Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

D rake stood at the edge of the eager gathering at the exclusive gentleman's club and did what he did best.

Waited.

He told himself he wasn't just as anxious about seeing the transformation of Miss Davies for this evening's auction but he had to assume that Harriette had spared no expense on her project courtesan. Miss Davies' success could reflect poorly, or give Harriette the recognition she had been seeking after her shocking memoirs were published where she pointed fingers at certain prominent men of the ton . Her threats had not reflected well on Harriette and she likely hoped this night would put her back on the pedestal she'd been struggling to find purchase.

Drake didn't care about that. His focus was on his quarry and how much this little extravagance would cost him. Whatever the amount, it would be worth every pound because it would prove that, for all her efforts, Miss Davies couldn't be rid of him that easily.

He'd nearly met his fate at the hands of a woman. He vowed he would never suffer the same again.

The double doors that led to a private antechamber opened and Harriette Wilson strode into the assemblage as if she was still on top of the world. She held her head high and her faded brown hair was piled on her head in an elegant chignon, curls falling seductively to frame her face and slender neck. She wore a deep red gown threaded with gold and there was a small tiara perched upon her head, as if reminding everyone she was still in charge of the illicit romantic circle.

However, it was the lady in stark black and white that moved gracefully behind Harriette that Drake focused on. He had recalled her beauty before but it was nothing compared to the vixen that walked a short distance away. She had yet to spot him in the crowd. In truth, she did her best to not allow her green eyes to glance about her. Instead, she kept her attention on the woman's back who led her into the hungry lion's den.

"I bet she is a wildcat in the sheets," Drake heard one man remark with a smirk.

"I wonder about her breasts. Do they taste as tempting as they look?" Another chuckle from a second man.

"I'm curious how much this treasure is going to cost me. And how long she intends to play the coy innocent when I tie her up."

Drake curled his fist, eager to plant it in the last man's face. He slowly relaxed his grip and wondered why their ignorant banter should bother him at all. It wasn't as though he had any sort of devotion to the lady where he might have to defend her honor. The truth was, he was there for the same thing these other men were, except he just didn't voice his opinions so openly.

As Harriette led Miss Davies to a raised dais at the edge of the room that was generally reserved for musicians, she presented her protégé with an elegant wave of her hand. "Good evening, gentleman. I do thank you for coming to this grand affair."

There was a round of masculine applause throughout the assemblage and a few shouts. Drake did nothing but observe the proceedings.

"This enchanting woman has decided to grace us all with her presence by giving you the opportunity to relieve her of the burden of her innocence."

Another round of raucous laughter embedded with whistling.

He glanced at Miss Davies to see what she thought of all the praise but her expression never changed. She neither smiled nor looked abhorrent. She was just… there.

Or numb.

"We will take nothing less than the highest bid this evening, as that is what this curious kitten deserves," Harriette announced. "Who will start the bidding?"

"Fifty pounds!"

As laughter erupted from the crowd, Harriette admonished, "Shame on you! What sort of gift do you think you are purchasing? You are not breaking in a filly, but taking a woman's virginity. You shall be the first man to teach this beautiful woman the carnal arts. Let's try a bit harder for a better price."

"One hundred pounds!"

She shook her head again. "Better, but still not where we should be. Do I hear two hundred?"

"Two hundred!"

Drake watched as the bidding finally got serious. While there was still laughter each time Harriette addressed the crowd, he could tell that the auction was starting to become serious.

The bets were starting to become larger and more determined, some starting to bid against one another. Still, he did nothing. It wasn't yet the right moment.

After thirty minutes and the bids had finally started to slack slightly, Harriette attempted to get more blunt. When it was apparent that none was forthcoming, most looking at each other to see who would take the prize.

"Is twelve hundred pounds the final bid?" Harriette cajoled.

A murmured grumbling went throughout the room, as most of the opponents gave up their hand and removed themselves from the auction. But there was one man, the first one Drake had suffered his nonsense that spoke up clearly, "Two thousand pounds."

Drake saw some of the blood recede from Miss Davies' face when her gaze lit on the older man with the cruel smile. He could imagine what sort of night he had in mind for her. It was certainly not going to be pleasant.

"A very nice donation," Harriette cooed. "Shall that be all? Once, twice?"

"Five thousand pounds."

As the crowd parted to reveal Drake to the two women on stage, he saw more than a pale face from Miss Davies. He recognized true fear.

* * *

Run . Fleur's every instinct was telling her to get as far away as possible from this man. Mr. Porter. She had escaped him once in Greenwich—or so she'd believed. But here he stood, prepared to demand more than six hundred pounds. Now, he could very well be the one to take her virtue.

She swallowed, although her throat was as dry as dust. She leaned toward Harriette and whispered in her ear. "That is the man I told you about, the one my brother owes a gambling debt."

"Is that so?" Harriette lifted a delicate brow and slid her glance to the man in question. "In that case, you should prepare yourself to do a lot of groveling because he has just won your maidenhead."

Fleur was about to protest when the lady raised her arm and shouted, "Sold to the highest bidder!"

A round of weak applause went about the crowd as the disgruntled contestants moved on without anything to show for their efforts. Mr. Porter, however, remained exactly where he was, as if expecting her to come to him.

It was the worst humiliation that Fleur might have suffered. But she supposed she deserved it for trying to deceive him. Clenching her hands at her sides, she stepped down from the dais and strode toward her fate. She shivered when she met those hard silver eyes again. She feared that he would not be a kind man and she worried that she was about to experience the worst night of her life.

For a moment, he didn't speak, just looked at her with that piercing gaze. She noticed that he still wore the same worn cap, but his clothes were just as fashionably tailored as they had been in Greenwich when they'd first met.

She hated that he was making her stand there like a fool but she refused to be the one to break the silence. He had spent the money to have her. She might have to offer him her body but that didn't mean she had to offer him anything else.

"Miss Davies."

His smooth voice slid over her skin just as it had before. It was like a snake that coiled around her neck intending to choke her but altered course at the last moment and crawled down her spine instead. "Mr. Porter," she returned evenly.

His lips twitched, as if he were trying to smile but had forgotten the act along the way.

"Shall we depart?" she suggested. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Not without the requisite payment first," Harriette said as she glided up behind her. She held out her hand expectantly to Mr. Porter.

He reached into his vest and withdrew a bundle of pound notes that caused Fleur to stare in shock. She had entertained the idea that he didn't have the proper funds to abscond with her but it appeared she was quite wrong. He counted out the correct sum and handed the money over to Harriette.

"Thank you," she purred. "This will cover the costs incurred with interest."

Fleur looked sharply at the woman. "You don't mean to keep all of it? How shall Flavian and I survive?"

She trailed a finger lightly down Fleur's cheek. "Don't worry about your brother. He is welcome to stay with me however long he wishes to do so, as long as he remembers he is beholden to my charity." Fleur didn't have to interpret what that statement meant. As Harriette flicked a glance at Mr. Porter she added, "It seems to me you are doing well with your new benefactor, so we have all gained what we wanted."

She turned to leave and Fleur said in one last desperate attempt, "I thought you were my friend."

The courtesan tilted her head to the side and offered her an empathetic smile. "Of course, we are friends. But I am a business woman first and you have just offered me the chance to live comfortably for some time."

Fleur couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

She didn't understand how she could have been so na?ve to believe that a woman who didn't think twice about calling out all her illicit lovers would treat her any different. She thought she might have called to her sympathies as a woman in similar dire circumstances not knowing that she would be betrayed in such a harsh manner.

Tears welled in her eyes but she couldn't let them fall. She wouldn't show this man at her side any more weakness to use against her. She had failed by allowing him to see as much as he had.

"Let's get out of here."

For once, Fleur was in agreement with him. She didn't want to be around these prying eyes any longer. She wanted to sit in silence and allow the heavy weight of this night to wash over her. Just as she had given away her body to survive, her brother would be forced to do the same or find himself cast into the street by Harriette. This was a gamble she had embarked on and lost miserably. For both of them.

I'm sorry, Flavian. She sent up a prayer that she hoped he might be able to hear because God only knew when they would see each other again. She supposed it depended on whether or not Mr. Porter had any sort of heart left in that cold cavernous chest.

* * *

After hailing down a hackney, because a personal carriage had never appealed to him, Drake assisted Miss Davies inside. He instructed the driver where to go and it wasn't the address in Chelsea. Something told him she would only be terribly distracted by Harriette and her brother if they returned there. As distressed as she was, he didn't want to add to her upset.

Ironically enough, he'd set out on this quest with the intent to make her pay for escaping. He wanted retribution and he had decided that seducing her was the sweetest revenge. But now that she was there, sitting across from him with a forlorn look on her face, some of his satisfaction dimmed. Not only that, but it wasn't the most romantic of circumstances. He would have preferred that she tossed her head defiantly and hurled obscenities at his head. That he could work with. He enjoyed spirited women and while he had no doubt that Miss Davies was the same, this marked sadness was not something he was comfortable entertaining.

He withdrew a cheroot from its silver holder. "Mind if I smoke?"

She glanced at him and for an instant, he could see a flash of mockery in those green depths. "You're asking my permission?"

He shrugged and lit the tip. "Not really. I was just attempting to be considerate."

"Really?" She crossed her arms. "No doubt that is a novel experience for you."

Ah, so the kitten was wanting to sharpen her claws . He exhaled slowly. "Not really. I can be perfectly honorable." He smiled tightly. "Or not. That choice will be up to you."

"Or what?" she challenged. "I'm prepared for you to force yourself on me. Is that not enough?"

Drake could feel himself bristle at that. "I may be a worthless bastard but I have never resorted to rape to get what I want."

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. "I'm glad to hear it."

He snorted. "I know you mean to look upon me in the worst possible manner but if you would retract your claws for a brief time, you might find that I can be a generous lover."

"I am well aware of your type of generosity ," she snapped. "Harriette has it all in her purse."

He tilted his head to the side. She certainly had more pluck than he had imagined. He had caught a glimpse of it in Greenwich during their brief encounter but now he could see that she wasn't the type of flower to wilt under adversity. To put his theory to the test he asked, "Tell me, Miss Davies, can you fence?"

She blinked, appearing confused by the abrupt question, but then she looked uncomfortable. She couldn't quite look him directly in the eyes. "Why do you ask? Does it matter for what shall transpire tonight?"

He wanted to chuckle but another snort was all he could manage. "Not in the manner in which you might refer. However, I have an… issue that could require your assistance."

She blinked again, obviously puzzled by his choice of words. "You purchased my favors not for the bedchamber but for physical use?"

"Oh, make no mistake," he said through another thin cloud of smoke. "When we make it to a bed it will be physical. But first, there is something I need to take care of."

She glanced down at her dress. "I hope that you have something else for me to wear. If you intend to take me somewhere unsavory, then I might be noticed."

"I have your shroud."

Some of the blood faded away from her face again. "What?"

"The item you had secured in the trunk at the stables at Greenwich." He threw the last of his cheroot on the floor of the carriage and ground it out beneath his bootheel.

"How did you?—"

He leaned back, allowing himself to be further enveloped by the nighttime shadows around him. "You will soon understand that I learn all that I wish to know. I found you, didn't I?"

"Yes," she whispered, and he could tell that she was finally starting to put all the pieces together. "I know you're doing this because of what I did. But you have to believe that I intended to follow through with this fa?ade tonight in order to give you the money you were owed by my brother. I would have come back to Greenwich."

"Is that so?" he murmured. "While I would like to believe you, Miss Davies, you will have to forgive my reticence. But you should be relieved to know that I have forgiven your brother's debt to me. Yours , however, may take a bit longer to clear."