turned to stealing?
“Then what was your crime, love?”
Murder
. She couldn’t tell him that. “I didn’t steal from her. I just escaped.”
“For her to pursue you, she would have to want something from you. Or want revenge.”
He might not be able to see, but he was astute and intelligent, and she was gasping with panic, trying to come up with a plausible story. Not the truth—not the fact that she had discovered that Madame Sin had kidnapped three young girls and was going to auction off their innocence. The thought of those frightened girls had snapped something inside Anne. She had found the room where they were held prisoner and had picked the lock.…
She couldn’t tell the duke any of this. She had no idea how many details had made their way into the news sheets. But she had to give him a reason for her flight that he would believe. “My madam kept us like prisoners.”
“Prisoners? You mean you were not allowed outside?”
She heard the skepticism in his voice. “No, not ever. My madam thought we would run away. She kept us locked up until we understood there was no real escape.”
The duke scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I was kept prisoner at one point by the French. A singularly unpleasant experience. You have my sympathies. But that’s not all, is it?”
Warring emotions burst in her. A flood of warmth and hope at his gentle tone. And deeper, colder fear. “It is. W-when I escaped, I proved it was possible. Obviously other girls might follow. Our madam would lose her control. Her power.”
How Madame had relished the power she held over them all. Anne remembered the madam’s smirk of triumph as Mick Taylor, Madame’s bodyguard, dragged Anne and the girls into the brothel’s private offices. Madame had threatened that Anne would be given to the clients who enjoyed whipping their women and causing pain. She had slapped the youngest, then threatened the eldest, Violet, warning that she would be sent to the most brutal clients too. Anne had pulled the frightened girls to her skirts, determined not to let them go. Madame had calmly drawn a pistol and pointed it at Violet’s head.
Let them go, Anne, you stupid fool
, she’d said,
or I will shoot that one between the eyes
.
Next thing Anne knew, the poker was in her hand, and she’d swung it with a roar of fury at the pistol. Madame lurched back and stumbled, and the poker slammed into her head—
“Cerise?” The duke set his coffee cup down carefully.
She took a deep breath. “I know my madam is capable of killing me, and I can only ask that you believe me. My madam doesn’t like to be thwarted. It would be nothing for her to pay a man to hunt me down and kill me.”
“Where do you come from, angel, with your lovely voice and your lady’s accent? How did you end up in a brothel?”
Oh, these were treacherous questions. The news sheets had used her “little duchess” nickname. She had to take care. She must distance herself from her past. “I lived in London’s stews, but I was born in the country. My mother was widowed and became a … a housekeeper. Then she lost her position and she brought me to Town to find work. I was very young, but I’d learned how to speak well.” This was all a fabrication.
“Did she end up in a brothel, angel, and bring you with her?”
“No, she worked as a seamstress. Eventually she died and I ended up in the brothel—I had nowhere else to go.” That was the truth.
Five years ago, a few nights after she had approached the duke outside the theatre, she had run out of money and had to go back to Drury Lane. She had approached another man, who turned out to be Viscount Rutley. Rutley hadn’t been as noble as the duke. He’d said he wanted her as his mistress. She had believed him—he gave her an allowance, enough money to pay for her mother’s laudanum. Then after only a few weeks, Rutley had grown bored with her. But instead of giving her a settlement, he’d handed her over to Madame
“Then what was your crime, love?”
Murder
. She couldn’t tell him that. “I didn’t steal from her. I just escaped.”
“For her to pursue you, she would have to want something from you. Or want revenge.”
He might not be able to see, but he was astute and intelligent, and she was gasping with panic, trying to come up with a plausible story. Not the truth—not the fact that she had discovered that Madame Sin had kidnapped three young girls and was going to auction off their innocence. The thought of those frightened girls had snapped something inside Anne. She had found the room where they were held prisoner and had picked the lock.…
She couldn’t tell the duke any of this. She had no idea how many details had made their way into the news sheets. But she had to give him a reason for her flight that he would believe. “My madam kept us like prisoners.”
“Prisoners? You mean you were not allowed outside?”
She heard the skepticism in his voice. “No, not ever. My madam thought we would run away. She kept us locked up until we understood there was no real escape.”
The duke scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I was kept prisoner at one point by the French. A singularly unpleasant experience. You have my sympathies. But that’s not all, is it?”
Warring emotions burst in her. A flood of warmth and hope at his gentle tone. And deeper, colder fear. “It is. W-when I escaped, I proved it was possible. Obviously other girls might follow. Our madam would lose her control. Her power.”
How Madame had relished the power she held over them all. Anne remembered the madam’s smirk of triumph as Mick Taylor, Madame’s bodyguard, dragged Anne and the girls into the brothel’s private offices. Madame had threatened that Anne would be given to the clients who enjoyed whipping their women and causing pain. She had slapped the youngest, then threatened the eldest, Violet, warning that she would be sent to the most brutal clients too. Anne had pulled the frightened girls to her skirts, determined not to let them go. Madame had calmly drawn a pistol and pointed it at Violet’s head.
Let them go, Anne, you stupid fool
, she’d said,
or I will shoot that one between the eyes
.
Next thing Anne knew, the poker was in her hand, and she’d swung it with a roar of fury at the pistol. Madame lurched back and stumbled, and the poker slammed into her head—
“Cerise?” The duke set his coffee cup down carefully.
She took a deep breath. “I know my madam is capable of killing me, and I can only ask that you believe me. My madam doesn’t like to be thwarted. It would be nothing for her to pay a man to hunt me down and kill me.”
“Where do you come from, angel, with your lovely voice and your lady’s accent? How did you end up in a brothel?”
Oh, these were treacherous questions. The news sheets had used her “little duchess” nickname. She had to take care. She must distance herself from her past. “I lived in London’s stews, but I was born in the country. My mother was widowed and became a … a housekeeper. Then she lost her position and she brought me to Town to find work. I was very young, but I’d learned how to speak well.” This was all a fabrication.
“Did she end up in a brothel, angel, and bring you with her?”
“No, she worked as a seamstress. Eventually she died and I ended up in the brothel—I had nowhere else to go.” That was the truth.
Five years ago, a few nights after she had approached the duke outside the theatre, she had run out of money and had to go back to Drury Lane. She had approached another man, who turned out to be Viscount Rutley. Rutley hadn’t been as noble as the duke. He’d said he wanted her as his mistress. She had believed him—he gave her an allowance, enough money to pay for her mother’s laudanum. Then after only a few weeks, Rutley had grown bored with her. But instead of giving her a settlement, he’d handed her over to Madame
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