What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

She did not expect an answer, for the man was an animal, distant and detached from humanity, trained only to respond to his master’s call. Yet she thought she glimpsed a flicker of compassion in those cold, blue eyes, a warning to tread carefully as this was not a social call.

Victor was alone. He had his back to the door, one hand braced against the mantel as he stared into the fire. A hazy mist from a half-smoked cheroot swirled ominously around his shoulders, drifting up towards the ceiling in a bid to escape.

“Ah! Marie,” he said turning to face her. “Have I disturbed you?”

“Not at all, Victor,” she lied. He had been a constant disturbance since the fateful afternoon when he approached her outside the Servant’s Registry Office. “You wish to speak to me.”

Victor snorted. “Always the obedient servant,” he mocked, throwing his cheroot into the fire. He sauntered over, grasped her chin between his finger and thumb and kissed her roughly on the mouth. “Though your lips, they always betray you,” he sneered, pulling away with such force she stumbled.

“I am tired, Victor, that is all,” she replied in an attempt to placate him.

“You are tired … you, Marie. The one who has her every need provided for. The one who benefits most from our … little enterprise.” He waved his hand in the air to stress his point.

The one who benefits! I am a mother to whores, a liar, a deceiver.

“The one,” he continued, “who would betray the hand that feeds her.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

Betray!

If Victor believed her inconstant, she was as good as dead. Had he found the girl? Did he know she had aided her escape?

She struggled to maintain her composure as a wave of panic took hold and so she stepped forward and placed her hands on the lapels of his coat in the hope he wouldn’t notice them shaking.

“Victor, what am I supposed to have done?” she asked. “What possible reason could I have for betraying you? Where would I be now without your support and guidance?”

I would be a wife, a mother, a woman with dignity.

“You would be nothing,” he spat.

“Have I not always done what you’ve asked?” She looked him keenly in the eye. “And I will continue to do so.”

He studied her with some suspicion. “We shall see,” he replied, his voice laced with contempt and he brushed her hands away from his coat as though they were the filthy hands of a chimney sweep. “Sit down,” he barked, gesturing to a nearby chair.

He turned and yelled for Morgan, his tone crude and coarse like a butcher hawking meat at the market.

Morgan entered and taking a few solid strides, stopped in the middle of the room. His hands clasped behind his back, he stared at some imaginary place in the distance. With a flat nose and protruding forehead, he had the look of a man who instilled confidence in his ability to get the job done.

“The men you posted at Beaufort’s residence,” Victor began, pacing back and forth. “You will tell me again what they have discovered.”

Morgan began recounting the events in a tone lacking feeling or inflection. “The gentleman caller questioned the servants, then left. Hodges followed him back to a house in Red Lion Square.”

Victor stopped his pacing and turned his attention to Marie. “Now, you will tell Marie, who else lives in this house in Red Lion Square.” His eyes were sharp, focused and resembled a hawk watching its prey, waiting for the smallest flicker of recognition so he could swoop in for the kill.

“The house is also occupied by the Marquess of Danesfield.”

Victor bent down so his eyes were level with hers, his hands gripping the arms of the chair for support, boxing her in. “And where do you think those gentlemen chose to spend their evening, Marie?” he spat, the smell of cheap brandy and stale tobacco irritating her nostrils. “Where, Marie!” he shouted when she failed to answer.

“Why, they spent the evening here, Victor,” she replied, her voice calm and steady. “As do many high-ranking gentlemen. Indeed, there are still a few lords sampling our wares as we speak.”

Victor grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “Do not mistake me for a fool,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Did you know this Dane is Beaufort’s closest neighbour? Did you know these men were looking for him?”

“Victor, please. It is nothing more than a coincidence,” she pleaded, struggling to free her arm.

“I do not believe in coincidence, Marie.” He pulled her to his chest, forcing her to stand on the tips of her toes. “What did you tell him?” he bellowed. “What did you tell this Mr. Shandy while you were alone with him?”

He threw her back down into the chair, the force causing the front legs to rise clean off the floor.