Sex and the Single Earl (8 page)

Sophie clenched her teeth shut to prevent a very rude word from escaping her lips. It took her a moment to regain her self-control.

“And how long have you been stealing?”

“Ever since my ma died last spring. She would never let my pa put me on the street, even though sometimes he beat her fierce.”

“Oh, God,” she breathed. She couldn’t imagine her own father lifting a hand against her—against anyone. He had been the kindest man she had ever known.

The boy shuffled from foot to foot, a portrait of abject misery. Sophie had not a lingering shred of doubt she must help him. But how?

The damp from the cobblestones began to penetrate both her cloak and her gown, and she could see the boy begin to shiver in the chill of the October night. She came to her feet slowly so as not to frighten him away.

“My name’s Sophie. What’s yours?”

“I remember, my lady.” His beautifully shaped mouth trembled into a tentative smile. “Mine’s Toby.”

“Well, Toby, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You are very good to return my bracelet, and I want to give you some money for your trouble. Won’t you step into my carriage for a few minutes? It’s much warmer in there.”

He jerked away, his huge eyes growing even wider in alarm. “You be taking me to the constable!”

“I promise I only want to help you and your sister. Cross my heart and hope to die.” She drew a cross over her chest, feeling her own heart racing with nervous anticipation.

Toby examined her doubtfully, but, after a few moments, crept back to her. She reached out her hand once more. Hesitantly, he put his grubby little fingers in hers, and Sophie exhaled an anxious breath, casting a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.

“Is anything wrong, miss?”

Both Sophie and Toby jumped as James rounded the side of the coach. If she hadn’t been holding his hand so firmly, the boy would have bolted. She tightened her fingers in a reassuring grip.

“Everything is fine, James. This young man has found my—er—coral bracelet, and wished to return it to me.”

The entire household knew Sophie’s reticule and bracelet had been stolen, alerted to the fact by Lady Eleanor’s talkative dresser.

“Come with me, Toby. We must get you out of this cold.”

Under the startled gaze of both the footman and Lady Eleanor’s coachman, Sophie towed the reluctant child round the other side of the carriage and led him to the steps.

“Good Lord, miss, surely you ain’t…”

Sophie silenced the coachman’s protest with a glare. Toby searched her face, his pointed little chin quivering in doubt. She brushed his matted blond hair back from his forehead.

“Don’t worry, Toby. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Shaking her head at James’s offer of help, she boosted the little boy into the carriage herself. As she turned to follow him, she caught the eye of a sleek, well-dressed man who must have just exited from the theater. He paused at the top of the marble stairs, astonishment written all over his sharp features as he gazed down at her.

Sophie bit her lip. He must have seen her assist Toby into the coach. The handsome equipage had no honors or crest on its body, but most in Bath knew it belonged to Lady Eleanor.

“Miss.” James’s voice held a note of warning.

Sophie took his hand and sprang up the steps, barely pulling her skirts out of the way before the footman slammed the door behind her. She dropped onto the padded bench across from Toby, who eyed her suspiciously in the dim light of the carriage lamp.

“Here, miss. You best take your bracelet and let me go. Becky will be wanting me to come home.” He slipped the cuff into her hand. Sophie clutched it tightly for a second before sliding it into her reticule.

“Is Becky your sister?”

He nodded, then let his gaze drift over the richly upholstered interior of the coach. A grimy hand slowly reached out to trace the stitching in the velvet cushions.

“Why must you steal, Toby? Does your father have no money? Does he have no work?”

“Oh, no, miss. He works. We has a tavern down by the docks. Pa says we brings in more blunt than any other flash house in the town.”

Sophie couldn’t help but catch the queer note of pride in the child’s voice. She felt a little stab of panic as her worst fears were confirmed. Simon and Robert were right—the boy was a professional thief. Was it already too late to help him?

“How old are you, Toby?”

“Eight, miss.”

“Oh, Toby! You are much too young to be a thief.”

“I know,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Becky hates it, too. She says Ma wanted more for us. Ma was saving up to send me and Becky to London, to stay with my Aunt Sarah. She has a draper’s shop.” His voice sounded wistful, as if Aunt Sarah’s shop might be the most magical place on earth.

“Does your father want you to go?”

“No, miss.” Toby’s voice turned hard and bitter, and, for a moment, he sounded much older than his years. “That’s why I stole your bracelet. I has to get Becky away from here. I need the money to get her to London, away from Pa.” His face turned dark with a hatred so intense it raised prickles on the nape of her neck.

Sophie had to swallow past the sudden constriction in her throat. “Why?”

“Because Becky’s just turned thirteen. Now that she’s a woman grown, Pa says he’s going to make her a whore.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sophie couldn’t seem to get her brain to work. Surely she hadn’t heard what she thought she did.

Toby blinked. “You knows what a whore is, don’t you, miss?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied hastily, forestalling any explanation. “What I meant is, does your father also run a…a brothel from his tavern?”

“No, miss. He says the whores bring too much trouble into the house.”

Sophie stared at the boy, oddly dignified in his tattered clothing as he perched on the cushions opposite. She searched for the words to questions she hardly knew how to ask. Simon was right. She knew very little about life outside her own sheltered world—how terrifying and bleak it could be.

“How do you know he wants to make your sister a…a prostitute?”

“I heard him talking to Mrs. Delacourt. She keeps a whorehouse on Corn Street. Becky’s a real beauty, miss, just like my ma used to be. It was Mrs. Delacourt put the idea into Pa’s head, to sell Becky at an act…an action?”

“A what?”

“You know, miss. It’s like a bet. All the men will bet on who gets Becky first.” Toby’s voice broke.

Sophie took his small hand in hers. “Do you mean an auction, my dear?”

“Aye, miss, that’s it. I knew you would get the proper word to call it.” The boy smiled shyly, as if to thank her for knowing something so horrific. Her heart kicked with a sickening thud into her ribs, even as her mind struggled to reject the truth of what she saw on the boy’s face.

But then Toby’s brief smile faded. “I heard them, all right. They didn’t think I was there, ’cause I hid behind the bar. Mrs. Delacourt said men would pay a lot of blunt for a girl as young as Becky. She said a virgin like her would be worth her weight in guineas.” His thin features, so angelic in form, distorted with rage. “I’d kill Pa if I could, miss, I really would!”

He burst into tears, his narrow shoulders shaking with the force of his hatred and grief. Sophie reached over and pulled him into her arms, ignoring the stench of urine and soot that wafted up from his clothing.

“Hush, Toby.” She gently rocked him against her chest. “I’ll help you. I promise.”

“How, miss?” He pulled away from her. She didn’t try to stop him, knowing well the fierce pride of small boys.

“First, I must talk to Becky. Will you take me to her?”

He stopped knuckling the tears from his eyes and gazed at her with slack-jawed wonder. “Now?”

“Yes, now. Is your father’s tavern on this side of the river? We’re only a few blocks from Avon Street.”

He nodded. “It’s The Silver Oak, miss. Just across from the workhouse.”

Sophie clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. How had she known the flash house would play a role in this child’s life?

“We’ll go immediately, Toby.”

His pinched face registered alarm, but Sophie refused to be deterred, either by his fear or her promises to Simon and Robert. There was too much at stake—a young girl’s life—to allow for empty proprieties.

She rapped on the window of the carriage. James swung the door open and stuck his head inside.

“Yes, Miss Stanton?”

“James, we are taking this boy home. Direct John to drive to The Silver Oak tavern, across from the Refuge for the Destitute. It’s only a few blocks from here on Avon Street.”

James froze in the doorway. Toby took advantage of the footman’s paralysis to pipe in with further instructions.

“There’s a lane that runs behind, off Milk Street. Best to pull up there, so Pa don’t spy us.”

“Lady Eleanor will have our heads, miss, if we take you down to Avon Street.” James registered his protest in a faint but horrified voice.

“Well, we’ll just have to make certain she doesn’t find out.”

Sophie wrested the door from the footman’s hand and slammed it shut. She could hear James arguing with the coachman, but after a few moments the carriage jolted to a start.

“Miss, I don’t know what Becky will say about this.” The boy looked anxious, his body huddled against the squabs.

“Don’t worry, Toby. I’ll explain everything to her,” she replied, with a great deal more confidence than she felt. She couldn’t let Toby see the fear that rippled through her in tiny shivers.

Sophie did her best to distract the boy during the short trip by asking him about the magical draper’s shop in London. He visibly relaxed, becoming almost animated as he described all the wondrous goods his Aunt Sarah surely had stocked on her shelves.

She listened with one ear, her attention fixed on the changing view outside her window. The prosperous world of Beaufort Square was left behind in only a minute or two, replaced by increasingly dark and dirty streets. Groups of fashionable young men strolling along in twos and threes were replaced by roughly dressed day laborers and intoxicated bargemen.

Sophie shivered inside her warm cloak, fighting off a sickening wave of apprehension. It was one thing to come down to the docks in broad daylight, accompanied by a minister whose good name would protect her. But she had no such protection now. Only her own fading courage kept her company.

And if Simon and Robert ever found out about this, they would surely lock her in her bedroom for a month.

“Becky will be ever so surprised to see you, miss. We ain’t never had someone like you come to visit. I bet Ma would have liked you a lot.” Toby cautiously slipped his grubby hand into hers, and Sophie felt all her cold doubts vanish in the warmth of his trust.

The carriage jerked to a halt. She peered out the window, surprised at the amount of light shining out on the broken cobblestones of the street. Several of the buildings lining the way—taverns or gin houses, most likely—were brightly lit and seemed to be carrying on a boisterous trade.

James opened the door and let down the steps. He handed her out, his face set in grim lines, then turned to lift Toby to the ground.

The carriage had stopped close by the docks and near the entrance of the laneway the boy had spoken of. From where she stood, Sophie could see the iron gates of the workhouse. Directly across from it, a battered sign depicting an oak tree swung above the open door of the flash house she had seen yesterday.

A pair of men in the rugged garb of dockworkers stumbled out of the tavern, accompanied by two women dressed in gowns cut so low that even from this distance Sophie could see their rouged nipples. She flushed and cringed to think of Toby and his sister living in such degrading conditions.

“Down here, miss.” The boy tugged once on her cloak and darted into the lane.

She took a deep breath, trying to quell the churning in her stomach. “Stay here, James. I’ll return shortly.”

“Nay, Miss Stanton. I should go with you.”

“No. It’s better if you remain here.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but Sophie held up a hand.

“I don’t want the children to be any more frightened than they are. Look.” She pointed down the laneway. Toby had come to a halt by a door, clearly visible in the light filtering out from a window beside it.

“You can see me from here. It’s best that you and John stay together. I’ll call if I need you.” She stepped firmly into the lane and then hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Will you be all right, James?”

“Aye, miss.” A pistol materialized in his gloved hand. “John Coachman and I can take care of ourselves. Just be certain to call if you need help.”

She nodded and hurried off down the lane, coming to a halt as Toby put a finger to his lips in a signal to remain silent. As he slipped through the door, she caught a brief glimpse of a dingy hallway and smelled the unmistakable odor of rancid mutton and something else. Something disgusting.

Sophie retreated against the dank brick of the building, pulling her thick velvet cloak around her. She hastily whispered a prayer that no one but Toby and his sister would emerge from the back door.

As the minutes crawled by, she became more aware of her surroundings. The river close by and the stench from the drains and sewers running into it, so potent she began to feel nauseous. She stepped cautiously away from the wall to the center of the lane, hoping to catch a breath of fresher air.

Something rustled in the heaps of refuse piled up beside the kitchen door. Whatever it was scuttled across her foot. She jumped, tasting blood as she bit back a startled yelp.

Fortunately for her rapidly fading courage, the door creaked open, and Toby slid through with a girl following closely behind. The girl—obviously Becky—crept forward to stand just inside the light cast from the window set in the wall. Even in the gloomy shadows of the alley, Sophie could see she was extraordinary.

Becky’s eyes were a startling shade of cornflower blue, set off by a pale complexion and hair as black as midnight. Her full lips were a blushing pink, and her features were delicate and even. She had a surprisingly well-developed figure for a girl her age, amply displayed by an ill-fitting blouse and a coarse skirt cinched tightly around her waist. But she had the sweet face of an innocent child, not yet destroyed by the conditions of her terrible life. That aura of innocence and her astonishing beauty made a potent combination.

No wonder Mrs. Delacourt wanted to bring her into the trade.

Becky and Toby traded uneasy glances, both looking too frightened to utter a word.

Sophie took a small step forward into the light. “Hello, Becky. My name is Sophie. Your brother told me all about you, and I’d like to help you both if I can.”

“What did Toby tell you?”

Sophie had to strain to hear the girl’s whisper. “He…he told me about Mrs. Delacourt.”

A spasm of fear flashed across the girl’s features. She turned to her brother and gripped his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be talking about such things! Pa would beat you if he found out.”

“I don’t care, Becky,” her brother whispered fiercely. “She wants to help us. She’ll give us money to go to London and live with Aunt Sarah.”

“Indeed, Becky. I want to help you very much. If what your brother told me is true, you can’t possibly stay here. I could help you get away. You could come with me tonight, if you want.” She swiftly crushed an alarming image of Lady Eleanor’s reaction to such unexpected guests.

Hope seemed to flare in Becky’s eyes. But a moment later she squeezed them shut. Her full lips trembled, then stilled.

“It ain’t true, miss. What Toby said. I don’t know where he got such an idea into his head.”

“I told you,” the boy cried. “I heard Pa and that evil old witch talking about it last week! They’re going to do it, Becky, I swear they are.”

“Hush, Toby.” Becky cast a fearful glance at the back door of the tavern. “We can’t leave. Pa wouldn’t let us. He knows we would go to Aunt Sarah, and sure as anything he would fetch us back. He would beat you something awful if we tried to run away. I can’t bear it when he beats you.”

Toby’s shoulders drooped under the force of his sister’s unassailable logic. Becky hugged him, gazing at Sophie with a look of sad determination in her beautiful eyes.

“I’m sorry Toby put you to so much trouble, miss, but you mustn’t mind what he says. Pa would never do that to me. It’s just been so hard since Ma died, especially for Toby.”

Sophie’s confidence began to waver. Perhaps Toby had misunderstood what his father said—that was easy enough for a child to do—or mayhap the man had rejected the madam’s idea. Even so, he must be a brute, as the children were obviously terrified. She had to do something to help them, but what?

The sound of masculine voices at the end of the laneway jerked her attention in that direction. A large form enveloped in a swirling coat moved rapidly their way, long strides eating up the distance between them.

Toby whimpered as Becky clutched him in her arms. Sophie’s breath caught, then whooshed out of her body. She felt light-headed as fear took its place, but she stepped in front of the children, determined to shield them as best she could from the menacing intruder.

As the terrifying figure drew near, she parted her lips to cry out for James.

“Sophie, are you out of your feeble little mind? What the hell are you doing down here?” Simon’s voice had never sounded so furious, and never had she been more thankful to hear it.

“Simon!”

She stumbled toward him on legs weak with relief. Strong arms reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Thank goodness it’s you.” She snuggled into the thick fabric of his coat, gratefully inhaling the scent of damp wool mingled with tobacco. He smelled of warmth and life and everything she had ever wanted.

“We’ll see if you thank me when I’m through with you.” His voice was a dark growl. Pushing her slightly away, he ran a swift gaze over her body. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, but I want you to talk to Toby and his sister. We must do something to help them.” She took one of his leather-gloved hands and tried to pull him over to the children.

“Sophie…”

She heard the warning in his voice.

“Simon, just talk to them for a minute. And don’t scare them,” she added when she heard him mutter a shocking curse under his breath.

He allowed her to tow him to the children, still huddled in the shadows.

“Toby, Becky, I’d like you to meet Lord Trask. He’s my friend, and he can help us.”

Toby’s eyes popped wide. “You be a lord?” he squeaked.

“I am.” Simon managed to make the answer sound like the crack of doom.

Becky crept forward into the light cast from the kitchen window. “What kind of lord are you?”

Simon drew in a sharp breath, obviously stunned by the girl’s astonishing beauty.

“Ah…I am an earl.”

Becky dropped into an awkward curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, m’lord.” She elbowed her brother in the side. “Say hello to his lordship, Toby.”

The boy ducked his head shyly. “M’lord.” He retreated behind his sister.

A painful silence fell upon the little group. It suddenly occurred to Sophie how intimidating it would be for Becky to explain their situation to an earl.

Especially when that earl looked like a thundercloud about to burst over their heads.

Clearly, he meant to be difficult.

“Toby, are you the boy who took Miss Stanton’s bracelet?” Simon’s deep timbre sounded unexpectedly gentle.