Chapter 21

“Did Miss Fontenot behave while I was gone?” Fast asked Gregg. The two of them were in Fast’s dressing room while he was finishing dressing for dinner.

Gregg’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Absolutely not.”

Fast chuckled and held out his left hand to Bixby, his valet, who carefully pared and buffed his fingernails. “Oh dear. What mischief did she get up to?”

“She tried to organize a worker uprising among your employees.”

Fast laughed. “Indeed?”

“She told them to agitate for higher pay like those mill workers did last year.”

“Am I about to get hit with a strike, Mr. Gregg?”

“Thankfully Mrs. Marlowe reminded the girls that they made more than twice what they did before you took over. You wouldn’t think they’d need it pointed out that you allow the damned place to operate like a bloody charity,” he muttered under his breath.

“I didn’t hear that last part,” Fast lied.

“Er, nothing, my lord.”

“How many times did she try to escape?” he asked when Bixby released his hand and disappeared into Fast’s dressing room to fetch his coat.

“Actually, she hasn’t tried anything since the first few days.”

“Really?”

“She’s a fearless little thing but she knows when not to throw effort at something that’s impossible.”

“ Hmm .” Fast wasn’t so sure of that. Part of him believed that Lorelei was enjoying her little adventure and not in any hurry to end it too quickly. Not to mention that she was probably always on the lookout for opportunities to snoop about and find more information about his private activities while she was his guest. At any other time, it would have been amusing to allow her to sniff about. But given the sensitive matter that was currently underway… Well, he’d need to be careful not to give her anything she could massage into a newspaper story.

Not that David Parker was in any condition to print anything she wrote, even if she did go back to work for the worm.

His mouth flexed into a cruel smile at the thought of the man who’d put Lorelei’s life at risk. Fast glanced at his knuckles. They were still a bit swollen, but the cuts that had opened when he’d beaten Parker to a pulp had mostly healed over the past week.

As Bixby helped Fast into his coat he wondered if he should tell Lorelei just how crooked Parker was—especially where she was concerned.

But no, now wasn’t the time. She’d find out soon enough and he knew she’d feel betrayed by what the man had done to her. Besides, he couldn’t tell her yet. Not until he was sure that his interference had yielded the results he hoped.

“—if that is agreeable to you, my lord?”

Fast realized that he’d missed the first part of what Gregg had just said. “I beg your pardon?”

The other man smirked. “It seems like you are distracted this evening, my lord?’

Fast snorted at Gregg’s sly look and turned to the mirror. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if I might use your invitation to the Duchess of Chorley’s ball tomorrow night.”

Fast’s fingers froze on his neckcloth, which had become slightly askew when he’d put on his coat, and he turned away from the looking glass and met Gregg’s gaze directly. “You want to attend a ton ball?” Fast narrowed his eyes at the other man.

He was about to ask why on earth he wanted such a thing, when Gregg’s sharp features hardened and he said, “Aye, that’s right. You owe me,” he added in a voice edged with hostility.

“Are you serious, Gregg? This is the first of your favors?”

Gregg’s jaw tightened. “You’re getting off cheaply, my lord.”

“Yes—I’d say I am,” Fast said, laughing to hide his surprise more than from any humor he felt at the situation.

Piers Amory Gregg—although Fast doubted that was even his real name—had saved Fast’s life many, many years ago. In return, Fast had promised the man three favors—anything Gregg wanted, whenever he wanted. And this was the first favor: an invitation to a ball?

Although he and Gregg had traveled the world together for over a decade and a half, he sometimes felt that he scarcely knew more about him now than he’d done all those years ago. Gregg had never offered to tell him the truth about his past and Fast—who’d had plenty of secrets of his own to protect—had never pried.

“An invitation to a ball that I have no plan to attend is of no importance to me, Gregg. You may have it without calling on a favor. Although you may have some difficulty using it as my name is on it.” He shrugged. “But the invitation is in my study on the desk.”

“Actually, it’s right here.” Gregg patted the front of his coat.

Fast snorted. “Pretty damned sure of yourself, eh?”

“I was pretty damned sure about how little you care for attending ton balls.”

Fast could have told him that he had even less interest than usual given that the only woman he wanted to see was currently in the same building as him.

A woman who has been stewing for more than a week…

Fast snorted at the thought and turned back to the mirror, giving his cuffs a tweak. He heaved a sigh and said, “Well, I suppose I can put off the grilling no longer.”

He was startled by the excitement that built in his chest as he strode toward the Queen’s Chambers.

He paused and jerked a nod at Rufus, who was standing guard beside the door. “If you hear me screaming for mercy, you’d better intervene. Otherwise, see that the door stays locked, and nobody enters.”

Rufus grinned. “Aye, my lord.”

Fast steeled himself, entered the room, and then frowned when the woman was nowhere to be seen. “Lorelei?”

Her head popped up on the far side of the bed. Before he could ask her what she was doing, her arm moved in a blur and she snarled, “You!”

Fast ducked, narrowly avoiding being struck in the head by the ankle boot that came hurtling through the air.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, barely sidestepping the second boot which followed with impressive speed and accuracy.

She gave him a look of pure venom.

Fast crossed the room toward her once he was sure that she had no more projectiles.

He gestured to her. “Although it is gratifying to see you on your knees and showing the proper respect when you greet me, you don’t need to remain kneeling for the duration of the evening.” He grinned as her expression grew even more thunderous. “I never expected you to prostrate yourself before me, but I could certainly grow to like it, darling.”

***

Lori sneered up at her captor. “I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. And don’t call me darling, ” she retorted, despising the way her belly tightened at the mere sight of him. And then he grinned—which exposed his prominent canine teeth and made him look every inch the wolfish rake he was alleged to be—and the tightness in her stomach sank a bit lower.

She didn’t wait for a response from him before ducking back under the bed and squinting into the gloom. “ Aha !” she muttered when a pair of glowing eyes blinked near the wall, positioned in such a way that she’d have to climb all the way under the bed to reach them.

Fast’s voice came from above. “Whatever are you doing down there?”

Lori ignored him and called in a pleasant, but forced, tone, “Here kitty, kitty.” She made kissing noises and crooned, “Good kitty.”

The vile beast just stared at her, slowly blinking its huge eyes.

She cursed under her breath, pulled her head from beneath the bed, and sat back on her heels, glaring up at Severn. “Your fiendish cat is toying with my garter beneath the bed.”

The man had the nerve to chuckle. “Ah, you’ve attracted Mr. Pouncefoot-Jones’ attention, never a good idea. Or at least not a comfortable one.”

“I’ve been around cats all my life, but I have never seen one as—”

“Mischievous?” Severn suggested.

“That is too benign a word. I was going to say evil, or malevolent.”

When she began to get to her feet, he offered her his hand. “Allow me.”

Rather than flail about clumsily, Lori accepted his help and allowed him to help her stand. But she immediately yanked her hand away once she was on her feet.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling politely.

Lori ignored his sarcasm and pointed to her right foot. Already her stocking was bagging around her ankle. “I am in need of a garter.” She hated how her face heated at speaking the word garter, as if she were some schoolroom ninny and not a seasoned newspaper woman currently living in a brothel.

“Don’t you have another pair?”

“I had two pairs, but your beast took the others, as well.”

He laughed. “You need to stop leaving such things lying about.” He strode to the door, rapped on it, and said something in a low voice to Rufus, her guard of the day.

Lori collected her ankle boots from where she’d thrown them and dropped into a chair to put them on.

“I sent Rufus to borrow a garter from one of the ladies.”

“Why don’t you be a gentleman and reach under the bed and retrieve mine?” she asked with false sweetness.

He laughed and held up his hands. “Oh, no. What Mr. Pouncefoot-Jones takes; he keeps. I’m not sticking my hand under there.”

“Coward.”

“Yes, and not ashamed to admit it, either.” He showed her the back of his hand, which had four faint white scars. “See these?”

Lori smiled at the claw marks.

“Find that amusing, do you?”

“I do. How did those happen?”

“I tried to take back one of my stockings.”

“ You need to stop leaving such things lying about, hmm?” she mimicked.

“If that was an attempt to sound like me, you failed spectacularly.”

He was about to withdraw his hand when Lori noticed something and grabbed it. She ignored the fluttering in her belly that even the slightest touch of his appeared to ignite and studied his knuckles. “I know Mr. Pouncefoot-Jones is vicious, but your knuckles are swollen. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing ,” she said, releasing his hand.

There was a brief rap on the door before it opened, and Rufus entered and dropped something into Severn’s outstretched palm. “Here’s a pair from Dinah, my lord.”

“Thank you, Rufus. That will be all.” Once the door had shut, Lord Severn held up intricately embroidered garters, one between each forefinger and thumb. He wore a mocking smirk that reminded her of a little boy taunting a little girl. “ Hmm , what is it that has been embroidered on here?” He squinted exaggeratedly at the garter in his right hand. “It looks like people. What on earth could they be doing?”

Even from a foot away Lori could see that a needlework virtuosa had embroidered nude men and women engaged in coitus.

She snorted. “I thought you were forty, not fourteen.”

He scowled. “Nine-and-thirty, Miss Fontenot—nine-and-thirty.”

Lori laughed outright this time. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Did I lacerate your delicate self-esteem?” She grabbed at the garters, thinking to catch him unaware.

“ Uh-uh-uh ,” he chided, not releasing the garters as a decent man would do. Instead, he tugged hard enough to pull her forward, requiring her to brace a hand against his chest to avoid a full body collision.

Lori couldn’t resist flexing her fingers a little, shivers running through her at how little give there was.

“Feel anything you like?”

She jerked her hands away and stepped back.

“Here.” He grinned down at her and held out the garters, but then jerked them back again when she reached for them. “Unless you would like help putti—”

“Give. Them. To. Me,” she said through clenched teeth.

He laughed and handed them over. “I’ll turn my back so you can tie them on.”

Lori stared suspiciously at his broad back for a few seconds. When it appeared he wasn’t lying, she lifted her foot to the chair, hiked her skirt, tugged up her stocking, and tied on the garter, pausing to examine the erotic scenes depicted. They really were quite stunning—not to mention scandalous.

Once she’d secured the stocking, she thought about her other garter and sighed. No point in having unmatching ones, although who would ever know?

You’re worried that his lordship might find out later on. Or hoping, rather…

She gave an exasperated sigh at her own idiocy, switched legs, and changed out garters, tucking her own boring singleton into the hidden pocket in her petticoat.

“You may turn around now.”

He turned and eyed her up and down, a slight pucker on his forehead.

“What?” she demanded.

“It has just struck me that you are not dressed for dinner.”

She crossed her arms and fixed him with a scathing look. “I am a prisoner here, my lord, so I’m afraid I didn’t come prepared for formal entertainments. It scarcely matters what I wear as I’ve been a prisoner in my room for the entire time.”

Lori thought she saw something that looked very much like sheepishness on his face before he smothered it and held out his forearm.

She stared at the proffered limb. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I thought you might want to get out of this room.” He began to lower his arm. “But if you don’t—”

She grabbed him. “Yes, I very much want to get out of this room.”

He led her toward the door and rapped on it.

Rufus unlocked it and nodded to them as they passed down the corridor, through a set of double doors into a much shorter hallway with only two doors. Severn opened one and gestured her inside. Lori recognized the room as the one she’d been in right before the viscount had gone off to his house party.

She glanced around, confused.

“What is it?” he asked, motioning her toward a table set with crisp linen, sparkling crystal, glittering silver candlesticks, and a bottle of wine.

“I feel like I came from this room a different way the last time.”

“You did. This suite has several different entrances, a few of them concealed.”

“Why?”

He pulled out her chair. “I would guess they were used when a lot of smuggling went on here. And no,” he quickly added, giving her a dryly amused look, “none of that goes on now.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” she protested. But only because Mrs. Marlowe had emphatically denied there was smuggling of any kind at the brothel.

Lori waited until he’d poured them both a glass of wine before asking, “So, did you enjoy your house party?”

He grinned, appearing, for once, delighted by one of her questions. “You sound put out, Lorelei. Did you miss me?”

“If I sound put out it’s because I’ve been imprisoned in this house for days. When do I get to leave?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You can’t just keep me here forever.”

“Actually, I could.”

Before she could contrive an answer to his shocking statement the door opened and Lucy and Dolly entered bearing trays loaded with covered serving dishes.

Severn politely thanked the two women once they’d set out all the dishes, turning back to Lori after the door had closed behind them, the key turning audibly in the lock.

“You have somebody else lock and guard the door even when you’re in here with me?” she scoffed. “Are you afraid of me, my lord?”

“Let’s just say that I respect your ingenuity, Lorelei. I wouldn’t put it past you to brain me with a candlestick, steal the key from my pocket if I were so foolish as to carry it on my person, and then stab poor Rufus with a butter knife once you’d escaped the room.”

“Ha! I would have more luck trying to brain a rock.”

He laughed. “My grandfather would agree with that assessment. Now, let’s pretend this is a pleasurable meal between two people who want to get to know each other. And once the meal is over, we can talk about other—less pleasant—matters.”

“Such as my liberty?”

“Yes. Such as your liberty.”

Not far behind his genial expression was a wall of granite that said she would neither charm nor badger him into changing his mind.

“Fine. I’ll eat and act pleasant, and you can tell me about this house party.”

He uncovered a large oval platter that held two bowls of still steaming soup. “Let me serve you.”

“Do you always avoid questions like that?”

In answer, he slid a bowl in front of her. “Try some, before it is cold.”

She ate a mouthful and set her spoon down with a clatter.

He ignored her pettish behavior and commenced eating his own soup, giving a hum of approval. After a few mouthfuls he set down his spoon with far more grace, smiled at her, and said, “The house party was at the Countess of Mansfield’s country estate.”

Lori paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth. She’d heard stories about the lovely, wealthy countess, whose name had been linked with Lord Severn’s in the gossip columns. Indeed, Miss Emily had been among the first to note the connection.

She deliberately raised the spoon the rest of the way, swallowed the contents, and then lowered it before savagely shoving down the jealousy threatening to choke her and saying, “That must have been interesting. Who else was there?” She smiled sourly. “Or was that it? Just a special party for two?”

Lord Severn smiled. “No, it was a regular house party. Let’s see, there was Miss Pascoe and her father,” he paused at her snort, and then continued, “Lord Moreland—”

This time Lori laughed outright. “A house party at the estate of a woman rumored to be your lover—or at least one of them—with a woman you and Moreland are both openly vying for? Goodness! It has all the makings of a French farce.”

He smiled again and ate a mouthful of soup.

“You must have had a lovely time choosing which bedroom to visit. That is what happens at house parties, isn’t it? Bedroom hopping? I would not know, you see, as I have never attended one. But I’ve heard plenty of stories.” It was as if her mouth had developed a will of its own and Lori couldn’t stop the petty, jealous words from spilling out of her. Severn’s expression—blandly smiling—just heaped more fuel on the fire. “Did you have an enjoyable time?” she asked in a waspish, peevish tone that made her cringe.

“Not really.”

“Oh dear! And why is that? Because Moreland was in ascendance with Miss Pascoe?”

“No. Because the only woman I could think about was you.”

Her jaw sagged. “I—I beg your pardon?”

“I said you are the only woman I could think about. Why do you look so surprised?”

Lori could only stare. He’d thought about her? Only her?

“Even at the best of times I’m not the house party type,” he said, when she didn’t speak, calmly spooning up the last of his soup and then gesturing to her half-eaten bowl.

“I’m finished,” she said through strangely numb lips, watching him with bemusement as he cleared away their bowls and placed two covered dishes before each of them, removing the silver lids with a flourish.

Lori couldn’t pull her gaze away from his face long enough to look at the food. Besides, she could eat tree bark at this point and not taste it. His words from a moment earlier— The only woman I could think about was you —kept echoing in her head.

“If you don’t like them, then why did you go?” she finally managed to ask.

And why did you leave me here while you spent days and days with a beautiful heiress and lovely, wealthy widow ?

He gave her a gently teasing smile. “Well, you see, Lorelei, adults often need to do things they don’t like.”

His words surprised a laugh out of her. “Very droll.”

“That is better,” he said.

“What is better?”

“You had your stern newspaperwoman face on. Now you look like a delightful young lady.”

“And the two are mutually exclusive in your opinion?”

“As to that, I don’t know. But I do know that I would much rather have a conversation than be interrogated.”

“I don’t interrogate!”

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, maybe I interrogate sometimes. But that is only because men refuse to take a woman seriously otherwise.”

“I take you very seriously.” The humorous glint from only seconds earlier had vanished.

Lori swallowed self-consciously at the unmistakable heat in his gaze. “If you take me so seriously then stop fobbing me off with excuses and tell me why you left me a prisoner in a brothel while you went off to cavort at a party?”

“I told you: it’s because I take you seriously.”

She shoved away the plate in front of her. “Quit feeding me these vague answers. I want the truth, or you can take me back to my room.”

“But you haven’t even touched your pheasant, Lorelei.”

“I am in earnest… Fast . What is going on? I’ve waited patiently. You owe me the respect of an answer.”

Something flickered in his eyes at her use of his name. He sat back and lifted his wine and took a sip before saying, “You’re right. I do owe you some answers.” He set down his glass. “In addition to your safety—which really is a concern—I’m keeping you here because I have something very important that needs to happen and I can’t have you muddling about and destroying months’ worth of work and planning.”

“Putting aside for a moment how draconian and illegal your behavior is, just how long do you estimate this something will take?”

“I’m hoping it won’t be much longer. In fact, it should be over within the next few days.” He smiled grimly. “One way, or another.”

“Would you let me go today if I promised not to pry into your affairs for the next few weeks—a month, even?”

He smiled and she suddenly noticed the fine spray of lines around his striking eyes was more pronounced, the furrows beside his prominent nose deeply graven in his lean cheeks. He looked… exhausted and yet strangely alert, as if he were on edge and waiting for something to happen.

“I can’t protect you if I let you go,” he said. “You’ve already meddled in something you don’t understand—no, I can’t tell you about it. Not yet,” he spoke over her when she tried to interrupt. “I will make you a bargain, Lorelei. If you will—”

“ Another bargain? All I seem to do is give in to the people here.”

Rather than look angry at her rude interruption, his mouth pulled up on one side. “You mean like the bargain you made with Mrs. Marlowe to interview all the employees while I was away?” He chuckled. “She tells me that you have been scribbling like mad—filling enough pages of parchment to make a book. It sounds as if you should be grateful that your captivity has provided you with such inspiration.”

Lori was indeed grateful for the last few days, which had been some of the most inspiring and productive of her life. But she was hardly going to tell him that. “I’m delighted my sudden spate of productivity amuses you.” He didn’t bother to deny it. “However, I have to point out that any stories I want to write are subject to your approval—another bargain I made.”

“I need to protect the people who work here, you must understand that?”

“I do understand. And I want to protect them, too. It would be nice if you believed me. If you didn’t think I’d just destroy innocent women’s lives to get my story in a newspaper.” She raised a hand when he opened his mouth. “And if you are going to mention last year, then—”

“I wasn’t going to mention that business with the child slavery article,” he said, no longer amused. “I knew full well what Parker believed, and I did nothing to deny his accusations. I did, however, try to warn you not to get involved.”

Lori scoffed. “Oh, and I was just supposed to take your word—the word of a stranger at the time—that you were telling the truth? Don’t you think everyone facing exposure tries to threaten their way out of it?”

“I do trust you,” he said, ignoring her question. “As for the story you are writing, if the people who spoke to you give their approval of how you’ve depicted them then I won’t interfere. Is that fair?”

It was more than fair, but Lori wanted more. She wanted what she’d foolishly come up to his room expecting all those nights ago. “I want you to tell me what is going on. Why you came back to England—the real reason.”

“So you can publish it in the newspaper?”

“If it’s newsworthy.”

“No.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“You’ve kept me here against my will. How am I supposed to support myself while I’m imprisoned?”

He laughed. “Come, come. If you’ve not drafted an entire literary work during your stay, then you must be close. I suspect there is nothing quite like a story about a brothel to sell books, Lorelei.”

It annoyed her that he was right. She was so excited about her new book that she had decided days ago to tell Parker that he could go to the devil. She also planned to demand that he give her back her manuscript. She would publish the damned thing with a vanity press if she had to. Indeed, she would do anything before whoring herself for Parker, which is what she had been doing.

But none of that was Fast’s business.

Truth be told, she had questions that had nothing to do with newspaper articles.

“I have a question—this is just for me, not for publication.”

A look of caution flickered across his face. “Very well.”

“Are all the illegitimate children you’ve claimed to sire really your own?”

He turned from wary to furious in a heartbeat. “That is an intensely private matter and not a subject for a newspaper story.”

“I just said I wasn’t—”

“It wouldn’t just be my reputation that would suffer if you wrote about such a thing; it would also damage the lives of several innocent people.”

She lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “I am not writing a story about it, Fast.”

“Then why the devil would you investigate such a matter, Lorelei?” There was not only anger in his voice, but betrayal.

Lori could not confess her real motivation—that she hated to think of him as the sort of man to leave a trail of illegitimate children in his wake—because then he would want to know why she cared so much. And that was something she didn’t even like to admit in the privacy of her own mind.

Instead, she said, “I have spent so much time investigating your brother and your family that I just want to know the truth. For myself, not for Parker.”

“I will answer your question, but this is just between us. If you ever tell anyone else and my grandfather learns of it, it will kill him.”

“I already gave my word.”

“Fine. Then here is your answer: None of those children are mine.”

Lori nodded, unsurprised. “You believe they are your brother’s, don’t you?”

He blinked, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t just believe it; I know they are Percy’s. Isn’t that what Parker told you?”

“I—” she bit her tongue.

“You what?” he prodded when she stopped.

Lori would need to tell him the truth eventually, but not until she had confronted the children’s real father.

“Lorelei? What is it?”

“Why would you take the blame for children your brother sired?” she asked, ignoring his question. “Please. I just want to understand. For me—not for anyone else.”

He gave her an angry, exasperated look and pushed to his feet. “I need something stronger than wine if I’m to talk about this.”