gave her a look that made her blush again. “Why does any man?” he said.
He saw a cynical expression touch her eyes. “There are many reasons why a man likes to boast his sexual prowess,” she said dryly. “Sometimes it is because he is impotent, or he prefers men to women but wishes to disguise the fact….” Her voice faded. She gave a little shrug, inviting his response.
“My motives are not so complicated,” Ethan said. “I am bored. I’m likely to be a prisoner of war for the duration of this conflict and I need to pass the time somehow. What better way than in bed?”
It should have been a convincing enough reason, but still she hesitated, her dark gaze narrowed on him, as though she knew he was being less than open with her.
“Why me?” she said. “You asked for me specifically.”
“I did,” Ethan agreed. Again she had surprised him in remembering that detail and realizing that it had significance. “I have a certain reputation for scandal,” he said. “If I am to take a mistress then it is only appropriate that she should be the most notorious woman in London.” He took her wrist in a light grip and drew her close. “I want a woman who will be outrageous, ostentatious and—”
“Obliging?” Again she gave that little half smile that quickened his pulse. Something dark and hot shimmered in her eyes. “I used to be all of those things.” She sounded almost wistful.
Ethan laughed. “So I heard.” He traced a finger along her full lower lip and felt her body hum with the echo of his touch. His body was already tight and primed and hard, wanting her.
“So, Lottie Palliser,” he said. “You have had enough time to decide now. What do you say?”
“YES,” LOTTIE SAID. She did not hesitate. She knew that perhaps she should, for there was something about Ethan Ryder’s story that did not ring true, some element that struck a note of warning within her. But then there were the bags of gold, so many guineas, the like of which she had not seen for months, years even. And she liked the element of danger and recklessness that burned in Ethan Ryder. It kindled excitement in her blood for the first time in months.
“I would be an abject fool,” she added, “to refuse the offer of so rich a man in order to stay here and be subject to the whims of a multitude of poorer ones.”
She saw his teeth gleam in a smile. “An admirably pragmatic approach.”
Lottie gestured doubtfully to the gaudy bed. “Do you … would you like …”
She could hear the uncertainty in her own voice. The brief flash of confidence was already failing her. She knew she must seem gauche as a virgin debutante. There had been a time when seduction had seemed so easy. She thought bitterly of James Devlin, her final affaire. That was where it had all started to go wrong. She had fallen hopelessly in love with Dev, and it had been the single most stupid thing she could have done. When he had ended their association she had been utterly distraught, searching for comfort and solace with other men, whilst at the same time desperately trying to hide her hurt. It was difficult; she lived her life in the goldfish bowl of Ton society, forever under scrutiny. She could see now, with the benefit of time and hindsight, that in her grief she had become careless and too indiscreet. What she had thought had been secret had become common knowledge. And Gregory’s patience had snapped.
She had heard that Gregory was to remarry, to one of the Season’s most eligible heiresses. Evidently the scandal that had ruined her name had left him spotless. But then, he had the money and the power to wash his reputation clean. In fact his influence was so great that even had she told the truth of his sexual proclivities, no one would have listened to her. She hoped that his little virgin heiress would not be too shocked. She was afraid that she would be.
She turned back to look at Ethan Ryder. He was good-looking, attractive in that dangerous, devil-may-care way that had once been so appealing to her. Two years ago it would have taken one look for her to resolve that she wanted to take him to bed. Now she felt racked with nervousness. Her whole body was trembling. What on earth had happened to her? She was not sure, only that the court case had left her with not only her reputation in tatters. She had changed. Somewhere along the way all her certainties and all her confidence had been hammered into the ground.
She fumbled with the ribbon on her robe but Ethan’s hand closed over hers, warm and firm, stilling her shaking fingers.
“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t. Not here.”
Lottie closed her eyes briefly. She felt a curious mixture of relief and chagrin. It was so foolish to be irritated that he did not appear to want her when she was also relieved that she did not have to play the whore for him here and now. Perhaps he was another, like Gregory, who preferred men. Perhaps it was only the pretense of a mistress he wanted, the appearance of being as other men. Gregory had wanted a wife to act as hostess, but more importantly he had wanted the camouflage that she gave him. Yet she doubted that of Ethan. When he had kissed her she had felt the need in him as hot and sharp as a whetted knife. She had known that he wanted her.
His fingers released hers. He stepped closer to her so that his breath stirred her hair. His lips brushed the line of her jaw, sending little shivers of awareness along her skin. She looked into his eyes and saw again the hard glitter of desire.
“They are watching and listening,” he said softly, “to make sure that you do your job properly this time.”
Lottie spun around, her gaze searching the paneled walls of the boudoir. Of course they would be watching her through spy-holes, keyholes, peepholes, the whole prurient range of the brothel’s trade. Perhaps Mrs. Tong had even taken John Hagan’s money on the promise that he could watch her with Ethan before Hagan had her himself. She felt sick, hot and naive not to have thought of it before.
“I don’t perform for crowds,” she said defiantly.
Ethan smiled. It deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes and made a crease appear down one lean cheek. He had a crease in his chin, too. It did not soften his looks. In fact it gave even more resolution to a face that already had no gentleness in it.
“If it comes to that,” he said, “neither do I.” He moved away. “Put some clothes on. We’re leaving.”
Lottie let out her breath on a sigh. “Thank you.”
Ethan held her eyes for a long moment. A smile still tilted his lips. Heat shimmered between them, robbing Lottie of breath. She felt flustered, taken by surprise. Then he turned away and scooped up the bags of guineas. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m simply protecting my investment.” He sounded impatient now. “That old procuress would only rob you blind if I left you alone to deal with her. I don’t want you costing me more than is necessary.”
Lottie scrambled in the wardrobe for a gown and shoes. Most of the clothes Mrs. Tong had provided her with were unpleasantly cheap quality as well as cut to enhance every asset she possessed and to fall off at the slightest touch. There was not a single tasteful garment among them other than the one gown and spencer that she had brought with her from home, from her lost life. She bundled them up under her arm. The cupboard smelled of stale scent. With a pang of loss she remembered the bottles of perfume she had once bought at Piver’s and at Rimmel’s in the Strand. Flower-scented gloves had been one of her favorite indulgences in the old days.
“Are you ready?” Ethan still sounded impatient. How long did he think it took a woman to dress? She did not even have a maid to help her. She
