Page 4 of In a Rake's Embrace
Now, she sat in the grand drawing room on the second floor ofAphrodite, a pleasure palace. The sheer opulence of the place was beyond anything her imagination had conjured. She had expected something gaudy and tasteless, but the reality was far more stunning—and unsettling. The four-story building radiated decadence. From the moment she stepped inside, her breath had been snatched away. The walls were draped with sumptuous tapestries, the ceilings painted with scenes depicting conquests and wild revelry.
The atmosphere hummed with life, unlike any country dance she had ever attended. On the ground floor, men in the finest fashion mingled with women dressed in exquisite gowns, their hair styled into elaborate coifs. The candlelight from the grand chandeliers above cast a golden glow over their forms. Couplesdanced to an orchestra’s tune, but there was something different—scandalous—about how the women leaned into their partners, how closely they moved together.
It had an air of elegance but felt undeniably ... forbidden.
Now, she waited in a smaller drawing room on the second floor, which, while still elegant, was furnished more simply. Velvet chairs and a fainting couch sat beneath a large, gilded mirror, reflecting the firelight that danced in the hearth. She fidgeted slightly; her hands clenched in her lap as dread pooled in her chest.
The door opened, and a woman entered with a confident sway. She appeared to be around forty years old, her face touched only lightly by time, with a few delicate lines around her eyes. Her dark blonde hair was piled high in an intricate style, adorned with jewels, and her gown—deep burgundy and scandalously low-cut—clung to her voluptuous frame, barely covering her ample bosom.
“By God, Albert, you were right. She’s a prize,” the woman said, her voice smooth as silk.
Her sharp gaze swept over Agatha as if she were appraising livestock.
Agatha stood and lifted her chin, determined not to show her fear. “I am Miss Woodville. Are you the person in charge here?”
The woman’s lips curled into a slow smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I am Madam Rebecca,” she said, her voice dripping with authority. “Smile, let me see your teeth.”
Agatha complied reluctantly, her jaw tight.
“Very good,” Madam Rebecca said, nodding approvingly. “Do you understand what is required of you?”
Agatha’s stomach clenched, but she refused to falter. “No.”
“You’re inAphrodite, a pleasure palace,” the madam said, her tone businesslike and condescending. “We cater to therefined tastes of high-society gentlemen. Whatever desires they have can be fulfilled within these walls.”
“So ... a brothel,” Agatha replied tightly, the word tasting like ash on her tongue.
“A brothel?” Madam Rebecca scoffed, raising an imperious brow. “That suggests a common house for lowborn women. I assure you, I am anything but common.”
Agatha had no reply. The sickening dread coiled tighter around her chest. This was the place her father had intended to send her sister.
“Your father owes my business partner a significant sum that must be paid tonight,” the madam continued, her voice cold and clipped. “I tried to negotiate an extension after I learned Mr. Woodville sent his daughter to repay the debt, but Mr. Wright refuses to delay further. It has already been extended three times, and his compassion will set a bad precedent. Do you understand what that means?”
Agatha’s throat tightened. “No. I have some money ... Could I speak to Mr. Wright to propose another arrangement? One that ... doesn’t involve me selling myself?”
The words felt scraped from somewhere deep inside her.
Madam Rebecca’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh? And how much money do you have?”
“I have sixty pounds,” Agatha said, desperation creeping into her voice, “and I can—”
“Two hundred pounds,” the madam interrupted.
The room seemed to tilt, and Agatha gripped the arm of the chair to steady herself. “Two hundred pounds?But the man who came to our home said the debt was eighty pounds.”
Madam Rebecca’s expression didn’t waver. “Interest,” she said. “One hundred and twenty pounds in interest.”
Agatha’s blood boiled with helpless fury. “Your business partner is a thief! How can the debt have more than doubled in such a short time?”
“I have nothing to do with the terms of the loan,” the madam said coolly. “That’s Mr. Wright’s concern. But I assure you, the full amount must be paid tonight, or your father will not live to see morning.”
Agatha felt as though the walls were closing in around her.
“Many of the ladies here prove their worth quickly,” Madam Rebecca added. “Please the right man and one might even take you as his mistress. It’s what many aim for. A life of comfort.”
“No,” Agatha whispered.
The madam’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Then Mr. Wright will be free to handle your father however he sees fit.”
