A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) (24 page)

She’d been dreaming of Alex before the quilt draped over her body.

They had been on a beach, splashing in the salty waves. She wondered if Alex even knew how to swim, but he ignored her question and splashed her again. He held her up over his head as if he was going to dump her into the oncoming wave, when he lowered her instead, pulling her tight against him to kiss her, slow and soft.

And then she wasn’t dreaming at all—Alex was kissing her. His lips slanted over hers with reverence, kissing her as if he needed to know her depth, as though they had lifetimes. He tasted of tea and salt. She felt the warmth of him beneath her fingertips, his hair damp.

Minnie opened her eyes when he pulled away and settled back onto his haunches in front of her. She propped herself up onto her elbow, the new upholstery on the sofa rough against her skin. She would have smiled if she hadn’t seen that strange look in his eyes, something akin to panic. “I was dreaming of you,” she said, wishing that if she ignored the sudden knot in her stomach, all would be well.

“Come with me.” He grabbed her hand, massaging her fingers and palm until she thought she could simply melt back into sleep. “We can leave tonight. We don’t need to stay.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She pulled her hand away and bunched the quilt up to her chest.

“You either,” he shot back. “Please, Min.”

She rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. Alex never pleaded, least of all with her. He might have luck at cards, but she always had the advantage over him. Wild hearts were always unpredictable. “You could lose the theater,” she insisted.

He leaned forward again, sucking in a breath as if he had been running for miles. It looked that way as well. Sweat beaded his forehead, his skin seared to the touch. “It was yours the moment I saw you dancing in it. I wanted it for you. But you’re…”

She cupped his chin and drew him closer. “It is too much to lose. We will have our week here and be done with this place.”

“But not with them. You’ll return to Paris and we’ll be no better.” He brushed his hand over her hair, staring down at her with a set brow. His fingers moved from her hair, to her face, to her neck, to her hands, in a nervous rhythm.

The air chilled as she peered up at him and stilled his hands with hers. “Your knuckles are bruised.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his closed fist. “You haven’t slept.” It wasn’t a question; she could see it in his face.

He nodded.

In London, Alex not sleeping had meant trouble. It meant the other side of Alex was struggling to find his way to the surface. It meant lost work, days missing, him lying on the floor without moving. “You should try to sleep.”

She wondered if he missed her in his bed as much as she had missed him the night before. There was a reason she was still asleep mid-morning on the sofa. She could hardly keep an eye open for breakfast with the rest of the guests. Why Peprin decided breakfast was so early was beyond her. Everyone attending the house party preferred to keep later hours.

He removed his hand from hers and clamped it over her mouth as steps thundered down the hall. She looked up at him, panic coursing through her. He shook his head, holding his finger to his lips, not showing anything but calm. She waited for it—the sound of the doorknob, the unwelcome discovery, but the footsteps continued past her door.

“You have to go,” Minnie whispered, sitting up and pushing him away. “You have to go before we’re discovered.”

“I don’t want to leave, Min. Please, don’t make me leave. Come with me. We can take the next train.”

She wrapped the quilt around her body and shuffled toward the door. His arms wrapped around her, tight enough that she feared he would never let go. She never wanted him to, but they must carry on. Too much depended on it for them to fail now. Minnie relaxed and settled her face into the crook of his shoulder. “The world seems a bit kinder when you’re around. Even if that’s a lie, Alex, I want to believe it.”

When he didn’t say anything, she untangled herself from his hold and stepped back to the middle of the room, a chill settling over her once more. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“A
h, Evangeline. Come in.” Peprin motioned for her to enter the study of the villa, a room heavy in its masculinity, with dark paneling, stained windows, and wine velvet upholstery. Through one opened window, the smell of rosemary and cypress floated in, tangled with the soft sea breeze.

Why was she so nervous? She bobbed her head, rushing forward with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Sit,” he ordered, stretching his arm out toward an armchair. “There is something I wish to discuss.”

Dread filled the pit of her stomach. If they had been found out, she’d be ruined and Alex would return to London penniless. She put on a pretty face and sat in the chair, leaning her weight against its arm to give an air of casualness.

“You have been good for business,” he began, pouring himself a glass of brandy. He pointed to the decanter on the sideboard and she nodded, accepting a glass herself. She had the notion she would need the biting liquid in her veins to stomach whatever she was about to hear. “You’re drawing record crowds to the dance hall and Paris society is buzzing to meet you. You’re a sinner and saint, asset and vice. And you’re money.”

Minnie nodded, taking a rather large sip of her brandy. She was waiting warily for the ‘
but
.’

“You’re well on your way to becoming La Belle Otero or Liane.”

Courtesan? That wasn’t what she wanted at all. True, she would have power. She would go from man to man, gathering wealth for herself in exchange for their use of her body. There was nothing enticing in that.

She remained silent, her hands bracing her brandy glass in a death grip.

“So, when Monsieur D’Ambreious came to me last evening with a generous offer, I accepted on your behalf.”

Minnie shot up, throwing her brandy in Peprin’s face. “Without talking to me first?”

Peprin threw his own glass to the ground and gripped both of her hands so tightly she cried out. “Listen to me, Evangeline,” he spat, “you will do as I say or I’ll see that you don’t work in Paris again, except to take a few francs for rutting in the alleyways with the rest of the pox-ridden whores.”

“You don’t scare me,” Minnie hissed, throwing her arms downward to shake free of his grasp. “I can survive on my own. I don’t need you to sell me as if I’m another piece of real estate.”

“These jewels,” he jeered, “this dress, the house I put you up in? All things that would never have existed without me. I gave you Paris. Without me, you’d still be kicking up your skirts in that filthy bordello, living in that rat-infested tenement. I gave you your fame, your audience. I gave you a life when you were only another starving chorus girl dumbly chasing after
la vie de boheme
with broke writers and starving artists.”

She lofted her nose, the fear coiling around her body and squeezing, threatening to shut off her breathing. The life she led came with dangers, dangers like men who thought they owned her.

“Poverty isn’t beautiful, Evangeline. It breaks women like you, ruins them completely. Because you know what wins? Money. Money is power and you’re nothing without my charity.” He ripped at her sapphire earring, slicing her earlobe. The pain was shocking, but fleeting as his other hand struck her across the face, knocking away her gasp. She collapsed onto the floor as he spoke over her.

“I’ll take everything and you will be nothing but a ruined woman. Another sad story. And no one will care, Evangeline. There will be another willing to do what you would not. Chantal, for one, is very eager to take up the offer.”

She bit back her cry, the pain still throbbing across her face and ear. “What do I get?” she asked, standing back up. Minnie refused to be looked down up on by Peprin—the deceiving weasel.

He barked out an ugly laugh. “You get another meal, a fine house, and beautiful clothes. The very best a girl like you can ever expect.”

His answer only heightened her anger. A girl like her? Minnie was a woman, not a girl. And a well-bred lady at that. She refused to forget, even when judged. She had values besides her beauty.

“You can leave with him in the morning,” he continued. “What you do after that is not my concern. Dance if you wish. Chase after your stupid dream of becoming a ballerina. Spend the day spreading your legs to keep your new patron happy. I don’t care. But if you refuse me, know that I’ll ruin you. Monsieur D’Ambreious is an important man and has promised me a great deal for handing you over to his care.”

Care had nothing to do with it. Nor protection. She wasn’t that naïve.

She held her head high, squaring her shoulders to the sorry excuse of the man, and reached out her hand for the sapphire earring. She curtsied, warm blood trickling down her ear and neck. “Whatever you wish.”

*

The house party had somehow doubled as Alex entered the dining room. Wickedness rippled through the air, a sickly sweet smell that hung heavy on his body and weighed him down. The candlelight was sparse, casting strange shadows over the masquerade. The sound of empty glasses and those clicking together in salute set the mood of the room—one of debauchery. This was a room full of people unconcerned of the opinions of others. They were greedy and hungry sinners. Men chasing women or betting their fortunes over cards. Sounds of sighs and churlish giggles, of moans deep in the shadows, of wanton pleasure. It was a banquet of temptations. A night of carnal sins offered up to the wealthy because they could afford such vices.

Men with money ruled with world, and as if that were not enough of a prize, they had the added concession of buying beautiful women. And the men at this party desired Minnie,
his
Minnie, their precious temptress Evangeline.

This was where he would draw the line in their charade. He would never go as far as believing Minnie was his—she was a wild thing, after all—but he couldn’t remain quiet and watch her destroy herself. She deserved more than to be treated like a whore for the sake of being onstage.

“Ah, Marwick.” A hand curled around his arm and a drink was shoved into his hand. The room shifted around him and Peprin’s face came into focus. Alex sipped at his drink, trying to fool himself that all was well, but his face was growing warmer beneath his mask. He had the strangest sensation, as if he were trying to catch up to himself. The sweet liquid was oddly metallic. He shook it off and rubbed his eyes. Everything moved and shifted, the sweet air curling inside his lungs, spreading to his limbs like poison.

“Enjoy yourself tonight,” Peprin was saying.

Alex thought that he had been talking for some time, but everything seemed so distant. He squinted and searched for Minnie. He needed to find her. Unease filled the pit of his stomach. He had to find her at once.

Peprin leaned in closer. “When we return to Paris, we must start setting up plans for this theater of ours.”

But the theater was to be his, and he was here to collect on Peprin’s debts. He hadn’t come to be partners with the man who publically showcased Minnie as if she were a doll. Alex’s attention shifted to the half-naked woman dancing with a snake wrapped around her body. The room ebbed as he focused on the snake and the way it curled around the woman’s flesh, greedy, hungry, as if to claim it all.

His stomach soured. He must find Minnie.

Christ. Alex lifted his cup to his lips, but it was empty. He looked into its depths, certain it was full only a moment ago. The ground wobbled as if the floor had soft spots rotten with age. But the villa had been magnificent, not a thing out of place, a house fit for a prince.

“Oh, we will get you another. Anything to make you happy, Marwick,” Peprin was saying, but it sounded as if he were rooms away. Alex turned to look him in the eye, to try to put something in perspective, but Peprin was gone and Alex faced another mask now. A cat with blue eyes. A body pressed against his and a tempting giggle. “This way, monsieur.” Lips moved over his neck, fingers curling into his hair and drawing him deeper in darkness. Alex shook his head again to knock away the madness but stumbled, his limbs heavy with clumsy weight.

“You drink too fast,” the cat giggled. Except, it was a woman. He reached out for her mask, to remove the lie so he could restore order to his night, but she swatted him away.

There in the middle of the room was a wild tangle of flesh and moans of pleasure as others sat around and watched. The fingers touched his face, pinching his cheeks to focus his eyes on the blue ones. “Do you like what you see, monsieur?” Lips were on his again but he didn’t kiss back. He tried to pull away. He had to find Minnie. That was the only clear thought in his head.

“Marwick, allow me to introduce you to Monsieur D’Ambreious.”

Peprin shoved another drink into Alex’s hands, his face looking as if it was melting. Alex closed his eyes and tried to steady his racing heart. He wished to move, to find Minnie, but everything was so heavy.

His heart raced, the image of a woman chained to her bed, Alex forced to watch her shake and scream. It was familiar and a dream all at once. He was shoved down into a chair, the gray room gone, and the image of an orgy before him again. Arms wrapped around his neck. He tried to speak, but only swallowed, the words heavy on his tongue.