Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender (26 page)

But tonight, looking like she did—playing the role she needed to play—didn’t feel right. Tonight she felt cheap. Used. And it was Rafe’s fault.

He’d forced her to glimpse a different life. He’d given her the choice of being someone other than a prostitute. Other than a whore. He’d let her believe it was possible to
have the kind of life she’d only dreamed of having. Now she was terrified that she’d never be satisfied with her life again.

She returned from the mirror and headed for the door. She couldn’t stand to remain in her room another minute. She needed to mingle with the clients who’d come for an evening’s entertainment. She needed to forget about Rafe. And that would only happen if she got back to the life she used to lead. The life she was dealt at the age of fifteen.

Hannah reached for the knob and stopped when there was a knock on the door. She opened the door. Dalia stood on the other side.

“Are you all right, Genny?” she asked when she was inside.

Hannah thought to lie and assure her friend that she was fine, but something stopped her. She was tired of pretending that she was all right. Tired of pretending that it didn’t hurt to know she’d shut Rafe out of her life.

Hannah sank onto the nearest sofa. “I’ve lost him, Dalia. He’s gone and he’ll never come back.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

Hannah buried her head in her hands. “I’m not sure I can live without him.”

“You have to, Genny. You won’t be able to keep him alive if you don’t force him to leave.”

Hannah was startled by Dalia’s bluntness and looked at her friend in confusion. She waited for Dalia to explain what she meant.

“Skinner’s placed a marker on your vicar’s head. You have to make sure he leaves London as soon as possible. If he doesn’t, someone will kill him.”

Hannah covered her mouth to stop her scream from escaping, then reached for the nearest container and emptied her stomach.

R
afe sat in the chair behind the huge oak desk in Thomas’s study and listened to the voices in the hallway. Some of the servants must be having a conversation, because Thomas was still in the country with Caroline and the children and no one else was in the house.

Rafe lifted his half-empty glass to his mouth and took another long swallow. He wondered if Thomas would notice the missing bottles of brandy from his cellar, and hoped his butler would replace them before Thomas returned.

Rafe drained his glass and refilled it again. He was sure Hudson would replenish the brandy. He was very reliable. All of Thomas’s staff were reliable, which was why Rafe didn’t doubt that Thomas would eventually find out that Rafe had spent the last three days here—drunk.

But by then maybe he’d be able to talk about Hannah without feeling as if he were falling apart, or be able to think about her without having to numb his emotions with liquor.

Rafe lifted his arm, but stopped before the glass touched his mouth. The door opened and Thomas filled the doorway.

“Good evening, Rafe.” Thomas closed the door behind him and walked across the room.

“Thomas, what a shurprise,” Rafe slurred.

“I imagine it is,” Thomas said when he reached the desk. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“’Courshe not.” Rafe handed his brother the brandy decanter and watched as Thomas poured a small amount into a glass. “Do you mine me sitting in yer chair?”

“Could you walk to another if I did?”

Rafe tried to stand but failed. “Doubtful.”

“That’s what I thought.” Thomas held up his hand. “Stay where you are.”

“Thanks. What ’er you doin’ in Ludon?”

Thomas took a small sip of his brandy. “I just came for a few days. I have a meeting tomorrow with Lord Carlyle.”

“Oh. Thas’ nice.”

“How long have you been like this?”

“Like what? Drunk?”

“Yes, Rafe. Drunk.”

“Lesee. What day is this?”

“It’s Friday.”

“Friday,” Rafe repeated, then tried to count backward. “This is day three, so that would make it Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday. Thas’ when I saw her.”

“By
her
I suppose you mean Hannah.”

Rafe shook his head while he was trying to take a drink and his brandy sloshed over the rim of his glass and down the front of his shirt. He tried to wipe it away but only ended up spilling more. “No, Hannah wasn’t there. Only Madam Geveneive.”

“I see.”

“Do you, Thomas? I wish, then, that you would tell me what you see, ’cause I sure as hell don’t understand. I don’t understand anything. ’Specially where she’s concerned.”

“That’s because you’re in love with her.”

“Wha’s that got ta do with anything?”

“Everything, I presume. I wish you hadn’t fallen in love with her.”

“She says the same thing.”

“I’m afraid she’s right,” Thomas said.

Rafe tried to sit forward in his chair but wasn’t sure he managed anything other than tipping sideways. “I need a favor, Thomas.”

“Anything, Rafe. You know that.”

“I need a loan.”

Thomas took a sip of his brandy. “How much?”

Rafe tried to think, but his mind refused to work. He couldn’t calculate how much it might cost to buy her. And he had to buy her. He couldn’t stand to know someone else would be bedding her. “I dunno,” he answered. “A great deal.”

“How much is
a great deal
?”

Rafe shook his head, then looked into his brother’s eyes. “Ten thousand pounds.”

Thomas’s eyes opened wide. “Ten thousand?”

Rafe took another swallow, then nodded. “Ten thousand—I think.”

Rafe struggled to stand but only managed to fall forward. The desk prevented him from landing on the floor. When the room stopped spinning, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered precariously.

Thomas moved to reach him, but Rafe held out his hand and Thomas sat back down.

Eventually, he gained control of his unsteady body and attempted to take a step. When his feet refused to obey his directive, he decided it was best not to move.

“May I ask what you need ten thousand pounds for?” Thomas asked.

“To buy her,” he answered.

“To buy
what
for her?”

“Not
what
.
Her
.”

“You’re not making sense, Rafe. What do you want to buy for Hannah?”

“Not
what
! I need to buy
her
! She’s auctioning herself off tomorrow night, and I can’t let anyone else have her.”

Rafe pushed himself away from the desk. “I—”

Before he could finish his sentence, his world went black and the floor rose to meet him.

When Rafe opened his eyes, the sun was high in the sky and streaming through his window.

This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to wake up, but it was the first time he thought he might actually accomplish his goal. The other two times he’d attempted to get up, he hadn’t made it much farther than hanging his head over the side of the bed and emptying his stomach into the container someone had placed there.

Probably Thomas. That would be like him. He always took good care of him.

Rafe lay as still as he could to keep the throbbing in his head at a minimum, and only opened his eyes. After the third try, he even managed to keep them open.

“Do you think you might live?” Thomas said from somewhere in the room.

Rafe didn’t even consider trying to find him. That would have involved moving his head, and that was completely out of the question. “Maybe. Not sure.”

“I see.”

Thomas rose and stood close to the bed so Rafe could see him without having to move his head. “When you can manage, come down and have at least a bite of toast and some hot coffee. Hudson says you haven’t eaten since you started drinking. A bit of food will help.”

Rafe closed his eyes again and listened to his brother’s footsteps cross the room, then heard the door open and close. Although he didn’t want to, he knew he’d eventually have to rise and face the day. There was no other choice.

Dressing was more difficult than he’d expected. Even with Thomas’s valet to help him, it took longer than usual. That was because he had to stop twice when the room refused to stop spinning and sweat covered his face and neck. He wasn’t an experienced drinker, and after this experience, he doubted he’d ever touch anything stronger than tea.

He was finally dressed and ready to face the day—at least as ready as he knew he’d be, considering his queasy stomach. He tugged at his too-tight collar as he made his way down the stairs, then took a deep breath when he reached the breakfast room.

Thomas was waiting for him. He looked up when Rafe entered. “At least you look better than you did last night.”

“About last night…”

Thomas held up his hand. “I’ll make this easy on you and we’ll get right to the point. Explain why you’d like me to give you ten thousand pounds. I didn’t quite understand you last night.”

“You understood me fine. You’re just having a hard time believing what I said.”

Rafe waited while a footman poured him a cup of steaming tea, then placed a piece of buttered toast before him. When he was finished, Thomas nodded to Hudson and the room emptied. He and Thomas were alone.

“Now, tell me what you meant when you said you had to
buy
Hannah.”

Rafe took a sip of the tea. It burned his mouth but tasted better than anything had for three days. “Madam Genevieve is holding an auction tonight. The bidding starts at nine o’clock.”

“The bidding for what?”

“For
her
. For Madam Genevieve.”

A frown deepened across Thomas’s brow, and his eyes narrowed. “Hannah’s auctioning off herself. But why? She hasn’t taken a client for years. Why would she do something like that?”

Rafe rested his arms on either side of his plate and fisted his hands until his fingers hurt. “Because of me. Because I forced her to.”

Thomas didn’t ask why he thought Rafe had forced Hannah to auction herself off. He just waited for Rafe to tell him. Because he knew he would.

“I went to see her when I arrived in London, and she ordered me to leave. She didn’t want me at her establishment. She said I was too good to mix with people like her.”

Rafe raked his hands through his hair. “I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to convince her that she was good. I asked her to marry me. I told her we could make a life for ourselves away from London. Away from Madam Genevieve’s.”

For several long seconds, neither of them spoke. Finally, Thomas broke the silence. “Why is Hannah auctioning herself off?”

Rafe raked his fingers through his hair. “We had a terrible argument. I demanded that she leave London, that she leave Madam Genevieve’s and never return. She said she couldn’t. Madam Genevieve’s is what keeps Coventry Cottage running.” Rafe looked at Thomas. “Do you know about Coventry Cottage?”

Thomas nodded.

“The cause is wonderful,” Rafe continued. “What they do there is admirable. But I can’t let Hannah continue to run Madam Genevieve’s. Living the life of a prostitute goes against every belief I have. It’s a mortal sin. The Bible warns us about the consequences.”

“What does this have to do with an auction?”

“Hannah’s selling herself to make me hate her. She thinks if she proves she’s a whore, I’ll be so repulsed by her I’ll leave London. And her.”

“Is that what the ten thousand pounds is for?”

Rafe nodded. “I can’t let her auction herself. I…” He paused. “I couldn’t live with myself if she did that. It would be my fault.”

Thomas sat back in his chair. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you realize two men have been watching the house?”

Rafe nodded. “They’ve been there since I left Hannah three nights ago. I recognize one of them. His name is Humphrey. He works for Hannah.”

“In what capacity?”

“A guard, of sorts.”

“Is there a reason Hannah believes you need to be guarded?”

“It’s a long story, Thomas. One I don’t believe has merit any longer.”

“Whether or not you think it has merit, Hannah obviously does, or she wouldn’t have taken steps to make sure you’re safe.”

“That’s what makes this ordeal so ridiculous. Hannah sent Humphrey here to guard me when I don’t need guarding, which only leaves her vulnerable and shorthanded.”