Mistress in the Making (13 page)

She stepped through the dramatically draped curtains dividing the bleak hallway with the sumptuous parlor and forced a brilliant smile on her face. Every figure in the room received a wink, a nod or some acknowledgement to make him feel she wanted him to be the winner. Her smile faltered briefly when Lord Westhunt’s glittering eyes locked on her, but she hid her concern and stepped onto the platform.

She threw her arms wide and cried, “Who’s ready, gentleman?”

* * * * *

What the hell was she doing? Lucas leaned against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the idiots who thought to bid on Charlotte. The prospect of having his spoils titillated a lot of them, especially after rumors of his sexual exploits had reached their ears.

He wouldn’t have guessed Charlotte could be this mercenary. When he’d put her sobbing into a carriage not a week ago, he’d felt sure she’d spend at least a day as miserable as he. Hell, he’d barely been able to rise before noon all week, and only did so to get soused enough to sleep through the night. No wonder she’d rejected his offers of money. She’d had this little plot hatching from the moment he’d ended things.

Every night he vowed he’d ride to her neglected estate and beg her to come back and every morning he awoke, knowing he couldn’t. She deserved better than a foul-tempered, suspicious, depraved man. Let her find the gentle countryman she deserved, not one who took her through dirty brothels and gentleman’s clubs so he could fuck her in front of strangers.

God, look at her. She was even more sensual than he’d remembered, and he remembered a lot. Each night was spent in a haze reliving high points of his month with Charlotte and usually ended with his cock in his fist. But it never satisfied. Sure he came, but it was a release, not a communion.

He wanted to hate her for putting herself on the auction block again. Had their month together meant more to him than to her? No, she hadn’t faked the tears, but strong emotions didn’t appease creditors. She was a girl trying to make a living. He couldn’t fault her. Hell, if he’d been born female, would he have had the opportunity to sail away on a ship, see the world and earn a fortune?

The only question remaining was why Bellamy had pushed him out the door and told him to show up at Madame Bella’s by midnight. “Damn it, Bell. What am I doing here?” he muttered and started for the door. He brushed by a large group of men reeking of sour whiskey.

“Lucas.”

He looked up to see his brother nodding at him with an unholy gleam in his eye.

“Westhunt,” he choked out.

“Looks like I’ll get my turn with her now, brother. I can’t say I like taking your spoils and I’m disappointed the sister isn’t up there tonight, but Charlotte will do nicely. I heard she’s up for anything no matter how depraved.”

Hot anger clouded his vision for a moment until he latched onto one of Sebastian’s comments. “Sister?”

Westhunt shrugged as he turned to watch Charlotte. “Yes, Charlotte’s younger sister was supposed to be auctioned tonight, but Madame Bella told me in confidence about the switch at the last minute. Too bad. She’s rumored to be a great beauty.”

Lucas’ mouth fell open while his brother laughed. “You didn’t know they were sisters? Is that why you’re leaving? Bored of the chit and wanted something fresh in your bed?”

Fury heated him until his fists clenched with the need to plow one into his brother’s superior smile. Bored of Charlotte? Never. No wonder Bellamy had pushed him here. Somehow, as he often did, he’d gotten wind of the auction and knew Charlotte would do anything to save her sister, including auction herself to his brother. It should’ve been him to know this. Relief filled him that he’d jumped to an erroneous judgment. She wasn’t mercenary. Charlotte was playing the role of savior to her younger sister.

Why didn’t she come to him? Guilt ate away at his gut like cheap liquor. He’d refused to listen, so sure he’d been doing the right thing returning her to her family. He hadn’t listened to her needs, her desires and now she was going to pay the price. Lucas tried to push his way through the crowd to the front to stop Charlotte from this madness, but Madame Bella’s contralto rose over the rumble of deep male voices.

“Gentleman, we’re ready to start the bidding.”

Extraordinary numbers flew through the air with the precision of arrows at an archery match. Any words stuck in his mouth like glue. What was he to do? Last time he’d been in this position, all his concentration had been on his brother and stopping him from winning the auction.

Now he could only look at Charlotte and her reaction to the bidding. There was a look in her eye he recognized well, as it was the same one she wore their very first night together when she’d been determined to stay with him. The fire in her eyes told him she was set on her course to save her unworthy sister.

As the bidding flew to ever-higher amounts, his feet moved one in front of the other until he stood directly in front of Charlotte.

“Do I hear any final bids?” Madame Bella called.

“One final one,” Lucas said, staring up at Charlotte.

Her lips formed a ring and something flickered in her eyes.

“And what is your bid, Mr. Morgan?”

“My name.”

“Your name?” Madame Bella scoffed. “Whatever do you mean?”

“My name in marriage.” He sank to a knee and extended a hand up to Charlotte. “If the lady will have me.”

A roar like a war cry emerged from the tight circle of men surrounding him, but he ignored the protests and rose to assist Charlotte down from the platform.

Her soft hand in his felt better than anything he’d ever touched. “Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” he asked softly to her alone. His chest tightened and he felt the rest of his life hang in the balance as he waited for her answer.

His grin stretched widely when she gave a small nod.

“You’re daft,” she whispered back.

He pulled her tightly against his chest and kissed the silken hair on her crown. “Which is why you must marry me. Who else will accept me?” He turned with her in his arms and slowly surveyed the room. The angry protests at the results of the auction only now penetrated his happy fog. “The lady has agreed to be my wife.” He waited a moment as the din swelled then spoke firmly above the voices. “Anyone taking issue is free to call upon me early tomorrow morning.”

Though his words were mild, the threat inherent in them was not. He harbored no illusions he and Charlotte would ever be accepted in the best society ballrooms, but he’d lived most of his adult life without that honor, and couldn’t care in the slightest if he ever returned. However, he could not and would not accept any of these men speaking ill of his future wife. He’d make his point very clear on a dueling field if need be.

“This is highly unusual, Mr. Morgan.” For once Madame Bella seemed to lose her faculty for speech.

“I will compensate you for any losses you endured tonight, Madame. On one condition” he said, but Madame wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was watching Charlotte with a queer look in her eye.

Madame tore her gaze from Charlotte. “And what is that?”

“You will refuse to auction Charlotte’s sister and you will deny admittance to my brother.”

She nodded. “Perhaps. If Charlotte’s sister agrees.”

He tipped Charlotte’s head back to see her reaction to the bargain. She gave a sad smile. “I suppose I was only delaying the inevitable. Elizabeth seems very determined to get on that auction block. Nothing I say will sway her.”

Lucas tightened his arms around her and prepared to take her home immediately, but a scuffle coming from the back of the room distracted him.

The sea of men parted to reveal a woman screeching and holding a pistol in shaky hands.

His brother stood at the receiving end of the weapon, mocking the woman. “You think to shoot me? An earl? You’ll be carted off to Newgate.”

“Alyce?” Charlotte whispered and pushed off his chest to thread through the crowd to reach his brother’s former mistress who’d obviously gone insane. “Alyce, don’t do this!”

Lucas spotted Bellamy trying to push his way into the room, hampered by the fascinated crowd. He launched himself after Charlotte, terrified she’d get in the line of fire. Alyce’s aim seemed highly questionable.

When an explosion echoed throughout the room accompanied by a flash of light, his heart stopped beating and didn’t start again until he saw Charlotte standing steady near Alyce.

“I’ll never let you hurt another woman,” Alyce shrieked as she lowered the smoking pistol. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she fell back into Bellamy’s arms sobbing, seeming insensible as to the results of her attempted murder.

Lucas threw men out of the way in an effort to get to his brother. He reached Charlotte and pushed her toward Bellamy, trusting his friend to watch her in the pandemonium and knelt down to his brother who lay on the floor curled on his side. The years of animosity melted away and Lucas only saw his twin in pain, possibly dying.

“Westhunt? Sebastian?” he asked urgently, running his gaze over him, looking for the bullet wound. Gently he rolled his brother on his back, noting with mixed relief there was no blood on his cravat on anywhere near his chest.

“G-good aim,” his brother gurgled then passed out.

Lucas lowered his gaze and saw with shock the blood spreading below his brother’s hips. Alyce’s aim had been extraordinary. Any siring of heirs for the Morgan family would now be up to him and Charlotte. “Call for a surgeon!” he yelled.

Seconds later, strong arms pried him away from Sebastian and a tall military-looking man knelt at his brother’s side.

“Lucas?” Charlotte gently took his hand and led him to a chair a few feet away. The crowd had thinned significantly but several gawkers stayed, no doubt to be able to report firsthand they’d seen the Earl of Westhunt shot in the bollocks.

“Are you all right?” Charlotte asked.

He nodded and turned to her. “I’ve wanted to shoot him myself for the last few months thinking he killed Charles, but I have no desire to see Alyce Brown locked up for protecting herself.

“We won’t allow it.”

Lucas and Charlotte turned toward the man kneeling at Westhunt’s side. “I beg your pardon? Are you the surgeon?” Lucas asked.

“Not officially.” The man stared off at a point above Lucas’ shoulder for a minute, his thoughts obviously in another world entirely. Then he shook himself and came back to Madame Bella’s brothel. “Forgive me. The sound of the gunshot brought back difficult memories.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes at the stranger, not sure he should allow him to help his brother.

The man seemed to sense the doubt and stood with an outstretched hand. “Phillip Butler, at your service.” He smiled wryly at Charlotte’s loud gasp upon recognizing his name. “Yes, I’m your cousin, soon to inherit Clifton Park.”

Lucas wrapped his arm around his bride-to-be, ready to protect her from this stranger who’d caused so much grief by the sheer whim of birth. “Why are you here?”

“I arrived at my newly inherited estate to find my young cousins full of fear, demanding I ride to London to rescue their sisters.

Charlotte’s hand flew to her lips. “Anne…”

“Found your correspondence and assumed all sorts of horrors. After reading Madame Bella’s contract, I had a few fears myself. I rode like the wind for London.”

“Oh, why didn’t I burn that contract?” Charlotte muttered, as Lucas took in the mud-spattered state of Butler’s clothes. He’d literally walked in behind Alyce Brown. Speaking of the hysterical shooter…

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said from the sofa where he held Alyce’s shaking body. “I had no idea she’d try to take on the role of Charlotte’s protector when she heard about tonight’s auction.” Bell looked at Charlotte. “I told her your tale. She sees you as something of a sister, I believe.” He looked down at Alyce’s back and rubbed a slow circle across it.

Alyce lifted her head from Bellamy’s chest. “I couldn’t let a monster win you. I did what I had to do and I’d do it again,”

Bellamy held her tighter. “Hush.” He met Lucas’ gaze over her head. “We must fix this. I mean to marry her, and it will be damn difficult if she is incarcerated.

“It’s a shame my pistol misfired when I came to rescue my dear cousins,” Charlotte’s military cousin said suddenly.

Lucas liked his line of thought and immediately caught on. “Yes, you did what any gentleman would do. I made an honorable offer to your cousin at gunpoint. Of course my concerned brother stepped in. It’s too bad he was grazed from a terrible accident.”

Charlotte stared bewilderedly from her cousin to him. “I don’t understand. There was a room full of witnesses. Everyone saw Alyce holding a gun.”

“Did they?” Lucas asked. “Butler entered on her heels. Are you one hundred percent certain it was her pistol that fired? All you saw was a flash.”

Charlotte frowned. “I suppose…”

“In any case, it’s moot, because Alyce will only be investigated if the earl chooses to go after her,” Butler said. “And he won’t, will he?” he asked with a hard look at Lucas.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Excellent. Get your brother a bed here and a real surgeon. He’s damn lucky, you know. If he hung a little lower to the right, he’d be a lot less of a man. As it is, he may not want to ride a horse for some time, but he should live again to bed a woman, hopefully with a tad more humility.”