The Illicit Love of a Courtesan. Jane Lark

and bulbous nose. But despite his age and weight he could still move quickly when he wished. Tonight he did not wish, he stood slowly, making no effort to do Lord Edward’s bidding.

      “Don’t be ridiculous, boy. I am a Viscount. I have no need to cheat.” Gainsborough’s voice welled with ridicule. He knew this game. Act the aggrieved. Turn the accusation back upon the accuser. Be above reproach, and you are. She had watched him play it numerous times.

      “Yet still, I ask you to remove your coat, my Lord, and prove your innocence, if it is so.” Lord Edward’s eyes searched their audience then and settled on a man similar to him in age. “Find Madam, have her bring her brutes and we will sort this out.” The other man instantly disappeared obeying the request.

      “You are talking nonsense, Marlow. I refuse to be challenged like some damned guttersnipe! Come, my dear, we’re leaving.” Painfully gripping Ellen’s arm Lord Gainsborough turned her away. “My man of business will contact you, Marlow. Then you will settle your debt.” As Gainsborough thrust the words sideward over his shoulder, his grip steered her into the parting crowd.

      “You played me false, Gainsborough! You’ll wait until it’s proven!” Lord Edward’s voice resonated throughout the room, a barked order carrying no deference for Lord Gainsborough’s seniority in age and status.

      Irate voices rose, supporting Lord Edward, “Yes, Gainsborough!”

      “Take off your coat!”

      “Prove it!”

      The crowd grew, closing the avenue before Ellen. Lord Gainsborough’s hand fell from her arm as he turned back. She knew he was starting to realise he was not going to win so easily this time.

      A swell of satisfaction stirred in Ellen’s chest. Revenge would be another sin to add to her list of many, but it tasted sweet, even if the victory was minor and he’d no knowledge of her part.

      The crowd about them parted again for the gaming-hell’s tall, slender, aged and highly painted female proprietor to forge a path towards them. Ellen was aware of two of Madam’s burly doormen moving behind her.

      “Lord Gainsborough? What is this accusation? My house is honest. Please, if you have done nothing wrong, you shall not mind removing your coat.”

      Gainsborough took a breath and then snorted, scoffing at the crowd, apparently casting them all fools. But he was cornered, he could do nothing but concede.

      Slipping the buttons of his double-breasted evening coat free, he looked at Ellen, growling, “Woman, help me!” before turning his back to her and holding out one arm. “Tug the sleeve loose.” He threw her a warning look over his shoulder as he spoke. She understood it exactly. He expected her to hide the cards.

      Afraid. Her heart thumped. Gripping his cuff in fingers and thumb, Ellen felt the cards hidden within his sleeve, but she refused to help him. She loosened his cuff from his hand then let go and lifted hers to ease the coat from his shoulders. The cards fell to the floor and she gasped to make it appear accidental, but the sound was lost amidst the outburst of the watching crowd. They shouted in shock and disgust, a burst of masculine irritation.

      This would cost her. Their battlefield had revised and her involvement was too visible, but she was not letting Lord Gainsborough crush her first assault.

      Gainsborough’s anger and accusation struck her as he looked back, and she stepped back, afraid he would strike her physically, her heart pulsing as panic turned her stomach to ice.

      “As I told you,” The statement of vindication turned Gainsborough’s attention to Lord Edward, “the winnings are mine, Gainsborough. The question is what should I request in compensation for not handing you to a magistrate?” Lord Edward’s steel like gaze passed from Lord Gainsborough to her and a wicked smile played on his lips. Her heart missed a beat. What was he doing?

      His gaze passed back to Lord Gainsborough. “Give me the woman in consolation.”

      “For an hour, no more,” Lord Gainsborough barked.

      Ellen blushed. They were bartering over her as they would over horseflesh. Another piece of her died. Men had taken her self-respect as well as her body. They were arguing over the vessel, not her, not the living, breathing, feeling woman within it.

      “Two hours and you may keep your stake beyond what is on the table.”

      Ellen opened her mouth to protest and closed it again. What good would it do? They did not care for her. Her eyelids falling over the moisture in her eyes, she drew a breath. She’d helped Lord Edward—he was hurting her. The cost of her involvement had just tripled.

      “You agree?” Lord Edward prompted.

      “I agree,” Lord Gainsborough snarled.

      Because there was no other choice, Ellen thought, not willingly. Her manipulator had met his match, and she’d given Lord Edward the means to make this manoeuvre. Even her satisfaction in seeing Lord Gainsborough beaten at his own game was hollow. It was earned at her expense. She was a fool.

      “Madam, we need a room,” Lord Edward ordered, soiling the images Ellen had appreciated earlier. This is hell, not heaven. I want choice not coercion.

      The air escaped her lungs and Ellen opened her eyes.

      He stood barely a foot away, facing her, watching her intently.

      He was taller than he’d seemed when seated, a good seven to ten inches taller than her. He towered over her. His appearance was no longer impressive, but imposing.

      She’d thought him authoritative before, now she knew him to be overwhelmingly commanding. Fear grasped her more tightly.

      “Please follow me, Lord Edward.” Madam Marietta beckoned with her fingers.

      Without speaking, he lifted his arm, a look of steel daring her to refuse to accept it. Compelled by his will alone, Ellen laid her fingers on his coat sleeve. The gentle weight of his other hand covered them, as though fearing she would run he urged her to stay. The impression it conjured up in her head was a knight in shining armour, like the heroes in the fairy tales she’d read as a girl.

      But this was no act of chivalry.

      He was no saviour of a lady’s virtue.

      He had just bartered with another man for the use of her body! He was no rescuer come to release her from Gainsborough’s evil grip. I should not long to lean on his strength.

      Yet, the strength beneath her fingers and the assurance implied in the hand resting on her own sent warmth running into her blood. It suggested security—constancy. Like the scent of fresh bread stirring hunger, his touch set alive silly speculating notions in her head—dreams—desires for a happy-ever-after that could never be.

      Silent, Ellen found herself guided in Madam’s wake. She knew instinctively all eyes were on her back and she felt Lord Gainsborough’s burn between her shoulder-blades, imagining them narrow with anger and calculating revenge. Her courage failing her, Lord Edward’s aura of undaunted power kept her walking as they crossed two rooms in which Madam’s customers played at tables. The attention they drew apparently did not disturb him. But when they reached the hall as if sensing her fear, his arm fell away from beneath her hand and instead his fingers gently but firmly gripped hers.

      “I would rather not go upstairs, Madam. Have you a private parlour we could use down here?” While he spoke his fingers squeezed Ellen’s, as though offering the comfort and reassurance her spirit craved.

      The temperate strength gripping her hand unsettled her, setting speculation whispering through her head again. He is not my rescuer.

      Marietta hesitated, looked aloft, and then clearly thinking quickly, she held forth a hand encouraging them to follow her around the foot of the stairs and along a narrow hallway. There she opened a door. “This is my own sitting-room. No one will disturb you here, my Lord. Is there anything I may bring you?”

      When they entered the room, Lord