Page 118 of Three Weeks with a Princess
The woman looked perplexed, as if she’d forgotten something. “Perhaps. We’ll have to see what my customers are willing to pay.”
“Who are you?” Lia asked. “And what in God’s name are you talking about?”
The woman’s full lips parted into a smug grin. “I’m the owner of this little establishment and you and your friend are going to be the evening’s entertainment.”
“Do you mean a . . . private theatrical?” Lia cautiously asked, vainly hoping that such would be the case. Though it must be one of a salacious nature, perhaps she and Amy could still negotiate some way out of this.
“She’s a bawd, Miss Lia,” Amy said in a grim tone. “And this is a brothel.”
“That’s right,” said Prudhoe. “And we’re going to sell you both to the highest bidders.”
Lia couldn’t help laughing. “Youmustbe joking.”
He shoved his face a few inches from hers. “We’re going to sell you off as whores to the highest bidders and make a very pretty penny, I assure you.”
Her stomach cramped from the stench of his gin-soaked breath and a surge of horror.
“You’re a dead man if you go through with this,” she said, trying to keep calm. “Lord Lendale will kill you, unless the other men in my family get to you first.”
“Lendale. You mean the marquess?” Mrs. Grace asked in a suddenly concerned tone.
Prudhoe straightened. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You have a great deal to worry about,” Lia said. She frowned at Mrs. Grace. “Did he not tell you who I am?”
The madam threw a wary glance at the baronet. “You said she was an actress, newly arrived in town.” She pointed at Amy. “And this one was a dancer and a whore, so no one would think twice if she went missing.”
“Which is exactly true,” Prudhoe said through clenched teeth.
“I’m not an actress,” Lia said. “Although my mother is. She’s Marianne Lester. Surely you’ve heard of her. She’s quite the most popular actress in London—perhaps in all of England.”
Mrs. Grace went white under her palette of rouge. “What did you say your name is?”
“Lia Kincaid, of the Notorious Kincaids. So notorious, in fact, that a great many peoplewillnotice if I go missing.”
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Prudhoe shouted.
Lia couldn’t entirely suppress a smile as she met the baronet’s infuriated gaze. “Did Sir Nathan also neglect to tell you that I’m betrothed to the Marquess of Lendale? The wedding ceremony is to be held later this week at the Duke of Leverton’s house.” She transferred her focus to the brothel owner, who looked ready to faint with horror. “The Duchess of Leverton is my cousin. Perhaps you’ve heard of her, too.”
Mrs. Grace seemed to be choking on her own tongue. A few seconds later, she recovered herself, and then all hell broke loose.
* * *
Amy touched Lia on the shoulder. “How long do you figure it’s been?”
Lia shifted on the unforgiving floorboards, trying to find a more comfortable position. Sighing, she gave up and used the wall to push herself to her feet. Her head throbbed and her body ached, but she worried much more about Amy. Dragging them upstairs to this gruesome little bedroom, one of their captors had banged the poor girl’s face on a banister, splitting open the skin above her eyebrow. She was dreadfully pale and had already retched once into a heavy chamber pot Lia found under the bed.
“Not yet an hour, I think.” Lia grimaced and stretched, trying to relieve the cramped muscles of her back.
“Miss Lia, you take the chair. You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor.”
Lia gently pushed her down onto the seat. “I’m fine. Just rest while I try to think of some way out of this mess.”
“Good luck with that,” Amy said, casting a morose glance around the room.
Lia had already gone over their prison twice, looking for a weapon or means of escape. Aside from the ratty old bed, its linens so wretched that neither Lia nor Amy would sit on it, there was only the chair, a small battered table, one branch of candles, and the chamber pot. The lack of a window meant no means of escape but for the door, which was locked. They had their wits as their weapons, and so far they’d not had much luck with them either.
“What do you suppose is going on down there?” Amy asked.
