He finally looked at the man he’d known for years. A man always kind, always loyal, always so damn honorable. That boyish face was completely serious. How could anyone who was so smart on the streets, be so damn stupid now? “That easy, huh?”
James raked his hand through his hair, mussing his usual tidy locks. “Yes, if you’ve fallen for this woman…”
Alex surged to his feet and brushed by James, sending the man stumbling back. He didn’t want to talk about Grace, and he certainly didn’t want to discuss James’ ridiculous ideas about the fair and the great Lady Lavender. “You’re a bloody idiot, James.”
“Why?” he demanded. “You tell me why, when I’m merely trying to help your sorry arse, that I’m the bloody idiot?”
Alex paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was like trying to teach mathematics to a dunce. His patience was growing incredibly thin. For all his street smarts, James was completely naïve toward the real world. “If Lady Lavender allows me to leave—”
“She will.”
Alex turned to glare James into silence. “
If
she lets me go, do you honestly think Grace will have me? I’m nothing more than a whore.”
James was quiet for a moment, his blond brows drawn together in confusion. The man just couldn’t understand, as if he’d never thought on the fact that they were no longer acceptable society. Or perhaps he’d never been acceptable, so the idea was something completely foreign.
“If she loves you, that won’t matter.”
Alex stared at James in disbelief. Was the man really waxing poetically about true love?
“What?” James bristled, his shoulders visibly stiffening. “You don’t believe in love?”
“No more than any whore does.”
“Nonsense,” James snapped, his face flushing. “If there was no such thing as love, why would I be here saving my family? If there was no love, why are we all here? My mother and sister would be starving, even dead without the money I’ve made.”
“What are you saying? You hope to one day settle into matrimonial bliss? To find a woman who will overlook the fact that you’ve sold your body?”
James didn’t respond. He didn’t need to, his emotions were clearly written across his face. Lord be, the street rat had dreams. How utterly ridiculous. As if sensing Alex’s disgust, James spun around and started toward the door.
Even as he wanted to dismiss James’ emotional words, he couldn’t help but admit he was right, in some way. Wasn’t he here for similar reasons? To keep his family’s secrets because…he loved them. Or had at one time. Now…now he didn’t know them. He didn’t know the brother he’d seen at that club…a man who had been a mere boy when Alex had left home.
“Alex.” James paused at the door. So he had one last piece of advice, did he? “If you truly want to leave, then talk to Lady Lavender. What harm will it do?”
With those words, he left.
Talk to Lady Lavender. Perhaps James wasn’t as stupid as he’d seemed.
He’d never truly had a heartfelt conversation with Ophelia. Never even tried. But then he hadn’t thought she’d possessed a heart. Besides, there had always been the threat, hinted at and unspoken, hovering around them. Instinct told him not to trust her in the least.
Still, what other choice did he have?
Alex glanced at the adjoining door that led into Ophelia’s bedchamber. They’d stayed at a hotel in London so she could see the sights for the next few days. More likely so she could hear the gossip she’d created at the ball last night. He made his way across the room, booted feet sinking into thick carpet and muffling the sound. What did he have to lose?
Everything. Everything he held dare… hope for a future. Hope for a new life. At the door he didn’t pause, but let his fist fall against the wooden panel that separated them. The door creaked open and Wavers stood there, black eyes void of soul.
“I need to speak with Lady Lavender.”
He merely stared at Alex for one long unpleasant moment as if he knew exactly why Alex was there. He thought Wavers might refuse. Part of him hoped he would. Slowly, the guard held up his hand, a silent command for Alex to wait. Wavers disappeared inside the darkness, leaving Alex on the threshold. He could hear the soft mumble of conversation. The pause ate at his nerves, screamed at him to turn and leave. But before Alex could relent, Wavers was back.
“Enter.”
Determined, Alex swept into the front parlor, moving steadily across the room toward the bedchamber. The place was just as richly decorated as Lady Lavender’s home. Fans hung from the ceiling where servants would pull the string hours after hours, making sure their guests did not sweat. Today the burgundy colored sitting room was empty.
At the doorway into the bedchamber, Alex paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. She lay upon a large four-poster bed, a small, dainty shadow of a woman. In a white nightrail of silk, and a plate of chocolates at her side, she looked every bit the seducer. Lady Lavender had been the first woman he’d slept with. Reeling him in when he was a young lad of sixteen, only to push him aside for others when she was finished. She’d used him and left him dangling. He still couldn’t think of that night without feeling the rush of heated humiliation.
“You’re up rather early.”
“I never went to bed.”
“I see.” She picked up a small square of chocolate and popped it into her mouth. Sweets were her one vice. “What is bothering you, Alex? To make such a scene at the ball. So unlike you.” She sat up, reclining upon her satin pillows.
“I want out.” The words burst from his throat. He felt no relief, only anxiety at the admittance.
She frowned, her full lips pouting, but she didn’t look surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She patted the bed. “Come, sit, let us discuss this turn of events.”
He didn’t want to sit, he wanted to hear her response. But he knew who held the true power here. Still, Alex waited for a moment, merely to show her he wouldn’t jump to do her bidding. Of course, as always, he relented and settled beside her.
“I want to leave,” he said again, more forceful this time.
She lifted a perfectly plucked brow. “And do what?”
“Have a life.”
She smiled then, a smug smile. “What sort of life can you have, Alex?” She moved closer and rested her hand on his arm. The neckline of her silk gown dipped low, showing her pale breasts. She’d tempt him, sell herself to keep him near. He looked toward the marble hearth where a fire crackled and leered, laughing at him. She didn’t realize that her beauty did not influence him any longer.
“Who would have you Alex, if your secret escaped? If they knew what you’d been doing for the last ten years and more? What would your dear mother think of your past?”
She was right. Even as Alex’s ire flared and he had to resist the urge to strangle the woman, he knew she was right. She pressed her full chest to his back and ran her hands over his shoulders. Her fingers felt like spiders crawling over his body. Her breath, warm on the side of his face, smelled of chocolate. He felt sick.
“My family has no friends, they won’t care,” he insisted.
“Don’t they?” He could practically feel her smiling. “Word is they’ve established themselves quite well. Your brother is even thought of as quite the rake, wanted by many a young lady. He’s sure to make a good match.”
He wasn’t sure which shocked him more, that Lady Lavender had been keeping watch over his family or that his family had gone on living without him. Alex didn’t move, barely even breathed as the words sunk in, heavy and heart wrenching.
“But here…here, Alex, is where you belong.”
Anger flared through him. She’d done this on purpose, constantly trying to berate and belittle them. Alex spun around and shoved Ophelia back into the bedding. Any restraint fled, replaced with an anger that had been simmering for over a decade. Panting, like a deranged madman, he hovered over her, his hard body pressing her into the soft comforter. “And if I no longer wish to be here?”
She didn’t look afraid in the least. Boldly, she reached up and cupped the back of his head. Gripping his hair tight between her fingers, she jerked him closer, his face a breath away from hers. As if she owned him, she pressed her mouth to his, her warm tongue sliding over his lips. There was no shiver of anticipation or lust. Only disgust wavered through him.
“You didn’t complain when you first started working for me and beautiful women were throwing themselves at you,” she whispered against his lips. “Admit it, Alex. You didn’t complain when I showed you what pleasure there could be between a man and woman. There’s a connection between you and me. You belong here.”
The words struck him hard. What if she was right? What if this was where he belonged now? What if she had ruined him?
Nothing better than a whore.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut. No, he wouldn’t let her play these mind games with him. His hands moved up her arms, over her shoulders, his fingers pausing at the sensitive skin on her throat. How he hated her. Hated her for destroying his life. Hated her even more for making him doubt himself. Alex wrapped his fingers around the pale column of her throat, his thumbs pressing to that shallow spot. He could kill her, so easily. As much control as she had, her physical strength was no match for his.
As he pressed his thumb into her neck, she merely grinned, lifting her hips and pressing her pelvis to his. “You want to kill me, Alex?” Her voice came out raspy through the narrowed pipe. “The woman who saved you? Who saved your family?”
Yes. He did. For one brief moment, he wanted to push his thumbs down, to squeeze until she stopped breathing. Stopped moving. Stopped ruining lives.
She rested her cold fingers at his wrists. “But you don’t really want to kill me, do you? Not truly, because deep down you feel some odd connection to me. Killing me would be like killing a part of yourself.” Her fingers trailed over the straining muscles in his forearms. “I own you.”
Her words chilled his very soul. She was right. Deep down, he knew she was right. She owned him. Perhaps it wasn’t on paper, but she held his soul in her chilled hands all the same.
“Then again,” she said softly. “If you left, I suppose I could always recruit your brother. What do you think, would he do?”
She was trying to frighten him. It worked. Alex released his grip and stumbled back from the bed. Sweat slid between his shoulder blades. She merely laid there, her golden hair spread out across the white pillows, her body small and frail, like a damn angel.
Dear God, he had wanted to kill her. She had made him insane.
“Stand down, Wavers. Alex won’t harm me.” She lifted a brow. “Will you?”
Alex turned and shoved Wavers to the side. He couldn’t seem to breathe. Couldn’t feel his body. Panic tortured his very soul. He was trapped. Trapped in this hell.
On wooden legs, Alex moved to the door.
“Alex,” she called out.
Without thought he paused in the doorway, trained to do her bidding and hating himself for his immediate reaction.
“Bathe and dress. We’re going to the museum today. I expect you to behave.”
His trembling fingers curled around the door handle. He knew why she was forcing him to attend… to test his loyalty. But also to humiliate him. She would show him that no matter where they were, he belonged to her.
And he would attend and he would behave. He would do whatever she said, because she was right. He was nothing. She owned him.
********
Alex didn’t say a word.
As he entered Ophelia’s gaudy carriage. As she settled across from him, ever watchful. As they made their way through London, the streets so crowded he could practically feel the people pressing in on the edges of the coach. Alex didn’t say a word. What was there to say?
Nothing. He was not paid to think. Thinking was dangerous. Thinking gave one hope, silly ideas and dreams. He was a whore, merely a whore. There was no reason to think any longer. There was no reason to feel. To speak. He was numb.
“You will be charming, won’t you Alex?” Lady Lavender finally broke their silence, her voice barely audible over the wheels rattling over cobbled streets and the mongers calling out their wares.
Slowly, Alex pulled his gaze from the corner of the carriage where he’d been staring at nothing for the past hour or so. He couldn’t read her features, for a veil of light lavender hung from a feather-covered bonnet and hid her face.
She was relaxed as she leaned back against the cushioned seat. She was curious, but not nervous. No, she held too much power over him to be worried. Still, he wondered idly how much she actually knew about his family. Was she truly keeping watch over them, or was she exaggerating her influence?
“And if my family is there?” he asked in a calm, steady voice, refusing to show any emotion.
She smoothed down her muslin lavender gown with the tiny white flowers embroidered along the hem and waist. “They won’t be.”
So sure, he almost believed her. “How do you know?”