And yet everything had shifted. The title of Earl of Westhunt was now held by my twin, Sebastian, a brother who’d been all too happy when I ran off in the dead of night to join a party leaving for business ventures in India. And our eldest brother, groomed to be earl from birth, was now deceased.

  “I will make the presumptuous assumption we are not to bunk at the family town home tonight then?” Bellamy asked, striding down the plank directly behind him.

  I retained my brisk pace and swiveled my head slightly to confirm Bell’s assumption. “I leave the question of our lodging in your capable hands.” We’d slept in all sorts of places during our travels.

  Behind me Bellamy muttered, but I knew he’d pull through. If there was a more capable man at sorting through logistical difficulties, I’d yet to meet him.

  “John,” I called to my solicitor, the one London man I’d maintained contact with throughout my journeys. I sped up my steps to greet the other man with a hearty handshake. “How goes it? Still in trade I see.” I enjoyed ribbing John, the youngest son of a duke who didn’t take the easy road, but chose to work for coin instead. John and I had a lot in common. We’d never been satisfied living the life of a pampered aristocrat and both sought something more meaningful in our lives.

  “Mr. Morgan. Still hanging with the dregs, I see,” John responded easily with a grin at Bellamy who returned the smile, along with a rude hand gesture. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of renting a property for you.”

  Bellamy clapped John on the back. “Excellent. Less work for me.”

  “It’s nothing fancy,” John warned. “Hasn’t been lived in for some years. Only one or two rooms may be habitable.”

  I laughed. “It will be a palace.”

  “I’ll say.” Bellamy smiled with a far-off look on his face. “Real English featherbeds and, best of all, no sand.”

  “Show us home, John, and on the way, tell me news of my twin,” I said. “Has he taken on the mantle of responsibility along with the title, or has he maintained his hell-raising ways?” I fingered two letters in my waistcoat. The one from my school days was worn and soft from multiple readings and highlighted my supposed misdeeds at school. My twin had written it to our father, blaming all his capers on me. It now served as a reminder to never trust Sebastian. The crisper more recent letter detailed my eldest brother’s death in quick phrasing.

  “The latter, I’m afraid, and wait until you hear what mischief he’s entered into this time. It involves a woman named Madame Bella.”

  Bellamy visibly perked up as he climbed into John’s carriage. “Madame? Sounds promising.”

  John climbed in opposite and shook his head. “Not this. Rumors are circling it involves innocent chits.”

  I frowned. Off the boat and into the thick of things, all involving my twin. Seven years away and that hadn’t changed. I leaned forward, planting my forearms on my thighs. “Tell me more.”

  “Do I hear one thousand?”

  Madame Bella’s overly floral scent floated up to my position on the newly erected dais, forcing me to hold my breath, lest I get sick. Nothing would lower the bidding like the sight of me casting my crumpets all over my royal-blue, slightly vulgar gown. I tried to hide a nervous giggle and focus on smiling prettily at all the assembled gentleman never allowing one in particular to catch my eye. Better I maintain the pretense that they weren’t real flesh-and-blood men who eyed me as if I were their next meal. There’d be time enough for that later, when I belonged to one of them.

  “One thousand five hundred.”

  Madame Bella paused to acknowledge the bid from a man in the corner. The sudden, slight English inflection in her voice told me the madame was surprised by this latest bidder, but didn’t outwardly show it other than losing the French accent she claimed was real.

  “Show your bosom,” called a voice from the crowd. “How am I to know to know if she’s worth a bid?”

  I lifted my chin and let my coy smile stretch, planting my sisters’ images in my mind. I did this for them. For them I could do anything. Thank goodness Madame had allowed me to switch places with Elizabeth. When I’d arrived at Madame’s doorstep instead of Elizabeth, I risked everything, but luckily Madame relented and agreed to train me instead of my younger, prettier sister.

  Lavish, crimson velvet draperies hung inches away giving me comfort that I’d grab them if my knees crumpled as they currently threatened. It was a false hope. I’d seen George hang those draperies this morning. Barely more than a thin nail apiece held them aloft, giving the dais the appearance of a stage and me as a prima donna on display. More likely, I’d pull the curtains down with me if I grabbed them.

  There was an endless, infinite pause as Madame turned to me for an assessing glance before turning a coquettish smile to the heckler. Her smile reminded most men in the room why she’d been the toast of London mistresses before retiring and opening her “finishing” school.

  “I promise you, Charlene is worth every sovereign and more. She’s my best pupil. I considered keeping her on as my assistant teacher.”

  I nearly snorted at Madame’s lie, but barely started at the sound of my new name. If caring for the other girls and reading every book in her library meant top marks in Madame’s mind, then yes, I was a top pupil. Somehow I doubted they valued the same qualities.

  Madame continued berating the man shouting from the crowd. “Seeing as you haven’t got a ha-penny to your name, it is unlikely you’ll ever see a hint of any bosoms in this venue,” she said, quickly turning away from the heckler and back to the bidding.

  Madame stepped onto the dais and fisted a lock of my hair. “Like silk gentleman. And the color? Pure gold.” I stood as still as possible while Madame detailed each of my features. I’d never thought about my breasts being a perfect handful, but I supposed Madame knew what gentlemen liked.

  Most of the offers now seemed to be coming from the same two men, both seemingly opposites in position and temperament. One of the higher-bidding gentleman, stood surrounded by cronies and hangers-on. His old-gold coat spoke of wealth and a fine valet. The group of men surrounding him drank heavily and made lewd jokes. The man at the center of these sycophants preened and played to his loyal audience. The other man who bid on me lurked alone in a dark corner, kept even more hidden by his black coat and hat, which he’d kept on in the house.

  More offers flew, the numbers going higher than I ever dreamed a man could earn in a lifetime. The dapper gentleman, surrounded by his friends, stepped closer to the dais with each offering, and even I heard the competitiveness in his voice. He didn’t really want me. He wanted to win.

  A shudder rippled through me at the thought of bodily belonging to such a man. Would he ride me like a prize horse and leave me out to pasture when I’d outrun my usefulness? According to Madame, yes.

  One last bid came from the shadows where the hidden bidder stood. A sum so astronomical, I cringed, knowing I’d never live up to the price. The things he would expect from me. I couldn’t possibly…but I’d have to. My sisters, I repeated silently. I did this for my sisters. And I’d cut out a person’s tongue if they ever told my sisters I’d turned into a whore, albeit, a highly coveted one, to support them through a Season in London.

  The crowd of wealthy gentleman stirred uneasily as the loser of the auction slammed his glass full of amber liquid to the carpet. He was obviously a man unused to losing. A few stray drops landed on the hem of my dress. Madame Bella gestured frantically behind her back for me to join her on common ground to soothe the gentleman’s ire, but before I took more than a few steps off my auction block, a leather-clad hand landed heavily on my forearm.

  “Excuse…” I broke off at the realization that the hand belonged to the auction winner, my new protector. He allowed me no room to catch my bearings, but swept me alongside him as he strode toward the now cursing loser. He was at least a head taller than me, and I’d guess his hair was dark going by the shadowy beard on his face. He looked to be only a few years older than me, and though his body was mostly hidden by his coat, he seemed strong and fit.

  “You promised me, Bella.” The auction loser loomed over Madame Bella, seeming to physically threaten her.

  I shrank back into the protective shadow of my new lord and master who showed no outward sign of fear at the ugly outburst. If anything he seemed bored.

  “Is there a problem?” His smooth, deep voice conjured images of reading in a toasty-warm library, snuggled in a large chair surrounded by walls of books. My idea of heaven on earth.

  “Yes, there is a problem, but it’s none of your damn business. This is between me and Bella.” The man kept glaring at Madame.

  “I’m afraid I have to disagree, brother.”

  I jerked my head to stare up at the man in black, startled by the hatred I heard hidden by the mild tone. If I hadn’t been pressed in close enough to feel the tautness of his muscles, I’d never have guessed he cared in the slightest about the ensuing scene.

  “Brother?” Finally, the man stopped his abuse of Madame Bella and turned from her to face us. His eyes narrowed as he truly looked at the man holding my arm. “Lucas? You’re alive?”

  I swept an elegant bow, though I wanted to plow my fist into Sebastian’s face. Let a bruise or two mar the elegant visage, unfortunately so similar to mine, but hiding an internal ugliness. “I am alive. You can rest easy. Your twin is back.”

  Gasps emerged from the two women surrounding us as well as some from Sebastian’s cronies who’d stayed to see their hero browbeat Madame Bella into altering the conclusion of the auction in his favor. Unfortunately for Sebastian, I would never allow that to happen.

  Pure miracle, really, that I’d arrived in London with enough time to set up a residence and hear enough gossip about tonight’s auction in time to come thwart my brother.

  “Brothers…” A sweet voice slid into my hearing from the woman for whom I’d just paid a fortune. Her alluring scent floated into my awareness, smelling of an intriguing mix of gardenias and innocence. She didn’t know how lucky she was. I’d started counterbidding Sebastian only to stop him, like stopping a spoiled child from getting every desired toy, but something had changed throughout the bidding. The girl’s face had shown every sign of being thrilled to be on stage and the center of attention, but her eyes told a different story. Seven years traveling the world had given me an excellent barometer for looking deeper into people.

  The girl was terrified and rightly so. She’d nearly become the mistress of a man who’d possibly killed his eldest brother in order to secure an earldom for himself. Although, she didn’t know any of this. No one did. It was the driving force of why I had at long last sailed back from London. So it begged the question, why would a terrified supposed virgin put herself up for auction before the highest-titled gentleman of the ton?

  Money, no doubt. Part of me wanted to solve her particular mystery, but for now all my targets were set on my eldest-by-four-minutes brother. It was tricky to tell in the dimmed, flickering candlelight, but my brother’s face paled at the shock of seeing his twin alive and well. He chose to play off his shock and pretend to be happy to see me.

  He grabbed me in for a hug which I allowed. “Lucas.”

  I accepted the hardy pounding on my shoulder, grateful Sebastian chose to hide his true nature behind a jovial mask. It could have easily gone the other way and I’d now be pulling an irate, violent earl off the proprietor of London’s newest and most exclusive brothel.

  If the Madame was fearful of the notorious outbursts from the Earl of Westhunt, she hid it well, taking the opportunity to whisper a few words in the ear of her former charge, the girl I now held possession of.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Madame will show you to a private room where you can visit with your brother while I go gather my belongings,” the girl said with nary a trace of smile or any of the coquetry she’d displayed on stage. What had Madame Bella called her? Charlene?

  As I looked away from Sebastian, I was startled by the soft, genteel voice of my first-ever exclusive mistress. She sounded less like a mistress and more like a governess. I nodded curtly at her naïve assumption I wanted to spend a second of time pretending to be wrapped up in brotherly affection, but she hurried away before I could disabuse her of the notion.

  Setting my mouth in a grim line, I followed the large, perfumed girth of Madame Bella to a shabby back parlor.

  “My apologies, the workmen haven’t attended to this room yet.” She slid a calculating look at me, appraising me. She wasted her time—I’d not give her another cent. She should be thrilled her first auction went to the heights it did. It’d be the talk of gentleman’s clubs for weeks. Reading my expression correctly, she murmured, “Come see me to settle your account and sign the papers when Charlene returns.” With eyes wide in her beautiful face, she glanced quickly at Sebastian then back at me before backing out of the room.

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

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

  “Why did you do it?” Sebastian asked.

  “Do what?” What did my brother think I’d done?

  “Bid on her. Do you really want her?”

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

  “She’s all right.” Sebastian shrugged. Then why had he bid so ferociously? “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 my turn to shrug, but my twin was closer to my true feelings than I cared to acknowledge. Bidding on a woman as I’d bid on a horse was unsettling. I’d been gone from London seven years, and now returned intending to find a wife as soon as I’d settled the ugly business of figuring out whether my twin had committed fratricide.

  “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?” I 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 I disguised my revulsion and nodded. “There are other places to find beautiful women willing to warm your bed. Perhaps you’ll have better luck there.”

  My 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.”

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

  No. I tamped down that line of thought. I’d bought the girl to thwart my brother and save her from a cruel future. I’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 me as though seeing every disturbing, lurid fantasy I’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.” If she’s not actually a virgin, you could negotiate the price.

  Images of following Charlene up the stairs, pressing her front to the wall while I lifted her silky gown from behind, flashed through my mind. Before I could respond or curb my body’s sudden unruly response, a gasp had me whipping around to see my new mistress in the doorway looking shocked at my brother’s frank language. The incongruity of her response bothered me. 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.

  I rose. “Shall we go find Madame? I’m done here.” I stepped toward the woman, refusing to spare a last glance for my brother. Let him gain a false sense of comfort. There’d be time later to let him know I 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.” My disgust rang through my negative response. “Let’s find Madame and then leave here.”

  I yanked her elbow to my side and exited to sign over the exorbitant sum I’d bid.

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

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

  From everything I’d learned from Madame these past weeks, welcoming two men in my bed was now acceptable behavior. The man holding my 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 my suggestion of sharing his brother.

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

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

  I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the unwanted young voice and tipped my head toward my 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 my twenty-first birthday, and I 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.

 

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