To look at the former courtesan, one could see how she might have been alluring at one time with her dark upswept hair, but there was also a certain hard glint in her dark eyes that told of her experiences and not all of them had been kind. He would have felt pity for her if she wasn’t so calculating. “I lured you here this evening because I started to consider the prospect of your… generosity toward Miss Davies, and I wonder if that might be extended?”
Money. Of course, it was always about money. And this wasn’t the first time that someone had attempted to tempt Drake away from his sizeable coffers. However, it was the first time that something he actually wanted to keep was on the line.
He exhaled a plume of smoke, allowing it to filter into the lady’s face. It wasn’t exactly the cut direct but it proved that he wasn’t one to be moved by idle threats. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” he drawled.
“Come now,” she cajoled, waving away the cloud. “I know that you must have some sort of fascination with Miss Davies or you wouldn’t have paid such a high price for her. My question is, how much more would you be willing to pay to ensure her safety?” She paused. “Or that of her dear brother?” She blinked in a coquettish way. “You know how much he means to her, don’t you?”
He grinned tightly. “How is Flavian doing these days?”
“Quite well.” She nodded. “I am doing my best to turn him into an exceptional lover, but I fear we have a long way to go. He is so immature.” She clucked her tongue and moved closer to him. “Not like us, Mr. Porter. We have both experienced much of the world. I’m sure I am making myself clear enough now.”
He lifted a brow. “Indeed. However, I have heard that your grand following has dwindled recently, most notably after the release of your memoirs.”
She nearly lost her composure. However, she managed to keep herself together when she countered with, “Make no mistake. I am more than capable of gaining what I want thanks to your kind consideration during the auction. If need be, I will use it all to rip you to shreds to gain what I want.”
Drake narrowed his gaze, because he knew the woman finally spoke the truth. When desperation entered the fray, it was proof there was nothing left to lose. For Miss Wilson, she had reached that point, whereas Drake had suddenly found something he didn’t want to give up just yet.
He ground out the cheroot beneath his heel. “Name your price.”
She smiled brilliantly. “I do enjoy a profitable discussion.” She appeared to think for a moment but Drake knew it was all a ruse. He guaranteed that she had already thought of a sum the moment the auction had ended. “Shall we say another five thousand pounds?”
Drake didn’t bat an eyelash. He had the blunt to cover it. What he didn’t care for was her eagerness to take it off of his hands when he’d done everything to gain his wealth—by whatever means necessary.
Apparently, he wouldn’t be turning over a new leaf just yet.
“I admit that you are bold.”
“I can be much more,” she returned coyly, but Drake wasn’t interested in anything else she might have to offer. He just wanted to be rid of her. For good.
“I’ll pass,” he said flatly.
She frowned but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she returned to the previous topic. “Once I have the funds in my possession, I can promise that both Miss Davies and her brother are free of any further obligation to me. I might even move to Paris to live out the rest of my days.”
He snorted. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to do that now?”
She lifted a brow. “I will send word when I’m ready for the funds. Don’t disappoint me, Mr. Porter. I can be a strong ally—or a worthy adversary. It’s up to you which one you choose.”
With her parting words hanging in the air, she spun around and headed into the darkness.
Drake watched until she was lost to the night and then he lit another cheroot.
It appeared he would be making one more stop.
* * *
Fleur wasn’tsure what woke her, but she sat up in bed with her heart pounding in her chest. Struggling to catch her breath, she threw back the covers and stood.
Walking over to the window, she opened the pane and inhaled large gulps of the slight breeze that wafted inside the room. Although the days were still warm, the nights were starting to become cooler with the dawning autumn. Fleur had always loved the slight temperatures that the waning summer had brought to England. As she looked up at the dark sky, it showed the signs of moving storm clouds overhead. She had to appreciate the fresh scent that a new rain would bring. It cleansed all of the chimneys from their soot and the streets from the various refuse. It made everything new again.
She wished it might do the same for her. If only she could turn back the hands of time and keep her brother from going to that pub and exchanging hands with Mr. Porter none of this nightmare would have ever occurred. She would be back in Greenwich with Flavian and enjoying her students and happily oblivious to Harriette Wilson and the anger she had sent toward her brother before they were parted.
She feared for what he might be subjected to under the roof of such a woman. Fleur had been naïve to believe she might have held a charitable nature. The sting of her betrayal still felt heavy on Fleur’s chest. But she would forgive her all of her transgressions if Harriette would only look after her brother to ensure he didn’t get into trouble. Fleur knew she had allowed him too many freedoms but she was afraid that he might leave her and then she wouldn’t have anyone. She would be truly alone.
His faults could be laid at her feet and she would admit to every single one of them. They weren’t in this mess because of her brother. They were here because ofher. It had been Fleur’s decision to flee in the middle of the night and go to London to escape Mr. Porter. It wasn’t that she had been that terrified of what he might do, but rather how he had made her feel. She wanted to fall down into the depths of hell with him and that scared her more than words could say.
Fleur didn’t know how long she stood there and allowed the cool night air to envelop her, but as she was starting to close the window and go back to bed to try to get some sleep, she glanced down at the street and gasped. Standing and observing with the lit tip of a cheroot as the only light to be had, other than the gas lamp flickering softly, was the object of her fascination. Mr. Porter was looking up at her window, as if he could see her silhouette from the other side of the curtain.
Acting on impulse, she quickly slammed the frame of the window down and rushed back to the bed. She shivered, although she couldn’t say if it was from fear—or something else entirely.
