Chapter 1
London, January 1816
“Kiss me, sir!” came the unexpected request as Stephen was pulled into the darkened room.
He started to chuckle, thinking it was some sort of joke set up by his friends. Slender arms wrapped around his neck and pulled his head downwards. The slim figure holding onto him pressed herself against his large frame.
“Please kiss me, hide me, please don’t let them find me!” came an urgent whisper.
Whether it was the sound of real fear in the whispering voice, or the devil in him, Stephen bent down and kissed the lips being offered. He turned his back to the door and kicked it shut, enclosing them completely in darkness. They were hidden from the rest of the company. The noise of the party was deadened by the thick wood of the door, focusing his attention on the unexpected diversion.
He had not seen the lady accosting him, but he could tell by her voice he did not know her. He might not always remember the name of every lightskirt he had sought pleasure from, but voices and bodies he did remember. She had sounded young and slightly frightened, which was unusual in a household connected to his acquaintance, Baron Kersal. The ‘ladies’ who attended his house parties were usually a lot older in years and ways, so it was odd to hear the voice of someone younger than normal. Although they tried to hide it, the weariness of life could often be heard in the voices of the ladies who worked there. This voice sounded frightened, desperate maybe, but not world weary, not yet anyway.
He should have resisted the kiss; the fear in her voice would have given any decent man pause but, although he did wonder about her identity, the moment her lips touched his more firmly than the hesitant touch that had first been offered, he forgot all his musings. He had never been kissed by an innocent, but he knew immediately that she was. Her kiss was tentative, delicate and yet searching, as if she were desperate to make the kiss count. He found the combination to be an unexpectedly heady mix and, for a few moments he was lost to the experience, something uncurling in his stomach and filling his body with warmth. He wondered at the sensation, and it was enough to bring him back to his senses.
He tried to pull back from her; he might be a devil, but he did not ruin young girls or put himself in the position of being forced into marriage. Dallying with innocents ran the risk of unwanted and unlooked for consequences. His thoughts made him pause and move away a little as if to release him from her hold, but his slight movement caused her to wrap her hands more firmly around his neck.
“Please,” she whispered against his lips. “I need you. Only you.”
He was lost. Never in his life had he been asked in such a heart wrenching way for anything. He had been persuaded, cajoled and even demanded of by one or two forward ladies but never with such desperate appeal and never for his help. Most of the ladies of his acquaintance wanted his money, jewels or, worse still, marriage, but they never wanted him. He returned the kiss, gently at first, guiding her inexperience. She moaned against his mouth, and he suppressed a smile; the old Halkyn charm could still work even in the dark. He continued to plunder her mouth, using his tongue to explore every part of her. As his kiss deepened, she leaned into him even more, using his body as support.
They both paused when the door opened, and the voice of Baron Kersal interrupted their kiss. “Someone’s in here. Who is it?”
The girl inhaled sharply and tried to huddle into Stephen. She moved her hands from around his neck and tucked them in front of her, trying to make herself as small as possible. Stephen moved his hands slowly across her back in reassurance. “It’s Halkyn; close the door!” he snapped, not even looking back.
“Who’s with you?” the Baron demanded, “Let me see her.”
Stephen turned further away from the door. “The lady is in a state of, let’s just say, disarray. I don’t think it’s fair to put her on display for your lecherous pleasure, do you?”
The voice of another man was heard to mutter into the Baron’s ear. “Halkyn, what the hell are you doing in the dark?” the Baron asked.
“What the bloody hell do you think, Kersal? Not all of us need light to have a good time; sometimes with the women you provide, light is a distinct disadvantage,” Stephen retorted, holding the girl tightly. She tried to pull away at his words, but he was not going to let her show herself because of his throwaway retort. There was obviously something going on that was not quite right and, although he had an urge to know exactly what was happening, he was not about to put his new acquaintance into whatever situation she had tried to hide from.
Stephen’s words had caused laughter to erupt behind Baron Kersal. The Baron told his associates to shut up and then turned back to Halkyn. “We are looking for my, err, niece: she shouldn’t be in this part of the house; have you seen her?”
“Does it look like I’ve seen her?” Stephen said shortly. “Kersal, you are doing nothing to improve the ambience of this room. Unless you have a damn good reason to continue with this interruption, can I suggest you leave us alone? I haven’t met your niece, but if she appears in here, I shall be sure to send her to you.” Again, the body in his arms stiffened, but he leant down and started to kiss her, ignoring the men standing behind him. She did not respond immediately, but within a few moments, she seemed to forget about the men at the door and relaxed, leaning into him again.
Stephen heard the men mutter behind him, and the door was closed. It seemed his performance had convinced them. For a few moments he continued to enjoy the great deal of pleasure he was receiving from the stranger’s kiss. He had never actually wanted to continue a kiss as much as he did this one, but eventually he pulled away slightly and leant his head against her forehead.
“I think we need to become acquainted more formally,” he said, his voice husky.
“Will you send me to the Baron?” she asked in a frightened whisper.
Stephen paused before he responded. He probably should do; there was obviously something going on here that did not involve him, and he should extricate himself before he added further complications to the situation. There was something about this girl though, and he was sure she was a girl. He wanted to get some light into the room, but he did not want her to become more frightened and do something that would put her at risk. He could not shake the feeling she was in danger.
He moved his hands down her arms and took her hands in his. “I will not send you to the Baron; I am not really a gambling man, but I would be willing to wager you are not his niece,” Stephen said gently.
“I am no relation to him!” came the fiery reply.
Stephen smiled in the darkness; she might be frightened, but she obviously had some spark within her. The unorthodox way she approached him proved that. “We need to speak, but I do not want to carry on this conversation in the dark. Call me old fashioned, but I do like to see the people I’m communicating with,” Stephen said lightly. “If I light some candles, may I have your word you will no bolt?”
“I have nowhere to run,” came the honest response.
Stephen slowly let go of her hands. He believed her when she said she would not leave; she would only risk running into the Baron or one of his cronies. He fumbled in the room until he found a candelabrum and lit the candles. As soon as there was light, he walked across to the window and closed the curtains; the night was dark, and any light would reflect far into the garden. He did not want anyone seeing into the room. He saw another candelabrum and lit those candles also before turning to look at the stranger.
He took a deep breath as she stood there, proud and defiant, looking him directly in the eye, but there was fear and uncertainty in her gaze too. He had never been the one for gallant gestures, but the look in her eyes had him ready to fight for her if necessary. He was glad their first kiss had been in the dark; he was not sure if he could have responded if he had seen her age before kissing her. Why was he thinking first kiss? He should not be touching her ever again if he guessed her age correctly; she could only just be out of the schoolroom. She was beautiful though. Even in the dim light of the room, it was plain to him she was a real beauty. She had golden blonde hair that was deliciously disarrayed because of his handiwork. Her eyes were not the pale blue that usually came with such blonde hair but a deep emerald green. The colour was mesmerising. Her frame was slender, but not petite, and she stood upright and held her head high.
“Let’s start with introductions, shall we? I’m Lord Halkyn, Stephen to friends, and, I think after the last ten minutes we can consider ourselves friends, don’t you?” Stephen responded with a slight bow and his usual easy smile.
“I know who you are; the girls advised me that I should seek help from you,” she replied, watching him warily. She might have sought him out, but it was clear she still did not know whether to trust him.
“Really? My reputation is obviously better than I thought,” Stephen responded mockingly.
“They said you were kind,” she said quietly.
Stephen paused; he had never considered himself kind before. He was more likely to be accused of being selfish, self-centred, slightly cold and completely self-indulgent but never kind. His curiosity was piqued. “Let us be seated and you can explain yourself more fully. You can start with an introduction.”
“You don’t need to know my name,” she said as he led her to sit on a two- seated sofa. Its position was such that if the door opened, neither occupant would be seen from the doorway. He sat next to her, but positioned himself on the side nearest the doorway. If they were interrupted again, he would need to cover her with his body to shield her from view.
Stephen sighed at her words. “Let me be clear about one thing: if you want my help, you will have the decency to tell me the truth. If I find you are using me as a fool, I walk out of this room and leave you to your fate. I’m not wasting my time on someone who cannot be honest with me.”
His words had the desired effect; she inhaled sharply and paused. She let out the breath in a rush. “I will be honest with you My Lord, if you promise to help me.”
“I have already helped, so I think my promise would not add anything to the situation and, as I have already said, my given name is Stephen.”
“My name is Charlotte, Charlotte Webster,” she replied.
Chapter 2
Charlotte had known she would have to trust Lord Halkyn; there was no one else who any of the girls thought would provide her with help. They were not even totally convinced of Halkyn, but he was described as her only option. She had been grateful for their advice; if she had been left alone, she had no idea what she would have done. This was something completely out of her experience. She had not seen many of the men who visited Baron Kersal’s abode, but the ones she had laid eyes on whereof the same level as the Baron: lecherous and lacking in morals. The girls had described Lord Halkyn as kind and considerate in his dealings with them, although he was obviously a rake. Most of the other men had a tendency to inflict pain on the women they used; the girls had said Lord Halkyn had never done such a thing. She had little choice, so she had taken the risk of speaking with him.
She had never behaved so much like a doxy in her life and was relieved the darkness had covered her blushes. If there had been any light, she could not have gone through with the charade. Lord Halkyn had been pointed out to her; luckily he had visited the establishment on two concurrent nights, an unusual occurrence apparently. It was a blessing for Charlotte, though; her time was limited, and she had to act quickly: frightened she most certainly was, but she had to try for freedom.
She assessed the man in front of her. Lord Halkyn might be considered a rake, but he was a handsome one. He had wavy blonde hair, not a dissimilar colour to her own, and deep blue eyes. His mouth was striking; it reminded her of a rosebud and could have looked feminine, but there was hardness around the mouth as if the person it belonged to was bitter. She blushed when she thought what a shame that was; the mouth had brought her so much pleasure for those few moments. It had sent her to a place of warmth and passion. The problem was that now she had tasted what a real passionate kiss was, she was even more convinced she could not go to her fate without a fight.
He was obviously in an unexpectedly strange situation, but he appeared calm; he was just watching her closely. He seemed amused as a range of emotions passed across her face. Charlotte did not know where to start, but as she tried to gather her thoughts, Stephen broke the silence.
“So, Charlotte Webster, shall we start with how old you are or how you came to be in this den of iniquity?” Stephen asked, after giving the girl a few moments. He had enjoyed watching the different expressions flitter across her face, but then he focused his attention. They had limited time, and he needed answers.
Charlotte blushed, “I’m nearly eighteen, and I’m here because of my own foolishness.”
Stephen flinched; nearly eighteen was still seventeen. He was more than seven years her senior and probably more than a hundred years her senior in experience if the blushes that kept reddening her cheeks were anything to go by. He cursed silently to himself; this was not good. “Your family?”he asked sharply.
“I have an uncle who has probably disowned me by now. Lord Halkyn, Stephen,” she hurried to use his given name at Stephen’s raised eyebrows. “I need to leave this place urgently. Every moment I stay here, I am at risk of being discovered, and I can’t let that happen.”
“So, you need my help, but why should I trust your word? I have known Baron Kersal for a few years. Why should I trust you over him?”
Charlotte closed her eyes; if he did not help her she would be lost, but there was not enough time to explain. While she was still in the house she could not relax. “You have no reason to believe whatever I tell you, but I think you will believe me, just as I trust you. I hope you can tell I am no lightskirt; I am respectable, or I was. Baron Kersal is involved in something that must be illegal; but the girls who work here didn’t think you were involved. That was one of the reasons they suggested you might be willing to help. Please can we leave and then I will tell you everything?”
“Why would the girls help you?” Stephen asked. “I’ve never known loyalty amongst their kind.”
“I don’t know: perhaps it was because I am so young; perhaps it’s because what they’ve seen happening is beyond what normally goes on in places like this. I don’t know!” Charlotte replied, desperation sounding in her voice.
Stephen’s mind raced; she had hinted she was no longer respectable, but she had kissed like an innocent. For some reason the thought of her being touched by one of Baron Kersal’s cronies made his blood boil. That was, until he realised he was one of those cronies himself. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile; he was probably exactly like one of his immoral associates that she was trying to escape.
He stirred from his musings. “Have you any belongings?”
“Nothing of note; I have my cloak here; that is all,” she replied.
“We can leave only if we do so separately.”
“No!” came the panicked response. She was sure that if he left her they would search the room.
“I’m not going to desert you, but I can hardly walk out through the hallway with you,” Stephen said drily.
“They will find me if you leave me alone!” Charlotte said, panic in her voice.
Stephen sighed, “I will get you out of this building; trust me.” He stood and walked to the door; he opened it slightly, but his demeanour changed. As he opened the door he called out, slurring his words and seeming to need the door jamb for support. “Hey, my man! I need my coach, now!”
“Yes, sir,” came the distant reply.
“Kersal always has lots of obliging staff,” Halkyn said, smiling at Charlotte over his shoulder.
“At least you aren’t on horseback!” Charlotte said with feeling. She had not relished a gallop across country on a cold night.
“Perish the thought,” Stephen shuddered exaggeratedly. “I like my comforts, my dear.”
“I’m not surprised!” Charlotte said primly.
Stephen chuckled; he liked this girl. “We need to get you to a safe place.” He walked to the window after blowing out most of the candles. Pulling the curtains slightly, he unhooked the latch and opened the French window. He shushed Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath. “You’re probably right about not being safe in this house once I leave, so you will have to leave it ahead of me.”
Charlotte’s heart began to pound. She had felt safe with Stephen, and now she was going to be alone again. She stood, hugging her arms around her shoulders, trying to give herself courage. “Is anyone about?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not a soul in sight. Everyone will soon have tired of Kersal’s search and returned to the festivities.” Get your cloak and come here,” Stephen instructed.
Charlotte did as ordered and moved silently to the window. She was sure her pounding heart would give away how frightened she was.
Stephen glanced at her face and smiled slightly; even in the darkness he could see she was pale with fear. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. For some reason he wanted to reassure her. She looked at him warily, but he just smiled down at her. “Keep close to the wall and move towards the front of the house. You chose well in this room; we are almost at the corner of the building. Stay in the shadow of the wall. Wait until my carriage turns this corner and stay in place until I give you a signal.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I wouldn’t normally go past this part of the house when leaving, so I need to create a bit of a show. Be ready to move when I give the signal.”
Charlotte nodded her understanding and stood wrapped in the warmth of the arm that draped over her shoulders. Neither moved until they heard the wheels of a carriage stopping at the front of the house. Charlotte shuddered; this was it: her best chance.
Stephen felt the shudder and squeezed her tighter. “If this fails, I will return to the house and get you out, by force if necessary.” His words earned him a smile that stirred sensations in his groin totally inappropriate for the situation. He bent down and gently kissed her lips. “Good luck! Now go.” And he helped her out the window.
Stephen watched as Charlotte moved along the outside of the building; there was no sound of anyone close by. He closed the window and replaced the curtain, careful to ensure it did not draw attention to the window. He blew the candle out and walked to the door, preparing to give an excellent performance.
He opened the door as the footman approached. He staggered out of the room and bounced into the footman, making them both stumble slightly. “Sorry, my man, a little too much wine and women I think. I need time to sleep it off,” he slurred.
The footman grinned and helped Stephen to the door. “This way sir; I’m sure you will feel more the thing in the morning.”
“Bloody head will hurt though; Kersal never serves us his best wine,” Stephen said, stumbling to the door, almost colliding with a marble plinth and a vase balanced on top. The footman moved quickly and steadied the vase, but still managed to help Stephen along. “He’s always been cheap,” Stephen muttered as if talking to himself.
The footman choked back a laugh but wisely did not respond to the slur on his master’s character. “Here we are, sir.”
Stephen paused at the entrance portico; he acted as if the thought of climbing into his carriage was too much, but it was to make sure he was not going to be challenged. He turned to the footman, “My man will help me; here, have this.” He handed him a large coin from his pocket.
The footman accepted it with round eyes. Stephen thought it was probably more than the man earned in a month, but it would help with his silence if anything were seen. He reached out his hand to indicate he wanted help from his staff. A footman left the side of the carriage and took his arm. He helped Stephen wobble over to the carriage; when Stephen reached it, he pretended he was going to vomit but dragged the footman down with him. In the confusion, he whispered urgently to his staff member and, when he received a nod of understanding, he let him go. The footman jumped up next to the driver, an unusual occurrence, but necessary.
Stephen stood on the top step of the carriage and hung on with one hand as the carriage started to move. The house footman looked concerned, but Stephen waved at him with his free hand. “Tell Kersal his women are getting as leathery as his wine!”
The words seemed to distract the footman from the fact that the carriage was travelling in the wrong direction. Stephen maintained the pretence until the carriage turned the corner. He waited until he was just out of sight of the doorway and then beckoned Charlotte to the carriage. He hauled her up while the vehicle was still in motion and fell inside with her, closing the door and pulling down the curtain. The steps would have to remain in position until they stopped.
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