don’t think I understand you,” Julian said indignantly. “What do you mean Mrs Dean is auctioning her off?”
Alex looked at him in surprise. “You’re shocked,” he said. “I do believe you’re blushing. My dear boy, the girl has no money, no connections. Her aunt’s in debt. What else are they to do with her? This is a brothel, after all.”
“It’s barbaric,” said Julian. “Not to mention immoral and illegal.”
Alex shrugged. “That’s London for you.”
“Alex, this girl thinks she’s in a boarding house.”
“Then she’s either a fool or a liar,” Alex said heartlessly. “Chances are, your genteel, pretty girl knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s just reeling you in with her innocent eyes.”
“Then she should be treading the boards,” said Julian. “She’s a remarkable actress.”
“I wouldn’t worry about her too much,” Alex said dryly. “If she plays her cards right, she’ll be the mistress of a very rich man who will dote on her and buy her anything she wants.”
“But for God’s sake,” said Julian. “She’s a clergyman’s daughter.”
Alex snorted. “That’s the story, anyway. Who knows if it’s true? I don’t want to disillusion you, Julian, but, occasionally one finds that lies are told in brothels. Your genteel, pretty girl mightn’t even be a virgin.”
“And what if she is innocent?” Julian demanded. “We have to help her.”
Alex wiped his now clean-shaven face with a towel. “We?”
“This girl you were in love with,” Julian said impatiently. “What if she were in trouble? Wouldn’t you want someone to help her?”
Alex’s face darkened with anger. “Obviously, a lady would never be in such a situation,” he snapped. “Never think with your privates, brother, or didn’t they teach you that in the army?”
“I’m concerned about her welfare,” Julian said stiffly. “It has nothing to do with my privates.”
“You’re too poor to be concerned about her welfare,” Alex retorted, “and it has everything to do with your privates. Would you be quite so concerned about her welfare if she weren’t quite so pretty?”
“You’re a cynic,” Julian accused him.
Alex laughed grimly. “So will you be in ten years.”
“Perhaps,” said Julian, “but I hope the idea of young women being bought and sold like chattel will always be disgusting to me. I’m going to help her, even if you won’t.”
“Don’t be a bloody fool,” said Alex, but he was talking to himself; Julian had already left the room.
“I wish to speak to Mrs Dean at once,” Julian told the manservant downstairs.
Alex joined him in the hall a few minutes later. Never as handsome as his brother, and pockmarked from a childhood illness, he at least looked respectable now: clean-shaven and wearing a tailored coat of blue superfine. “Would you call me a hack?” he asked Julian.
“You are a hack,” Julian said obligingly.
“Ha, ha. My legs are still a bit wobbly, and my purse seems to be empty,” Alex said. “It has been suggested to me that I drink too much. Please summon a hack for me.”
“The hack is waiting outside,” Julian said. “It’s only half a mile to our mother’s house, but I didn’t think you’d care to walk in your condition.”
“Thank you,” Alex said ruefully.
Glancing up, Julian saw a middle-aged woman coming down the stairs, presumably Mrs Dean herself. Alex saw Mrs Dean at about the same time. “Look here, Julian,” he said quietly. “Don’t get yourself mixed up in this dirty business. Even if the girl is innocent—which I rather doubt—you have no money. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
Mrs Dean reached them, and Alex was obliged to hold his tongue. “Do come again, Mr Pope,” she said warmly to Alex. “The girls are so fond of you.”
Julian shook his brother’s hand. “Will you keep me informed? I am still in Lombard Street. If my father wants me, of course I’ll come,” he offered.
Alex promised to send word. Giving his brother one last warning look, he then departed, leaving Julian alone with the mistress of the house.
Mrs Dean bore no resemblance to her lovely niece; indeed, Julian could scarcely credit the notion that the two were related. Her yellow satin gown fitted her too tightly in the bosom, so that unsightly mounds of freckled flesh spilled over the lace edge of the bodice. Kohl lined the lids of her small, greedy eyes. While not quite realistic, her ivory teeth were well-carved.
“Mr Pope!” she purred. “How may I please you?”
“I’m interested in your niece,” he said bluntly. “I want an introduction.”
Mrs Dean looked amused. “I’m afraid, Mr Pope, that my niece is quite beyond your touch. She is—”
“What do you know of my touch?” he interrupted sharply.
Mrs Dean blinked at him. The handsome young man had a commanding air, quite at odds with his youth and his unfashionably plain clothes. Perhaps he was a man of greater wealth and importance than his elder brother; in her lifetime, Mrs Dean had seen stranger things.
“I meant no offense,” she said quickly. “I should warn you, Mr Pope, that Miss Andrews has generated a great deal of interest already. It will not be easy to obtain her favors.”
“Is that her name? Andrews?”
“Mary Andrews,” Mrs Dean affirmed. “Why, only yesterday, Lord Barrowbridge offered me five thousand pounds for her.” Her flesh quivered as she recalled the lucrative offer. “He was very disappointed when I sent him away.”
Julian was disgusted. “Lord Barrowbridge is ninety if he’s a day!”
“And he couldn’t pop a cherry if his life depended on it, poor man,” Mrs Dean agreed. “But what do I care? It’s his lordship’s money. He can spend it as he likes.”
“This is your niece we’re talking about,” Julian reminded her severely.
“And who should profit from Mary’s beauty but her own aunt?” she returned harshly. “God knows my brother, the saintly vicar, never lifted a finger to help me when he was alive! It is only right that Mary help me now. Sooner or later, she will be bedded, Mr Pope. You know it, and I know it. She’ll be better off with a rich man than a poor man, and you know that, too.”
“But the girl is very pretty,” Julian argued. “She speaks well—almost like a lady. Surely you could find her a husband.”
Mrs Dean laughed. “A husband? With Dolly Dean for an aunt? I’m afraid she’d be tainted by association. And, of course, she has no dowry,
