“I did sir, I have. Only I cannot now.”
“It is common for a mistress to take a new lover.” His voice held an edge.
“I know that, sir, only I did not . . . I did not choose this, sir. I am being?—”
“Surely you would rather live a life of comfort than a life of labor?” he insisted.
“I would rather heap dung in a field than bed you, sir!” she burst without thinking and immediately regretted her words, trying in vain to undo the damage. “That is, I did not mean?—”
“I heard exactly what you meant,” he snarled. “Yet you willingly bedded another. Tell me, did he pay you so well you now eschew my offer? You have yet to even hear what I am willing to give you in exchange for my pleasure. You dismiss me outright, before you have even looked upon me.”
“Because you’ve not permitted me to look at you, sir.” She was angered, her fear fast becoming rage. “You hide behind a screen like a coward, ordering me about as if I were already your slave and not a person of free will. Am I to think this bodes well for an agreement, sir? Am I to assume you’d treat a mistress with any decency at all if this is how you treat me now?”
His breath hissed, she could hear it, though she remained with her back to him still, refusing now to look at him, for she doubted very much this was Redstocking.Hewas too controlled to hide behind a screen; he’d have shown his face by now, unabashed. No, this was someone else, which meant she was in uncharted territory . . . and even greater danger.
“I’m a coward, eh?” The man’s voice turned ominous. “I rather thinkyou’rethe coward, Charlotte, for not giving me a try.” He let his words sink in. “I think we ought to test the waters now and see if we suit. After all, you might enjoy me in bed, as you enjoyed your last keeper.”
“He was not my keeper, he was my lover, damn you!” She squeezed her eyes tight and balled her fists to keep from punching him.
“Ah.” His voice softened. “You fell in love, I see. It is never wise to let one’s heart grow attached, Charlotte. Perhaps you are not mistress material after all.”
“No, I am not,” she bit back. “So I would beg you, sir, let me go!”
“Only I can’t, Fox, not now when I’ve only just found you, my love.”
In a flash he enveloped her body, pressing her face to his chest as she froze. She knew at once it was him—the scent of him, feel of him—and she wanted to scream and cry and laugh all at once. Instead, she pushed him from her, livid.
***
“You.” Her eyes flew open, piercing him, and Wells was suddenly unsure.
“Charles, love . . .” He reached for her.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” She trembled with . . . fury?
“Let me explain,” he told her calmly.
“I need no explanation, Wells.” She was breathing so heavily she struggled to speak, rage washing like a tidal wave across her face. “It is enough to know you have yet again coerced me into servitude, that you have tracked me down, deceiving and threatening me into believing . . .” She broke off, beginning tovisibly shake. “Howcouldyou?” she shouted as tears began to fill her eyes. “How could you be so beastly? To mock me now, to reduce me to such abject . . . !”
She could not finish the thought, the hurt in her eyes so raw Wells flinched. Yet he’d not give up now.
“Charles, sit with me a moment and let me explain. It is not how it appears, truly. You were never in any danger of?—”
“Never in any danger?” Her eyes grew wider still. “You mean you planned this,knewthe situation I was in?” He watched her thoughts race. “How long have you known where I was, where I worked? How long have you been in London, sir?”
“Charles, if you will allow me to explain everything I can assure you it will all make sense. Please?—”
“I don’t want your explanation, Wells.” She was shouting at him. No, yelling. “I want out. I want out of this room, away from this place, away fromyou!”
He scooped her up in one fluid motion, knowing there was nothing more he could say. He flung her over his shoulder and pounded on the door, which was immediately unlocked, and then he carried her—a wet, struggling heap—down the hall, down the long stairs, and out the front door to his waiting carriage. He deposited her upon the seat, rapped twice upon the roof, and the carriage lurched forward, hurtling off into the night.
He had her. That was all that mattered. For now.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Are you ready to hear me now?”
Wells was poised at any moment to prevent Charles from flinging herself from the moving carriage. She remained drawn into a ball and curled into a corner of the carriage seat across from him, wrapped in naught but a thin robe over her wet shift, her red-gold locks damp about her shoulders.
