Lady of Pleasure (20 page)

She winced but otherwise didn’t move.

He tightened his hold on the sleeves of her upper arms and held her savagely in place against the door, trying to ignore the softness of her body and the tantalizing scent of powder and jasmine. A scent that was entirely new to her. A scent that belonged to a woman, not the girl he once knew who smelled of nutmeg. That freckled girl he had always admired like a sister who had turned into a woman who looked
nothing
like a sister.

Ronan searched her face and her eyes. “We can’t pretend this didn’t happen. Because it did. And you and I are now bound because of it. Do you understand? Whether we wish to admit to it or not, we are bound.”

Caroline quietly stared at his brass waistcoat buttons. Her breasts rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, as if she were in a state of refined calmness.

Unlike the state he was in.

“You lied to me,” she brokenly whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You said she was your friend.”

A sense of shame bit into him. He leaned in and carefully traced away that tear, feeling his hand trembling against the softness of her skin. “How was I to confide to you that I allowed women to use me for money? And that I have been doing this well before you and I ever met? How was I to say it?”

Caroline stared at him in anguish.

He smoothed her hair, wishing he could erase all the women he had ever been with if only to take away her pain. He had never wanted this for her.

The clock chimed, indicating it was half past midnight.

Caroline froze, her pale, tear-streaked face reflecting panic. Her hands pushed at his chest. “I have to go.”

He held her tighter against the door and himself. “No. You and I have to figure out what happens next.”

She pushed against him and choked out, “Let me go. Because I will tell you what happens next. Alex comes home at one, is what happens next!”

He froze. It was already half-past midnight. And her house was at least twenty minutes by carriage. Which meant…

Ronan grabbed her hand and whisked her back and away from the doors. “We have to go. Whatever you do, don’t speak until we are in the confines of my carriage. Do you understand? You don’t want
anyone
hearing or recognizing your voice. Some of these men are part of your circle.” Turning the key hard, he flung the door wide open. “I’m taking you home. Now.”

They stumbled out into the corridor.

Glancing toward the main stairwell on the far end of the corridor, he knew the only way out of the house, given the doors were bolted, was through the servants’ quarters. He hurried them both down the stairs and toward the back of house, toward the shadowy servant’s entrance which was only a few feet away and barely lit by a few spare candles sitting on sconces.

Several loud smacks drew both him and Caroline to an abrupt halt.

There, between the shifting shadows and the dull light of the lit candles, was a brunette in a pale pink gown with a wooden paddle. She let it fly against the nude rear of an older gent whose hands were propped wide against their only way out. The woman with the paddle leaned toward the man, and with her other hand, pumped his stubby, protruding cock several times.

Caroline gasped.

This night was a goddamn nightmare.

Ronan frantically stripped his coat, turned and yanked it over Caroline’s head to prevent her from witnessing more. He grabbed for her and gathered her tightly against his chest and marched them onward toward the man and woman blocking the door.

He cleared his throat trying to get their attention, lest he altogether yell.

The woman with the paddle paused and turned toward him as if she had all the time in the world. She quirked an inquisitive arched dark brow and turned in his direction. Heavy, round breasts which had been purposefully yanked out of her corset were set atop the low-cut neckline of her mauve evening gown.

Her painted red lips spread into an acknowledging grin as she silently mouthed well enough for him to understand, ‘How are you, dearest? I haven’t seen
you
in a while.’

Ronan choked. It was his uncle’s former mistress, Harriet Raddington. Or rather,
Cleopatra
, as she preferred to be called. For she envisioned herself ruling the world. Both men and women alike. It was where his uncle had first learned the refined art of the whip when the two had met in a brothel specializing in flagellation over on Hallam Street. Such people belonged to a secret, tight-lipped world few in London cared to acknowledge the existence of.

Cleopatra’s dark eyes scanned Caroline who was half-hidden beneath his coat. She poked her paddle in Caroline’s direction and silently mouthed at him, ‘
Who is that
?’

Ronan instinctively tightened his hold on Caroline’s slim shoulders, pressing her protectively harder against his body. He silently mouthed back, ‘
I have to go
!’

Caroline struggled against him beneath the expanse of his coat, making the imprint of hands appear beneath. “I can’t—”

“
Quiet
,” he hissed. The last thing he needed was Luc hunting them down. The man always needed to know everything about every woman in London. Ronan drew them to a halt behind the blindfolded gent who was still propped against the door. The man’s flat, hairy ass was covered with rising welts. As if his ass wasn’t already attractive enough.

The man paused, as if sensing someone was standing behind him and blindly turned, stumbling toward Ronan. His stubby hard cock bobbed as he struggled with the trousers still slung around his ankles and boots.

Ronan cringed and scrambled back, pulling Caroline – whose eyes were fortunately well shielded – back along with him. He glared over at Cleopatra who stood off to the side, tapping the tip of the paddle against her lips in a most amused manner.

“Move him,” he whispered. “And for God’ sake, don’t mention this to Luc.”

Harriet lowered the paddle and smiled knowingly. With her other hand, she grabbed the man’s arm and mercilessly yanked him out of the way and off to the side.

Ronan pulled open the door, and hurried himself and Caroline into the night, praying no one was watching.

How he got Caroline and himself into his carriage down the street, Ronan knew not. But fortunately, they were
finally
in a carriage and out of sight. Blowing out an exasperated breath, he sagged against the upholstered seat, kicking out a boot toward the closed door.

As the carriage clattered forward, he paused.

Caroline stiffly sat on the upholstered seat opposite him with his evening coat still draped over her head and shoulders as if she had no intention of facing him again.

He dug a fist into his thigh, genuinely wanting to hurt himself with it. “You uh…you can take off my coat now.”

She crossed her arms, causing the coat to shift. “I would rather not look at you,” she grudgingly tossed back in a muffled tone from beneath.

He smoothed the linen sleeves against his arms in agitation, knowing he couldn’t let her hide. Not after what had happened. They had to both face this for what it was:
real
. “As much as I would like to oblige you, we have to talk. And I need my coat.”

Shifting his jaw, he reached out and gently dragged the coat off of her head and shoulders, making sure none of the buttons had caught her hair or gown. He pulled his coat back on and around his arms and shoulders, adjusting his waistcoat beneath it and glanced at her.

Most of her chestnut hair had escaped from their pins and lay in a mass of disheveled curls well past her shoulders. Given the hooks on the back of her gown hadn’t been latched, the sleeves of her gown had again slipped down her slender arms and exposed that pale blue corset. The outside lantern of the carriage now shined in just at the precise angle that highlighted the top part of her full breasts in a golden ray of light.

He snapped his gaze back to her face and commenced tying his loose cravat around his throat. What he needed and wanted was a cigar. Three of them.

She observed him with a continued indifference that announced she clearly had no idea the tops of her full breasts were on display.

It was going to be a long night. When he finished tying his cravat, he waved a hand toward her, trying not to look. “Tidy up.”

She blinked as if she didn’t understand.

“The tops of your breasts are showing,” he finally admitted.

Caroline gasped and frantically yanked the sleeves back up her shoulders, plastering the material against herself. After trying to arrange it but to no avail, she stood in the carriage and turned, exposing her corset, parts of her chemise and the open upper back of the gown. “Can you fasten it? Or is the gown completely ruined?”

God help him.

Her slim body swayed against the motion of the carriage, along with her chestnut curls which brushed past her bum. She looked back at him from over her right shoulder expectantly and held the back of her gown together with one hand, while pulling away long strands of her loose hair out of the way with the other. “Don’t just look at my backside,” she choked out. “Fasten the hooks. Because I can’t do it on my own!”

He supposed he had to help. Because he damn well wasn’t going to deliver her to Hawksford with her gown still open.

Ronan glanced toward the open curtains of the carriage and pulled each curtain over the glass windows.

“You won’t be able to see anything,” she coolly pointed out.

“Exactly.” He moved forward in his seat, blew out a breath and gently reached out into the darkness before him. His fingers and palms brushed up against the sides of her soft, muslin gown. He slid his hands up toward her corseted waist, convincing himself that these blatant touches were a necessary evil and took hold of her hips. “It would be better if you…sit on my lap.” He waited for permission.

She hesitated and grouched, “Do whatever is necessary.”

He half-nodded and guided her down slowly by the waist, carefully seating her on his lap. The faint, playful fragrance of powder and jasmine teased him yet again. Feathery locks of her long hair fell heavily onto his left hand, arm and shoulder.

He had never been so aware of a woman before in all his thirty years of life.

He focused on breathing through his mouth, rather than his nostrils, so he could concentrate. Though it was quite dark inside the carriage due to the foggy night and the drawn curtains, he managed to find the first hook at the very bottom. Just above the curve of her backside, which he refused to acknowledge as being her backside. He hooked the material together as best he could, up the back of her gown, despite more than half of the hooks having been ripped from his earlier assault.

He felt as if he had raped her. The thought made him want to retch as his fingers now trembled. He
loathed
himself knowing he had violated her. It wasn’t real. He didn’t want it to be.

She sat perfectly still, her breaths barely noticeable, as if expecting him to revert to the man he was when he’d had his blindfold on.

As he reached the top part of her gown, just beneath her neck, his bare fingers accidentally brushed against the warmth of soft skin. He almost unraveled. He almost buried his face into her neck like he had that night in the alcove and begged she not judge him for what had just happened. That this wasn’t him. That he didn’t know who had showed up at that champagne party. He didn’t know who put on that blindfold.

All he could see in his mind was him ramming into her.

He quietly finished, wishing he could keep his thoughts blank. When he was done, he slowly slid his hand across the length of her back one last time, to ensure the hooks he had latched would hold. Fortunately, there were enough of them intact to hold it in place. “There,” he murmured, lifting her up. He turned her and set her back into the seat across from him. Away from himself.

Knowing that he shouldn’t keep the curtains closed any longer, he pulled both sides open. Dull light from the carriage lanterns filtered back in.

Caroline settled back against the upholstered seat but said nothing.

He swallowed. He needed to assure her of his intentions. Intentions he not only planned to offer her, but intentions he damn well owed her. “You and I will marry. I’m not worth much, but what I do have is yours.”

She turned her face toward the window of the carriage. Her unbound hair slowly slid over her shoulder and fell down onto her lap. “The sort of marriage I want, you cannot offer me.”

His eyes burned. He turned to stare out the window toward the fog-ridden night swaying just beyond the glass. “Are you saying that to hurt me?”

Caroline fidgeted with the bare tips of her fingers. “I have always known, given that you cavorted with my brother all these years prior to my father’s death, that you associated with many women. Believe me. I did. I grew up in a family in which such things were never shielded from me. My own father was a very passionate man, and my brother
and
my mother have all been guilty of being the same. But I somehow believed, through it all, given our friendship, that there was more to you than this. I somehow believed, given you once claimed
Persuasion
was a book dear to you, that you were merely a man struggling to be more like Captain Wentworth in a world full of infamy and temptation. But obviously, I was wrong.” She lowered her gaze. “You knew what I felt for you all these years and yet you chose to ignore it. You chose to ignore me. To the very end. And now
I
am the one paying the price for your inability to love me.”