner elbow in a firm grip didn’t seem to think so if his reaction was any indication. Or perhaps his negative reaction was in response to her suggestion of sharing his brother.

He hustled her down the hall, possibly bruising her skin, but she didn’t think his tight grip was in anger at her. He’d seemed in a hurry to escape his brother’s presence.

“Charlotte.” A girl’s voice hissed into the hallway.

She narrowed her eyes in the direction of the unwanted young voice and tipped her head toward her new protector, hoping the other girl would take the hint. Emmy, the youngest of Madame’s pupils had been inconsolable this morning upon learning it was Charlotte’s twenty-first birthday, and she would be auctioned to the highest bidder and leaving their little school. Emmy had just three short years until her eighteenth birthday when she too would parade in front of London gentleman and hope to go to a kind one.

“Can you excuse me a moment?” she murmured to her gentleman.

He paused, frowning down at her. “What now? I’d hoped to be home with a brandy by now.”

“It will take but a second,” she said and slipped her arm from his grasp, darting to the narrow staircase where Emmy hid.

“Emmy, you shouldn’t be here. Remember what Madame said.”

“I know,” she said with a pout. “My beauty could cause riots and provoke one of the visitors to take a free sampling. Heaven forbid Madame doesn’t get paid.”

“Emmy,” Charlotte sighed. Sometimes the girl was a contradiction. She looked and acted innocent, but her words often belied a greater understanding of the world than even Charlotte could claim. “I said goodbye earlier. I promise to visit at first opportunity.”

“We simply wanted a glimpse of your protector.”

“He’s a fine one, isn’t he?” asked another girl hidden farther in the shadows.

“Go upstairs, Emmy and Lucy. Madame will punish you if she catches you.”

“She won’t catch us,” Lucy said cheerfully. “She hasn’t got her money from your man yet.”

“Go.” She shooed them up the stairs with her hands and quickly returned to her gentleman. “My apologies, there was a small matter.”

“Your friends wanted to see me.” Dry humor danced on his words.

“You heard?”

“I have excellent hearing, and they weren’t exactly whispering.”

She licked her lips and looked up anxiously at his face, but white teeth gleamed in semidarkness, transforming his face into a thing of masculine beauty. Her breath hitched at her luck. Madame had warned them to accept any gentleman who bid, and even hinted that an older man would demand less. But Charlotte shivered at delight that Lucas held many physical attractions. Then she snorted at her silliness. As if she had anything to be proud of. The man didn’t even seem to want her, and only wanted to best his brother.

She lowered her gaze and stepped toward Madame’s parlor.

“They called you Charlotte.”

“What?” She paused with one foot nearly in the doorway of the parlor.

“The girls on the stairs called you Charlotte,” he repeated. Coarse hairs dotted his cheeks and chin and he had shadows under his eyes, the kind that lack of sleep formed.

“They did, but Madame prefers Charlene. She believes it to be a more fitting name for a mistress.”

“Which is it to be then? What do you prefer?”

“Char…” She hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “Lotte,” she said. He’d already won the auction. Surely he wouldn’t renege because of her name, and it boded well that he even cared about her preferences. Remaining Charlotte helped her retain a core piece of her soul.

“Come in, Charlene. Stop dithering in the hallway,” Madame said from behind her desk.

“Charlotte and I were just conversing,” he said with an emphasis on the second half of her name. He helped her into her seat and elegantly sank into one beside her.

Madame’s lips pursed for a second before she smiled brilliantly. “I’ve done a quick bit of research.”

Lucas said nothing, simply steepled his fingers together and waited for Madame to speak.

“You are Lucas Morgan, long thought to be dead, and twin to the current Earl of Westhunt.”

It was obvious to everyone in the room Lucas was a man of virility, the opposite of dead.

“Normally, I’d question your identity, but you resemble your brother to a remarkable degree.”

“We are identical twins.”

“Identical in all respects?” Madame’s tone was sharp and probing. “I ask because your brother is a powerful man. He made it very clear to me he wanted to win my first-ever mistress auction. So tell me, Mr. Morgan, why should I allow you to steal my prize mistress out from under your brother’s nose? Do you have the authority to protect me from your brother’s wrath?”

Charlotte’s eyes widened and her stomach turned over. Then this wasn’t a sure thing? She could be passed like cake to the next highest bidder—a man who looked as though he ate young maidens for breakfast?”

“If all goes according to plan, I will not only protect you, but the entire city, nay, the entire world from my brother.”

Shocked silence erupted in the small room at Lucas’ confident and unexpected words.

Madame fiddled with papers on her desk to hide her consternation.

Morgan leaned forward and said in a quiet, urgent voice, “Madame Bella, heed my words. If you allow this young lady to go with my twin, she will not fare well. You will earn a reputation—”

“A reputation of giving my customers what they demand,” Madame interjected.

“Perhaps, but if one of your girls was to go missing or die, it would make it more difficult to procure more students, would it not?”

Charlotte sat back, barely able to breathe.
Go missing? Die?
How evil was his brother? Why wasn’t he in Newgate? Or Bedlam? Remaining an impoverished ward of her mysterious cousin was looking better and better.

Long seconds ticked by while Madame considered his words.

“Very well,” she said at last. “Sign here.”

In a blur of speech, Madame dictated Mr. Morgan’s promises and Charlotte’s obligations to Madame. She was to send fifteen percent of her monthly stipend back to the school for the period of three months. She was to receive a residence and an account at a dressmaker among other things. In return, she was to be at his beck and call, and to submit to whatever sexual desires he demanded. Charlotte barely caught it all. She hardly dared acknowledge the time had come for her to leave the safety of the school and apply all she’d learned in the past months.

Before she could form any questions or last-minute pleas for Madame, she was bundled into Mr. Morgan’s carriage and alone in the dark with the man.

They drove in silence for a few moments.

“Where shall I drop you?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“I asked where I should direct my driver.”

“Um, I realize you haven’t had time to procure a house for me yet, but surely you’ve given thought to where you’ll keep me,” she said in a low voice.

He sat back against the padded bench. “I have no plans of keeping you. My intent was to take you from my brother. Mission accomplished. You’re free now, where shall you go?”

His words hit her stomach like a prize fighter’s punch and horror settled in. “You can’t do this. You promised Madame.”

He chuckled. “Worrying about your fifteen percent, are you? Never fear, I’ll send Madame her money.”

“But…” Her sisters, what would she do? All her grand plans of saving her family began to crumble before her eyes. She’d planned her sisters would stay in whatever house her protector set up for her use. Without that, they had nothing. How would Elizabeth go through a Season?

Mr. Morgan propped his booted feet beside her thighs. “You’re a pretty chit. You’ll find another protector soon enough. Where shall I take you?”

“With you,” she blurted. “I have no place else to go.” The skirt of her dress squeezed and wrinkled beneath her worrying hands.

His feet hit the floor of the carriage with a thump and he leaned forward, forearms on his powerful thighs. “Listen here. I arrived in town only recently, I have no permanent residence, and I don’t sleep with whores. I certainly don’t live with them.”

She gasped at his cruel words. “I’m no wh…”

“Save it, Charlotte. You stood on that auction block smiling and displaying the wares for all to see. Don’t play the missish virgin now.”

She swallowed hard over the sudden lump in her throat. What could she do? Was he to throw her onto the cruel London streets? Would she have to stumble back to her family’s crumbling estate admitting failure? No, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She sat up straight on the bench, eyeing her adversary. Madame’s many lessons about the male gender rolled through her head.

Without a further word, she dropped to her knees in front of him and reached for his trouser buttons.