Chapter 7

"Em, you can"t truly mean to do this," Jane said even as she stood behind her, placing the last pins into Emmaline"s hair.

"I must," Emmaline responded. Her heart hammered to think of what she intended to do.

Facing Lord Westmarch had been fearful enough but to return again to the club that had been dark, sinful and threatening enough in daylight was quite another. Not to mention the fact she was now to face The Devil Lord himself.

How bad can he be if a nobleman such as Lord Westmarch resides in his employ? she reasoned with herself, but that was nothing compared to the horrid tales she had heard of the man.

Sending his thugs to roughhouse and blackmail any who displeased him, taking payments in blood when a man could not pay his debts, leaving families destitute for the sake of lining his own pockets. All this and more she had heard whispered about among her father"s friends during late night conversations at balls, dinners and other parties when they believed none of the fairer sex were paying any notice.

But Emmaline had a head for information, and she stored it all. Even if she did not realize it at the time, she soaked up information like a sponge.

And all that she had learned of The Devil Lord over the years made her tremble. So badly, in fact, she had to hide her gloved hands in the folds of her crimson skirts.

"What if something should go wrong? What should I tell Mama and Papa?"

Emmaline"s stomach twisted. Her father was in no fit state for anything to go wrong. He had been carried off to his bed as soon as Doctor Fields had examined him and ordered not to leave it until he had been checked over again the next morning.

Having stopped in to see him after returning from her meeting with Lord Westmarch, Emmaline feared he would be in no fit state to leave his bed the next morning even if he wanted to. And seeing him in such a state only made her more determined for what she was about to do.

"Do I look the part?" Emmaline asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"What part is that exactly?" Jane asked, adjusting one final ruby hairpin in Emmaline"s hair.

"Do I look fierce enough to take on the devil himself?"

Emmaline looked in her mirror. She wasn"t sure she had ever felt more beautiful with rubies in her hair, a black ribbon choker necklace encrusted with rubies around her neck and a crimson gown decorated with black lace upon the neckline, sleeves and hem. It was a gown that had once belonged to her mother, one she had never been permitted to wear. But she had known where it was stored, and she had braved the risk of fetching it for the simple fact she needed her mother"s courage now.

Closing her eyes, she thought, Mama, if you can hear me, please give me the strength to do what I must this evening.

"Emmaline, I fear there is not a man on this earth that can stand against you when you set your mind to something," Jane said, gripping Emmaline by the upper arms. The sisters stared at each other through the mirror of the vanity table.

Emmaline gripped her sister"s hand on her shoulder and smiled. "I hope you are right, or I shall never be able to fix this."

Jane scowled at that and squeezed Emmaline"s shoulders. "Mama was just upset. She didn"t mean what she said to you. None of this is your fault."

Emmaline cringed and closed her eyes. "If only that were true."

Jane grabbed the nearest spare stool and pulled it close to Emmaline"s. Gripping hold of her hands, Jane looked her in the eye and said, "I wish I were as brave as you."

Emmaline scoffed at that. She didn"t feel brave at all. She felt as if she might vomit if she allowed her mind to dwell on what she intended.

"I may not be able to even get past the servants," Emmaline pointed out, squeezing Jane's fingers.

"You"re jesting, aren't you?" Jane laughed. "Those that aren"t pandering to Mama and Papa are too exhausted from all that"s gone on today to even notice you slip out the back door."

Emmaline prayed her sister was right.

"And Mama hasn't left Papa's side since he fell ill," Jane said as if she sensed Emmaline"s other worries also.

Emmaline opened her mouth to speak but before she could, her sister said, "And should anyone ask, I shall say you retired early with one of your headaches from reading too much."

Emmaline laughed. That certainly sounded like her.

She pulled Jane into a tight embrace. "I"m sorry to put you through this, Jane, but I have to do this."

Jane squeezed her in return and whispered, "I know."

The grandfather clock down the hall chimed the hour and Emmaline pulled back. Glancing at the clock on her mantelpiece, she gasped, "Gosh, is that the time? I had best go."

The two sisters jumped up together, Emmaline rearing to go, but Jane gripped her wrist before she could.

When she tugged gently, Emmaline turned back to look at her.

"Are you quite certain of this?" Jane asked, "Are you sure this is the only way?"

Emmaline did not answer her sister in words. Instead, she gripped her face in both her hands and tilted her head down so that she could kiss her forehead.

"To bed with you dear sister," she instructed happily, forcing a smile, "I shall be perfectly fine."

Though inside she was reeling.

Not only did she have to sneak from the house, but she also had to creep down the backstreets of London to the devil's lair and face the men at the door again. Only then would she face the true monster though it would be no easy feat to get before him in the first place.

"Do you have the notice?" Jane asked.

Emmaline pulled up her skirts and showed the piece of folded paper she had tucked into her garter.

She was no fool to imagine carrying a purse on her person during the night on the streets of London. Even if she was foolish to be a woman walking alone.

This time, Jane gripped Emmaline's face and gripped her forehead. Kissing her hard, she said, "May God go with you dear sister."

Emmaline pulled back and raised a brow. Her sister had never been overly religious even if her mother claimed to be.

Jane shrugged and said, "What? It felt appropriate."

Emmaline gave her sister one final, loving squeeze, holding on for perhaps a moment longer than necessary, in the hopes it might help her find just a smidge more courage.

Then, finally, she picked up her black velvet cloak where she had draped it on the bed and pulled it over her shoulders.

"Be careful not to mess your hair!" Jane instructed as she pulled up the cowl.

Emmaline rolled her eyes. She had far more important worries than the messing of her hair. But Jane was right. When she faced The Devil Lord everything about her must be perfect and above reproach. How else could she hope to strike a deal with the most ruthless man in London?

Arriving back at the club, the air around the place was entirely different. Music played from inside and through the open windows, tobacco smoke was blown heavily. Men on the door were like imposing stone gargoyles, glaring out at passersby as if to frighten off any untoward visitors. Or perhaps it was quite the opposite, to invite the untoward and refuse the pleasant folk.

Emmaline was unsure and she was also unsure of how to act, how to gain entrance, how to be the kind of person let into the devil"s lair. It wasn"t every day a lady came to a place like this and yet, it was her second visit in one.

She swallowed hard on the lump in her throat as she was helped from her carriage by the coach driver.

As she approached the doorman, one of them turned only an eye upon her. He did not even move his head. Nor did he blink. He simply glowered through the one eye. But it was the other who spoke, "What business have you here, miss?"

He spoke to her as if she were lowly, as if she had absolutely no business being there. In truth, she didn"t. At his tone, she decided one thing: she must be a proud and mighty lady, even if inside she was cowering like a frightened little mouse.

Raising her chin high, she looked to the man who had spoken, trying hard to ignore the way the other looked at her, and said, "I am Lady Emmaline Moreau, and I am here to see The Devil Lord. He is expecting me."

The two men looked at each other with curiosity. She could have sworn she saw amusement. Then they both looked at her and the one who had spoken said, "Niels, pay our lord a visit and see if what she says is true."

Still silent, the man dipped his head and slipped inside.

"You"ll not mind waiting here, My Lady," the other man said, tipping his hat to her though he continued to look quite suspicious and more than a little annoying.

Emmaline struggled not to hop from one foot to the other. There was a chill on the breeze and a thin drizzle had begun. It was the kind that felt feather light and yet by the time you arrived back indoors it had soaked you through to the bone.

Jane"s comment about not messing up her hair repeated over in her mind. If she did not look the part, how would the lord take her seriously?

"Perhaps I might wait, just inside?" Emmaline suggested.

"Leeson, what is the meaning of this?" came a booming voice as a masked man appeared in the open doorway, sweeping back the curtain that prevented prying eyes from seeing within.

"My Lord?" the single guard looked confused.

"How dare you keep The Devil Lord"s guest waiting in the rain?" the masked man demanded. He glowered at the guard and growled, "He shall hear of this."

"I… I did not mean… I was not told of a visitor, My Lord," the man stammered. How the giant of a man cowered. If the mere mention of The Devil Lord caused such a man to tremble in such a way, what hope did she have when meeting him?

"Lady Moreau, you must accept My Lord's humble apologies," the masked man said, bowing low as he came down the steps of the club to meet her at the bottom.

Sucking in a breath, Emmaline took one look at him in his fine clothing and his mask with his golden hair swept back, and his charm seeping from behind his facade, and decided there was only one way she could play this. She had to be her father.

She had to be strict and forward and business-like. Yes, they might laugh at her, but they would surely take her much more seriously than if she were to play the meek and mild lady she was forced to be in ballrooms and at the dinner table.

"Perhaps The Devil Lord might see fit to apologize himself for keeping me waiting out here?" she demanded, and she saw the way the guard behind the man fixed her with an incredulous expression.

Behind his mask, the other gentleman smirked. "You are a lively one. Aren"t you? I do believe My Lord was hoping for a little fire tonight."

Emmaline gulped. Suddenly, she wasn"t so sure she had chosen the correct path.

It was too late. The gentleman gestured with a wave of his hand and said, "Please, follow me. I shall take you to our lord."

When he turned and started down the street, Emmaline was more than a little confused. "I was told he would be here."

The masked man stopped at the edge of the building and turned back. She could just see the smirk from beneath the edge of the mask. "He is, My Lady. Follow me."

Emmaline's throat constricted. What other choice did she have?

On trembling legs, her feet feeling heavy as stone, she clasped her hands before her and walked with her head held high. Though the rain persisted, even in the alleyway, Emmaline forced herself to walk at a dignified pace.

Somehow, she felt every single second of her presence there was being watched and judged, and somehow, she was certain her every action would be reported back to The Devil Lord himself. She could not afford to put even one foot wrong.

Led down the alleyway in total silence, Emmaline was taken further and further into darkness. And just as she was starting to panic that the alleyway would never end, and she would be lost in the blackness forever, a crack of light opened up.

A doorway was pulled back to reveal a candlelit hallway. The masked man gestured her silently in. Slipping past him, the smell of incense met her nostrils, causing her to gag a little. It was thick and heady and clotted in her throat making it difficult to breathe mixed with the scent of tobacco smoke.

As if he sensed her discomfort, her escort chuckled. "Are you well, My Lady?"

"Quite," she forced out before she added, "Please, take me to your lord."

"All in good time, My Lady," the escort responded and gestured once more for her to follow him.

They walked through a parlor filled with men. A bar at one end served a multitude of drinks, all carried by exquisitely dressed young ladies. Their gowns, or rather costumes, were risqué to say the least and Emmaline tried hard not to meet their gaze. In fact, she tried to keep her chin raised so as not to meet anyone"s eye.

The men sat off in the corners of the room, their faces hidden by shadow, seeming to watch her with glowing interest as she was led through the room.

Emmaline held her breath, her arms tucked into her sides so as not to brush by anyone.

"Well, aren"t you lovely?" A man said, stumbling up from a chair as she passed. He reached for her, his trembling hand barely missing her forearm.

In a flash, her escort turned, grabbed the man"s forearm and bent it back behind his back. Emmaline gasped as the man groaned and reeled back into his seat.

"You do not lay hands on The Devil Lord"s personal guests," her escort sneered loudly enough that he could be heard by all over the clamor of the room.

"You have my apologies, My Lady. It won"t happen again," her escort assured her, guiding her on. With every step, Emmaline had to fight the urge to turn and run.

That urge came to an all-time overwhelming high when her escort pulled back a curtain on the far side of the room and gestured her through.

The guards on either side of the entryway suggested this was no open part of the club. It was restricted and that meant only one thing to Emmaline: things were about to get worse.

Still, she reminded herself why she was there, why she was putting herself through this. Her family needed her and so she squared her shoulders and stepped through.

Disappointment hit her when all she found on the other side was a dimly lit hallway.

"This way," her escort said and when he turned left, beginning to disappear down a dark staircase, Emmaline"s disappointment became anxiety once more.

Down and down she went, into the bowels of the earth, feeling as if she might never return topside again. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she felt as if she had swallowed a frightened bird. Her throat felt thick and swollen When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she knew she had entered the very bowels of hell itself.

Through an open archway was a true den of iniquity. It was like nothing she had ever seen before.

The atmosphere of candlelight set in red holders to dim their brightness could not quite dim the debauchery going on before her very eyes.

Women, bare to the waists, wearing nothing but silken shift skirts and bells around their stomachs, wandered the rooms carrying trays filled with drinks. Men pawed and grabbed at them as if they were animals there for the petting.

One or two of the men had taken it upon themselves to pull the women onto their knees. Breasts were fondled relentlessly, lips kissed, and hair gripped tight at the roots. Hands slipped beneath skirts. All manner of far worse things were going on in the darkened shadows of the room. Emmaline could feel it.

The devil was there, not just in the debauchery of the room but in the gambling tables set to her left and the stage set to her right where a couple of women danced wearing nothing but shift dresses made totally see-through by the candles set behind them.

Emmaline felt sick. And yet, she could not look away. It was disgusting and yet it was intriguing. Her stomach twisted painfully, and her throat constricted, yet there was a heat between her thighs and a shivering in her skin that was oh-so-deliciously wonderful.

"Please, this way," her escort said, and it was when she stepped through the archway that Emmaline"s eyes were drawn right across the room.

How she hadn"t noticed him before, Emmaline did not know.

Sitting upon a throne made of black metal and red silk cushions was a man who commanded the attention of everyone sober enough in the room. Those having sinful fun appeared to have one eye upon him at all times.

The second she saw him, she knew he was The Devil Lord himself. There could be no mistaking him. Not with that crimson red mask, its black horns like those of a ram curling from the top of his head down to a point beneath his earlobes. Only the grim line of his mouth was visible but even in the dim lantern light of the room, the disdain was clear behind the mask.

Emmaline gulped. His commanding presence within the room was as daunting as all the whispers she had heard about him, if not more so.

"My Lady," her escort said, offering her his gloved hand. Emmaline struggled to breathe past the lump in her throat. She placed her red gloved hand in his and on still shaking legs, allowed him to guide her down the center of the room.

Within a couple of steps, a hush fell upon the room. Every eye turned on Emmaline. The way her escort held her hand aloft, as if parading her for all to see made her heart skip several beats. Were she wearing champagne or ivory, she might have believed it a wedding.

Don"t be so foolish! She snapped at herself. What a ridiculous notion that was. To have a wedding in such a debaucherous place would be ruinous.

Why the thought had come to her, she did not know, but she shoved it away just as quickly.

And by the time she stood at the foot of the throne steps, the room was so silent Emmaline swore she could hear flies buzzing.

All stared at her in open astonishment. She was overdressed, far too overdressed compared to the other half-naked women in the room. The rubies draped about her throat and ears and in her hair, were likely a huge target in place like this. What a fool she had been. Why hadn"t she come dressed plainly? She had wanted to make a strong impression. Now all she wanted was for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

She dipped her head and, quivering, said, "My Lord, I—"

Before she could finish, The Devil Lord boomed, "What are you all staring at? Mind your business before I pluck your eyes from your heads! She is mine alone to gaze upon."

Emmaline"s heart quickened. Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Deep, commanding, threatening, frightening, and yet, it made her weak at the knees in an all too different manner than before.

Even Emmaline's escort dipped his head low, averting his eyes from her. The weight of the gazes of the room was so suddenly gone from Emmaline that she felt light as a feather. And when The Devil Lord himself swept down the stairs to take her hand, she felt as if she might float away entirely.

"My Lady, I have been intrigued to make your acquaintance ever since His Grace made mention of you this afternoon," he said, dipping his head to brush his lips delicately over her gloved knuckles. The warmth of his breath was tingling even through the silken material.

"And I you, My Lord," Emmaline said, struggling to offer a curtsy without her knees buckling.

"Please, join me," The Devil Lord insisted and at the click of his fingers a chair was brought forth for her to be seated beside his grand throne.

If not for the heaviness of his presence, the sheer weight of his darkness, the way he presided over all without so much as a sniff of entertainment himself, Emmaline might have believed him just another rich fool with too much money and very little sense.

Yet, though she had never met royalty, just to look at him and see the way the patrons of his establishment feared him, she felt as if she were in the presence of a king. More than that, she felt as if she were in the presence of a god. Or, in this case, a demon.

But even for a devil, this man was a true gentleman. He guided her up the steps and held the back of the seat as he awaited her to place herself upon it.

"A drink for the lady!" The Devil Lord commanded and not one, but three men jumped from their seats to grab glasses from the serving girls. Two were spilled before they reached the throne but the third, a glass of red wine, was offered to Emmaline with a bow so low the man was practically kissing the floor.

"Thank you kindly, My Lord, but I do not wish to dampen my mind this evening," Emmaline said, speaking to the lord himself and not the poor, trembling man before her. The Devil Lord clapped his hands, and the man was removed from his presence.

"Then, My Lady, why have you come?" The Devil Lord asked, dropping down into his throne. He leaned on the armrest towards her, hand on his chin. The mix of curious charm and red devil"s mask was quite something to behold.

Though she knew she ought not to, Emmaline could not stop from staring. She longed to know the face beneath.

"Might… might we speak in private?" Emmaline asked, glancing about the room.

Everyone appeared to have gone back to their own business just as instructed but she couldn"t be sure.

"You may rest assured, My Lady, nothing you speak of shall leave this room," The Devil Lord said, gazing at her intently behind his mask.

Those eyes were like dark pools of onyx, black and shining and altogether captivating. No matter how she tried, Emmaline could not look away. Certain her cheeks were flushed, she unfolded her black lace fan and batted at her face.

"It is rather warm in here," she admitted. "Forgive me, My Lord. I need a moment."

"I do not have all night," the lord barked, and Emmaline jumped. Just as quickly, she regained her wits and produced the loan notices she had found in her father"s study.

They had been a tight squeeze folded and folded and folded into small rectangles to slip into her small drawstring reticle. It was the only way she was able to slip them past the servants if she were caught. With her father so ill, she could not bear to be caught sniffing through his things.

As she unfolded them, The Devil Lord"s forehead wrinkled as if he were lifting a brow. He said nothing. He did not even move. He was like stone.

"My Lord, I came to talk with you about this on behalf of my father," Emmaline said, holding out the papers. She hated how her trembling hand betrayed her.

It seemed like an eternity before the lord took the papers from her. His gaze was disinterested as he flicked through them.

"What of them? Have you my money?" The lord demanded, throwing them back at her as if he could not afford the time it would take for her to take them back.

Emmaline scrambled to pick up the papers where they fluttered at her feet. "No, My Lord, I"m afraid I do not. And I regret to inform you that my father is desperately ill."

Menacingly slowly, the lord leaned right over the arm of his throne and ground out through gritted teeth, "Then why are you here?"

Emmaline"s face grew so cold she was certain all the blood had drained from her face.

"My Lord, I come to plead for an extension."

She dipped her head as she spoke, feeling as if she could not and should not meet his gaze.

"There shall be no extension! I shall have what I am owed, or your father shall pay the consequences!"

His booming, thunderous voice rattled the sconces in the walls and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

Instinctively, Emmaline met his gaze, certain that she looked like a doe caught in lantern light.

Holding his gaze, she said, "Surely, My Lord, there must be some arrangement we might come to? My father may, this very moment, lie upon his death bed. If he is unable to pay you, my entire family—my brothers, my sisters, my stepmother and I—shall all be thrown upon the streets or worse… sent to the debtor"s prison."

The man scoffed and turned his gaze away. Clearly something more interesting had caught his attention across the room. He flicked his hand to the man who had escorted Emmaline into the club and the man hurried off to break up some kind of brawl that had begun.

When his gaze turned back on her, The Devil Lord's tone was low and menacing, "Your family woes are no concern of mine."

The heartlessness of his response made Emmaline sick. And yet, there was something in his eyes that gave her a spark of hope.

She couldn"t give up now. Her father wouldn"t. He would continue until they came to some kind of arrangement, something that would benefit them both. It was the most likely way of gaining business.

"Surely, My Lord, there must be something I can offer you? I shall do anything. All I ask is an extension upon the loan, a chance for my father to get back on his feet in order to collect the money that he owes you from his investments."

Emmaline bit the inside of her cheek. How could she tell him that their latest investment had sunk deep into the Indian ocean?

But it appeared she would not have to. He was clearly intrigued for he picked up a glass of wine from the table between them and drank from it, looking at her all the while over the rim of the glass.

"Anything, you say?" The corner of his lip twitched while the other remained stuck in a grim line.

Emmaline swallowed hard. "Yes, anything."

She breathed out the words and this time it was she who was unable to blink.

"Anything…" the lord repeated contemplatively. His free hand rose to his face, and he rubbed the dark shadow of facial hair upon his chin. "Anything, you say?"

"I do say, My Lord, anything."

This was a dangerous game she played, she knew that. What he proposed, she might not be able to give, and then what came of her family then? But what choice did she have?

The Devil Lord leaned back in his seat. He gazed around the room for several moments, silently contemplating. His fingers continued to rub his chin in thought.

Then, in an instant, he barked, "Everybody, out!"

Faces turned, voices started to hum, the music stopped once more. All fell silent as if they were waiting to be sure they hadn"t misheard.

"You heard me!" the lord boomed, and everyone started to scramble. Even those clearly working in the club hurried to escape the wrath of The Devil Lord.

Only Emmaline"s escort remained unmoved. Even she jumped to her feet, ready to flee down the steps.

Before she could do so fingers snaked, quick as a flash, around her wrist.

"Not you," he ground out.

Startled, Emmaline sank heavily back into her seat. She played with the ruby bangle around her wrist in an attempt to calm herself.

"See we are not disturbed!" The Devil Lord commanded her escort, and the masked man dipped his head, removing himself to the entrance of the room to pull down the curtains after everyone had fled.

He stood there then, head bowed as if his only task now was to ensure what little shred of respect she had left remained with her.

"My Lord, I… I can see I have angered you," Emmaline said fearfully. "Perhaps I ought return with my father when he is able?"

The Devil Lord did not speak. He stared out across the room. His hands clasped together before him and he rested his elbows upon the arms of his throne, his chin upon his hands.

"As you can see, My Lady, I have all I could possibly need right here," The Devil Lord said. He continued to start off into space. "I have wealth, power, respect. What more could you possibly offer me?"

His tone was commanding yet thoughtful, almost as if he were debating with himself and not with her at all.

"My Lord, anything," she said, her chest tightening. There was that word again, that foolish word that left her entirely at his mercy. What a naive, foolish little chit of a girl she was.

But what the lord proposed might have knocked her right off her chair in astonishment.

"I have need of one thing and one thing only, My Lady," he said. He only turned his gaze upon her as he added, "I am in need of a wife."

Emmaline"s wits entirely escaped her then. She laughed. She actually laughed. Embarrassment scorched her cheeks, and she hid her lips with her fan, praying he hadn"t noticed but absolutely sure that he had.

"You think that is funny?" the masked man demanded. Again, he leaned forward and somehow his eyes were darker than ever. The spark was gone from their black depths. Now they were merely empty, sucking blackness. "I offer you a solution and you laugh in my face. I should double your father"s loan amount for this insult!"

"No, no!" Emmaline exclaimed, throwing herself at the man"s feet. It was a most foolish thing to do but she had little left. She clutched her hands together and placed her forehead upon them. "Please, My Lord, it was a gut reaction. I could not have contained it if I had tried. Please, please, forgive me."

His throne creaked a little as he leaned forward to perch on the edge of his seat.

Emmaline did not dare to look at him. Instead, she stared at his polished black boots. They were perfectly shiny, so much so that she could almost see her own reflection in them.

She gasped with shock when she felt the warmth of his bare fingertips pressed just beneath her chin. At his forceful urging, she lifted her head, lowering her hands.

Emmaline stared into his eyes. The spark had returned. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was caught in her throat soon after.

"Marry me, Lady Moreau, and I shall see your father"s loan resolved. I shall even see your family"s wealth restored in time. Marry me, and you shall have all you ever desired, on one condition."

Emmaline trembled. Her lips parted. The sweetness of his breath was intoxicating.

"What condition, My Lord?"

The words were barely a whisper. As if he hadn"t heard her, the lord lifted his free hand and brushed back several curls from either side of her face. "You are a pretty little thing, aren't you? Your father shall be disappointed to lose you. I am sure."

Emmaline jerked backwards. "I am not property!"

You fool! She thought when she saw the darkening of his gaze once more.

She had had him right where she wanted him. Or was it he who had her right where he wanted her? She couldn"t be sure. Either way, she had messed it all up.

"If you wish to see your family safe and your father"s debts settled, Lady Moreau," the lord said, his voice becoming all the more threatening, "You will be mine."