What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“Nothing, Victor, I told him nothing,” she cried. “This is absurd.” She flinched as he lifted his hand to strike her. Behind him, Morgan stiffened and his sudden cough caused Victor to turn around. ‘‘I did not know of any connection to Lord Beaufort. You must believe me,” she whispered, using the distraction to plead her case.

“Then what the hell was he doing in here, Marie? What was he doing in your private room?” He bent down, grabbed her face and squashed her mouth together with his bony fingers, only releasing her when she tried to speak.

“I … I invited him, Victor, but it is not what you think. I invited him because he … because … Mr. Shandy is a woman.”

Victor straightened abruptly and took a step back, his face frozen, immobile. Lost in contemplation he began playing with the point of his beard, twirling it back and forth with his fingers. “You are sure of this?” he asked, seeming pleased by the prospect.

“I am certain, Victor,” she replied, trying to quash the uneasy feeling whirling around in her stomach. “I was simply intrigued by him … by her.” She had nothing to feel guilty about. Her confession had probably saved Mr. Shandy’s life.

Victor folded his arms across his chest and tapped his lip with his finger. “Describe him to me, his hair, his eyes.”

Marie found it an odd question, but she was in no position to challenge him. “His hair was black, perhaps too long for the current fashion, but it was tied back in a queue. And his eyes, well …” Marie thought for a moment, she had been touched by the sincerity of those angelic eyes. “They were the brightest blue.”

Victor seemed delighted with her answer. “Antoinette,” he mused, turning to Morgan. “Bring her to me.” He waited for his man to leave and then turned his attention to Marie. “While you have been granted a … reprieve of sorts, it is only temporary.” He removed his watch and checked the time before returning it to his pocket. “I do not trust you, Marie, and so I shall require some attestation of your loyalty.”

Before Marie could answer, the door burst open and Antoinette stumbled in, pulling a wrapper over her shoulder. It was impossible to tell if she had been roused from sleep or from the arms of an amorous lord.

“Antoinette,” Victor said with a sigh, which suggested he found the whole affair rather tedious. “As much as I detest the idea of discussing business at such an ungodly hour, I want you to tell me what … services you performed for the Marquess of Danesfield.”

Why on earth was Victor interested in Danesfield’s licentious habits?

Antoinette licked her lips as though the sensation stimulated her memory. “Let’s just say, he’s quite keen on my vocal abilities,” she replied.

Antoinette had chosen her words carefully, knowing Victor’s distaste for vulgarity.

Victor’s lips curved into a wry smile. “And the marquess, d

id he take a dip in the cupidinous font?” When Antoinette stared at him blankly, he rephrased his question. “Did you have relations of an intimate nature?”

Recognition dawned. “Not this time,” Antoinette replied. “His lordship was concerned for his gentleman friend. He didn’t want to leave him alone for too long.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Antoinette cocked her head to the side and stared up at the ceiling. “Well, we just got straight to it, if you know what I mean. But he did ask if there were any new girls.”

“And how did you reply?”

Antoinette placed her hands on her hips. “I told him it’s not nice to ask after other ladies, told him there was no one else in the whole of Labelles with a mouth sweeter than Antoinette’s.”

Victor’s beady eyes studied Antoinette. “The marquess, he always asks for you … specifically?”

Overcome with a sense of dread, Marie rose from the chair under the guise of pouring herself a drink. “I’m sure he’s had other girls,” she remarked casually.

If Antoinette said anything to displease Victor, she would end up on one of his little trips, never to be seen again.

But Victor did not give her a chance to answer.

“Never mind,” he said waving her away. “That will be all for the moment.”

Victor waited until Morgan had led Antoinette from the room before speaking. “Fate has brought your Mr. Shandy to our door.” He took the glass of brandy Marie offered him and sat down on the chaise. “Fate has chosen to punish us in order to reveal our reward.”

Marie watched him over the rim of her glass. Although his coal-black eyes revealed no emotion, his general countenance suggested he was in good spirits. It was not a good sign and the coil of fear tightened in her stomach.

“And how are we to be rewarded, Victor?”

“Perhaps we should thank Lord Beaufort,” he replied taking a sip of brandy, “for meddling in our affairs.”

Marie sat down opposite him, every muscle in her body tense. “I’m sure you will find a way to repay him, Victor.”