Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(48)

“Aye, sire!” cried the guards with one strong voice.

King Lockedheart smirked at Meg. “You see? Admit now your folly and I might grant you your life.”…

—from King Lockedheart

Temperance felt her cheeks heat as she continued walking. She knew about most of the houses of ill repute in St. Giles—they were where many of her charges came from, after all—but she’d never set foot in one after dark. And Mrs. Whiteside’s house was rather notorious for the types of amusements one could find there.

“Ah,” Lord Caire murmured from behind her. “I believe I have knowledge of this place.”

She bit her lip. “Then perhaps you have no further need of me tonight.”

He caught hold of her suddenly, making her gasp. “You swore you would not renege on our compact, Mrs. Dews.”

She frowned, truly puzzled. “And I won’t, but—”

“Then lead on.”

Temperance gathered the edges of her cloak together and did just that. The wind was bitter tonight, numbing her cheeks. She didn’t know what to make of this man anymore. He’d teased and kissed her, probed for her most shameful secret, and then held her against his warm body to shield and protect her. She still trembled from the scent of his throat, the steel of his arms.

They crossed into another alley, this one smaller. Signs swung overhead, creaking in the wind. She heard laughter, sudden and close, and then it moved away. They passed a thin woman in a worn cloak carrying something in a bucket. The woman avoided their eyes as she hurried past. The alley widened abruptly into a courtyard with overhanging upper floors, making the square space seem close and cramped. Light flickered behind the shutters on each floor, and odd, muffled sounds leaked through—a cutoff laugh, a muttered word, rhythmic banging, and what sounded like moans.

Temperance shuddered. “This is Mrs. Whiteside’s establishment.”

“Stay close to me,” Lord Caire murmured before raising his stick to knock upon the only door in the courtyard.

It swung open to reveal a hulking guard, his broad, plain face marked with pox scars. His narrow little eyes showed no expression. “Boy or girl?”

“Neither,” Lord Caire said smoothly. “I wish to speak to Tommy Pett.”

The man began to close the door.

Lord Caire stuck his stick in the doorway with one hand and pressed his palm flat against the door with the other. The door halted, causing the guard to look faintly surprised.

“Please,” Lord Caire said with a hard smile.

“Jacky,” a deep voice rasped from behind the guard. “Let me see our visitor.”

The guard stepped aside. Lord Caire entered immediately, pulling Temperance behind him. She peered around his shoulder.

The hall inside was a small, square space, hardly big enough for the stairs leading to the upper levels. Immediately to the right was an open door that revealed a neat sitting room beyond. In the doorway was a woman in a pink satin gown, strewn with ribbons and bows. Her head barely came past Caire’s waist, and her body was thick and squat, her brow heavy and deformed.

She flicked clever eyes at Caire. “Lord Caire. I’ve often wondered when you might visit our house.”

Lord Caire bowed. “Am I speaking to Mrs. Whiteside?”

The dwarf threw back her head and laughed in a voice as deep as a man’s. “Dear me, no. I am merely an employee of that lady. You may call me Pansy.”

Lord Caire nodded. “Mistress Pansy. I would be very grateful for a moment’s conversation with Tommy Pett.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“He has some information I need.”

Pansy pursed her lips and cocked her head. “Why not? Jacky, go and see if Tommy is free.”

The guard lumbered off and Pansy gestured to the sitting room behind her. “Will you sit, my lord?”

“Thank you.”

They entered the little sitting room, and Lord Caire sank into a worn velvet settee, pulling Temperance down beside him. Across from them was a wide, low chair padded in sumptuous purple and pink. Pansy hitched one hip up and hopped backward into the chair. Her feet, shod in elegant heeled slippers, dangled inches from the floor.

She laid her pudgy hands on the chair’s arms and looked at Caire with a smile playing about her mouth. “You really ought to stop awhile with us, my lord, after you finish your business with my boy Tommy. I can offer you a special price.”

“I thank you, no,” Caire said with no inflection in his voice.

Pansy cocked her head. “We make a specialty of providing for the, ah, unusual requirements of gentlemen such as yourself. And, of course, your friend may participate as well.”

Temperance’s eyes widened as Pansy tilted her chin at her. She had no idea what Caire’s unusual requirements were, but she knew she should be disgusted at the mere suggestion that she would indulge in them with him. Except she was still trying to figure out her feelings when a pretty young man entered the room. He was slim with golden hair that fell in silken waves to his shoulders. He hesitated inside the doorway, eyeing Lord Caire uneasily.

Pansy smiled at him. “Tommy, this is Lord Caire. I believe—”

Whatever Mistress Pansy had been about to say was cut short by Tommy darting from the room. Lord Caire surged off the settee, flying after the boy silently. There was a scuffling sound in the hall, a thump and a curse, and then Lord Caire reentered the room, holding Tommy firmly by the collar of his coat.