All About Seduction(73)

Mr. Broadhurst marched to her wardrobe, drew out the dressmaker’s box and tossed it on the bed. “Take off that damn unsightly nightgown and put this on.”

“No,” she whispered, but her protest was barely audible.

“You knock on any one of our guest’s doors wearing that and he’ll know what to do.”

A squeak of alarm left her, but icy fear ran in cold rivulets down her spine. She had determined that she would ask Jack when he was well enough, but she couldn’t tell Mr. Broadhurst that.

Mr. Broadhurst pulled a penknife from his pocket and opened the blade. “If I have to cut that nightgown off of you, I’ll send you out in nothing. Your choice, Caroline.”

Her mind raced. How could she get out of this? But it would happen again and again until she played her part of this impure bargain. She straightened and reached for her buttons. “You will not horsewhip Jack. He is not a part of this.”

He moved closer with the open blade. “You made him part when you bargained for a position for him.” He sliced the twine around the box, but instead of closing the blade, he used it to emphasize his next words.

Shivers ran down her spine. If Mr. Broadhurst learned she planned to use Jack, he would not hesitate to hurt him. Doubly so if he thought it might hurt her too.

“And I swear, Caroline, I do not want you spending any more time with him. You will be spending the nights getting with child by one of the men your brother provided. All of your undergarments too.”

“Sir,” she protested. “That’s indecent.” She opened the box and was reminded of how very sheer the chiffon was.

“Your own sister sent you that. She understands. Now, I want results. Sleep with every man in this house, but do not—” He emphasized his point with the knife. “Do not tell any more of them you want a child because I cannot give you one.”

Caroline went light-headed. He knew what she said to Mr. Whitton.

“Hurry up. You will not be allowed back in this room until you have fulfilled your nightly part of the bargain.”

The servants were up before dawn, stirring fires to life, the valets carrying hot water to their gentlemen for shaving, the footmen preparing the dining room for breakfast. She couldn’t be flitting around in the sheer negligee and lacy wrap. She should have burned them when she had a chance. “The men are hunting tomorrow, they will want their sleep.”

“A man will give up sleep for a moment’s pleasure.” Mr. Broadhurst stepped closer and grabbed the wrapper. “You won’t need this.”

“I’ll freeze.”

“If you don’t find a warm bed.”

“I have a plan. There is no need to send me out like a whore displaying her wares.”

Mr. Broadhurst’s gaze was reptilian. “You will do this tonight and the next and the next.” He raised his arm as if to slap her, but it still contained the knife.

He was mad. Did he even remember he had the blade in his hand or was he in such a state of anger he would use it? Shaking, she shed the last of her undergarments and pulled the gossamer nightgown over her head. Even as the material whispered against her skin, it felt like nothing. She wanted to defy her husband, but standing in front of him nearly naked, her courage fled.

Mr. Broadhurst’s nostrils flared. His voice softened, but it chilled her worse than his threats. “Come, darling, you want a child. I know you do. You used to say so.”

She had wanted a child, desperately. Her mother had told her to think of that as she endured Mr. Broadhurst’s visits. A woman had to submit in order to have a family. She had only to make herself available and think of conceiving, but that hadn’t been true with Mr. Berkley, or Mr. Broadhurst. She no longer believed it could happen, not really.

She was tired of submitting, tired of the notion that the man was the head of the household and must be obeyed, tired of being nothing more than his servant. She wanted a child, but she’d be the one to decide when and how it was conceived. He might send her out like a harlot, but she would not go to one of the gentlemen.

“Now take down your hair, but use the ribbon to tie it back. No hiding like Lady Godiva for you.”

She removed the pins that held up her night braid and unplaited the strands. As good as naked, her fingers trembled while she followed his order, as her mind spun down useless tracks to avoid this travesty.

Mr. Broadhurst looked her up and down. “You’ve a fine figure. No man would turn you away.”