Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

BENEDICT

T he lamp lights illuminate the omega's face as she stares up at The Rose and Thorne. It was daft of me to bring her here, but in truth, I wasn't sure where else to go. Her earlier assessment of it being dangerous for me to take her in hand at either her house or mine is correct.

It would be different if we were already in attendance, and the others knew there would be sounds. In the dead of night, however, they would sooner call a night watchman. The very last thing we need is to be found out.

Blazes, but this chit is causing me so much trouble for one who was supposed to be so good. Her brother assured me she would be no issue. Yet, here I am, about to blister her arse for a second time. How is it that the first one didn't stick?

Gritting my teeth, I bang on the door to the back entrance and pray to God this time she'll learn some sense. The door opens a few minutes later, revealing Jeremy. He stands there and crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as he looks at Augusta.

"Is this to be a regular occurrence, then? Are omegas to be showin' up 'ere in the middle of the night demanding entrance?" He glares down at her. "What's your story then? Got some husband in there and you want to stop him from taking his pleasure with someone other than you?"

"N- no," Augusta squeaks before clearing her throat. "I mean, no." This time her voice is a bit deeper, as if she thinks she can fool the guardian of the door.

He tilts his head back and laughs, the sound carrying no mirth in it. "Be gone from this stoop before the madam of the house decides to make an example of you."

I grip Augusta by the arm, keeping her from fleeing. "I wish to see Madame Douleur. It is a matter of great discretion."

He gives an irritated snort in Augusta's direction before allowing us entrance. The little omega, of course, is entranced, and once more I question the intelligence in this plan. The last thing I need is for her to become enthralled with this way of life. Her brother would never forgive me if she became a working girl.

Eyes wide, she stares at the women as they flit about in various stages of undress. A child-like wonder lights up her gaze as she follows their movements with her eyes. Biting back a groan, I rub my hand over my face.

Anger sizzles along my synapses as I watch her grin, oblivious to the impropriety in her actions. She shouldn't be enjoying herself in this den of iniquity. This isn't some fantastical lark she should find amusement at.

It's her actions that brought us here for a punishment. The very last thing I need is for her to think this is a place she can run off to and seek refuge. Gripping my hands into fists, I step away so as to not throttle the chit then and there.

Various girls pass by, their lurid smiles dripping from their lips as they wave their fans in front of their faces, attempting to be coy. As of yet, they have not discovered the true identity of Augusta, and I plan to keep it that way.

"If you know what's good for you," I growl, "you will tip your head so that none may see your face. The last thing you want is for word to get out that you've been seen at such an establishment."

"But you can be seen? It's obvious by the show of attention you're receiving that this isn't your first trip here. Why can I not be in attendance if you are? What sort of place is this that a woman may not enter accompanied by a man?" She waves her hand about to the others who are, thankfully, applying their attention elsewhere. "Are these women supposed to hide their faces? Or can they be known?"

"Why, my girls are known far and wide for their various talents," Madame Douleur interrupts. She drops into a sweeping curtsy before flashing me a wide grin. "Your Grace, to what do we owe this honor? You have been absent of late, and we were quite concerned."

"I'm sure you were," I grind out. "But I must inquire as to which part concerned you the most? The absence of my person or my coin?"

Her laugh dances in the air like a cascading of several spoons, one on top of the other. Normally, it has more of a delicate, tinkling quality to it. Tonight, it lands flat around my ears.

"Your Grace, you are so witty. Of course it is you who I miss. Granted, your coin does not go amiss here, either." She glances down at Augusta and curls her lips. "Have you brought me another plaything? Is she to replace the now esteemed Kitty?"

"Somewhere private, if you please. One that can accommodate teaching someone a much-needed lesson."

"But of course. Your wish is always my command."

Next to me, Augusta bristles, her eyes glittering with what looks like anger. Though, why she's the one upset, I cannot even fathom.

The room the madam leads us to is one of my old haunts. The moment the door opens, I breathe in the familiar scent of wood and leather.

"Is it still to your liking? Shall I bring some linen for you as well?"

"That will not be necessary. That lesson is not for this one."

Again, she looks over at Augusta and tilts her head. "Is she to be trained by you and given to me? Or is she some passing fancy you wish to tup with others unaware? I did not know you had a wife to govern your actions so closely."

"You may speak to me directly," she growls, standing up to give her added height. "I am not some trifle or plaything. I am a-"

The madam narrows her eyes into thin slits. "I know who you are, Lady Hunt. What I do not know is why you are in my establishment with one of the most wicked men in all of London. Do you care nothing of your reputation? How could you be so daft?"

I step off to the side and lean against the wall, allowing the madam to speak to her. Maybe someone from her own gender will allow some common sense to permeate her brain.

"How dare you speak to me this way," Augusta hisses. "After I marched with you-"

"You what?" I roar, pushing off the rough wood. "When was this?"

Madam Douleur flicks her gaze over to me. "I first caught her scent during the Bawdy Riot a few weeks past. At first, I thought nothing of it. Not until Lord Hardon came into the club. Their scents are not the same, but there's a similar note carrying the two. I thought it was the young man who fled in the commotion, but no. It is his sister. Do I speak falsely?"

Unable to keep the rage from making my fingers tremble, I pace, unwilling to touch her in such a state. "Corner. Now."

Augusta has the nerve to look surprised at my edict. "I beg your pardon-"

"You will beg. By the time I'm through with you, you will beg me to stop. I cannot say if I will or not."

"Now, now, Your Grace," the madam murmurs, resting her hand on my arm. "You cannot damage the girl. She needs to be her best at the upcoming balls. She must make a good impression so you can marry her off and be rid of her hoyden ways."

"You don't understand," Augusta squeaks. "I was just-"

"Corner. Now." My voice is low and controlled, far more than what I feel inside at the moment.

Without another bit of fuss, she flounces over, her steps looking incredibly ridiculous and childlike as she wears a man's attire. From this angle, I'm able to observe the curve of her arse. It's the one thing she wasn't able to mask.

"Is there anything else you require of me, Your Grace?"

"Does Jeremy know?"

"I do not believe so. No doubt he's on high alert from the string of women attempting to gain access to this facility. For prominent men of peerage, your friends have odd tastes in the women they married. To others, she may seem like a scrawny beta male, but to our wizened eyes, we can tell the difference."

She waves a hand over to where Augusta shuffles from one foot to the other. "I must say, though, she does an excellent job of hiding her true gender. No one else has ever taken that much care. In that, I am impressed."

With a heavy sigh, I shake my head. "I only require this room for a short span of time, a knob of unprepared ginger, and a dress she can be taken home in. Nothing conspicuous. I need her to blend in as if I'm taking a lady bird to my home."

"It will be done as you ask."

"Oh, and one more thing." She turns to me, an expectant smile on her lips. "Your discretion is already secured. But if you ever see Lady Hunt's face or take in her scent again, you will not grant her passage into this establishment. You will detain her and send for me if her brother is not back in residence."

"Certainly, Your Grace. As you wish."

The moment she leaves, Augusta turns from her spot, her cheeks red with anger. Not a drop of tear or bit of remorse stains her face. Does she not care then?

Is it because she has no one to champion for? The maid certainly made her sorrowful. It seems as if this headstrong girl only cares for others and nothing of herself. That ends today. Twirling my fingers, I motion for her to turn back around, doing my best to ignore the huff of irritation in her voice.

I do this for her own good. If I dared to take her in hand now, we would both regret it. After a few minutes of silence, the door opens again as Madame Douleur bustles in with a new dress and knob of ginger. Once she slips back out, I lay the dress on the bed and sit on the mattress.

"Come."

The chit has the nerve to stomp over to me, pouting as she crosses her arms. "Will you not allow me to explain?"

Pulling out a penknife, I smirk at her. "You may attempt. But you will do so on your knees."

"You told me a lady never kneels," She retorts.

"Ahhh. But then, you are no lady. At least that's what you wish everyone around you to believe. Kneel. I will not command you again."

The moment she sinks down before me, my cock leaps into action, swelling with need as she blinks up. She seems so docile, so sweet. Such a farce.

"Please. Regale me with how you have no regard for your sanctity and your honor." I cut a notch into the ginger, fashioning the base.

"I do care. I care a great deal. It's just..." She trails off and goes silent.

After a few moments, I shake my head. "It's just?"

"I get so incredibly bored. I can only play an instrument so much. Can only sew so much. Do you know how many times I've practiced my needlepoint?"

"That is simply what ladies must do." She makes a move to rise, but I stop her motion with a glare and flick of my blade. "If you find such tasks disagreeable, then perhaps you could have made more of an effort to learn how a lady runs her house. As the wife of any nobleman, you'd have need of such skills."

"But what good are such skills when I cannot even choose my household?"

"Unfortunately, most men do not get to choose either. You think every pairing is a love match? Far from it."

Finally a tear rolls down her cheek. "I just wish to be happy."

"And you will be." With someone else, I add to myself, ignoring the sharp pang in my heart.

Now, more than ever, I know our match would be beyond ill-advised. Though I long to discipline her, to be that show of force she obviously needs, I worry I'll never be able to fully control her. And that is what makes her dangerous.