To Seduce an Earl (21 page)

Gideon tugged her into the hall, but she fought him, twisting in his grasp only to turn toward Alex. “When will I see you again?” she asked.

The question surprised him, made him pause. It wasn’t the words, but the need laced under the question. She wanted him. The words were out, the desire left hanging there between them.

As if sensing the importance of her statement, she flushed. “For an appointment, I mean.”

“I’ll be at the Rutherford Masked Ball,” he blurted out.

For one long moment they merely stared at each other, neither knowing what to do. With that simple question, she’d changed everything. Even Gideon showed his shock when he rarely showed any emotion. The man frowned and Alex knew exactly what he was thinking; Alex and Grace had crossed a line. But Gideon didn’t realize that at the ball Alex would make his escape. He merely needed to see Grace one last time.
 

“Go, now,” Alex demanded.

He reached forward, pulling the door shut and blocking her from view. But it was too late. It was too damn late. Her words had pierced his heart. He knew in that moment, she’d done the unthinkable and fallen for a whore. God help him, he was pleased.
 

Chapter 11

There was one time and one time only, when Lady Lavender allowed her boys to leave their gilded prison and enter the normal world.

Masked balls.

Not that people didn’t know who Lady Lavender was merely because she had a mask of brilliant violet and green peacock feathers surrounding those icy eyes. No, she was as noticeable with a mask as without. That flaxen hair, the petite, yet curvy body and her violet dress with a neckline so low, it was almost unlawful. They knew exactly who she was, but during a masked ball they could pretend to be ignorant. The next day they’d feign horror, all the while secretly thrilled that Ophelia had brought attention to their ball.
 

The men watched her wearily, wondering if the rumors were true, at the same time the desire was evident in their lusty gazes. The women, on the other hand, either ignored her, or threw her tiny smirks that bespoke of feminine secrets. She was watched. She was feared. She was adored.

But she didn’t arrive alone. Lady Lavender always attended masked balls with at least two of her pretty boys at hand. James, her favorite, had attended so many that he was almost at ease amongst the
ton
. Ironic, considering James had been born a street rat.

While Alex had been born to privilege, he felt anything but relaxed. He scanned the thickening crowd, dampening down the panicked need for air. Afraid he’d see someone he knew, or someone would recognize him from a former life. Fear of being out in the open with normal society. Fear of seeing his family. But mostly he despised the fact that he was treated exactly as how he feared he would…like a
thing
.

Yes, he and James were perfect specimens. Two men dressed impeccably in black suits, his jacket embroidered with golden thread that surely cost a small fortune, their handsome faces obscured only by a small black mask. Their demeanor as brooding and mysterious as a hero in any Gothic novel. It was a time for Lady Lavender to parade her wares, to tempt the women of the
ton
to her side. He’d been pinched, leered at, and groped by a variety of women and a few men. And still Alex had kept that charming, mysterious smile in place. Sure, his teeth were gritted so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked in his skull, but a feat indeed.

They stayed near the walls, out of the way of the crowd, their backs protected. They stayed on the outskirts of reverie, never belonging. Like statues placed along the perimeter for adoration. They were watched closely by everyone. Even now he could feel their gazes like insects crawling over his skin.

They wondered who he was, how he’d be in bed, and most importantly what he could do for them. Alex swallowed hard, his hands trembling. But none of that mattered tonight. It didn’t matter that they held no respect for him. That the men cursed him to hell. That the women thought of him only as a whore. None of that mattered because Grace had not attended.

He’d searched every female form, every masked face, hoping, praying to see her, but it was obvious she had decided not to attend. And perhaps that was for the best. A relationship would only complicate things. Why then, did his chest feel so tight? Why did he feel as if the world around him no longer mattered?
 

Taking in a deep breath, Alex set his flute of champagne upon a small side table. “James, you don’t tire of this?”

James glanced at him through the small mask he wore. “What do you mean?”

“Being nothing more than a toy.”

James shrugged, glancing quickly around to make sure they would not be overheard. Between the loud conversations, laughter and music, Alex knew they had as much privacy as they would in their bedchambers, but still the lad worried their conversation would travel back to Ophelia. And they mustn’t upset her.

“It’s a position. A job I do well. There could be worse things in life than pleasuring beautiful women.”

Alex patted him on the back, attempting to ignore the ire he felt at James’ statement. “That’s where you’re wrong, my boy. It’s not a job, it’s a hell in which we have no choice but to reside.”

James shrugged and started to walk away, making his rounds, or fleeing Alex’s intense statements, more like. “It could be worse.”

Alex frowned, biting back a reply. James refused to understand; refused to open his eyes. He insisted Lady Lavender had saved them. He couldn’t see that they were no better than prisoners, forced to sell their bodies. Of course it had taken Alex sometime to understand the truth of his situation. It was Gideon who had started putting ideas into his head.

“Why us?”

It was the first question Gideon had whispered to Alex and it was enough. With that question, something had shifted, a tiny flare of life had grown when he’d been so numb before. Why had Lady Lavender focused on them?

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore but escape. But where would he go? Seeing Grace was impossible. Not only would he risk her reputation, but now that they knew he’d escorted her home that night at the gaming hell, Lady Lavender would be keeping a watchful eye on Grace’s townhouse. But how could he leave without a farewell? He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He’d told her he would be here. She hadn’t come. Perhaps she didn’t want to see him. Perhaps she was done with this nonsense.
 

“Alex, darling, is that you?” someone whispered.

The rich scent of sherry and lilies swirled around him, a familiar scent although one he couldn’t quite place. He turned. Brilliant golden hair, dark eyes behind a mask of red feathers. He searched his memory until a name popped to mind. He’d been her first, although certainly not her last. “My Lady Sweetin.”

Her painted red lips pulled into a grin. “You remember me?”

She was bold to approach him when she knew people would notice. But then she liked attention. She wore her bodices low and paint on her face when it was frowned upon. She had found him on purpose, no doubt, knowing people would whisper. Perhaps she was attempting to make her husband jealous.

He took her gloved hand, bowing over the pristine white fingers, the only thing pristine about her. “I could never forget you. Although shame on you, I haven’t seen you in ages.” He fell back into his regular routine. Reel them in. Make a profit. “I’ve missed you.”

She giggled, sidling closer to him. Her perfume was cloying, as well as her personality. He resisted the urge to cough. She was gaudy, much like the ball room. Gold and marble, velvet curtains. They all belonged here, dandy prats. And at one time, he would have belonged here as well. Now…hell, now he belonged on the streets with the rats.

“You look delicious,” she whispered, her hand sliding to his backside and squeezing. He didn’t even flinch. Oddly, he wasn’t numb to her touch. Ire swarmed low in his belly like a swarm of bees. The anger was so sudden, so unexpected, that it shocked him into silence. Confused, he shifted his fingers through his hair. He was tired. Merely tired of them all. Either groppping women or quivering virgins. But not Grace. A breath of fresh air.

No. He wouldn’t think of her. He wouldn’t think of Grace and her sweet eyes and her even sweeter mouth. He wouldn’t think about the fact that she made him dream of impossible things. Or the fact that she’d been completely ready to nurse him back to health when all others had forgotten him. He wouldn’t think of her because he’d told her he’d be at this ball, yet she hadn’t come.
 

Lady Sweetin drew her hand down his injured arm, the skin tingling in protest. “Meet me in the gardens.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand and as Lady Sweetin was one of their highest paid clients, he didn’t dare refuse. Besides, meeting with a client could provide him with the perfect opportunity to escape.

Alex inclined his head. “Of course.”

She flittered away, those round hips swooshing back and forth and commanding more than one man’s attention. Always work to be done. Lord, he didn’t want to play right now, but he had no choice. Never any choice. It had been days since he’d had a woman and Ophelia would be eager for him to get back into the chase.

He scanned the crowd, looking for the one woman whose permission he needed. Even thinking about leaving without Ophelia’s approval caused his body to ache all over again. He placed his hand on his ribs, rubbing a sore spot that refused to heal. Four days later and there was still some pain. Had her minions finally cracked a rib? They were supposedly trained to inflict pain, but not permanent damage.

He caught a flash of violet from the corner of his eye and turned, spotting Ophelia next to James. Just the sight of the woman made him sick. As if sensing him, she turned. No doubt, she was making sure her boy was where he was supposed to be. He gave her a slight nod. A silent message that told her he was working on a client and might be gone for awhile.

She frowned, but nodded back. She’d check on him, he knew that. Most likely send James to the garden in a few minutes. And James, the bastard, would no doubt run back to tell her all. Slowly, he edged along the perimeter of the ball, following the wall. So many colorful dresses, surrounded by black suits. Men and women flirting, moving amongst each other in a rhythm of give and take. Couples coming together because they were attracted to each other, not because they had to flirt.

Disgust ate at his gut. He looked away. A flash of auburn hair had him jerking his head upright. Had he imagined it? Was he so bloody mad that he was finally seeing things? Someone shifted, there it was again. Shimmering auburn locks, curls cascading over creamy bare shoulders and a back covered with a light blue gown that pinched a tiny waist and flared to the floor in a wave of shimmering folds. He froze. She was here. Grace had come. Damn her.

His heart slammed in his chest, his blood thrumming under his skin. His soul sensed her. His fingers curled as he resisted the urge to go to her... and say what? No, he’d ruin her reputation by singling her out.

As if sensing his attention, she turned. Like everyone else she wore a mask, her upper face covered, unrecognizable by a simple blue covering. But those lush lips were free. He didn’t need to see her face completely to know it was Grace. He sensed her. Felt her deep within his being.

Her gaze scanned the crowd as if looking for something or someone. Looking for him? His heart stopped; fear and eagerness fighting for attention. Before she noticed him he slipped behind a column. He leaned back against the cool marble and took in a deep, trembling breath.

Although beautiful, she looked so out of place here amongst the cruel and callous
ton.
An angel in hell. She glowed with a purity when they all faded with dullness. They wouldn’t appreciate someone like Grace. They’d find her odd, a curiousity. She didn’t belong in a brothel and she didn’t belong in this world where he barely resided. She didn’t belong with him.

The thought of seeing her now was too much. Damn it. He couldn’t speak with her now, not when he was going to see Lady Sweetin. He couldn’t be so close to her. He couldn’t remember that kiss and not touch her.

Need swelled within. The desire to breathe in her clean scent, to hold her warm body. The need to have her slowly draw her fingers through his hair…

He clenched his teeth so tight, his jaw began to ache. No. She’d kissed him out of guilt and sympathy. She hadn’t kissed because she cared. God forbid. She merely felt guilty. At least, he had to believe that because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to go outside.

Alex pushed away from the column.
And if she did have feelings?
His mind taunted. Well then, it had happened before. Clients falling for their men. Lady Lavender always made quick work of putting an end to any affection they might share. But it didn’t matter because he was leaving. He wasn’t a complete arse. He’d send her a note, explain to her that he’d had to escape, that they could never see each other again. Perhaps she’d be upset at first, but she’d move on…most likely finding comfort in the arms of her earl.

No, she wasn’t enamored. Women often thought they had feelings for their men after they’d been intimate, but the most he and Grace had done was kiss. No, she wasn’t enamored, she merely felt indebted to him. With renewed determination, he started toward the doors that led into the garden. He would ignore her. He would not search her out. He would not think about her.