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His mouth was inches from hers and her insides cleaved as his malevolent intent became clear, his fingers biting painfully into her arm.
“I trust you did not satisfy yourself with the dregs in my basement when you failed to find me. No? Good, for I think if you can pass muster with those in Lady Kilmore’s drawing room you’d hardly be satisfied with my fine valet, handsome though he is.”
“Please let me go, sir.” Hetty hated the sound of her own whimper. In a moment he’d hustle her inside and no amount of screaming would save her, for he was master of his own home.
“Surely you understand I’m curious as to why Sir Aubrey’s little ladybird should interest herself in my business.”
Cursing herself for her stupid recklessness, Hetty tried to pull away but her distress only added to his enjoyment.
“Let us not conduct business upon the pavement, madam. A glass of Madeira might make you more willing to please me.”
Hetty made one last effort to depart with dignity, ceasing her resistance to say with a gracious smile, “Sadly, my business here, which was merely to stop in upon an old friend, is done and I’d hate to keep you from your bed—”
“Indeed, madam, my bed is where I intend to discuss what brings you here. Do not play the shocked gentlewoman with me. I know exactly what you are and I know that Sir Aubrey is wild for you, for I observed the two of you very closely in the back corridors of Lady Kilmore’s. As it’s rare to see Sir Aubrey so excited by a woman, you can be assured I’ll not let you go lightly. Now come.”
“No, sir, please!” Gasping, Hetty pulled herself free for but a second before Lord Debenham dragged her back against him.
“Who are you to say no to me?” he snarled, pinioning her against the railing. “Scream all you like but who do you think will come to the aid of a creature like you? If you offer Sir Aubrey your body for a price, I am entitled to the same—and for the same price. Business is business, is it not? And then you’ll oblige me by telling me what brought you here.”
Hetty could barely breathe through her fear. How had she sunk so low? Yet whatever happened and however ghastly it was, she had only herself to blame.
Wildly she fought, her scream truncated by his lips, hard, wet and determined, fastening on her mouth, his one hand gripping her chin painfully, the other snaking ‘round behind her to grasp her buttocks.
His proximity was so invasive and his determination so intense her knees buckled. It only gave him greater access to the body he obviously felt was free for the taking.
Twisting her head away, she tried to scream again but he was too quick and canny for her, clamping his hand over her mouth before replacing it with his hateful lips once more.
She managed to suck in air, just enough to keep from choking. She tried to claw at him but he deftly forestalled her, gripping her wrist and pinning her arm to her side.
As she sank to her knees in a heap by the cast-iron railing, he scooped her into his arms, no doubt about to whisk her to somewhere he could continue his fiendish act less publicly.
“What are you doing with my woman?” The icy tone cut the air like a lash.
Dazed and breathless, Hetty clung to the railing, unable to speak as Lord Debenham set her back upon her feet, though her knees immediately buckled and she sank to the pavement.
“Your woman?” With heavy irony he continued, “Then why did she come to me? Poor Sir Aubrey. It’s not the first time either, is it?”
Hetty, recovering quickly, was about to refute this when she realized he was not referring to her. Sir Aubrey hauled her up but his eyes met hers with anger, not sympathy.
“I thought we had an agreement,” he muttered.
“You can’t think that—”
“Debenham offered you more? Revenge, my dear Henrietta, but of course that would mean nothing to you, would it? Money is money, isn’t it, whether it’s mine or his, and if he’s paying double…”
He was clearly too angry to continue, while Hetty, unable to reply, tried not to choke on her stifled sobs as he hustled her into his waiting carriage.
Lord Debenham’s mocking laughter followed them as the door closed. “Damsels in distress have always been your weakness, Sir Aubrey. Pity they all seem to prefer me.”
Lurching forward as the carriage rolled away, Hetty burst out, “I didn’t solicit Lord Debenham’s advances.”
In the dim lamplight, Sir Aubrey’s expression was thunderous. “Indeed, madam? You lost your way, did you? Just as you lost your way when you visited my bedchamber the first time. You made a fool of me, turning me into a purring pussycat in order to ‘tutor’ you. You weren’t a virgin, were you, yet you would have me believe that—”
“Please, sir, you’re far too angry to hear me out but—”
“Nor is it about the money.” He cut her off, glaring at her. “We had an agreement. It was based on honor. I thought even women like you understood the notion of honor.”
Hetty drew in a sobbing breath. “I didn’t visit his home to…to do what you think,” she cried. “I went there because I heard about—” She cut the words short as her brain whirled over the ramifications of revealing the whereabouts of the letter. If Sir Aubrey learned Jem had it, he would demand to see it immediately and no doubt the young man would deny possession, knowing the likely consequences. Hetty was a soft touch. If the price was right, he had nothing to lose by allowing her only to view it. But he’d not hand it over when confronted by a belligerent Sir Aubrey.
