Page 45 of Dare to Love a Duke
“It’s not without risk.” She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “So many rely on me, on the club. And I rely on you.” A note of pleading tinged her words. Taking a step closer, she held out her hand in supplication. “Keep it open. Give the girls in that room the chance to dream.”
He looked toward the open door, and the children within the room, industriously learning. The city was full of girls like them, hawking nosegays and oranges, clambering along the banks of the Thames as they looked for anything that could be traded or exchanged for coin.
“Did you have the chance to dream?” he asked softly.
Her gaze turned melancholy. “It wasn’t easy, finding something to wish for, something to reach toward. There were times when I had nothing—nothing but myself, and even that was a commodity.”
He stilled as understanding hit him.
Oranges and nosegays weren’t the only things girls sold.
“Yes, I did that. First on the street, then in Mrs. Chalke’s bawdy house in Covent Garden, before she brought me on as a server at the establishment.”
His heart thudded. He’d realized, in some distant corner of his mind, that she must have joined the ranks of thousands of females in London who sold sex for money. Yet it didn’t seem fully true. Not until this moment.
“Did you...” He wasn’t certain what question he wanted to ask, when so many flew through his mind like startled crows. “...Did you enjoy it?”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, and said wearily, “Some days, yes. Some days, no. Mostly, it was merely work.” Her eyes narrowed. “And now you judge me.”
He held up his hands. “Men of my class—hell, of any class—we all pay for women’s bodies in one way or another. To sneer at you for providing the service I’ve paid for, that’s hypocrisy. Only—” He felt his mouth curve in a rueful smile. “It might take me a moment to regain my sea legs.”
“My past doesn’t matter.” She waved toward the roomful of children. “The present and the future do. What’s your answer?”
He paced away from her, then back again, his thoughts and heart wrestling with each other. Should word get out about his ownership of the club, disaster for his mother and sister would follow. But if he shut it down, what would become of the staff, or Lucia’s hope of opening a home for girls like Mary, who dreamt of becoming a botanist when all that grew in East London were weeds?
Protect his family, or give the girls of Bethnal Green something to help lift themselves out of the endless cycle of poverty? Could he do both? No one’s life was more precious than another’s, and their value had nothing to do with where they lived or who their parents were.
Caring for his mother and sister was his sacred responsibility. This wasn’t a kind world for females, even ones of gentle birth, and so it fell to him to ensure Maeve and his mother’s safety and happiness. Yet could he say that they were more significant and worthwhile than these girls in this shabby room? It smacked of more hypocrisy to pick one over the other.
He stopped abruptly and swung to face Lucia, who watched him with a mixture of expectation and dread. He had to find a way to both safeguard his family’s security and give the Bethnal Green girls some way to escape the grinding millstone of poverty.
“The club,” he said after a long moment, “will remain open.”
Her shoulders sagged and she let out a jagged breath. “Grazie Dio.”
“But no one can ever know,” he said firmly. “If there is even ahintof scandal, the establishment is shut immediately. Do I make myself clear?”
She nodded. “Your father’s secret was safe for over a decade. We’ll keep your confidence with the same certainty.” She took a cautious step toward him, her arms open. “Might I?”
He almost laughed. They’d done wonderfully carnal things with each other, learned every inch of their bodies, and created unfathomable pleasure. They’d known each other for over a year. In a way, they were strangers, yet they were so much more than that.
In answer, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. The sensation of Lucia in his embrace shot through him like liquor, heady and hot. Her curved, soft form pressed into his tightness, and knowing that she’d forged herself into a creature of great strength and great heart made the feel of her all the sweeter.
Yet he realized something. “You’re in my employ.”
She stiffened. “I had forgotten.” She stepped back, breaking the embrace, and he felt the loss like a physical wound.
“We can’t forget.” He’d not take advantage of their unbalanced power.
“I wish I could.” Her gaze skimmed across his mouth. “I want to kiss you.”
He smothered a growl. “I want that, too. But it can’t happen.”
A fraught moment passed when he remembered her taste with perfect clarity.
Finally, she said, “The girls need me.”
“So they do,” he said evenly.
