Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) Page 6

  When the carriage shuddered to a halt at the rear of the house, Amelia took a deep breath, tamping back her nervousness, and opened the door. A servant stood waiting to escort her down the two iron steps. She had forgotten such a luxury existed.

  “Hello, I am Amelia Wesson and this is my son, Alexander,” she said with a smile once she and Alex exited the coach.

  The man blinked, then inclined his head. “Herman Raines, mistress.”

  Mr. Raines retrieved her trunk and began toward the house. She turned to her son. “Well, Alex, I guess this is it.”

  Not taking his eyes from the large house, he nodded.

  And as the coach started to roll away, Amelia took Alex’s hand and they followed after the servant.

  Taken to a back stairway, Mr. Raines led them to the third floor. When he paused before a door, Amelia, seeing that his hands were full, approached. “May I?” she asked, placing her gloved hand on the dull, brass knob.

  For the second time Mr. Raines seemed surprised by her kindness. And as she opened the door, she wondered about that. Perhaps Mrs. Giles was not a nice employer. She remembered how wretchedly her stepmother had treated their servants and frowned as she stepped into the room. The very tiny room. What a contrast to the size of the house, she thought, peeling off her gloves. But she did not mind. She was the governess, not a guest. Observing the neat bed, washstand, and table, she realized it wasn’t as drab as the apartment in New York. It would do nicely.

  She turned as Mr. Raines set the trunk on the center of the floor. “When will I meet the children?” she asked.

  As the man straightened, Amelia thought she saw a flicker of confusion enter his eyes. “Introductions shall commence soon, mistress. Now, if you will come with me, I will show you to your room before your meeting with Mr. Giles concerning your duties.”

  She drew her brows. “Isn’t this my room?”

  “It’s for the boy,” he said, causing Alex to swivel around and stare at them with wide eyes.

  When Mr. Raines started for the door, Amelia turned to her son and smiled, hoping to reassure him. “I shall return just as soon as I have a few words with Mr. Giles.”

  Slowly, Alex nodded, although he looked scared to death.

  “It will be all right,” she assured him, laying a hand against his cheek.

  Some of the fright left his eyes, and he nodded again.

  Tamping down her nervousness, Amelia placed her gloves on top of her trunk and followed Mr. Raines from the room.

  As he began down the stairs, she grew even more confused. “Pardon me, but isn’t my room on the third floor near the nursery?”

  He paused briefly to shake his head. “No, mistress, but I am certain Mr. Giles will explain everything shortly.” He began down the stairs. “Now if you will please follow me.”

  Swallowing back her anxiety, Amelia started down the steps after the man.

  Once they reached the second floor, she noticed a change right away. Red and gold tapestries decorated the walls, colorful Persian rugs covered the polished wooden floor, and white marble statues lined the halls. Statues that made her eyes grow round and her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  Why, she’d not allow Alex anywhere near the second floor, she decided. Not with naked marble people doing such obscene things. Good Lord! That one had a woman’s leg hitched up over the man’s shoulder while he…

  She turned away quickly and fanned her scorching face with her right hand.

  Once they descended the long hallway, Mr. Raines halted at the last doorway on the right, removed a key from his coat pocket to unlock the door, and led her inside.

  When he lit a lamp, Amelia choked back a gasp. The room, many times larger than Alex’s, was so very different. Where his had been plain, this…this could be nothing less than gauche. The entire room was decorated in purple. The walls were covered in purple silk, purple curtains hung over the windows, and the enormous canopied bed in the center of the room had a purple canopy, a purple coverlet, and a pile of purple silk pillows.

  How utterly horrid, Amelia thought with a frown and turned to Mr. Raines. “This is my room?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You’re certain?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Glancing around again, she noticed some paintings in gilded frames hanging near the bed and moved closer. “Oh, good heavens,” she whispered as she viewed the obscene pictures, her cheeks aflame. They showed a pile of nude women and men in various positions of...

  Amelia closed her eyes. “There has been a terrible mistake, Mr. Raines,” she choked out. “I would like a word with Mr. Giles, please.”

  “At your service.”

  Her eyes flew open and she spun around. Standing with his back to the now closed door the tall, blond Mr. Giles, handsomely outfitted in dark blue superfine, assessed her with his pale green eyes. Then he moved forward, his lips curving up. “I see you made it, after all,” he said, halting six inches before her. “When the ship set sail without you, I thought you had changed your mind.”

  Somehow, Amelia found her voice. “There seems to be some mistake regarding my room.”

  His tawny brows furrowed. “A mistake?”

  “This room,” she said, glancing about quickly, “cannot be mine.”

  “This is your room.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek as disquiet rose within her. And for the first time, she realized Mr. Raines had gone. Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders and faced her new employer. “Mr. Giles, shouldn’t I be in the nursery with the children?”

  “Children?”

  “I was hired as governess to your children, sir, do you not recall?” she asked, her insides trembling at his surprise.

  He looked hard at her for a moment, then started to laugh. “My dear, my dear.” He wagged his head. “I mentioned no children.”

  Amelia gripped her hands together before her. “But you indicated I would—”

  “See to the needs of others,” he finished, his mirth gone. “I never said you were to look after children.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. Although confused, she dared not ask him for further explanation. She only wanted to get away. Fast. “Then it seems I have made a mistake.” She stepped past him. “I’ll take up no more of your time, sir.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  His silky smooth voice sent a shiver through her. She halted and turned. “Pray, what am I forgetting?”

  He folded his arms. “Reimbursement for the tickets aboard the ship. They didn’t come to me free, you know.”

  For several seconds, Amelia could only gape at Mr. Giles like an idiot. Then she drew in a breath and prayed she could make him understand. “I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. Truly. But we didn’t use the tickets. They were stolen. That is why I had to find another means of getting here.”

  His lips thinned. “I purchased the tickets and gave them to you. It matters not what happened after that.” His face turned stormy and he took a step forward. “What matters is repaying my six guineas.”

  Stunned by his sudden hostility, Amelia backed away. Fear made her legs wobble. She halted when her back pressed against the door.

  The door!

  She spun around and turned the knob. But found the cursed door locked. And only a key would open it.

  “Looking for this?”

  Slowly, Amelia turned. Mr. Giles held a brass filigree key between his thumb and first finger, an evil smile on his lips. Her body went cold as she watched him place the key into his breast pocket.

  “Now, my dear, Violet I shall call you,” he said, taking a step toward her, “about that compensation…”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Wh-What do you mean ‘compensation’?” Amelia pressed her back flat against the door as Mr. Giles neared.

  He halted a foot from her, his eyes traveling up and down her body, making her skin crawl. After several moments of the lew
d inspection, he lifted his heavy-lidded gaze and smacked his lips. “Money isn’t the only way to reimburse me, Violet.”

  Her jaw dropped when the meaning of his words became clear. “Y-You aren’t suggesting…?” she stopped speaking when he moved closer, his whiskey-laced breath fanning her face.

  Now just an inch from her, he looked steadily into her eyes. “Do you have the sixty-two pounds to repay me or not?”

  Unable to form an answer, her mind screamed that she had to get away. But how? “Please,” she whispered, plastering her body against the hard wooden door as far as she could go, “let me leave. I promise to send you the money.” Her legs shook so hard, she wondered if they would buckle right out from under her.

  “You’ll not leave here until I’ve been reimbursed. So pay me now,” he lowered his eyes to her bosom, “or work it off. The choice is yours, Violet.”

  “W-Work it off?” she asked. But even before the words were out of her mouth, everything came into focus. The naked statues and obscene pictures…the overall gaudiness. “You mean this is a…a…” she glanced around, “a house of ill-repute?” The thought sickened her. If she would have known that in New York, she never would have agreed to the ‘position’ he offered.

  His lips twisted into a terrible smile. “The Blooming Paradise is a house of pleasure. And now, to begin working off the blunt you owe me.” He yanked her into his arms.

  His bruising kiss staunched the cry that had risen to her lips. Panicked and repulsed, Amelia tried pushing Mr. Giles away. When that failed to work, she bit down hard on his bottom lip.

  With a yelp, he released her. “You bitch!” After swiping the blood from his chin, he reared back and struck her hard against the cheek.

  She fell back against the door, the entire right side of her face pulsating with pain. A cascade of brightly lit stars danced in her vision. Grateful that the door at her back kept her from tumbling to the floor, she took several deep breaths until her vision cleared. Wits restored, she slowly glanced up.

  The kind, handsome man she’d met in New York no longer stood before her. With his top lip curled up, his hair mussed, and his eyes bright with fury, Mr. Giles looked like a completely different man.

  A man she didn’t want to know.

  “Mr. Giles,” she said with aching lips growing puffy, “please unlock this door and allow me to leave. I p-promise to send you the money.”

  Releasing a snarl, he captured her upper arms and dragged her toward the bed.

  “Noooo!” Amelia twisted and pulled. Her desperation must have given her strength for she tore from his hold, hearing the material at her shoulder rip apart, and ran to the door. Pounding furiously, she screamed, “Help me, somebody help me, please!”

  With an evil chuckle, Mr. Giles yanked her away. “No one will come to your assistance, Violet. No one within the walls of this house will dare suffer the consequences of my anger.” While she kicked and screamed, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “You had better learn that, my dear. And learn it fast.”

  Tears of frustration and fear spilled from her eyes. She continued to fight, trying to break her way out of his tight hold. She could not escape him.

  He halted before the awful purple monstrosity. “Calm yourself and submit to me,” he threw her onto the center of the bed, “and I’ll go easy on you.”

  Scrambling against the silk pillows, she shook her head. Never, not even in the rough neighborhood she’d lived for over a year, had anyone ever violated her in such a heinous way. “Do not do this.” She shook her head again, a sob escaping her raw lips. “It’s not decent.”

  His nostrils flared and his eyes grew to slits. Oh, no! She had made him even more furious. As she sat there gaping at his red, twisted face, he pounced on top of her.

  “Get off—stop!” Amelia shrieked. He clawed at her pretty blue dress, ripping and tearing. The sounds of popping buttons and rent seams mingled with her desperate cries for him to leave her alone. She thrashed about but the man proved too heavy to cast off. Her desperation mounted with each second that ticked by. Cool air slid over her bare skin. She beat her fists against his arms and chest, demanding he halt. Her words went unheeded.

  Then she heard someone pound on the door. “Mama? Is that you? Are you all right?”

  “Alex, go find help. Hurry!”

  Mr. Giles went still and lifted his head. He gave her a menacing glare. “That, my dear Violet, was not a very wise thing to do.” His voice chilled her to the bone. Then he started to move away. That chilled her even more.

  Terrified that he would go after Alex, she lifted her hand and scratched the side of his face with her fingernails.

  Roaring with pain, he covered the four bloody gashes with his hand, his eyes smoldering with rage. “Not only was that the worst mistake of your life, it may very well be your last.”

  As several cold, fat raindrops fell from the swollen, gray-black clouds above, Julian slowed his horse and turned onto the narrow lane that led to the brothel. He still couldn’t believe Amelia had been taken there. If her situation really was that desperate, why hadn’t she accepted his assistance?

  He shook his head and patted his horse’s sweaty neck. One thing he knew for certain, Amelia would not have taken Alex to a brothel. Which left only one explanation. And that left him shaking with rage.

  She must have been duped, lured to the brothel with the pretense of a governess position. He had heard such stories before: poor, vulnerable young women accepting respectable positions only to find themselves pressed into working as whores. God, how the thought sickened him.

  Especially when he thought of Amelia being trapped to work in such a disgusting, demeaning way.

  Her heart-shaped pixie face, expressive blue eyes and full pink lips that he thought about kissing all too often, sprang to mind. She had the most beautiful velvety brown hair that glimmered with enticing shades of russet and chocolate when out in the sunshine. His fingers recalled the silkiness when he’d held her close and kissed her.

  Realizing Nicholas had been speaking, Julian focused his attention back to the present. And sighed. He should have known Nick was prattling on about Megan.

  “…Although many strange things have passed your sister’s lips. However, ‘Nicholas, you had better get your bum to that brothel with Julian’ tops them all, I think.”

  Julian glanced over at his brother-in-law. “She does have a way with words, doesn’t she?”

  A very wolfish grin spread over his friend’s lips. “Indeed, she does.”

  He rolled his eyes, urging his horse to move faster. “Say no more lest I cast up my accounts.” Just then, a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Someone ran up the road. A boy.

  Alexander.

  Sensing something terribly wrong, Julian flanked his horse, his heart surging up his throat.

  The heavens opened as he and Nicholas caught up to Alexander. The boy’s face had lost all color and he shook uncontrollably. Julian slid out of his saddle at once. “Alex?” he asked looking into wild, gray eyes. “What is wrong?”

  “Co—” Alex shook his head “—Lord Julian. It’s Mama. She’s in trouble.”

  He took the child by the arms, ignoring the rain pelting down on them. “What kind of trouble?” Fear twisted his insides.

  “I don’t know.” Alex wagged his head from side to side, water sluicing down his face. “I heard her scream, then she told me to go find help.”

  “Come.” He stripped off his coat and placed it over the boy’s quaking shoulders. “Show me where she is.”

  The front door opened just as he approached, Alexander and Nicholas on his heels.

  A butler, looking far more nervous than he ought, greeted them. “I’m sorry, sirs, we are closed until nine—”

  “Out of my way.” He pushed the man to the side with ease and entered the tawdry house, livid and disgusted. No way in bloody hell would Amelia come here of her own accord. No way. “Where is she, Alex?”


  “This way.” The boy ran to the stairs.

  They had just stepped onto the second floor when a muffled scream filled the silence, followed quickly by a loud thud. Julian’s breath hitched. He raced past Alexander to the end of the hall, fear and fury pumping in equal parts through his veins.

  Without hesitation, he ran full-force at the door. Feeling no pain, his shoulder connected, and with a heavy crack the door flew open. Small splinters of wood rained down around him as he rushed inside. And jerked to a halt. A man stood three feet away, kicking the small body lying in an unconscious heap on the floor near the bed. Amelia.

  Blinding fury seized Julian. The sort of fury that eclipsed all sound, made a red haze swim before his vision, and poured super-human strength into his body. With a battle-cry, he grabbed the man’s arm, spun him around and threw a heavy punch. Not satisfying enough. He threw another. Then another.

  He hadn’t realized he had the man pinned to the ground, striking the bastard over and over, until he heard Nicholas calling to him from somewhere above. His friend’s voice grew louder as Julian’s rage ebbed. His vision cleared. He halted from bringing his bloody knuckles back down onto the unconscious man’s battered face and blinked, then glanced up. His lungs heaved in a desperate attempt to draw in air while his heart thudded painfully behind his ribs. And his right hand ached like it had been crushed by a team of horses.

  “We had better take her to a doctor,” Nicholas said, his expression grave.

  Julian scrambled to his feet and hurried to Amelia. He kneeled beside her, observing how still she lay. Her hair was a tangled mess around her head. He caught sight of the trickle of blood leaking from the corner of her red puffy lips. He also found a nasty welt across her cheek, which was already forming an ugly bruise. Enraged, he wanted to jump up and pound on that bastard some more. But the sight of Alex stopped him. Sitting at Amelia’s other side, holding her limp hand, the boy tried to rouse her.

  “Please, Mama, wake up.” The child spoke with a voice shaking in anguish. He tipped his tear-streaked face up, his eyes swimming. “Please, sir, will you help her?”