If He's Sinful. Hannah Howell

as well, may I?” Artemis frowned. “Why should I?”

      “Because they are my closest, most trusted friends and will protect my name as fiercely as they would their own.”

      “They will want explanations.”

      “Tell them they will get answers as soon as they join me here.” When Artemis still hesitated, Ashton added in a voice that held both command and counsel, “We shall need their help to get her out of here safely and unseen.”

      Artemis nodded and, after ordering the other boys to guard Ashton and Penelope, slipped out the window. There was barely a whisper of sound as the youth descended the outside wall and Ashton had to admire the boy’s skill. He sat down on the bed to await his friends and settled a limp Penelope on his lap.

      She felt right there, fit perfectly in his arms. Ashton heartily wished Clarissa fit so perfectly instead of this unknown girl. Not that he had actually embraced Clarissa yet. Worse, he found himself wondering if the hints of passion he had seen in her were born of his touch or the potion the madam had forced her to drink. It was not something that should concern him but he suspected he would be wondering about it for a long time. He also knew that he would soon question the veracity of the passion his past lovers had shown in his arms, few and far between though they were. Once a man began thinking of such things, he entered into a vicious circle of doubt.

      “Is she going to die?”

      Ashton looked at the small boy called Delmar. “No. She is just weakened by the potion given to her. It will loosen its grip upon her soon and she will be fine.” There remained a glint of doubt in the boy’s eyes and Ashton forced as much confidence as he could into his voice as he added, “Truly, your sister will fully recover from this.”

      “She is not my sister. She is my cousin. Stefan and Artemis are her brothers. The rest of us are her cousins.”

      “Ah, I had thought you all lived with her.”

      “We do. She takes care of us.”

      “All of you?”

      “Enough, Delmar,” said a boy who looked nearly as old as Artemis. “The man does not need to know our business.”

      “But, Stefan, I was just talking. I was being polite.”

      “No need of that, either. The man is not a guest in our home. Recall how we found him and what he was trying to do to Pen.”

      Delmar glanced at Ashton and then pressed his lips together. Ashton gave the boy a brief smile before looking at Stefan, Penelope’s other brother. “She will need to rest. The potion will flee her system but it may take hours to do so and, I believe, she will not feel well afterward. Is there someone who can care for her?”

      “We will.”

      Ashton was about to argue the ability of a pack of boys to care for a sick young woman when Artemis and the others slipped into the room. Brant was the first to reach his side and Ashton waited patiently while his friend studied Penelope and then looked over each of the boys. When Brant finally looked back at him and cocked one dark brow, Ashton sighed. He explained what had happened as quickly and plainly as possible.

      “So Mrs. Cratchitt’s is not quite the genteel establishment it pretends to be,” Brant said and then looked at the boys again. “Do you know how and why she was taken?”

      “Nay,” said Artemis and moved to braid Penelope’s hair. “She was late coming home. The ones who took her must have seen her as easy game.”

      Ashton exchanged a brief look with his friends. He knew the boy was not telling the truth. The expressions his friends wore told him they shared his suspicions. Penelope had secrets and the boys were holding fast to them. It was hard for Ashton to think they were dark or dangerous secrets, but having tasted the madness of a fierce lust, he was not sure he could trust his own instincts when it came to Penelope.

      “The problem now is how to get her out of here without anyone seeing her,” said Ashton. “She is incapable of walking out of here and will be for several hours yet. It is not simply to save her reputation, either. I have a strong feeling she was not brought here because Mrs. Cratchitt was on the hunt for new girls.”

      “Someone is coming for me tomorrow,” Penelope said, not surprised at how weak and soft her voice was. She was clutching tightly to a thin, fraying thread of consciousness. “She did not tell me who.”

      “Yet she sold you to me for the night?”

      “Said she could make sure the man did not know. Someone paid for me to be brought here.” She ached to say who she suspected had done so, but kept the words back. She had no proof.

      One look into her cloudy eyes told Ashton there was no sense in questioning her about that now. She was barely conscious. He looked at his friends, praying one of them had devised a plan. This was not something he really wanted or needed to get mixed up in at this time, but he could not desert the woman and certainly could not leave her at Mrs. Cratchitt’s.

      “The boys can go back out the window,” Brant said. “As soon as they are on the ground, we will draw up the rope. I will tie it about your waist, Ashton, and while you hold the girl, we will lower you out the window. Cornell, you go to the carriage and wait for them. Whitney, Victor, and I will wait here while you take the boys and the lady to their home. There are a few things I wish to do before we leave this place,” he muttered and frowned at Penelope.

      “We do not need help to get her home,” said Artemis.

      “Do not be so proud you refuse help when it is truly needed,” Brant told the boy. “She cannot walk far, if at all, and you cannot carry her through the streets without drawing a great deal of unwanted attention to yourselves. Now, out the window with you. We do not want to have someone catch all of us in this room, do we?”

      Artemis’s lips moved and Ashton suspected the youth was cursing, but he did as he was told. In but moments all the boys were gone and Brant was pulling up the rope. As Ashton prepared to take his turn, he noticed that the rope was similar to what sailors used to catch the side of another ship, the sharp tines of the grappling hook deeply embedded in the wall. He wondered how he had missed the sound of that striking the wood and digging in. Lust had obviously deafened him, he thought as he handed Penelope to Victor with an unsettling reluctance and stood still while Brant secured the rope to his waist. When Brant declared the rope secure, it took all of Ashton’s willpower to stop himself from grabbing for Penelope like some greedy child.

      Shaking aside his unease over his tortured emotions, Ashton sat on the windowsill. He carefully swung his legs around until they hung outside, and then held his breath as he was slowly lowered to the ground. The way Penelope clung to his neck, her face pressed against his shoulder, told him she was still aware enough to realize what was happening around her.

      When his feet touched the ground, he set Penelope on her feet. Artemis and Stefan hurried over to support her as he untied the rope around his waist, but it was clear they were having trouble keeping her upright. Once freed, Ashton waved to his friends who were still in the window and then picked Penelope up again before striding toward the carriage.

      “This is a bad business,” muttered Cornell as the boys scrambled into the carriage.

      All Ashton could do was nod in agreement. He set Penelope on the seat between her brothers and climbed into the carriage to sit down across from her. Cornell climbed in right behind him. It was crowded, and even as he rapped on the roof of the carriage to tell the driver to move, Delmar climbed into his lap. He would have preferred Penelope there, he thought, but put a steadying arm around the boy when the carriage began to move.

      “Do you live far from here?” he asked Artemis.

      “Nay,” the boy replied. “I told your man the way to go as we waited for you and Pen.”

      When they pulled up in front of the house Artemis said was theirs, the tiny hope Ashton had not even realized he had been cherishing died a swift death. The area was home to mistresses, minor aristocracy