Strictly Forbidden (16 page)

“Where is the toilet?” He could think of no other way to escape the room without rousing
her suspicion.

The woman sighed, but did nothing to cover herself. “Across the hall, second door
to your left.”

He nodded his thanks and retreated. As he slipped out of the room, he sighed and cast
his gaze down the corridor. The upstairs was all but devoid of activity, everyone
presumably busy behind a closed door. Below, the buzz of muted conversation and clinking
glasses urged him to snoop quickly.

Darius crept toward Mrs. Linde’s door. Satisfaction infused him when he found it a
few inches ajar.

Immediately, he heard Mrs. Linde laugh. Drawn by the sound
, and
curious about the cause
,
he peeked inside. Despite his earlier observations, Darius half
expected to find Vance rucked up under the woman’s skirts—wasn’t that the reason most
men came to a brothel? Again, Vance deviated from the predictable.

The viscount and the Madame were doing nothing more lascivious than conversing
,
and in low tones Darius could not hear. Then Mrs. Linde handed Lord Vance a healthy
stack of bills.

As the fair-haired dandy pocketed the money, he lifted Mrs. Linde’s hand and brushed
a kiss across the back. Darius frowned, perplexed by the exchange. Men visiting a
brothel paid money for the pleasure therein, not the other way around. Why on earth
would Mrs. Linde give Lord Vance money?

The viscount released the Madame’s hand, and together they made their way to the door.
Knowing he must not be spotted, Darius furiously glanced around for a place to hide.
He finally darted to the water closet across the hall and ducked inside. Very glad
he’d had the foresight to wear nothing but black, Darius cracked the door and strained
to hear any of their conversation.

“I want something exquisite,” Mrs. Linde said in a surprisingly cultured voice. “You
understand that, I hope.”

“Most certainly.”

“And I do not want to wait long for it.”

“When have I ever disappointed you, Amelia?”

Mrs. Linde opened her door wide and smiled, displaying a surprising youthful beauty.
“Rarely, I must admit, you rogue. I shall be waiting.”

With a nod, Lord Vance exited the room.

Mind whirling to understand the brief conversation, Darius watched the viscount stride
down the corridor to the stairs. Mrs. Linde followed shortly behind.

After they’d gone, Darius raced across the hall until he came upon the dark-haired
whore’s room. He flung the door open to find her in the immodest position in which
he
’d
left her.

“Yer back. I was beginnin’ to think ye was lost in there.”

He withdrew more coins and tossed them to her. “You never saw me here
,
and I never asked any questions. Do we understand each other?”

She shrugged. “If you say.”

“Dress yourself.”

Slowly, the whore buttoned her bodice and arranged her skirts. “I suppose I’ll say
yer the kind of gent wot just likes to look, if Mrs. Linde asks.”

Darius grimaced. Were there such men?

“If you discover anything else about the man, Lord Vance, or his reason for coming
here, contact me.”

She took the calling card he held out to her, showing his father’s London address.
“Would there be blunt in it fer me?”

“Indeed. Just find out why he comes here.”

* * * *

Deprived of Norfield Park’s music room now that they were in London, Kira ambled into
a drawing room in Cropthorne’s town house and stopped. Decorated in deep blue trimmed
in gold, the room held everything the finest, from the Rococo-style moldings around
the door to the ormolu decoration on the marble chimneypiece. The carpet, made up
of blues and grays, perfectly matched the plush blue velvet-covered chairs all around.
The vast arched ceiling depicted various gardens in painted ovals aligned in straight
rows. Never had she imagined that so much detail would go into one of the family rooms.
At home, their space was comfortable, and she missed the bay window that overlooked
her side garden, but this… was magnificent.

Focusing on her task at hand, Kira made her way to the writing desk along the far
wall, bathed in golden mid-morning light. She peered up at a portrait of a frowning
woman
,
likely one of Gavin’s ancestors, she thought with a smile. Then she touched a waiting
quill on the ornate desk.

She sighed. Her father should be told of her pending marriage, but even if he was
still in Ceylon, the letter would not reach him before the nuptials. Still, she felt
the urge to inform him as best she could.

Sitting down to the desk, she searched for a piece of blank parchment. In seconds,
she had a crisp page before her and a fresh quill in her hand.

The white page glared back at her. How could she tell her father that she didn’t marry
the kind of well-placed man he foolishly vowed her beauty would snare? In truth, Kira
suspected her father only wanted to see her wed well as a subtle revenge against his
bigoted older brother.

Her father’s rivalry aside, Kira was not discontented to be wedding a man without
great fortune. Indeed, James’s good name was an opulent wealth for her in the midst
of this scandal. But she could not deny a trace of disappointment in marrying a man
she did not love.

She liked James, certainly. He had offered to help her recover her reputation after
Lord Vance’s lies, though she could provide him nothing of value in return. Even more,
James was kind and well-meaning, gentle, a good listener. Kira frowned, puzzled. So
why had she not confided in him?

Not certain she knew the answer, Kira dated the page and jotted the news of her upcoming
wedding, omitting references to Lord Vance. When her father returned to England from
indulging his latest case of wanderlust, she would hope the worst scandal was behind
her.

While deep in her thoughts, Kira felt a hand touch her shoulder and nearly jumped
out of her chair. With a start and a gasp, she glanced behind her, find
ing
Gavin
there
.

“I’m sorry, Kira. I did not mean to startle you.”

He looked exceedingly casual in nothing more than black trousers, riding boots
,
and a soft white shirt. A fine sheen of sweat filmed across the hard triangle of
his chest visible beneath the exposed
V
of his shirt. He looked as if he’d just been on a hard ride.

Wondering why he had sought her, Kira opened her mouth
but found
her mind more occupied with taking in the sight of him than sorting out her thoughts.
And her mouth felt curiously dry for talking.

Gavin bent to her, his hand upon her shoulder as he peered with concern. “Are you
well? You look flushed.”

Mortified by her reaction, Kira glanced back to her letter, taking her gaze from him.

“Merely deep in thought, writing a letter to my father.”

“Indeed? I understood from James that he is abroad.”

“In Ceylon, I believe, though one never knows. Last year, his passion took him to
China. Shortly before that, he ventured to Peru.”

“He is a well-traveled man.”

“Yes, he is able to pay for his adventures by translating documents and texts into
various languages.” Kira busied herself by examining the quill so as not to stare
at Gavin anymore. “He knows eight of them.”

Kira could not help it; she risked a peek at Gavin to find surprise cross his handsome
if serious face. “Eight. That is impressive. Has he taught you any?”

“I know four, though my Russian is quite bad, and I probably should not count it.”

The duke still looked impressed. “Like your Russian, my French is bad
,
worse than my singing, I daresay.”

She laughed, realizing it was impossible to distrust him when he was disarming. It
was even more difficult to ignore his appealing smile. “That is grave, indeed.”

“My sisters will have to represent the family should we ever find ourselves in Paris.
Anne
,
in particular
,
has a gift for language.”

The pride evident on his face touched Kira. He cared for his sisters, as much as Darius
cared for her. In her estimation, a girl needed a concerned, protective brother, and
the duke’s sisters were lucky to have him.

“But to be fair, Kate’s gift with a needle and thread is superlative,” he went on.
“She is also prettier and less reserved than Anne.”

The furrow between his dark brows displayed a worry that Kira could not ignore.

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“Your concern, Gavin. What troubles you?”

He hesitated, sighed. “Nothing of great import.”

From the worry clouding Gavin’s dark eyes, Kira knew his anxiety was very real. The
trouble was his, and he had elected not to share it with her. Still… perhaps she could
help.

“It obviously weighs upon you enough to turn your smile down and dim the liveliness
in your eyes.”

“I’m merely concerned for my sister Anne and her prospects for marriage.”

“If she’s half as lovely as—
”
you are handsome…
had she been about to utter that? Very bad move, indeed. No, she must think again,
not lose her thoughts when she found her gaze tangled with his. “I’m sure she’s a
lovely girl.”

“She is,” he quickly agreed. “It’s simply that I spoke last evening with one of my
cousins, who has taken the girls under her wing as she launches her own daughter this
season. Apparently Kate has more than her share of beaux and already has two offers,
one of them excellent. But Anne is much happier at home with her nose in a book. My
cousin says she does her utmost to blend in with the walls
. B
ecause of it, has few admirers.”

The turn of his mouth told Kira the issue concerned him. “So she is having a difficult
time emerging from Kate’s shadow?”

“It would seem so. And the longer this continues, the more difficult it will be for
Anne to establish herself in society. Can she not understand the importance of dancing,
smiling,
and a
bit of conversation?”

Anxiety shadowed Gavin’s dark eyes. This caring side of him made her smile. He, like
Darius, was a good though slightly misguided brother.

“She understands,” Kira assured him. “But if she is shy, it is more difficult for
her than you grasp, I fear.”

His expression could only be termed bewildered. “How so? Perhaps she enjoys the parties
and balls less than Kate but—
”

“You are not timid,” she pointed out. “So it is hard to explain. But I struggle with
my own nervousness at social gatherings. The small chatter and dancing you refer to
can seem almost painful at times.”

“Painful?” His expression told her the concept was foreign to him.

Kira found his confusion alternately exasperating and endearing. “When you are not
easy in crowds, there is terrible pressure to act with a grace and charm you do not
feel.”

“Perhaps, but Anne must persevere. Marrying well for a woman is of the utmost importance.”

Nothing could be more true. Gavin’s gaze delved hers, and Kira dared to hope that
his concern extended to her. Perhaps he truly did approve of her marriage to James
so that she, too, could marry suitably. The idea of his acceptance warmed her.

“Yes, marrying well is important,” she agreed. “Every woman knows that, just as every
good brother does what he can to facilitate such an event. Anne understands what you
expect, but you are asking her to sparkle in a situation that generally makes her
tongue feel tied. I’ve even been known to become dizzy in a press of too many people,
and no party in Suffolk ever grew as large as a true London ball.”

He looked frustrated, but appeared as if he tried to accept her words. “What can I
do to help her?”

“Talk to her. Offer her your support. Tell her you’re proud, no matter what. Attend
a function or two with her and keep her by your side. Your presence will put her at
ease and mean a great deal to her besides. Perhaps she merely needs to come away from
the wall to be seen by all the young men.”

He nodded, clearly mulling her words. “Perhaps so. You seem to understand my dilemma
well.”

“Let us say that Darius did his best to ease me into society when I would have preferred
to remain at home with my music.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she
thought fondly of all the ways in which her brother had tried to help her.

“You are very close to him.”

The duke’s observation did not surprise Kira. The fact he wished to speak to her about
it, however, only made Kira like him more.

“Through much of our childhood, Darius and I raised one another. I taught him to read.
He taught me to fish. I looked after him when—”
mother chose to stay in Persia—
“as I became older, and he made me feel safe when Papa was away on his adventures.”