9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel Page 9

  Charles rushed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. The situation was far from over, but it all made sense now. Downsbury would have someone to cover his tracks and being friends with the prosecutor was just the way to keep the questions away. Well, that, and meddlesome lords from becoming suspicious.

  Chapter Seven

  Emily wandered in the garden, taking time to admire the pansies and roses Mrs. Simmons had planted years back.

  She often wondered what these great men did when they were home alone. Some of the time, she and the young ladies she gossiped with overheard the comings and goings of mistresses, or the men simply visiting the gambling hells or attending Madam Martine’s establishment, heard through their mothers’ gossip over tea.

  On one occasion, young Miss Willows divulged her take on the daily accounts of the local men, so her mother questioned her husband’s fidelity. When Mrs Willow’s followed him the one day, the driver happened to stop at Madam Martine’s. Her mother apparently bullied her way through the house until she found her husband in the throws with two women.

  The girls had all gasped at the horror and embarrassment of such a sight. They felt terrible for their friend, but as it were, six months later, Miss Willows had eloped to Scotland. No matter where Emily looked, there was scandal to be found everywhere. Last season with her brother, and now her ridiculous engagement to the Duke of Downsbury.

  She plucked a spotted daisy from its resting place, and pulled off its petals one by one. This whole marriage business could not have been a bigger farce. Soon, all of London would be addressing her as her grace, the Duchess of Downsbury, while she only wanted to blend in with the background. Emily did not belong in the circle of high society, much less know the first thing about entertaining politicos.

  And she would not tolerate her husband’s skirt chasing ways.

  While she was still a woman with no say in her husband’s coming and goings, the last thing she would accept was being the other woman. She did not want to be a broodmare for an overbearing prig, a disrespectful clod.

  Frustrated, she tossed the limp stem and returned indoors. The house had become quiet. Her mother was up to something. Some days, the woman was worse than a child.

  Emily happened upon her room and found her mother packing her trunks. “Mama, what are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? I am packing your trunks. We will be heading over to the duke’s manor for the remainder of your engagement. When you were off using the convenience before we left, he asked that I bring you as soon as I could. He has already managed to secure your own staff.”

  Emily shook her head with defiance. “Mama, you know I would never ask anything of you, but I think my supposed impending nuptials to the duke are a terrible idea. I would rather not become a duchess at all. Besides, it has not even been announced, and the clod has not even proposed.”

  Her mother straightened, standing there, mouth gaping wide. “You would rather you did not marry the duke!” she shrieked. “And who else do you think will offer for you? Lord Avonlea?”

  Yes! She desperately wanted to scream out, and technically, he already had. Was it so terribly wrong to want someone that felt so right? Propriety be damned. If she had to give up her station in the haute ton and be shunned for wanting her earl, then that is what she would do.

  “Listen to me, you ridiculous gel. You will marry the duke. The contract has been signed, and the nuptials are to take place in one month. You have no other option unless you fall ill and die from consumption. You will marry him, even if I have to drag you to the altar myself.” Her mother slammed the trunk closed and rang for a servant. “Have this brought down, immediately.”

  Then, she turned to Emily, scowling. “Once we arrive at your new home, I would highly recommend you have a bath and rest. You will need every moment of rest you can get. Tomorrow, we will begin shopping for your wedding dress and trousseau. In addition to picking out flowers and such. There is much to do, so do not tarry long.”

  Her mother turned and stomped her way out. How has my life spun so out of control? Is this how it had been for Nathaniel and Isabel?

  * * * *

  Downsbury poured over his accounts. He was nearly done paying off a great debt to Lord Bainbridge and his ridiculous loss. It was rather ingenious that he had struck an agreement with the Italian two years prior. Gold for women. All he had to do was pretend to carry on an affair, instruct them in carnal ways, give them some laudanum, and see them off on the boat.

  The arrangement had gone rather well, but the bloody foreigner wanted more women, and he could not find any with such frequency without being caught. But when he had sought the friendly assistance of William Sayers, Chief Prosecutor, they too had struck a bargain and divided the gains and the responsibilities of training the girls.

  His butler stood at the door and bowed. “My lord, Mr Sayers is here to see you. He said it was a matter of some urgency.”

  “Show him in.”

  “William.” The man had a long face, one that did not hold his usual optimistic demeaner. He normally took pride in the way he presented himself, but now, he appeared as though he had fallen into a barrel of whiskey.

  “Your grace.”

  “What has you in such a state? Your latest case?”

  “No. We have a problem, and his name is Lord Avonlea, the Earl of Bridgeton.”

  Downsbury let the ledger fall to his desk. “What are you talking about?”

  “His lordship was by the office earlier, inquiring about open cases of missing women. Do you think he is on to us?”

  Impossible. How can he even suspect? All the meetings with Travotelli were held in private at Martine’s and on the wharf. In addition, none of the girls would have spoken to anyone else as they were kept in wealth at William’s private townhouse. “This is very bad news for us. What do you intend to do?”

  “Me? Why should I do anything? This was your brainchild. I cannot simply have anyone arrested for asking questions, especially after I invited him into my office.”

  Blast that damned fool. I would like nothing more than to see his body sink to the bottom of the Thames! “Well if he’s already sought you out, I am certain he will try his luck here. Ensure you have a runner at your disposal. I will make sure we have a reason to have him arrested. We cannot have him running amok, spreading vile rumors about a respected member of the peerage.”

  The prosecutor snorted. “You go too far with that comment, your grace. After those dealings with the Marquess of Stoughton last season, there are many who are still wary of your legitimacy.”

  “Just make sure your girls are not talking, and all will be well. I will be ending this partnership just as soon as my debt is paid and I take full ownership of this asset overseas. All of this will be over in a snap.”

  “I truly hope you are certain. If my wife gets wind of this, she will have my bollocks served at the next dinner party.”

  “Well, if I were you, I would train your wife better. You know the way out. See that you do not visit me so often. If we are being watched, you are only giving them reason to follow you.”

  This will be over soon enough. The young Miss Thompson’s dowry would see to that, and the money he had stowed away would cover the price of procuring the establishment. He could gamble his heart away, fuck who he wanted, and gain a profit from the girls he kept on at the club.

  Life was about to improve. And no one, especially an earl, would stand in his way.

  The duke got up and walked toward the fireplace. He stared into the dark hollow, thinking of nothing, until a knock at the door roused his attention. “What is it now?” He craned his neck to find the chief prosecutor standing there. “What more could you possibly have to say?”

  “I just thought of something… Perhaps we could look into his time serving for the war office. I am sure we will be able to uncover something from his past. Leverage is what we need, and digging up a secret is the solution.”

  Ric
hard paused. The man has a point.

  “Well, you have all the connections that you frequently boast about. Find out what you can, and I will do the same. Someone has got to know of his time passed on the continent.”

  And when you have finally figured out what is happening, it will be too late.

  * * * *

  Avonlea waited until no one else was left outside the duke’s palatial home. Charles was impressed and stumped as to how the duke managed to keep the manor, considering his finances had taken a bit of a dive last year. How on earth did he manage to keep cash flowing in? Unless he really was selling women on the side to the Italian man.

  Charles still had much to prove, but luckily, he had convinced Wycliffe to hire someone and seek out the foreign accomplice. With a little luck, and God on their side, they would be able to verify who the man was and where exactly the women ended up.

  He approached the door and pounded on it. When it opened, he was met with an ogre of a butler, and a surprised duke.

  “What can I do for you, Lord Avonlea?”

  The earl ground his teeth, trying to bite back any profane language. “I desire a private audience with you.”

  “Very well, if you will follow me.” Downsbury turned to the butler and sneered, “You know what you must do.”

  Now, what in the world was is supposed to mean?

  Avonlea followed the dolt until they were in his expansive library. He doubted very much the man read anything other than the label of a brandy bottle, but he would soon find out.

  “So what is it that you desire to speak of? And be quick about it. My bride arrives today, and we have a wedding to plan.”

  The word bride rolling of the duke’s tongue made Charles want to vomit, violently. “I find it hard to believe the chief prosecutor hasn’t called yet. Surely, you know why I am here.”

  “I do not, nor do I care. The only reason why I even permitted you to step foot in my house was to deliver my own warning. Stay away from Emily. Do not think for one moment I have not talked to Lady Thompson in great lengths over your distasteful and disrespect manner of reproach. The girl is to be my wife, and I have no hesitation of disposing the problem at hand.”

  “And what problem is that?”

  “You.”

  Rage blinded him. The most urgent need to put a hole in the man’s black heart became a necessity. “Me?”

  “Do not play me for a fool. I have heard of your spectacle at the magistrate’s office, and I know of you spending the night at the marquess’ home when my fiancée was there. I am not a man to be trifled with.” The duke rose from his seat and smirked. He walked around his desk and seated himself at the edge, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Nor I. And I will warn you once and for all, if I track back missing women sold on the continent to you, or the prosecutor, you are both finished. Do tell me one more thing before I see myself out.”

  His eyebrows rose with a speculating glare. “And what would that be?”

  “What exactly will you do with Emily once you are bored of her? Will you ship her off to the country as you did your previous duchess, or will you sell her to some Italian brothel? The evidence is stacking, your grace, and you are running out of time before you are caught.”

  The duke simply sat there and laughed. “I think, once I have plucked her virginity, which I imagine might be tonight when the entire house is asleep—she is after all, due for an education—I might share her with the prosecutor.

  “Once we have married and her dowry is mine, I just might sell her. I suppose I should have waited until you were carefully stowed away at Newgate before sharing this, but I must add, even with the small tits she has, I am sure she will make many a man happy. And guess what, there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it, because you will be hanged for treason. You are an embarrassment to the war office. Smoke houses and fallen doves? Is it any wonder why you have not been found out yet?”

  Charles clenched his fists. Fury raging beneath the surface and the sudden urge to commit a murder was prevalent. He bound from his seat, flying over the desk, and tackled the duke to the marble floor. Straddling Downsbury as the cold marble bit into his kness, he swung his fist back and struck several times.

  The duke wheezed and coughed.

  Rough hands pulled Avonlea back. He fought them off but to no avail, finding himself hauled off the bastard.

  Downsbury struggled to his feet. “That is enough, Lord Avonlea. A runner is already here to take you to jail, and I suspect you will be detained for quite some time.”

  “You will pay for this!” The earl yelled, kicking at the men holding him back. “If you harm one hair on her head, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

  “And how do you suppose you will do that when you are in prison for accosting a highly regarded member of the peerage, you idiot? The closest thing you will get to murder is a rat, and that will be for dinner. Take him outside and throw him into the carriage at gunpoint. I will not have him frightening the ladies when they arrive, which should be any time now.”

  “This is not over, Richard.” Charle’s hand throbbed and his head pounded as if he had drunk himself into a stupor. Bile rose from his stomach.

  The Duke of Downsbury smirked. “Where have I heard that before?”

  The damned fool does not even realize this will only be the beginning.

  Chapter Eight

  From the moment Emily and her mother had set foot in the duke’s manor, there was an air about the place that something had transpired before their arrival. The duke had not joined them for dinner, and the servants diligently attended to her and mother as if they were royalty. Something was certainly amiss, but she was grateful in every regard that he had not visited her bedchambers last night as he had threatened previously.

  For whatever had kept him away had to be of great import or trouble. Her thoughts wandered to what else he might be doing. Perhaps the rake had gone off seducing another society lady, for which she was eternally thankful for. Ever since her dealings with Avonlea, she had not been able to think of anyone else but him.

  When her maid entered her chambers to assist with her disrobing, Emily only inquired about his grace’s well being. “Is his grace well?”

  The young woman flushed and lowered her head. “If I may be so bold…”

  “Go ahead. We are alone here, and I will not say a word to anyone else.”

  As the maid undid the back lacings of Emily’s corset, she whispered, “His grace had a visitor earlier this evening. A Lord Avonlea, or something to that effect. The master and he argued, and they fought. The gent was then carried out and taken to jail by a runner. It was quite terrible. The other servants are worried for you and your safety with his grace. Things were overheard of the sordid type, and while no one will explain to me what was said, I want to caution you.”

  Good heavens! Jail? What in the world happened? Emily fought tears back fiercely, pressing her handkerchief to the corners of her eyes. She could not let the whole household know how deep her affections were for Charles.

  “You are safe to tell me what kinds of things were said. It is pitiful enough I do not wish to be married to him, but if he means to cause harm, I will not stay. If I asked you to help find Lord Avonlea, would it be too much of an inconvenience?”

  “Certainly not, ma’am. A few of the others will, too, if I ask them.”

  “Perfect. For now, if anyone should inquire on my taking visitors, let them know I am unwell. My mother and the duke included. I am even willing to take a draught or something to help pass the time asleep. I also would like some assistance in slipping away to see Lord Avonlea. Mama is planning a trip to town to visit the dressmaker, so if there is a way for me to slip out, I would like to know.”

  “I will see what can be arranged. My brother occasionally works for the runners. Mayhap, he will be able to assist. It would not be the first time he has helped with something unofficial. Before I leave ma’am, you should know—I have o
nly been employed here for a short period, but it is my understanding the master is very horrible man.

  “The servants have mentioned to steer clear, most especially when he has men over late in the evenings. Had the previous duchess been warned, perhaps she might have been saved. Such a tragedy, really. Did you know, she was rumored to be with child?”

  The maid curtsied and took her leave in silence. While it was appreciated to be left to her thoughts, the chatty woman could have stayed for a bit longer.

  Slipping into her warm bed, Emily wondered how long it would before she escaped the manor. Nathaniel could only hide her for so long before she was found out, so going to him would be out of the question. There has to be another way.

  What she would do to know what they argued about. Surely it was about her, but there had to be more. Charles affections for me cannot be the only reason why. What hold did the duke have over Charles? More importantly—was he injured? Good God! She could not even begin to fathom the discomfort he must be experiencing right now. He deserved so much more. Would this madness never end? Just how low would the duke stoop to set an example?

  Maybe the answer to this predicament was to prove his grace mad. But how does one achieve such a feat, without being caught or comprimised? The unfortunate thing in all of this was that her mother would deny any allegations too. She would never believe her that the duke meant harm.

  * * * *

  Charles sat on the disgusting and slimy floor, wishing he had inflicted more pain on the duke. The wretched bastard would pay dearly for his crimes, and the moment the earl had proof of the whereabouts of those women, the duke’s life would be over.

  The heavy door down the hall opened and slammed shut. Prisoners hollered obscenities while others rattled the bars of their confines.