Wicked Proposition (6 page)

Lilly entered her room and saw Catherine’s tense
face. She knew at once something was wrong. Catherine informed her
of her disastrous walk.

“Did he see you?” Lilly demanded as she paced
angrily in front of the small fireplace.

“No, I don’t think so.” Catherine hung her head
dejectedly. “I am sorry. I had to get out of this room.”

Lillianne swung to face her. Her face was a
mottled with rage. “Did you think at all before you nearly
destroyed everything we have worked for?”

Catherine shook her head. “He did not see me! I
returned here at once. You needn’t worry.”

“We must move you, my dear,” Lilly murmured
worriedly. “You cannot stay here after tonight. Madame Devereaux’s
carriage arrives at seven. You must stay there until we find you
rooms somewhere else. Did you perchance see the man loitering
outside? He was hired by the Earl to watch me! He could have seen
you! This could be a disaster!”

Catherine was stunned and horrified at the
thought of staying at the brothel for any length of time. She did
not trust the madam.

“How long must I stay there? This is not what we
agreed upon!” Catherine reminded her harshly.

“You nearly ruined everything, we have no
choice,” Lilly replied scathingly. “If you are lucky, he will be
pleased with you tonight and return to enjoy your favors. I cannot
say how long you must remain. I cannot risk leasing you other
rooms. His Lordship gets a list of my expenditures weekly. It is
unfortunate, but I did warn you to stay here. You may even find
your time there useful.”

Catherine’s indrawn gasp made her sister raise a
questioning brow.

“You must get used to what you are playing at,
Catherine,” she informed her coolly. “This was, after all, your
idea. If you do not capture my husband’s interest, all is
lost.”

Catherine met her soulless blue gaze. She
couldn’t help but agree that she had come to this idea. It nagged
at her she was being manipulated somehow.

She was not staying at the brothel any longer
than it took to secure the man’s interest and attentions. She found
herself in over her head.

Lilly took much for granted. She expected her to
live in a brothel until she engaged the Earl’s affections.

Lilly was weaving her deceit around them both.
She felt it wrapping around her now like slippery tentacles,
drawing her down further, deeper into her web.

She bit her lip and eyed the red silk creation
on the bed with distaste. It was cut so low across the bodice it
nearly exposed her breasts. It was indecently snug, cut in a
clinging fashion all the way to the floor, accentuating her tiny
waist and giving an inordinate amount of attention to her trim
curving hips and buttocks.

The slits up the sides of the gown went almost
too mid-thigh, exposing her long slender legs and her gartered
stockings when she walked. She flushed as crimson as the gown.
Lilly insisted on the color herself. The gown would scream for
attention. She flicked at the silk stockings and long gloves with
distaste.

Amy arrived at her rooms to attend to her bath.
She helped her into her corset and cinched the ties so tightly
Catherine gasped and coughed. Catherine could not look at herself
in the mirror as the maid finished helping her dress. The maid left
the room to return to Iverleigh Manor without a word.

Catherine sat quietly as she finished applying
the cosmetics like Yvetta taught her.

Amy had already brushed, pinned and curled her
lustrous mass of hair into a very sophisticated style. Loose curls
framed her face and trailed down her back.

When Catherine caught a glimpse of herself in
the oval mirror at her dressing table, she was stunned. The
creature staring back at her looked ravishingly wicked.

Catherine donned the long red gloves. She slid
on the pair of dangerously high heeled slippers that made her at
least two inches taller. The matching red cloak was her only
protection from feeling totally exposed.

She glanced at the mantle clock. It was close to
seven. Catherine knew Madame Devereaux’s coach would arrive soon.
Catherine felt her own panic begin when a rough-looking man
arrived. He was completely bald and gazed at her with a leer in his
expression.

A long wicked scar ran across one side of his
face. She avoided looking at him, wondering what manner of a man
this ruffian was. He grinned at her, showing rotted teeth, his
fetid breath making her take a step back.

She swallowed hard. Another man soon arrived,
looking just as disreputable as his partner. They introduced
themselves as Lester and Harry. They retrieved her trunk. They were
employed by Madame Devereaux.

They returned to the coach to load Catherine’s
belongings. Her gaze filled with dread. It was time to leave. She
opened the door and stepped out. She descended the stone steps to
the awaiting coach and glared at Lester as he whistled lewdly at
her. Her contemptuous look silenced the man. Harry grumbled and
opened the door to the coach and assisted her inside. He joined
Lester on the driver’s perch and the coach moved away.

The long ride to Covent Garden seemed to last
forever and Catherine was shocked by the dismal conditions there
compared to Mayfair. The air fairly reeked with the stench of human
filth and all of its depravities. Children ran about the dirty,
rubbish-strewn streets barefoot. Merchants hawked their wares from
wooden carts and blocked intersections. Streetwalkers shouted
lewdly. It was mayhem, and she longed to turn back.

Catherine was feeling more than a little
apprehensive when they drew up in front of a modest two-story
building. Lester whipped open the door. Catherine was assailed with
the atrocious odors once again. Disgust was evident to see human
filth streaming in puddles from chamber pots being emptied into the
streets. She felt nauseated and faint.

Lester eyed her loss of composure and chuckled
evilly. “Wot’s wrong, me foin’ dove? Ain’t yer new home to yer
likin’? Ye have plenty o’ time to get used to it!” he taunted, his
rotting grin adding to her unease.

Harry alighted from the perch and struggled with
her trunk. She flinched when the man dropped it onto the
cobblestones, chuckling as he jumped down.

“Ye ain’t going to need all of them clothes
anyway, lovey!” Harry explained with an apologetic shrug as she
looked at her abused trunk in amusement. “Ye get paid at having em’
off o’ ye.”

Catherine shuddered as the two men lifted the
dented trunk and went around to the rear of the house and directed
her to follow them. She almost tripped as her heel caught a loose
stone in the road. She looked about trying to decide whether she
should make a run for it as the two men disappeared from her sight.
Before she could decide, they returned and gestured to her with
matching dark looks. She had no choice but to follow them.

###

“Lord Iverleigh, it is always a pleasure to see
you,” Clarice trilled with delight as she approached. “I was just
inviting Lord Seaton to enjoy one of the cigars I imported from the
Indies. I insist you try one. He claims they are far superior to
the Spaniard’s,” she boasted with a wide, painted smile.

The brothel had recently been redecorated.
Gabriel noted it as he gazed about the entry way. Even the tile had
been redone. The checkered marble floor gleamed with polish and was
reflective under the many taper candles glow.

One who didn’t know it to be a brothel would
assume it was an ordinary residence. That is, until they entered
the large room that Clarice used to entertain her gentlemen
clientele. The large salon’s walls were lined in gilt-edged scarlet
silk. The room was windowless, of course. For what often went on in
the room, Clarice allowed no outsider to view unless they had the
coin for it. Everything had a price.

The opposite wall was mirrored tile where one
could see everything going on in the room at all times, useful for
times when a client crossed the line.

Lester and Harry were suspiciously absent at
their post at the door. He and Nicholas were led into the salon.
Gabriel nearly groaned as he recognized a half-dozen gentleman
seated about the room with a bevy of scantily clad ladies draped
about them.

Nicholas noted his discomfort. He sent him a
conspiratorial wink. Gabriel accepted one of Clarice’s cigars and
was about to light it when a booming voice intruded.

“Is that you Iverleigh?” an obviously drunk Lord
Dartmouth called out from across the room. “It’s not Thursday, my
lord,” the man reminded him and chortled with his companions,
mocking Gabriel’s clockwork visit to see Constance.

Gabriel nodded to the man and prayed he did not
join him. Gabriel was in no mood to banter with the tedious noble.
The man would no doubt spread tales of it at his next soiree.

Nicholas was receiving a great deal of attention
from the prostitutes. Gabriel ignored his smug look as several
sauntered away from the rowdy group of noblemen.

The three women began to stalk Nicholas
purposefully, licking their lips as they approached. The noblemen
were more intent on sampling Madame’s liquor than the other vices
she offered. They hardly noticed they had been deserted.

A willowy blonde in a severely low-cut blue gown
approached. Gabriel nodded to the prostitute named Yvetta, noting
in disappointment Constance was engaged.

His favorite regarded him sorrowfully. She sat
upon the knees of a young, boisterous nobleman named Seaton.
Constance pretended interest in Lord Seaton, but all knew who she
preferred. The comely brunette smiled at him in regret as she was
pinched and prodded by her client.

Yvetta was looking at him with a predatory gleam
in her pale blue eyes. She smiled at him coquettishly and pulled at
his sleeve.

“I have missed you, Lord Iverleigh,” Yvetta
breathed deeply, her erotic gaze lowering to the bulge in his
breeches.

Gabriel grinned as he remembered their last
encounter some time ago. Yvetta was inexhaustible and clever with
her tongue, if memory served him. He could see his favorite next
Thursday, as was his ritual. He decided the Norwegian beauty would
break the monotony nicely.

Nicholas enjoyed the three prostitutes fawning
attentions upon a nearby divan. Gabriel chuckled at his look of
absolute delight.

He was about to suggest they retire to her rooms
when Madame Devereaux returned.

Clarice spoke harshly to Yvetta in French. The
beauty fled back to Lord Dartmouth’s side. Yvetta pouted as she
listened to Dartmouth’s obnoxious boasting.

“It would appear I am without a companion now,
Clarice,” Gabriel complained coolly, taking the brandy the Madame
offered.

“I have a new girl for you this night, my lord,”
Clarice purred softly. “I believe you will find her much more to
your liking. She will be arriving soon.”

Gabriel nodded and rejoined Nicholas, who was
being entertained by all three women. Gabriel shook his head in
amazement as he watched Nicholas being petted, wetted, and patted
by all three.

One of the girls had her hand in his shirt; one
stroked his long, ebony mane, and the other struggled with his
belt.

Nicholas had them laughing over his clever jests
when he noticed Gabriel standing alone. He whispered to the three
prostitutes and they giggled. He disengaged himself and rejoined
the Earl.

“Yvetta is otherwise engaged,” Gabriel explained
with a look of annoyance.

“I insist you join us, my friend. There are
plenty to go around. I do not mind sharing,” Nicholas offered with
a knowing grin. “It might prove interesting with one more.”

“Clarice has a new girl. I appreciate your
offer, but you know how much I despise sharing, no offense,”
Gabriel grumbled, glowering at the loud-talking Dartmouth.

Gabriel noticed Nicholas’s attention was riveted
somewhere else. Gabriel glanced over to see what drew his notice.
His mouth summarily dropped as well.

She stood in the doorway of the salon. Gabriel
was immediately intrigued. The raven-haired beauty smiled
seductively and sauntered gracefully into the room.

Gabriel was staring intently. She passed him,
giving him a whiff of her exotic perfume. The dark-haired lady
offered him a smile as she retrieved a glass of champagne from the
sideboard.

Gabriel was staring at the delectable curve of
her derriere before she turned to face him. He met her amazing
cat-like green eyes. An undercurrent rippled within him.

She raised the crystal flute to her ruby lips,
never breaking eye contact with him. He felt his loins tighten as
her small, pink tongue slid past her lips to wipe at drops of
champagne lingering there.

A fair amount of leg was seen as she walked
toward him. His lips parted in wonder as he saw the shapely ivory
thighs exposed. His eyes rose to the creamy expanse of her bosom
overflowing in the revealing gown. Dark eyes flared with interest.
Gabriel’s mouth went dry to see the imprint of the cherry-like
peaks nearly exposed to his gaze. She was perfection.

The candlelight played off the blue-black
highlights of her upswept hair. He longed to loosen the pins and
slide his hands through the lustrous mass of curls. Gabriel’s
sudden and obvious reaction to the lady in red made his companion
chuckle at his side.

“You had better claim that one or I will,”
Nicholas vowed under his breath, looking mesmerized by the vision
in red. “On second thought, why don’t I give you my three ladies?
That is more than fair for me losing Nan.”

“Not a chance, Nicholas. This one is mine,”
Gabriel whispered, unable to take his eyes off the exquisite
creature in red. He closed the distance to reach her side.

The girl was no common whore. She looked up at
him and he found himself lost in her emerald gaze. A crude voice
broke the spell.