Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) (16 page)

She
threw a hand to her mouth, sucking in a gasp of horror.

“He was
my closest friend, Miranda. And he wanted to see you suffer, though his motive
was for vengeance, served in cold blood. My desire was hot, sensual.”

“My God,
but how did you slip him inside Cassandra’s townhouse—” Her voice trailed off,
more horror washing over her. “My God.
My God
.”

He
chuckled, softly. “The look on your face, just now. Priceless, my dear.”

Miranda
swallowed, hard, still staring at him in horror. “My shame, he saw my shame and
you say Cassandra
knew
?”

“She sat
beside Winterton and watched. She wanted to make sure that I didn’t… harm you,
at least not too much. God, I have seen greed in my women, but never to the
extent that her eyes could glitter with it. Quite stimulating. Refreshing in a
woman to be so open and unapologetic about her greed.”

“My
shame. He knew. All along, he
knew
.” Miranda’s insides twisted.

“Don’t
worry, girl, I have never told anyone else but I did write a detailed account
of every single moment in my diary. And when my conquests have been poor, I
read that to cheer myself.” He twisted his lips, a wry expression. “But it is
also bittersweet for I know that I shall likely never, ever achieve such
ecstasy with any woman again. Remember when I discovered your little weakness?
And how effortlessly I exploited it. Just the threat of making you do that was
enough to put into a ball, curled up on the floor like a little street rat come
in from the cold. You were panting and sweating, your eyes glazed with fear.”

Miranda
swallowed back a rush of acid in her throat. “And that’s how you took me,” she
accused. “I hope that you burn in hell for the pleasure you took that night.”

He
laughed, softly. “Nay, a man shall never be held guilty by his maker for such
an act. Women bring it on themselves with their wiles and their ways. Evil as
Eve herself is every woman. A virgin is merely a woman who has not yet learned
to torment a man properly.” He paused.

Heathford’s
mouth twisted in a small grin. His glowed with delight. “Wouldn’t it be
diverting, for all involved if I were the one to tell Danvers?”

“No, no,
please no.”

“Oh, my
dear.” His gaze caressed her. “How prettily you do beg. Even after all these
years.”

The
chamber seemed to tilt then spin in her vision. The urge to retch rose strongly
in her. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to remain focused on
what mattered most. “You say that our night—”

“Our
night.” He put a hand to his lapel. “How touching to hear those words come from
your pretty mouth.”

She
compressed her lips a moment then continued. “If I gave you so much pleasure,
won’t you do this favor for me?”

“You
want me to influence the verdict upon Danvers? To have his charge lessened to
manslaughter?”

“Yes.”
She forced herself not to plead and beg. Forced herself to keep looking into
those cold, dead, evil eyes.

“I
could, very easily.”

Her
knees went weak with her desperate wishing. “Yes, you could.”

He shook
his head. “But I won’t.”

Her
stomach seemed to drop to the ground. “Why not? It is nothing to you.”

He
scowled. “Who are you to say what is nothing to me?”

Waves of
malice poured off him and she stepped back.

“I was
once a young bridegroom of twenty. You know that dukes are expected to marry
and reproduce early. And I had done my duty and created a son and, in the doing
so, I had fallen rather madly in love with my bride. But she didn’t fancy the
more exotic pleasures that I wanted to explore and she ran to her father,
telling him all the intimate secrets of our marriage bed. She was the first
woman that I ever hated as much as I hated my step-mother. But I was still
prepared to make peace with her and sire my second son on her. Whilst we lived
apart, she met a handsome and charming earl. A woman’s man, a fool. He
impregnated her. My second son was his. And I was forced to accept this to
prevent a scandal, my father ordered me to remain silent, he threatened to end
my allowance if I called this earl out.”

Miranda
put a hand to her throat.

“Care to
know the name of this blackguard earl?”

“I think
I already do.”

He
chuckled, coldly, icy anger in his eyes. “Do you understand now, why I am not
moved to have Danvers’ charge lessened?”

She
nodded, slowly, sadly.

He
studied her. “You’re not going to plead? Not going to attempt to make me an
offer?”

“What
would be the point?”

He
scoffed. “You’re not being very entertaining, my dear. I am a bored man, I like
to be entertained.”

“What
kind of offer?”

“Hmm.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and put one hand to his chin, an exaggerated
expression of consideration on his face. “Why not a performance, like at the
theater? These days I don’t enjoy touching a woman so much. I don’t like the
way you, women, smell. But I do like shows.”

Miranda
swallowed back another lurch of acid. “A show?”

He
nodded. “You know I am having a party this night, why not make it all the
better?”

“How?”
she choked the word out.

“You
could give oral pleasure to my highest ranking guests.”

She couldn’t
stop herself from shaking her head. “No, no, please no. Anything but that.”

“Why my
dear, these are some of the gentlemen who will be passing judgment on your
husband. Surely you won’t turn down an opportunity to… sway them.” He put the
most indecent, distasteful inflection on the last two words.

****

Miranda
kept her eyes fixed to the floor. Each tug of Heathford’s fingers on the
fastenings of her gown sent a renewed wave of revulsion through her. He had
insisted that she would bare her breasts to the assembled guests and allow them
to touch her as they pleased.

And then
she would pleasure them one by one.

If she
did this thing—when she did this thing—then she would for the first time be
more a whore than she had ever been before in her life as a courtesan.

Adrian
might never forgive her.

She
might never forgive herself.

And yet,
she must do this.

With the
fastenings now all undone, the gown gaped away from her body. Instinctively,
Miranda clutched it to herself as she turned and faced the five noblemen. Three
of these men had placed bids on her virginity years before. She could hear
Heathford shuffling behind her, pouring a drink, the soft creak of a wood as he
sat his powerful frame into a chair.

“Let us
not tarry, Miranda,” Heathford drawled.

She was
doing this for Adrian.

To save
his life.

Surely
the sacrifice of her modesty, her honor was not so great.

Not in
the face of what he had sacrificed for her.

She
couldn’t meet the men’s eyes, though she still remembered how they had glowed
with lust when she had come into the chamber.

“It will
be interesting to see how you have grown and… developed,” said Lord Maltby.

“Yes,
indeed,” said the Earl of Bushey

Her
shaking fingers faltered on the laces of her stays.

“Stop
delaying, Miranda,” Heathford said from behind her.

Her
hands shook so hard that she could no longer use them.

“Here,
here, Heathford, I thought that you said she was willing?” Maltby said,
peevishly.

“She
is,” Heathford said with steel in his voice.

“She
doesn’t look right.”

“Aye,
she’s gone pale as death.”

The Duke
of Amesbury stood and came to her. His blue eyes were kind. He had not been one
of the noblemen who had bid on her virginity. She didn’t know much about his
sexual proclivities. Most gossip about him centered on his adult daughter and
their somewhat troubled interactions.

”My
dear, why don’t you come and sit?” Amesbury said.

“Let her
stand,” Heathford said.

“Come
now, Heathford, she’s no common night bird.” Amesbury said. “She’s Winterton’s
chit. She must be treated gently.”

The Earl
of Bushey brought her a glass filled with claret. “Have drink, girl.”

“My name
is Lady Danvers.”

The
gentlemen looked at each other, uncomfortably.

“You’re
clearly unwilling.”

“I
thought that I could do this.”

“I am
not game for outright rape,” said Lord Maltby.

“Neither
am I,” said the Duke of Amesbury as he helped her to lift the glass to her
lips, for her shaking hands wouldn’t allow it. She took as deep a sip as she
could manage but for a moment, she thought her stomach would rebel instead of
accepting her swallow.

“Lady
Danvers, why would you ever agree to such a meeting with us when you clearly
are not willing?”

“I must
do what I can to save my husband’s life.”

“He will
get a fair trial in the House of Lords,” Heathford said.

“Will
he?” she asked. “Or is there too much prejudice against him because of his
father’s sins?”

Heathford
smiled, coldly, evilly.

She
turned back to Amesbury. “Your Grace, you have a natural daughter. Would you
like to see her forced to be a widow before her time, all because of the sins
of her father in law?”

The Duke
allowed a small grin. It was well-known that his base-born daughter had wed
into a family of puritanical Bible-thumping joyless merchants. Her attempts to
rein in her father’s debauched ways were known to the amusement of all. Yet,
she could see the softening in his gaze.

Clutching
her gown more tightly to herself, she turned to face the Earl of Bushey “And
what about your natural daughter?”

He put
his hand to his cravat smoothed it, now refusing to look Miranda in the eye.
“She’s still in the nursery.”

But when
he glanced up, his expression had begun to soften too.

Somehow,
she had managed to achieve exactly what she had come to Mayfair to do. To get
the attention of these particular, influential men. And to win their sympathy
for Adrian.

“My
lords, it is unfair that my husband should have to pay for the sins of his
father.”

She told
them the details of how Winterton had his man stalk Adrian and shoot him in the
stomach at a time that he least suspected, in the abandoned stairwell. How
Adrian, certain that he would not live long with such a wound had forced
himself to climb the stairs and to kill Winterton in whatever way he could
manage, with whatever time he had left. For Miranda’s sake. For Davey and
Brentwood’s sake.

“It is
not simple murder as Winterton’s servant claimed it was,” she said, finishing.

“You
want us to lower his charge to manslaughter,” said the Earl of Bushey, “But to
me it sounds more like defense of one’s family.”

“Aye,
defense,” said the Lord Maltby.

“As far
as I am concerned, if the Earl of Danvers would testify to all of this, in the
House of Lords, all charges will be dismissed. That’s how I am voting.”

Sounds
ascent echoed from the others who had remained silent during the earlier parts
of the conversation.

But
Heathford had come around to face her and he was glaring at her. “There will
have to be terms.”

“I am
not opposed to hearing these terms,” said the Duke of Amesbury.

The
others vocalized their agreement.

“Danvers
will leave Britain.”

Standing
there, without a scrap of dignity allowed her as she clutched her gown to
herself, she let her mouth drop open.

“You
can’t ask that of him,” she said. “He has sons.”

“It’s
well known that his heir has selected to live with his late mother’s relations
rather than live under the same roof as his father’s glorified harlot.”

“That
kind of talk is not necessary, Heathford.” Amesbury said.

Heathford
ignored him. “The younger son can share his exile, at least until he is an
adult.”

“That’s
not fair,” Miranda said.

“Life is
often not fair, as you well know, my dear.”

“I can’t
agree with forcing the man to exile,” Amesbury said.

But the
majority did agree and Miranda rode in the carriage all the way back to
Sutherland House, with Heathford’s triumphant grin burned into her memory.
She’d managed more than she hoped. Adrian would not bear the shame of having
been accused of manslaughter and to escape penalty only by virtue of his rank.
Instead, there would no charges leveled against him whatsoever. If he agreed to
leave his homeland.