Page 7 of Only a Mistress Will Do

Lord John laughed, harsh as a cawing crow. “I think the business you sent me to see to has been accomplished.” He nodded curtly toward Violet, but kept his gaze on Madame Vestry. “In fact, Miss Carlton has pleased me so well I have persuaded her to take Serena’s place.”

“Excellent.” A gleam appeared in Madame Vestry’s eyes as she stroked the small plaster dove sitting on her desk, Aphrodite’s symbol. “I will, of course, require my usual finder’s fee.”

“I expected nothing less, Amorina. I am especially grateful you found Miss Carlton for me. Such a rare flower needs special tending.” He glared candidly at the Madame. “Tending I will oversee personally.”

“I never had any doubt about that, my lord.” Vestry turned to Violet, the smug look vanished. “You have been given this opportunity to improve your situation, Miss Carlton. I trust you will take every advantage it offers.”

“I will, Madame Vestry.” Violet felt too weary to speak more.

Lord John placed a protective hand at the small of her back, a gesture that sent a frisson of warmth through her. As they reached the threshold, her protector looked over his shoulder, his face softening as he smiled at the goddess of love. “Thank you, Madame Vestry.”

“No, it is I who thank you, Lord Trevor. Bon chance.”

Not Lord John, but Lord Trevor. Violet did not recognize the true name of her new protector, but she didn’t care. If he was willing to help her escape this brothel and keep her safe, she didn’t care if he was the devil himself.

Chapter 3

“Send my carriage around, Will.” Tristan, Viscount Trevor, tossed a coin to the little urchin stationed in a corner of the front foyer.

“Yes, m’lord.” The lad scurried out the door.

An awkward silence ensued, punctuated by raucous calls from the main public room where one of the House of Pleasure’s infamous masquerades was in full swing.

“It shouldn’t be long,” he said, eyeing the small woman at his side. Lord, her head barely reached his chest. No bigger than a child, really. Except she was very definitely a woman. The memory of her beautiful naked body had him turning away and cursing the slowness of his carriage. Perhaps he should stand out on the porch where the chill night air might cool his ardor.

The door opened and Tris stepped back as several men entered, all in classical costumes, ranging from Zeus clutching a quiver of lightning bolts to a scantily clad shepherd.

“Trevor! Don’t tell me you’re for home already?” Zeus clapped him on the shoulder. “Never known you not to close the place down.” His gaze fell on Miss Carlton. “Oh, ho. Found you a giggler already? I can see why you’d make it an early night here. Long night elsewhere, though.” He elbowed Tris and leered at Violet. “Where’s Vestry been keeping you, dearie?”

“By special order, just for me, Feldon.” Tris stepped in front of her, and raised his chin. Damn, what was keeping that carriage?

Feldon raised his hands. “No offense, Trevor. There’s more where she came from.” Another lecherous grin. “Enjoy your strapping, now.” He turned and headed into the main room, his cohorts right behind him.

Tris made sure they were well away, then turned back to his charge. “I am sorry for that, Miss Carlton. Let us wait outside. I don’t know what the devil is keeping the carriage.”

The woman pulled the hood of her cloak well over her head.

Good. Less chance she’d be noticed. He yanked the door open and pulled Will, clinging to the latch, into the room.

“Carriage’s here, m’lord.” The boy let go and bounded past Tris back into the house.

“About time, scamp.” Tris took the woman’s arm and guided her out, praying they met no one else.

“Weldon Street, please, Stokes,” he called to his coachman as he helped Miss Carlton into the carriage, then climbed in behind her and took the back-facing seat. At last a moment to take stock. He’d had no time for more than a minimal plan since discovering her identity. Silently, he cursed fate. What were the odds a mere night’s entertainment would turn out to be James Carlton’s sister?

“Are you warm enough, Miss Carlton?” A moment rummaging underneath the seat and he drew out a dark red carriage blanket. Not waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and tucked it around her, tensing at the whiff of her soft, feminine scent. Fortunately, his cape hid the evidence of his continued arousal.

“I am fine, my lord.” Clutching her reticule, she kept her head down.

Well, that made one of them. He struggled to relax. The woman’s presence put him on edge and not only for the obvious reason. James Carlton. He’d tried to forget that name. Tried to forget all the duels during that bleak time last year as second to the Marquess of Dalbury. ‘Sblood but it had come back to haunt him...them, with a vengeance. What the devil was he to do with this woman?

She looked up at him oddly.

Had he spoken the question aloud?

Settling further into the seat, she returned her gaze to her lap.

Perhaps not, then. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. Thank Christ he’d gone no further with her in bed tonight. Had he actually violated her and found out her identity afterwards, he might well have put a pistol to his head. He’d never considered the far-reaching effects of the deaths of the men they had killed last year. Nor to the repercussions it might mean for their families. To have a gently born woman come to this pass because of...well, if one wanted to lay blame it would rest ultimately with Tommy Redmond and his treachery toward Duncan. However, he and the marquess bore the actual responsibility for the deaths of those three men.