The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(33)

“Gerry?” she managed.

“Nothing happened to you.” Her mother grasped her hands, which had gone numb. “You must believe me. But when your father and I finally hunted down Coyner, we found evidence that he meant to… eventually…”

“What?” she said in an anguished whisper.

“Marry you. To make you… his child bride.” Mama’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “But nothing had happened as yet, Rosie. You were only eight when we found you, and he was waiting for you… to mature. To show the first signs of womanhood before he put his despicable plan into action.”

She was going to be ill. Right here, on the pristine velvet cushions. She lurched to her feet, pulling free of her mother’s grasp.

“Rosie?” Mama stood, reaching out.

“Don’t touch me!” Rosie backed away, her arms wrapped around herself. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before? Why have you and Papa been lying to me for years?”

“Don’t blame your father. He wanted to tell you the truth,” Mama said in a suffocated voice, “and I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being burdened with this. You must believe me: Coyner never—”

“Why should I believe anything you say?” The words left her in a shout. “Why should I believe you ever again when you have lied to me my entire life?”

Moisture trickled down her mother’s cheeks. Feeling her own tears well up with uncontrollable force, Rosie whirled around and ran from the room.





Chapter Thirteen


Past



Andrew sat on his bed, elbows braced on his thighs. A half-finished bottle of whiskey sat on the bedside table. It was five in the morning, and he’d recently finished his shift. His hair was damp from the bath he’d taken, and, beneath his dressing gown, his skin was tingling from the scrubbing he’d given it.

It had been a long night, the kind that left you feeling dirty no matter how many baths you took. He’d serviced a trio of women, high-kick types who thought it would be a lark to share a piece of rookery meat. They’d all ogled him coyly through bejeweled masks.

Look at that cock! It’s a wonder he can walk, one had giggled.

He’s at least twice the size of my illustrious husband, the second had observed.

Size is all well and good, the third said, but does he know how to use that monstrous asset?

Did they think he was so ignorant that he didn’t know how to fuck? Like a trick pony, he’d performed on command. He’d given the three what they wanted, and after he’d left them panting and satisfied, he realized that not once had any of them addressed him directly.

He was less than a servant whom one might call by name.

Less than human.

He took a swig directly from the bottle, welcoming the burn. If he couldn’t feel clean, then at least he could feel nothing. He hated his present mood. Hated his weakness, his stupid desire for…

Don’t be a fool like I was, my boy. His mama’s last words flitted through his head. Love ain’t for the likes of us.

He didn’t want love. Just some bleeding respect.

It didn’t help that tonight came on the heels of yet another argument with Kitty. Her plans to expand her business were failing and her debts to Bartholomew Black growing. She didn’t like it when Andrew pointed out the facts. Today he’d committed the worse offense of all: he’d offered to help.

You—manage one of my bawdy houses? Her derisive laugh had made his face burn. Don’t delude yourself, luv, and keep to what you know. Got a trio of ladies booked tonight, all in need of a good swiving, and it’ll be a test of even your God-given talents.

He took another swig of whiskey to drive out the scornful voices.

Hinges creaked, and his head swung in the direction of the door. It had better not be Kitty. His temper simmered dangerously. If she wants me to fuck another customer—or fuck her…

“Andrew?” Primrose’s head poked around the corner.

At the sight of her tear-stained face, his anger receded.

“What’s the matter, little chick?” he said with concern. “Another nightmare?”

“Y-yes.” Her voice hitched.

At three, the tot was having bad dreams with increasing regularity. He’d told Kitty that the girl needed a nanny to watch over her at night, to which Kitty had replied: And I need a proper mansion in Mayfair, but neither of those things are going to happen.

He patted the place next to him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Primrose dashed over pell-mell, scrambling onto the bed and throwing her short little arms around his waist. “It was scary,” she sobbed. “I was scared.”

“Monsters again?” he said gently.

She nodded, her tears soaking through his robe. “Big monsters. Loud ones stomping through the house.”

He cursed silently. A brothel was no place to raise a child.

“There are no such thing as monsters,” he said.

Primrose looked up at him with glimmering jade eyes. “I s-saw some in the hall. Three monsters. So ugly they had to wear masks!”

He choked back a laugh. Out of the mouths of babes…

Lips twitching, he said, “You’re safe in here. I won’t let the monsters get you.”