Page 72 of One Night with a Rake

“I fail to see how. There were two men guarding me at Madam Bouchard’s, the bully and Mr. Darling.” She glared at him. “What did you offer them to allow you to cart me off?”

“Only a couple solid clouts to the head. Something anyone of evil intent could have done.” He hitched a hip on the side of the bed. “For what it’s worth, I regret having laid out one of them.”

But he didn’t regret abducting her, evidently. “And the rope and burlap bag? You happened to have those stashed in your pocket?”

“No, the previous madam of the House of Sirens left a few of her toys behind and I decided to use them to scare some sense into you. Do you realize there have been two murders on Lackaday Lane now?”

Her belly roiled uncertainly. “Two?”

“It seems I maligned Mr. Bagley falsely. He was not derelict in his duties,” Nate said. “His body was dragged from the Thames this morning.”

“And you think the same person did both killings?”

“They were both strangled,” Nate said. “Though Mr. Bagley was dispatched with a piano wire instead of a leather strap, so his demise was bloodier than Vesta’s. And I expect the killer thought we wouldn’t discover his body until there wasn’t enough left to identify it. Vesta, on the other hand, was laid out like a present for us.”

Georgette suppressed a shiver. “Was his neck also broken?”

“No. With Vesta, that was a mercy of sorts. As if the killer didn’t want her to suffer, but he did want her to asphyxiate.” Nathaniel shook his head. “With Mr. Bagley, it seems as if the killer didn’t mind causing him pain.”

Trying to penetrate the mind of a murderer was an uncomfortable place. Unlike the room where Georgette now found herself. “Where are we?”

“I keep a little pied-à-terre in Cheapside. It suits my purposes when I want to be in London, but I’m not keen on staying at the family town house.” He stood and paced the room like a caged lynx, raking a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. No one fashionable could possibly know you’re here.”

“I’m not concerned for fashion and you know it.”

“You should be.” He rounded on her and leaned down to face her, nose to nose. “A woman in your position should fill her days with trips to the milliner and taking tea with the patronesses of Almack’s instead of traipsing about Covent Garden fretting about the lives of whores.”

She leaned away from him so far she lost her balance and flopped back onto the feather tick. Didn’t he realize the life he was prescribing for her sounded empty as a pit? “Do not presume to tell me what to do.”

“Someone sure as hell needs to. Georgette, don’t you realize I could have been someone intent on doing you real harm?”

“Real harm?” Since when was seducing her out of her maidenhead not considered harm? “After last night, I find your concern for my welfare a tad misplaced.”

He lifted a cynical brow. “You’re not trying to blame me for that, are you? As I recall, you’re the one who came to my bedchamber.”

Drat the man, he was right, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him.

“I will allow that I seduced you,” Nathaniel said, easing down beside her and leaning on one elbow. He reached over with his other hand and traced the lacy edge of her bodice. A wicked little thrill trailed after his touch. “But you made the choice to come to me.”

He leaned down and kissed her.

She hated herself for not turning her face away, but she couldn’t bear not to feel his mouth on hers. Every time Nathaniel Colton kissed her, the world tilted a bit further on its axis and she imagined a future where she wasn’t destined to bear a royal heir or spend her years smiling woodenly at the collective nonsense that was life at court.

The only trouble was the life Nathaniel seemed to want for her sounded just as hollow. She was expected to be purely ornamental when she longed to be useful.

But if he were at the center of that conventional existence, might she be able to bear it? Better yet, might she be able to change things so she could have him and a higher purpose?

When he finally released her lips, she was halfway to believing her fantasy was possible. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d made off with her as if he were a common highwayman and she an ill-gotten bauble he’d exchange for coin later.

“I made the choice to come to your room last night, I’ll admit it. But I’m not here now by my own choice,” she reminded him.

“No, you’re not, but it’s for your own good. You want a bit of schooling on the ways of the world. Being a marquis’s daughter only matters to some. There are others who would do as I’ve done and worse.”

She snorted. “What more could they do to me?”

“Trust me, Georgie, you don’t want to know.”

A dark shadow passed behind his eyes and she wondered what malignant memory streaked by for him. Something from his days in the war? Remembrance of the nights of debauchery after he returned from the disaster at Maubeuge? Whatever it was, it clearly grieved him.