Mistress in the Making Read online

  Bellamy clapped John on the back. “Excellent. Less work for me.”

  “It’s nothing fancy,” John warned. “Hasn’t been lived in for some years. Only one or two rooms may be habitable.”

  Lucas laughed. “It will be a palace.”

  “I’ll say.” Bellamy smiled with a far-off look on his face. “Real English featherbeds and, best of all, no sand.”

  “Show us home, John, and on the way, tell me news of my twin,” Lucas said. “Has he taken on the mantle of responsibility along with the title, or has he maintained his hell-raising ways?” He fingered two letters in his waistcoat. The one from his school days was worn and soft from multiple readings and highlighted his supposed misdeeds at school. His twin had written it to their father, blaming all his capers on Lucas. It now served as a reminder to never trust Sebastian. The crisper letter detailed his eldest brother’s death in quick phrasing.

  “The latter, I’m afraid, and wait until you hear what mischief he’s entered into this time. It involves a woman named Madame Bella.”

  Bellamy visibly perked up as he climbed into John’s carriage. “Madame? Sounds promising.”

  John climbed in opposite and shook his head. “Not this. Rumors are circling it involves innocent chits.”

  Lucas frowned. Off the boat and into the thick of things, all involving his twin. Seven years away and that hadn’t changed. He leaned forward, planting his forearms on his thighs. “Tell me more.”

  Chapter Two

  “Do I hear one thousand?”

  Madame Bella’s overly floral scent floated up to Charlotte’s position on the newly erected dais, forcing her to hold her breath, lest she get sick. Nothing would lower the bidding like the sight of her casting her crumpets all over her royal-blue, slightly vulgar gown. Charlotte tried to hide a nervous giggle and focus on smiling prettily at all the assembled gentleman never allowing one in particular to catch her eye. Better she maintain the pretense that they weren’t real flesh-and-blood men who eyed her as if she were their next meal. There’d be time enough for that later, when she belonged to one of them.

  “One thousand five hundred.”

  Madame Bella paused to acknowledge the bid from a man in the corner. The sudden, slight English inflection told Charlotte the madam was surprised by this latest bidder, but didn’t outwardly show it other than losing the French accent she claimed was real.

  “Show your bosom,” called a voice from the crowd. “How am I to know to know if she’s worth a bid?”

  Charlotte lifted her chin and let her coy smile stretch, planting her sisters’ images in her mind. She did this for them. For them she could do anything. Thank goodness Madame had allowed her to switch places with Elizabeth. When she’d arrived at Madame’s doorstep instead of Elizabeth, she risked everything, but luckily Madame relented and agreed to train her instead of her younger, prettier sister.

  Lavish, crimson velvet draperies hung inches away giving her comfort that she’d grab them if her knees crumpled as they currently threatened. It was a false hope. She’d seen George hang those draperies this morning. Barely more than a thin nail apiece held them aloft, giving the dais the appearance of a stage and her as a prima donna on display. More likely, she’d pull the curtains down with her.

  There was an endless, infinite pause as Madame turned to her for an assessing glance before turning a coquettish smile to the heckler. Her smile reminded most men in the room why she’d been the toast of London mistresses before retiring and opening her “finishing” school.

  “I promise you, Charlene is worth every sovereign and more. She’s my best pupil. I considered keeping her on as my assistant teacher.”

  Charlotte nearly snorted at Madame’s lie, but barely started at the sound of her new name. If caring for the other girls and reading every book in her library meant top marks in Madame’s mind, then yes, she was a top pupil. Somehow she doubted they valued the same qualities.

  Madame continued berating the man shouting from the crowd. “Seeing as you haven’t got a ha-penny to your name, it is unlikely you’ll ever see a hint of any bosoms in this venue,” she said, quickly turning away from the heckler and back to the bidding.

  Madame stepped onto the dais and fisted a lock of Charlotte’s hair. “Like silk gentleman. And the color? Pure gold.” Charlotte stood as still as possible while Madame detailed each of her features. She’d never thought about her breasts being a perfect handful, but she supposed Madame knew what gentlemen liked.

  Most of the offers now seemed to be coming from the same two men, both seemingly opposites in position and temperament. One of the higher-bidding gentleman, stood surrounded by cronies and hangers-on. His old-gold coat bespoke of wealth and a fine valet. The group of men surrounding him drank heavily and made lewd jokes. The man at the center preened and played to his loyal audience. The other man lurked alone in a dark corner, kept even more hidden by his black coat and hat, which he’d kept on in the house.

  More offers flew, the numbers going higher than Charlotte ever dreamed a man could earn in a lifetime. The dapper gentleman, surrounded by his friends, stepped closer to the dais with each offering, and even she heard the competitiveness in his voice. He didn’t really want her. He wanted to win.

  A shudder rippled through her at the thought of bodily belonging to such a man. Would he ride her like a prize horse and leave her out to pasture when she’d outrun her usefulness? According to Madame, yes.

  One last bid came from the shadows where the hidden bidder stood. A sum so astronomical, Charlotte cringed, knowing she’d never live up to the price. The things he would expect from her. She couldn’t possibly…but she’d have to. Her sisters, she repeated silently. She did this for her sisters. And she’d cut out a person’s tongue if they ever told her sisters she’d turned into a whore, albeit, a highly coveted one, to support them through a Season in London.

  The crowd of wealthy gentleman stirred uneasily as the loser of the auction slammed his glass full of amber liquid to the carpet. A few stray drops landed on the hem of her dress. Madame Bella gestured frantically behind her back for her to join her on common ground to soothe the gentleman’s ire, but before she took more than a few steps off her auction block, a leather-clad hand landed heavily on her forearm.

  “Excuse…” She broke off at the realization that the hand belonged to the auction winner, her new protector. He allowed her no room to catch her bearings, but swept her alongside him as he strode toward the now cursing loser.

  “You promised me, Bella.” The auction loser loomed over Madame Bella, seeming to physically threaten her.

  Charlotte shrank back into the protective shadow of her new lord and master who showed no outward sign of fear at the ugly outburst. If anything he seemed bored.

  “Is there a problem?” His smooth, deep voice conjured images of reading in a toasty-warm library, snuggled in a large chair surrounded by walls of books. Her idea of heaven on earth.

  “Yes, there is a problem, but it’s none of your damn business. This is between me and Bella.” The man kept glaring at Madame.

  “I’m afraid I have to disagree, brother.”

  Charlotte jerked her head to stare up at the man in black, startled by the hatred she heard hidden by the mild tone. If she hadn’t been pressed in close enough to feel the tautness of his muscles, she’d never have guessed he cared in the slightest about the ensuing scene.

  “Brother?” Finally, the man stopped his abuse of Madame Bella and turned to face them. His eyes narrowed. “Lucas? You’re alive?”

  Lucas swept an elegant bow, though he wanted to plow his fist into Sebastian’s face. Let a bruise or two mar the elegant visage, unfortunately so similar to his, but hiding an internal ugliness. “I am alive. You can rest easy. Your twin is back.”

  Gasps emerged from the two women surrounding him as well as some from Sebastian’s cronies who’d stayed to see their hero browbeat Madame Bella into altering the conclusion of the auction in his favor. Unfort
unately for Sebastian, Lucas would never allow that to happen.

  Pure miracle, really, he’d arrived in London with enough time to set up a residence and hear enough gossip about tonight’s auction in time to come thwart his brother.

  “Brothers…” A sweet voice slid into his hearing from the woman for whom he’d just paid a fortune. Her alluring scent floated into his awareness, smelling of an intriguing mix of gardenias and innocence. She didn’t know how lucky she was. He’d started counterbidding Sebastian only to stop him, like stopping a spoiled child from getting every desired toy, but something had changed throughout the bidding. The girl’s face had shown every sign of being thrilled to be on stage and the center of attention, but her eyes told a different story. Seven years traveling the world had given him an excellent barometer for looking deeper into people.

  The girl was terrified and rightfully so. She’d nearly become the mistress of a man who’d possibly killed his eldest brother in order to secure an earldom for himself. Although, she didn’t know any of this. No one did. It was the driving force of why Lucas had at long last sailed back from London. So it begged the question, why would a terrified supposed virgin put herself up for auction before the highest-titled gentleman of the ton?

  Money, no doubt. Part of him wanted to solve her particular mystery, but for now all his targets were set on his eldest-by-four-minutes brother. It was tricky to tell in the dimmed, flickering candlelight, but his brother’s face paled at the shock of seeing his twin alive and well.

  “Lucas.”

  He accepted the hardy pounding on his shoulder, grateful Sebastian chose to hide his true nature behind a jovial mask. It could have easily gone the other way and he’d now be pulling an irate, violent earl off the proprietor of London’s newest and most exclusive brothel.

  If the Madame was fearful of the notorious outbursts from the Earl of Westhunt, she hid it well, taking the opportunity to whisper a few words in the ear of her former charge, the girl he now held possession of.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Madame will show you to a private room where you can visit with your brother while I go gather my belongings,” Charlene said with nary a trace of smile or any of the coquetry she’d displayed on stage.

  Lucas looked away from Sebastian, startled by the soft, genteel voice of his first-ever exclusive mistress. She sounded less like a mistress and more like a governess. He nodded curtly at her naïve assumption he wanted to spend a second of his time pretending to be wrapped up in brotherly affection, but she hurried away before he could disabuse her of the notion.

  Setting his mouth in a grim line, he followed the large, perfumed girth of Madame Bella to a shabby back parlor.

  “My apologies, the workmen haven’t attended to this room yet.” She slid a calculating look at him, appraising him. She wasted her time—he’d not give her another cent. She should be thrilled her first auction went to the heights it did. It’d be the talk of gentleman’s clubs for weeks. Reading his expression correctly, she murmured, “Come see me to settle your account and sign the papers when Charlene returns.” With eyes wide in her beautiful face, she glanced quickly at Sebastian then back at him before backing out of the room.

  “Well, well, the prodigal son returns at last.”

  Sebastian’s drawl was as arrogant as he’d remembered. He responded with silence.

  “Why did you do it?” Sebastian asked.

  “Do what?” What did his brother think he’d done?

  “Bid on her. Do you really want her?”

  “She’s a beautiful woman.” He leaned back in the chair as if he had all night to wait for the chit to gather up her belongings.

  “She’s all right.” Sebastian shrugged. “It’s not in your character to bid on a woman. Does that mean you’ve stopped spouting that nonsense about marriage and finding a like-minded woman with whom to share a home?”

  “People change.” It was his turn to shrug, but his twin was closer to his true feelings than he cared to acknowledge. Bidding on a woman as he’d bid on a horse unsettled him. He’d been gone from London seven years, and now returned intending to find a wife as soon as he’d settled the ugly business with his brother.

  “Perhaps.” Sebastian opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and looked to be carefully plotting his words. “I wanted to win her quite badly, you know.”

  “Why?” He knew the answer, but wanted to hear if the bastard would own up to it.

  “I’m in the market for a new mistress. I’ve left my old one.”

  Left her with a broken arm and bruised face, if the rumors were true, but he disguised his revulsion and nodded. “There are other places to find beautiful women willing to warm your bed. Perhaps you’ll have better luck there.”

  His twin leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “You don’t own those women. They demand things. Madame Bella trains her girls. Invitations to tonight’s auction were highly sought after and hard to come by. She’s been dropping rumors for months that she’d soon be offering women well trained in the art of pleasing a man.”

  Lucas swallowed hard at that. In his travels, he’d seen a lot, and in fact, had seen places where young girls were trained in the art of pleasure. As a western white man, he’d never been granted access to such places. Perhaps now he’d learn some of the mysterious secrets.

  No. He tamped down that line of thought. He’d bought the girl to hurt his brother and save her from a cruel future. He’d set her free, not demand her sexual attentions.

  “Well, well. Who would have thought? Perfect Little Lucas has a dark side. You want her. You love the idea of owning her, of forcing her to submit whenever you demand.” Sebastian’s eyes bore through him as though seeing every disturbing, lurid fantasy he’d ever had. “How will you take her the first time? I’m surprised you’re still even in this room. Me? I’d have followed her up to the room and grabbed a quick sample up against the wall before paying. Make sure she’s worth the price.”

  Images of following Charlene up the stairs, pressing her front to the wall while he lifted her silky gown from behind, flashed through his mind. Before he could respond or curb his body’s sudden unruly response, a gasp had him whipping around to see his new mistress in the doorway looking shocked at his brother’s frank language. The incongruity of her response bothered him. She was a mistress, a whore, supposedly a virginal one, but still, she’d been trained for months at the hand of London’s most legendary mistress.

  He rose. “Shall we go find Madame? I’m done here.” He stepped toward the woman, refusing to spare a last glance for his brother. Let him gain a false sense of comfort. There’d be time later to let him know he was going to expose him for the murdering fraud he was.

  “If it is your wish to ‘grab a sample before leaving’, then I am at your service,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Would you care to have your brother join us?”

  “Hell no.” His disgust rang through his negative response. “Let’s find Madame and then leave here.”

  He yanked her elbow to his side and exited to sign over the exorbitant sum he’d bid.

  “Enjoy your new property, Lucas.” His brother’s taunt followed him down the hall.

  Charlotte’s cheeks burned as she was led down the hall to Madame’s private parlor. How could she have said something so bold, so vulgar? What would she have done if the men agreed? Ruck up her skirts and lie back? She gave a little sob and tried to disguise it as a cough. Vulgarity was now expected of her.

  From everything she’d learned from Madame these past weeks, welcoming two men in her bed was now acceptable behavior. The man holding her inner elbow in a firm grip didn’t seem to think so if his reaction was any indication. Or perhaps his negative reaction was in response to her suggestion of sharing his brother.

  He hustled her down the hall, possibly bruising her skin, but she didn’t think his tight grip was in anger at her. He’d seemed in a hurry to escape his brother’s presence.

  “Charlotte.”
A girl’s voice hissed into the hallway.

  She narrowed her eyes in the direction of the unwanted young voice and tipped her head toward her new protector, hoping the other girl would take the hint. Emmy, the youngest of Madame’s pupils had been inconsolable this morning upon learning it was Charlotte’s twenty-first birthday, and she would be auctioned to the highest bidder and leaving their little school. Emmy had just three short years until her eighteenth birthday when she too would parade in front of London gentleman and hope to go to a kind one.

  “Can you excuse me a moment?” she murmured to her gentleman.

  He paused, frowning down at her. “What now? I’d hoped to be home with a brandy by now.”

  “It will take but a second,” she said and slipped her arm from his grasp, darting to the narrow staircase where Emmy hid.

  “Emmy, you shouldn’t be here. Remember what Madame said.”

  “I know,” she said with a pout. “My beauty could cause riots and provoke one of the visitors to take a free sampling. Heaven forbid Madame doesn’t get paid.”

  “Emmy,” Charlotte sighed. Sometimes the girl was a contradiction. She looked and acted innocent, but her words often belied a greater understanding of the world than even Charlotte could claim. “I said goodbye earlier. I promise to visit at first opportunity.”

  “We simply wanted a glimpse of your protector.”

  “He’s a fine one, isn’t he?” asked another girl hidden farther in the shadows.

  “Go upstairs, Emmy and Lucy. Madame will punish you if she catches you.”

  “She won’t catch us,” Lucy said cheerfully. “She hasn’t got her money from your man yet.”

  “Go.” She shooed them up the stairs with her hands and quickly returned to her gentleman. “My apologies, there was a small matter.”

  “Your friends wanted to see me.” Dry humor danced on his words.