The madam’s eyes were narrow and angry. Much was allowed a rich nobleman, but even in a brothel there were limits. As the footman untied the weeping woman, the madam scooped up the gold and waved the Frenchman out of the room with the pistol. “Get out, and don’t ever come back. We don’t want your kind here.”
Shrugging, he left the bedchamber. The little episode had restored his habitual calm by relieving the worst of his frustration. It had also been a pleasant rehearsal for what he would do to Diana Lindsay when he finally had her in his power.
Chapter Seventeen
Another week passed and there was still no word from Gervase. For the sake of her sanity, Diana clung to her belief that Veseul had just been trying to frighten her. Madeline had agreed when she had heard the story, though her brown eyes clouded with concern and she warned her friend to be very wary of Veseul. The warning was quite unnecessary.
Francis Brandelin began calling regularly and Diana guessed he was debating whether to confide in her. Whatever he decided, she enjoyed his company. He was amusing and intelligent and had a sensitivity rare in men. And though he was very different from his cousin, talking to him made Gervase seem closer.
This night was cold for July, and a steady drenching rain was falling when Diana was woken from a restless sleep by a soft footstep. Drowsily she asked, “Geoffrey?”
“No, damn you, not Geoffrey!”
The answer was harsh and angry and adult. Frightened awake, Diana sat bolt upright in the bed. An image of Veseul and his threatening black eyes flashed across her mind and she drew in her breath to scream for help. Her cry was cut off as the intruder seized her, one hand gripping her shoulder and the other clamping across her mouth as he said furiously, “It’s only me, the man who gave you this house! Or have you forgotten that?”
Perhaps he was mad, and that thought was even more terrifying. As Diana struggled, he continued. “I’m going to light a candle. Don’t scream when I let you go. If there is anyone in bed with you, I suggest he leave while I’m striking the flint, or by God, I’ll break his neck, even if he is half my age.”
When he released her, Diana slid across the bed away from him, her body tense with fear. The intruder took only a moment to strike the light, then turned to her with the candle in his hand. He was tall and thin, with the weathered face of a man in his late forties. His saturated greatcoat dripped onto her bed and gray streaks showed in his wet dark hair.
As she clutched the blanket around her, he recoiled, as shocked by her as she had been shocked by his stealthy entrance into her bedchamber. “Who the devil are you?” he snarled.
He might be angry, but he didn’t appear mad. His surprise caused her fear to subside and she said with credible calm, “Surely that is what I should be asking you.”
“Where is Madeline?”
“Here, Nicholas. I no longer sleep in this room.” The cool voice came from the doorway, where Maddy was a barely seen shape in the dim light, her dark hair in a heavy braid and her scarlet robe tightly belted around her. She spoke into the charged silence. “I heard you cry out, Diana. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied succinctly.
Madeline’s attention was on the intruder, and the room pulsed with tension. He took a step toward her, his voice a blend of fury and longing. “It really is you. . . .”
She raised a hand, cutting off his words. “If you wish to speak to me, this is not the place to do it.”
“If I wish to speak to you!”Once more the man seemed on the verge of explosion.
“Go back to sleep, Diana. There is nothing to fear,” Madeline said before she led the man from the bedchamber.
Diana gazed at the closed door.A courtesan should never fall in love with her protector.Her friend never spoke of the man who had inspired those words, but as Diana lay back against the pillows and tried to relax, she guessed that the mysterious protector had come back into his mistress’s life.
* * *
It was a short trip across the hall to Madeline’s chamber. After they entered, she took the candle from Nicholas’s hand and lit a lamp, then knelt on the hearth, adding fresh coal to the fire. As she stirred the embers, he said explosively, “Damn you, Madeline, look at me!”
Still kneeling, she raised her eyes to his. He was glaring, fury plain on his face. Fury, and desire. There had always been that between them.
It was a struggle to keep her voice calm. “How did you find me?”
“Melton saw you at the Cyprians’ Ball and wrote. He said you left with a boy young enough to be your son. I came to London as soon as I got his letter. I still have the key to the house.” He paused, then added with bitter accusation, “It was the only thing of yours I did have.”
“You frightened Diana.”
He crossed the chamber and bent over to grab her arm, pulling her to her feet. “To hell with your damned Diana! Where have you been these last three years?”
She tried to pull away, fearing the response his touch aroused, but he had her securely by both arms. His grip hurt, though not half so much as her heart. “I left London. I wouldn’t have returned if I hadn’t heard that you never came to town now.”
He put a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. “Everyone said not to fall in love with a whore, but I always said you were different. I even believed it.”
She could no longer avoid his green eyes, and her heart twisted at the pain visible as he asked harshly, “Where were you, and with whom? Or were there too many men to count?”
