Worth Any Price (Bow Street Runners #3)(2)

"It would be my pleasure to introduce you to a few of them," came Mrs. Bradshaw's gentle voice in his ear. "Does anyone catch your eye?"

Nick shook his head. He was usually known for his jaunty arrogance, for having the smooth, easy banter of a confidence trickster. However, in this foreign situation, words had deserted him.

"Shall I make a few suggestions? That dark-haired girl in the green gown is exceedingly popular. Her name is Lorraine. She is charming and lively, and possesses a quick wit. The one standing near her, the blond...that is Mercia. A more quiet sort, with a gentle manner that appeals to many of our patrons. Now, Nettie-that is the little one by the looking glass-is practiced in the more exotic arts..." Mrs. Bradshaw paused as she observed the stiff set of Nick's jaw. "Do you prefer the illusion of innocence?" she suggested softly. "I can provide you with a country lass who makes a most convincing virgin."

Nick was damned if he knew his preferences. He glanced at them all, dark-haired, blond, slim, voluptuous, every shape, size, and hue imaginable, and suddenly the sheer variety overwhelmed him. He tried to imagine going to bed with any of them, and fresh sweat broke out on his forehead.

His gaze returned to Mrs. Bradshaw. Her eyes were a clear, warm brown, surmounted with ruddy brows a few shades darker than her hair. Her tall body was an inviting playground, and her mouth looked plush and soft. But it was the freckles that decided him. The amber flecks decorated her pale skin in a festive spray that made him want to smile.

"You're the only one here worth having," Nick heard himself say.

The madam's fiery lashes swept downward, concealing her thoughts, but he sensed that he had surprised her. A smile curved her lips. "My dear Mr. Gentry, what a delightful compliment. However, I do not sleep with the patrons of my establishment. Those days are long past. You must allow me to introduce you to one of the girls, and-"

"I want you ," he insisted.

As Mrs. Bradshaw saw the raw honesty in his eyes, a faint wash of pink spread across her cheeks. "Good Lord," she said, and laughed suddenly. "It is quite a trick to make a woman of thirty-eight blush. I thought I had forgotten how."

Nick did not smile back at her. "I will pay any price."

Mrs. Bradshaw shook her head in wonder, still smiling, then stared at his shirtfront with concentration, as if struggling with some weighty matter. "I never do anything on impulse. It's a personal rule of mine."

Slowly Nick reached for her hand, touched it with great care, drew his fingertips across her palm in a cautious, intimate stroke. Although she had long hands befitting a woman of her height, his were much larger, his fingers twice as thick as her slender ones. He caressed the damp little creases on the insides of her fingers. "Every rule should be broken once in a while," he said.

The madam lifted her gaze, seeming fascinated by something she saw in his world-weary face. Abruptly she seemed to make a decision. "Come with me."

Nick followed her from the drawing room, heedless of the gazes that pursued them. She led him through the entrance hall and up a curved staircase that led to a private suite of rooms. Mrs. Bradshaw's apartments were elaborate but comfortable, the furniture deeply cushioned, the walls covered in French paper, the hearth glowing with a generously stocked fire. The sideboard in the receiving room was laden with a collection of glittering crystal decanters and glasses. Mrs. Bradshaw picked up a snifter from a silver tray and glanced at him expectantly. "Brandy?"

Nick nodded immediately.

She poured golden-red liquid into the snifter. Expertly she struck a match and lit a candle on the sideboard. Holding the snifter by its stem, she turned the bowl of the glass over the candle flame. When the brandy was warmed to her satisfaction, she gave it to him. He'd never had a woman do that for him before. The brandy was rich and nut-flavored, its gentle spice drifting to his nostrils as he drank.

Glancing around the receiving room, Nick saw that one wall was lined with bookshelves, every available inch of space occupied with leather-bound volumes and folios. He drew closer to the shelves, investigating. Although he could not read well, he discerned that most of the books were about sex and human anatomy.

"A hobby of mine," Mrs. Bradshaw said, her eyes gleaming with friendly challenge. "I collect books about sexual techniques and customs of different cultures. Some of the books are quite rare. Over the past ten years, I have accumulated a vast wealth of knowledge about my favorite subject."

"I suppose it's more interesting than collecting snuffboxes," he said, and she laughed.

"Stay here. I'll be just a moment. While I am gone, you are welcome to view my library."

She went from the receiving room to the adjoining room, where the end of a poster bed was visible.

The leaden feeling returned to Nick's stomach. Finishing his drink in one gulp of smooth fire, he set the glass aside and went to the bookshelves. A large volume bound in red leather caught his attention. The antique leather creaked slightly as he opened the book, which was filled with hand-painted illustrations. His seething insides tangled in a huge knot as he saw drawings of bodies writhing in sexual positions more peculiar than anything he could have imagined. His heart hammered against his ribs even as his c**k surged with aggravated desire. Hastily he closed the book and shoved it back onto the shelf. Going back to the sideboard, he poured another brandy and downed it without tasting it.