Forsaking Hope (Fair Cyprians of London 2)

t augur well, whether or not she was there of her own choice. Not that Hunt would have tied her up at Skittles and whisked her into a back room, with so many people about to witness his crime, he reassured himself.

Nevertheless, something malevolent was at play. Hunt was blackmailing Hope. The girl in the diaphanous gown had said it. She’d implied it was Hunt, and Hope had told Felix she’d been Hunt’s mistress before joining Madame Chambon’s establishment. What she hadn’t yet explained was how her fall from grace had come to pass.

The large room into which he stepped was empty. A few pieces of elegant furniture indicated it was a private sanctuary, but the half-open door beyond suggested Felix might find his quarry along the passage.

It was eerily silent as he made his way through the back of the house, opening doors but finding only neatly made beds and cold fireplaces.

Two more rooms until the last one. He stopped. He thought he’d heard a noise. It was muffled. A thud, a faint cry. The chink of something metallic landing on stone. He’d heard it often enough when the housemaid disturbed his morning slumber, dropping one of the fire irons upon the hearth.

Someone occupied the last room, and he didn’t care that he showed no restraint in bursting in. He gripped the brass knob, surprised and relieved that the door was not locked, and pushed.

The door did not yield immediately. Something was blocking the entrance so that he had to put his shoulders into it and shove with all his might in order to slide through the opening.

He was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes. Bathed in gloom, he could make out the figure of a woman, kneeling at the side of a man. A tall, large man in evening dress who lay, unmoving, blocking the door.

Felix was more worried about Hope than the unconscious man whom he was recognised as a horribly marked Wilfred Hunt.

“Hope?” Felix crouched beside her, his insides recoiling at the damning sight.

“I’ve killed him.” She didn’t look up, but kept her gaze on the figure whose right eye was smashed in. “I’ve killed him,” she said again, even more softly, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

Nor could Felix. He didn’t think he’d seen a sight so gruesome and his stomach clenched, but overriding his revulsion was his terrible fear for the woman kneeling by Hunt’s side.

“What did he do to you?” Gently he put an arm about her.

The distant strains of the orchestra could be heard from the makeshift ballroom while the night caller declared it to be four in the morning. All the sounds indicated it was an ordinary night but Felix knew nothing would ever be ordinary again.

“He tried to force himself on me. I know I should have submitted, but I just couldn’t do it again.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t give him the very last of me…of my dignity.”

She turned, her eyes luminous in the dark but she didn’t seem to register Felix’s identity. He was simply the man who’d stumbled upon her crime.

“Wilfred is dead, and I’ll hang. It was always going to end in tragedy.” She sounded resigned, but then her eyes widened as if at last she realised to whom she was speaking, and she reached out a hand, her voice urgent. “Felix, please, don’t let them release my name until Charlotte is married! She needn’t know the truth of what I’ve become. It needn’t destroy her happiness. Don’t let my notoriety be known before Charlotte is Lady Hartley.” She withdrew her hands to cover her eyes, adding brokenly, “Otherwise everything will have been for nothing.”

Felix couldn’t help himself. He’d wanted to rescue Hope his whole life and now he finally had the chance. He took her in his arms. She didn’t resist but nor did she cleave to him. It seemed her fear for her sister’s happiness was more important than her own future; more important than anything else.

He kissed the top of her head. “Is that how Wilfred blackmailed you? By threatening to reveal the truth of your…profession…and thus shame and disgrace your sister, putting her marriage in peril?”

“He was blackmailing me over what he turned me into.” Hope raised her stricken face to his, then looked down at herself, her expression one of contempt as she contoured her ruby-clad gown with both hands. “I am anyone’s who can pay for me. Would you like me, Felix?” Her voice shook as she uttered the words that seemed to brand her as so much worse than she could ever be. “Before they take me away, I’ll give you a good price because I’ve always liked you. Truly, I have. And I know you once liked me. The night of the Hunt Ball. I wanted you to kiss me then. I’d never been kissed before, and I wanted you to be the first.” She ran the back of her hand across her face. “But, of course! That’s why you’re here. You were looking for me, weren’t you? You wanted to make me another offer?” She gave a bitter laugh. “A counter offer to Lord Westfall’s. Congratulations on your impending marriage, Felix. I’m sorry I just killed your future brother-in-law. I never meant to cause trouble. But please, try and keep my real identity secret, at least for as long as it takes for Charlotte to be married. That’s all that matters.”

“Hush!” He restrained her hands in his to stop their agitated plucking at her skirts then pulled her against his chest. “No one knows who you are, Hope,” he soothed, “and no one will know you’re associated with Charlotte. Ever. I’ll make sure of it.”

She sagged against him and began to weep. “I’m sorry, Felix. I must be filth in your eyes.”

He shook his head and held her tighter, kissing the top of her dark glossy hair once more and revelling in her need for him. It fulfilled his own desire to be more to her than he ever felt he could be. “Never,” he whispered.

Gently, he put her away from him and turned at the sound of a voice calling him from further down the corridor.

“I say, Felix! Where are you? Westy’s on the warpath, so if you’re up to something I give you fair warning. Good Lord!” Finding the door difficult to open, Millament had given it a good shove and now stood upon the threshold, staring at the grisly scene.

“Close it!” Felix barked, and open-mouthed, Millament obeyed.

Hope began to speak but Felix cut her off, rising, and taking her hand to draw Hope to her feet. “I found Hunt in the process of ravishing Miss Merriment, and I killed him,” he told Millament matter-of-factly. “When he rushed at me with the fire iron, I seized the poker to defend myself.”

“You killed him?” Millament’s eyes bulged. “You killed Hunt…your future brother-in-law…for ravishing a woman who’s paid by dozens of men to do exactly what Hunt was no doubt going to pay her for? And you killed him?”

“I was defending the woman I’m going to marry.”

“Christ, Felix, have you taken leave of your senses? You’re going to marry Miss Annabelle Hunt!” Millament looked bilious as he glanced at the man lying on the floor then added, “The woman whose brother you just killed defending a prostitute, in case I don’t have to remind you again!”