Authors: Lynne Connolly
Claudia had never seen anything like it in her life, and it fascinated her.
The women were in various stages of undress. A man dragged a bodice down and sucked on the girl’s breasts. Claudia stood close enough to hear the growls he made and the giggles from the girl. How could she allow anyone to maul her like that? The bitter flavor of distaste filled her mouth. Even for money, that was taking matters much further than Claudia wanted to go. She couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone, even Lord St. Just.
She dismissed him from her mind. This was most certainly not the time to think of him.
An older lady, wrinkled breasts on full display, approached her. “Yes?” she said. “Did Harold let you in?”
Claudia moistened her lips. “Yes, he did. I have to show you something.”
The lady had shaved her brows, but the penciled ones demonstrated her surprise as well as the originals would have. “You’re not showing enough as it is. If you want to get some customers, you’ll have to tempt them more than that.”
In response, she drew out the copies of her letters that she’d hastily made that afternoon and handed them over.
Claudia had pushed her bodice as low as she’d dared, but she wouldn’t dream of exposing her nipples, as this lady did. Even less talking rationally while having them on blatant display. The more Claudia tried not to look, the more she wanted to, although it was far from a savory sight.
The lady carried an odor with her, a mixture of camphor, lavender, and stale sweat. What wreathed around her nose most was a heavy, thick, unpleasant scent, spiked with a sharper smell not unlike two-day-old fish. Her stomach roiled and she pressed her hand to it. Maybe the lamps in the hall outside were using cheap fish oil.
No, it wasn’t that. She knew what it was, and she hated to admit that she did. Unwashed female. The heavier smell must be the men in the room, although she had no knowledge of what men’s private parts smelled like. If this was a sample, she wanted none of it.
She couldn’t imagine Lord St. Just carried that scent under his pristine, expensive clothes. When he’d kissed her, all she’d smelled was a faint citrus aroma and warm, clean male. She was accustomed to that scent in her brothers, but not the heat and the muskiness. The memory helped to block out the unpleasant ones assaulting her now.
The woman sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand before returning the papers to Claudia. She took them and folded them, taking care not to touch the spot the woman had smeared with her snot. She’d as lief throw them in the fire, but this evening had proved mild and there was none. Besides, it would look decidedly strange. She’d tear them up when she got home. They were only copies.
“You’re the new owner. What do you plan to do with the place?” the woman demanded.
“Nothing,” she said. “I only wanted to see it.”
“What, you couldn’t make an appointment like any normal gentry-mort?”
Fascinated, Claudia tilted her head and wondered what a gentry-mort was. Whatever the meaning, it appeared she was one. “I wanted to see it during…working hours.”
The woman cackled. “Well, here we are. Do you like what you see?”
She moved closer and Claudia was hard put not to step back.
“Some ladies come ’ere of an evening to join in. Are you of that mind?”
Claudia shook her head. Waves of nausea swept over her, and she had to fight to keep her dinner in her stomach. “May I watch? Please, don’t tell anyone who I am.” She could put up with a little stink.
The woman shook her head, the lappets of her cap grazing her bare shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t let any of my little ’uns see me in working hours. Whatever is your mother thinking?” She clicked her tongue. “You could get robbed, or worse. Still, Mother Finch’ll take care of you. If anybody asks, tell them you’re reserved and your gentleman isn’t here yet. He’s paid a lot for you, and he wants you to wait. We gets all sorts ’ere. Some like to watch and most gentlemen have their favorites. I’ll send you some wine over. There, in the corner near the fireplace. Don’t sit there like the specter at the feast. Smile and laugh and look like you’re having a good time.”
After a nod, Claudia made her way down the side of the room to the seat the lady—Mother Finch—indicated. A big man who could have been the twin of the one outside, except that the pattern of battering was different, handed her a grubby glass of red liquid. She thanked him and sniffed the contents of the goblet. Wine, for sure, but she had no idea what else was in there. It could be vinegar from the way it smelled. She wet her lips with it and her tongue shrank from the acrid taste.
The sound in the room had continued unabated. A fat, florid man stared at her, his gaze roaming lasciviously over her figure. She wished now she’d worn a less vivid color, for the pink gown seemed almost gaudy in this place. She had a double ruffle of lace at her elbows, not her finest lace to be sure, but too fine for this room. Lace was expensive, so dear that smugglers gained a good price from it. As well she hadn’t worn her gown with the laced petticoat. The people here might have ripped it off her or even killed her for it.
She shuddered and took a delicate sip of the wine.
The man was still watching. His face was red, from wine or the heat of the small room crammed with unwashed, excited people, she didn’t know. He wore relatively grand clothes. Blue and mustard in color, the waistcoat was a little too long for current taste, the sleeves of his shirt even fuller than her brothers had. No, not unfashionable. Foreign. The style was French, or maybe Italian.
She didn’t care. The man had a bulbous nose, no doubt from over imbibing over a period of time, and his pale blue eyes were unpleasantly prominent. His lips were full, almost like a girl’s. He smiled, revealing white teeth, though she wasn’t close enough to ascertain whether they were his own or artificial.
She didn’t care. Looking away, she was just in time to catch the rush of a dark green coat as its owner sat next to her. He smelled of citrus and warm, clean male.
“What…”
With a laugh, Lord St. Just caught her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her mouth, stifling whatever she was about to say.
When he’d stepped into the brothel, Dominic’s first urge was instinctive. He wanted to shake her until the teeth rattled in her head and then hold her close so that nobody would see her or know her. What the hell was she doing here? From his vantage point across the street, he’d seen her arrive, but hadn’t recognized her. He did now she’d thrown her hood back. She was sitting wide-eyed, watching his quarry.
A half mask and powder did not disguise that straight nose and those sensual lips. He’d know them anywhere. The curl of red-gold hair missed when her maid had powdered the rest of her locks only confirmed his firm belief. Lady Claudia Shaw had once more ventured to a place she had no right to occupy.
If anyone else recognized her, she was done for. Didn’t she realize that men she might have met in a ballroom earlier in the evening might come here to carouse before the night was over? The idiotic woman didn’t have the sense she was born with.
He sent away the chairmen who’d brought her, swearing he’d take care of her. How she managed to charm two ruffians like that he’d never know, but he hoped it wasn’t the same way she’d charmed him.
When she opened her mouth, he let his instincts take control. A kiss was just what he needed, but it served the purpose of hiding her face from view.
Their lips touched and he almost lost his mind. He’d been dreaming of that warm, soft mouth since he’d kissed it before. Her pink lips moistened, her mouth open—it had been too much.
The tang of cheap wine nudged his taste buds and then was gone, replaced by her heat and her special flavor. He wanted to sample every part of her. The delicate skin at the back of her knees would taste different than her navel. He badly wanted to claim the sweet, dark heart of her for himself.
His cock rose to her command, even though she would not know it. He’d had the forethought to sit next to her and not haul her into his lap, as he longed to do.
Most of the doxies were thus occupied, even the two fawning over his quarry sitting on the other side of the fire.
Hell and damnation, what was he thinking? He wasn’t here to kiss a woman, however tempting she happened to be, but to watch the man he’d been following all night. Although he hadn’t planned to enter the house, but wait until the man emerged, when Lady Claudia entered he’d followed her in. Spies and traitors came in both sexes.
He couldn’t believe Claudia was a traitor. For one thing, she belonged to a family adamantly and publicly opposed to the Cause. For another, she wasn’t. He didn’t believe it.
Her lips tasted sweet, of wine and raspberries, or some sharp fruit. Delicious, but leaving him wanting more. With an effort of will he pulled away, but not too far. “What the hell are you doing here?” he murmured next to her mouth. Lovers’ talk of a very different nature, but he kept smiling.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she mumbled breathlessly.
He’d done that to her, made her bosom heave and the heat rise to her face. The notion made him absurdly proud. “I am on business.”
She pulled away sharply, almost tumbling off the end of the short bench they sat on. Automatically he reached out and pulled her back, keeping hold of her arm. When she tried to shake it off, he kept hold. He was hard-put not to bruise her because she made a concerted effort to get away.
“Sir, can I ’elp you?”
The bawd stood over them, glaring at him.
“We’re quite all right, madam.” He narrowed his eyes, assessing her. Yes, she knew who Claudia was. Didn’t the girl have any sense of self-preservation? The madam had extortion material for the rest of the season, if not longer. “I’ve come to retrieve her. I’m her…betrothed.”
“I see. Well, call if you want anything.”
He had to get Claudia out of this room before someone recognized her. He’d been so close, too. His plan thrown completely awry, he accepted he’d have to wait until another night to trap the man. Damn the woman.
Yet he couldn’t blame Claudia as wholeheartedly as he perhaps should. She’d created a pile of trouble he’d have difficulty recovering from. It would take time he didn’t want to spend on the problem. When he’d tracked the Pretender down, he hadn’t quite believed his luck until he realized the damned man had the intention of flaunting himself over half London. If he’d stood in front of Kensington Palace waving his arms and yelling, “Arrest me!” he could hardly have been more obvious.
When Claudia tried to speak he kissed her again and then stood, dragging her to her feet. “Come with me, sweeting. We’ll find somewhere a little more private.” He flashed her a message with his eyes, opening them wide and then shaking his head slightly.
She looked a little stunned, but put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. He glanced at the table and took her wineglass too.
Madam Finch showed them the way to the stairs. “Any door that’s open upstairs, sir.” She nodded when he handed her a few gold coins. She bit every one before she handed him a candlestick and allowed them to climb the rickety flight of stairs.
Every tread was an adventure, wobbling underfoot or uneven enough to throw a man off his balance. He trod carefully, memorizing the characteristics of each stair. Very few failed to make some kind of sound.
Upstairs, three doors out of the five were wide open. He kept going until he reached the one at the end, away from the two closed ones. He put the candlestick and wine glass on the table set just inside.
The door slammed behind him, probably the result of the worn nature of the timbers making it tilt. She jumped and then stumbled, and he was forced to catch her before she fell. Not that it was a hardship. Warm and ripe, she filled his arms beautifully and he would have had to be made of stone not to kiss her.
Part of him did feel as if it were made of stone. His low groan vibrated against her impossibly soft skin, and she opened her lips on a sigh.
Taking advantage, he tasted her, but took care, afraid she would pull away if he thrust his tongue deep, as he wanted to do. Instead, he touched her lips gently. Exaltation surged through him when she responded by opening her mouth wider. He slid the tip of his tongue along her teeth, and then deeper, caressing her tongue with his. He held her as tightly as possible, but not tightly enough. His instincts drove him to grind his erection against her warm body, but he couldn’t get close enough. Yards and yards of fabric were sandwiched between them, cushioning his reaction to her.
She’d granted him access to her mouth. He shouldn’t be so greedy. Avid possession swept through him. A primitive rhythm began deep inside him, a beat as old as time, his pulse drumming in his ears and around his body. Tearing at the strings of her mask, he got it off her and tossed it aside. She didn’t protest, and he didn’t stop kissing her.
He delved deep, working hard to keep his kiss within civilized levels. When she leaned into him, as if trusting him to hold her steady, he lost his mind.
This woman would be the death of him. How he could react so strongly beat his understanding, but he did, and he responded to the lust roaring through him.
Supporting the back of her head with his hand, he feasted.
He lifted his mouth to adjust their position and seal their mouths together more securely. She spluttered a word against his mouth, but he was too far into this to stop now. With one hand around her waist cinching her tightly he held her, directed her as he wanted her.
She went limp and moaned against his mouth. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, and then down her neck. All the places he’d wondered about. He wanted the rest, but a soupçon of sense remained, nagging at the back of his mind. He dismissed it because he wanted one more thing, just one, with a desperation he couldn’t control.
He touched the upper slopes of her breast, grazed his fingertips along the wonderfully silky, soft skin. Her delicate shiver gave him tacit permission to carry on. Only a few seconds to ease her breast from the deep décolletage of her gown, and then it was in his hand.