Page 45 of Bedding the Marquess
Less than twohours later, Caroline and Emily were seated in the room which had once been Emily’s bedchamber. In the months since her marriage to Oliver, it had been cleaned out and transformed into an office complete with shelves of organized documents and books. Emily was about to begin reconciling the accounts and was busy selecting the proper book.
“Your mother is quite the most wonderfully fantastic person I’ve ever met,” Caroline gushed. Everything about the madame was over the top, from her elaborate hairstyle to her silk kimono robe imported from the Far East; she exuded confidence and no-nonsense.
“You would be in good company,” Emily replied distractedly as she continued her search. “Everyone she meets seems to find something about her they are drawn to.”
“I think it is how she is unapologetically herself,” she said thoughtfully.
“There it is!” Emily pulled the book from the shelf and opened it on the desk. She began setting up her quill, ink, and blotter. “Would you ask Mary to have some tea and sandwiches prepared? I’m feeling a bit peckish.”
“That happens,” Caroline said in commiseration. The women had shared several conversations about the symptoms of early pregnancy, the unbearable fatigue, the increase in one’s appetite, and the like. Emily still had not disclosed the pregnancy to her husband, but promised she would in just a few more weeks after she missed another of her cycles. “I shall go find her.” Caroline stood and shook out the skirts of her dove-gray gown. It was the simplest one she’d brought with her for her stay with Oliver and Emily; luckily, it was also the one that had the most pleating and extra fabric in the skirts. This allowed her greater freedom of movement but also reminded her that she would need to make even more adjustments to her wardrobe, and soon. A visit to the modiste would be in order since only two or three of her pieces still fit her. She’d already had to give up on stays altogether.
She found the maid to whom she’d been introduced earlier and passed along Emily’s request.
“She should return with a tray soon,” Caroline told Emily as they settled in. Overall, the brothel appeared relatively innocuous. Caroline had seen few of the public spaces, but what she saw was opulent and enticing. She wanted to explore more, but she thought she might have to save that for another time. The last thing she wanted to do was push things too far and never be invited back again. She was lost in a daydream of just what the pleasure rooms might look like when there was a knock at the door.
“I will go,” Caroline offered, noticing Emily was hunched over her numbers and lost in deep concentration. She was somewhat surprised to notice a man standing on the other side of the door. He was built like a bull with a barrel chest, round, dark eyes, and an oversized nose. Then, she remembered that Lady Night employed men as guards. Perhaps Mary had been waylaid by a task and this man was sent in her stead; he was,after all, carrying the tray of tea and sandwiches. She stepped aside and let him in. “In the office, please, if you don’t mind,” she said politely and left the door unlocked as she followed the silent, hulking man.
Emily looked up as they entered the room and she froze. The quill dropped from her fingers, leaving blots of ink across her orderly rows of numbers.
“Caroline…”
“What is it dear? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” She rushed over to Emily’s side and grasped her frozen fingers. Behind her, the man set the tray on a table with a slight clatter.
“I do not know that man,” she hissed beneath her breath.
“What?”
She squeezed Caroline’s fingers even tighter. “I do not know that man. And I know every employee.”
Ice seemed to seep from Emily’s hands into Caroline’s blood. “What are you saying?”
Slowly, Emily reached beneath the desktop. A small metallic click indicated something had been dislodged. “Run.”
Terror clogged Caroline’s throat, but she did as she was told without question. She turned and, hiking up her skirts, she bolted from the room. She was only able to avoid the bullish man because Emily threw a glinting silver blade in his direction. Unfortunately, no sooner had Caroline escaped the office than she ran into the chest of a second man so strong and solid that the collision nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
How? The door!
She’d left the door unlocked. Caroline fought even as the man’s arms closed around her in a vice-like grip. There was a shout and a bang from the office.Emily.Caroline continued to kick and flail, bashing her heels into the man’s bony shins several times before she finally connected with a kneecap. He dropped her with a grunt and she fell to her hands and kneeswith a painful thud that jarred her teeth in her skull. She attempted to crawl away, but a vicious hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked. She cried out in pain, reaching back to claw at the offending hand as it tugged painfully on her neck. She was opening her mouth to scream when a calloused hand clamped over her face. It covered her nose as well, making it nearly impossible to breathe, so she sank her teeth into the palm. The man bellowed and wrenched it away, but he also shoved Caroline to the side.
The front of her body collided with the low table in the parlor. Pain exploded behind her eyes and she collapsed dazedly to the ground. Acting only on instinct, she curled her body around her abdomen as the ache began to spread. Her belly was already sore and tender to the touch from the collision with the edge of the table. She was paralyzed with shock as the first cramp seized her.
Mercilessly, she was hauled up from the ground, a damp rag was shoved in her mouth, and her hands were bound so tightly that her fingers began to lose sensation. Despite flailing and scrabbling for purchase with every surface they passed, she and Emily were spirited down the back stairs of Lady Night’s, down an alley, and forced onto the floor of a covered carriage where they huddled together, bruised and battered, crying silent tears of fear and pain.
Chapter Nineteen
Gideon missed Carowith the furiousness of Odysseus and Penelope. He felt as if they were an ocean apart rather than in different neighborhoods of the same city. The tug on his heart was constant and undeniable, drawing him away from whatever he was attempting to accomplish and distracting him with Caroline’s absence.
He gradually came to terms with the fact that heneededher by his side as much as hewantedher there. More than the physical aspect of their marriage, more than simply sharing a bed with her, he missed the sound of her voice and her laughter. He longed for her to cast him an amused look out of the corner of her eye when something ridiculous was said. He wanted to see her each day to reassure himself that she was well—that the pregnancy was not too difficult on her.
Having made up his mind, he rifled through her desk and located a note with the address for Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Black. Excellent.
Less than an hour later, Gideon arrived at their home. The narrow building was a tidy brick building with colorful blooms framing either side of the front steps. It was remarkable how somewhere so innocuous could send his pulse racing. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it until that moment, but this was the first time he’d called upon his half brother and his wife at their home.
He and Caroline had hosted Emily and Oliver following the birthday celebration Caroline had planned, but this was different; this was Gideon inserting himself into their life, stepping past the threshold and into their sanctuary. They’d welcomed Caroline with open arms, but he knew firsthand how it was impossible to truly know her and not love her. Gideon’s presence was different. He and Oliver had formed the beginnings of a decent bond at Bray Castle, but would it carry over into their lives in London?
Oliver answered Gideon’s knock with swift efficiency. When the door opened, it was like peering into a full-length looking glass. The similarities between them never failed to unnerve Gideon those first few seconds upon meeting.
“Swanleigh,” Oliver greeted him, if not warmly, then at least pleasantly. Despite the progress they’d managed, Oliver seemed determined to hold Gideon at arm’s length, far enough that he was outside of striking distance…as if he were some venomous creature from the jungle. Not for the first time, he wondered when the man might begin to trust him. He couldn’t blame Oliver’s skepticism—not after everything he’d been through—but he hoped soon he’d understand that Gideon held no ulterior motives. He wanted only to know the family he had left, to form a relationship with the sibling who had been denied him for so many years. The odds of finding one another in London were astonishing, and yet they’d managed. Shouldn’t that be celebrated?
