He didn’t like the glint in Kitty’s eyes. “What problem?”
“Primrose.” As his gut chilled, she said, “Now that she longer pays for herself, we can’t afford to keep her. To embark on my plan, we’ll need to cut all unnecessary expenses—”
“Primrose stays.”
“Be reasonable.” Kitty trapped his face between her palms, her beautiful face pleading. “This is our future we’re talking about.”
“Where will she go? She’s only four, for Christ’s sake. You can’t throw an innocent out on the street—”
“You and I are living proof that you can.” Kitty dropped her hands, her steely gaze pinning him. “I thought you were smarter than this.”
“I’ll pay her way,” he gritted out. “You don’t have to lift a finger.”
“Don’t fool yourself. You’re no hero, Corby.”
“I know that,” he snapped. “Just let her stay, and I’ll do what it takes to make your bloody plan work, all right?”
Kitty studied him, his heart pounding out the seconds.
“All right,” she said finally. “But if you can’t manage her, she goes.”
He gave a terse nod.
“Well, it seems we have a bargain. Best strike while the iron is hot.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I spoke earlier to a fellow traveler. A widow staying at this very inn.” Kitty smiled thinly. “As it turns out, she’s in need of consolation this eve.”
He knew then that he’d been had. From the start of the conversation, this was what Kitty had been angling for. But he couldn’t turn back… not with Primrose’s future hanging in the balance. And given how far down this path he’d gone, maybe the only choice was to soldier on.
What difference did it make anyway? Another customer, another fuck. He’d trained his body to go through the motions while his mind remained uninvolved. Detached. He could make a patron climax again and again while he planned for the day when he’d have his own club and determine his own future. When he shot his load, it would be to the ultimate fantasy: success.
So let them buy his cock, his hands, his mouth—hismindwas his own.
“After the fuck, I’m not sleeping with her,” he clipped out.
“I haven’t forgotten your rule, lover.” Now that she’d gotten her way, Kitty’s manner turned conciliatory. “You never sleep with customers. I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Widows can be clingy.”
“For the twenty pounds she paid, I told her she’d get an hour of your time and no more.”
He went to the battered washing stand and cleaned himself up. He did a final inspection in the cracked looking glass: the eyes that stared out of his youthful face were cool, flat. Ready.
Straightening his cravat, he turned to his bawd. “Take me to her.”
Chapter Six
Heart hammering, she raced down the shadowy corridor.
She didn’t know what she was running from, only that it was close, too close, and she needed to hide. She arrived at a dead end, three doors surrounding her: which one should she choose? She grabbed the closest handle, her clammy hands fumbling to get it open. Stumbling inside, she slammed the door shut.
Silence. Darkness. The carpet beneath her slippers was thick as a bog, slowing her clumsy steps toward a flickering in the distance. A fireplace? As she got closer, she saw the back of a massive wingchair. Someone was sitting there. Smoke rose in ghostly spirals, the distinct fruity scent churning her stomach.
A man’s disembodied voice floated to her. “Come here, my little flower…”
Sweat leaked down her palms; on shaky legs, she ran from the room, through another door.
