To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) Read online

  Lord almighty, she had lavender eyes a shade darker than her dress. He’d never seen eyes such a color. She had untied her bonnet and it was resting on the bench next to her. He swallowed hard, unnerved by her beauty, but more so by the fact that she knew his name. She waved a delicate gloved hand toward the bench seat opposite her. He glanced warily at the other lads. Gideon was glaring daggers at him as he ripped chunks of meat from a chicken leg. Alex merely looked confused, nervous.

  “Please, James.”

  And because she looked so bloody kind and beautiful, but mostly because he didn’t want to return to that prison, he climbed into the stunning carriage and settled his boney arse upon the velvet cushion, reveling in the softness. What was she thinking by having him here? His fear wavered, replaced by deep curiosity. Was she someone his da used to work for? He rubbed his aching brow, unsure, confused.

  “Please.” She smiled. “Do eat.”

  With trembling hands he lifted a chicken leg from the basket and sank his teeth into the soft meat. It slid silkily smooth down his throat. He felt bloody guilty eating such lovely fare while his family starved. Dare he slip some potatoes into his pockets in hopes of returning to them?

  “I know you’re confused,” she said, glancing first at him, then the other two who waited outside.

  She had a lovely, fine accent that sounded like birds singing. A voice that sent a thrill through his body and heated his blood in an embarrassing way. He wasn’t sure which was more appealing, the food or the woman.

  “I only wish to help you.”

  Her heavenly scent made him only too aware of his unwashed body. Aye, he knew he wasn’t bad to look upon. His mother had warned him more than once to stay away from the factory girls, who giggled whenever he came near. But he was also smart enough to know he paled in comparison to the woman across from him. Besides, she was at least ten years older. So what did she want from him? He set the chicken down, swiping his greasy fingers across his trouser legs, not hungry anymore. Something was wrong, so very wrong.

  She was tiny, a fairy maiden who almost didn’t seem real. Almost as if she’d stepped from the Irish fairy tales his mum used to repeat when they were a happy family… when his da still lived. “What do you want with us?”

  “Want?” He stiffened as she leaned toward him. He could see, from the corner of his eye, that the other lads were also watching her… waiting. There was something about the way she smiled that worried him, like she had won a game he hadn’t realized they were playing. She moved across the carriage, settling uncomfortably close and resting a gloved hand on his knee. Heat shot to his groin and cheeks. He almost groaned in embarrassment. Who the hell was she?

  “I’ve an offer for you, James.” The words whispered warmly across his ear.

  A sinful image popped to mind. An image of his lips touching hers. The world around him faded as she moved closer, her soft body pressing to his side. His gaze focused on the low neckline of her gown, slowly traveling up her pale, delicate neck to her red, red lips.

  “I’d like for you to work for me.”

  His gaze jerked to her beautiful lavender eyes. They were like a world unto themselves. He blinked in stunned surprise. “Work?” His voice squeaked.

  Those beautiful eyes grew serious, almost desperate. “Indeed. I need you, James.”

  In that moment he knew he would have done anything for her. He would have sold his soul. Given his right arm. Hell, given his life. He felt like a man for the first time in his life. “Yes, my lady.”

  She rested back against the seat and he wondered how old she was. Not too old for him, he hoped. “I’m in desperate need of help.” Her beautiful lavender gaze went to the boys standing quietly outside. “Alex, Gideon, please join us.”

  They glanced warily at each other.

  She pressed her gloved hand to her chest. “Please, I do need your assistance.”

  That settled it. A damsel in distress always won out. Alex squared his shoulders and marched around Wavers. Gideon reluctantly followed. The carriage bounced as they settled into the seat across from James and the woman. It suddenly felt too crowded in the small interior. It was obvious they were all confused, troubled, caught between wanting to agree to anything the woman asked and wanting to bolt for the door.

  Although she had pulled him under with her beautiful face and words of need, life had taught him to be leery of anything too good to be true. “Doing what, exactly?”

  She leaned forward, the bodice of her gown gaping again. Sweat broke out across James’s forehead and he wished desperately he was alone with her. “Have you ever known pleasure, James?” She rested her hand on his knee. His cock flared to life and he practically jumped out of his skin. “Have you known the pleasure of a woman?”

  He swallowed hard, not daring to answer such a sinful question. Just last week Sarah Ellen had allowed him to slide his hands up her skirt, but that was as far as he’d ever gotten. But Sarah Ellen didn’t compare to this woman. This woman who wanted him—him—to save her for some reason.

  She slid Alex and Gideon a sly glance. “There are so very many women who wish to find pleasure from handsome young lads such as you.”

  Her words struck him through the heart. Reality made him ill. Aghast, he jumped back, away from her touch and her evil offer. His attraction fled as quickly as it had arrived. “Whore myself?”

  Alex had gone pale, while Gideon merely glared at her as if he’d expected nothing less. She leaned back in her chair looking highly amused. She behaved as if it was completely natural for a lad to whore himself, and completely natural for a women of such beauty to offer.

  “I’ve seen you, James. I’ve seen the way the girls watch when you walk by. They like you. They want you. You could find great pleasure in the arms of a woman.”

  He flushed, partly in pleasure, partly in embarrassment, but mostly in confusion. Where had she seen him? “But… but ’tis a sin,” he muttered.

  The woman was daft if she thought he’d whore himself. He glanced at the door, wondering if he should excuse himself now and if she’d allow him to take the rest of his meal. Or would they toss him back in the gaols if he dared to decline?

  “And stealing isn’t?”

  He swallowed hard and glanced her way. She knew, did she? What else did she know?

  “Money, James.” She whispered the words, but he heard them all the same. “I will make sure your mother and sister never starve again. They shall live in a warm, lovely cottage with all the food they could ever want. Think of it. Imagine it. They will never go hungry again.”

  A picture of his mother and sister in all their boney gory flashed to mind. Plenty of food? They wouldn’t have to work in the factories and lose a finger, or worse. But how would he ever face his mum again? He couldn’t, could he?

  “How do you know so much about me?” He lifted his gaze, interested despite himself.

  She pressed ever closer, her lips on his ear so the other two lads couldn’t hear. “Save your mother and sister from the factories… or worse. Be the man your father wanted you to be.”

  What did she know about his father? Still, her comment hit him hard. Alex and Gideon watched him quietly, wariness and nervousness in their eyes because they knew they were next. She would offer them the same, but would they agree?

  “My life would be over,” he said, his voice cracking. His mum would kill him if she found out. “I’d have no family.”

  “I’ll be your family. I’m not taking your life. The very opposite. I’m offering you splendor. Passion. But most importantly, I’m offering you a way to save your mother and sister.”

  “I don’t…” Heated embarrassment shot to his cheeks. “I don’t know how to pleasure a woman.”

  She smiled, trailing her hand down his arm. “Dear boy, don’t worry. You won’t work immediately.” She shrugged as if unconcerned. “We’ll wait a couple of years until you’re more secure in your abilities.”

  “What will we do in the mea
ntime?” Alex demanded.

  She nodded to Wavers, who shut the carriage door, trapping them in the gilded cell. “Help in the stables, be footmen. Rather easy work, much easier than the work they would make you do here, in the factories or on the docks.”

  Two years and he’d be almost sixteen. James took his lower lip between his teeth. In two years he’d be man enough. “You promise we won’t have to whore ourselves until we’re ready?”

  She released a trilling laugh as she knocked on the roof of the carriage. “Of course! And if you decide it’s not to your liking, you may remain a footman. What say you, James?”

  The carriage jerked to life. He shivered and glanced once more at the other lads. A picture of his mother and sister in the finest of silken gowns, feasting on goose, flashed to mind. He’d never have to worry about them again. Never have to steal. He would be the man his father had wanted.

  He might be selling his soul. He might not ever see his family again, but he had this chance… this one chance to save them. James swallowed hard and tilted his chin high. He owed his father this much. “Aye, I agree.”

  She took his hand in hers and smiled warmly at him. “Oh, James, I’m so pleased. We’re friends, we’re all going to be great friends.”

  Chapter 1

  LAVENDER HILLS ESTATE, ENGLAND, 1869

  She was bloody mad.

  Completely and utterly insane.

  She wouldn’t at all be surprised if they locked her away in Bedlam because no normal person would ever even think of visiting a brothel. And certainly the cold, perfect Lady Beckett would never, ever do something so sinful. Yet here she was sitting before the infamous brothel owner herself, Lady Lavender.

  Yes, indeed, Eleanor had lost her senses.

  “Someone gentle you say, Mrs. Richards?” Lady Lavender flipped through a small leather book, those equally infamous lavender eyes darting from page to page. She treated the transaction as if it was business, and perhaps it was to her. If only Eleanor could think of it that way.

  “Romantic?” Lady Lavender added, glancing up through thick, dark lashes.

  Eleanor gave a quick nod. The netting over her face tickled her nose, but she didn’t dare brush it aside. She’d even covered her coveted blonde locks with the same netting to make sure no one could identify her. She looked like a bloody beekeeper but no one seemed to mind. No, because in a brothel that catered to women, discretion was a normalcy. She’d been both bemused and relieved when not one person had glanced her way upon her arrival in an unmarked hired hack. Even when she’d given an obviously pretense name to the large man who answered the door, he hadn’t blinked.

  She had to admit that she was rather intrigued by the brothel owner, who had always seemed more myth than true heroine. Lady Lavender… a woman spoken about in only whispers. Although Eleanor had always considered herself trim and elegant, she felt a giant sitting across from the delicate brothel owner. Pure perfection. Her pale skin and equally pale hair practically glowed, like she was a veritable angel, if one didn’t notice the cold, calculating look in her beautiful eyes.

  “Gentle,” she whispered, her golden brows drawing together as she concentrated.

  Eleanor had seen the woman once while shopping along Regent Street. A flash of lavender skirts, for she always wore the color. For a moment she’d thought she’d imagined her. But no… the elder Lady Beckett had paused to look in a shop window and Eleanor, waiting for her mother-in-law, had gotten her first true sighting. It was only a brief glance before her future mother-in-law tried to urge her forward. But she’d been so shocked to see the woman she couldn’t seem to move.

  “Do not stare; you will be ruined for even acknowledging the woman,” her mother-in-law had reprimanded. “In our world she does not exist.”

  Oh, but she did exist, and young women from all stations in life, from all countries in the world, loved to discuss the madam. As a debutante she’d first heard rumored whispers of a brothel for women. Years later, all of England knew, and the current sweep of innocents and their inane conversation about the sinful place. Only last week she’d heard a group of them talking.

  “Melissa Turner dared to say good day to the woman in public! Was sent to a nunnery and no one has heard from her since.”

  “I hear she imprisons the men… forces them—”

  “Oh bother it, Jenny; do you really think any man must be forced to do that?”

  But they would break off, as always, the moment they caught sight of Eleanor. With flushed faces, they would mumble good day, drop into curtseys, and rush off, praying she would not alert their mothers to their gossiping ways. And she never had, because despite her initial disgust at the thought of a brothel for women… she had, deep down, been curious. Always curious. Something her mother had warned her about too many times to count.

  “No woman with a curious mind, who questions everything, will ever land a husband!”

  “I have the perfect person.” The infamous Lady Lavender snapped her book shut, jerking Eleanor from her memories.

  Perfect person. Oh dear Lord.

  Before Eleanor could properly prepare, the woman pulled on the silken bell cord that hung near her massive desk. Eleanor’s heart leapt into her throat, although she knew if one looked at her they would see nothing amiss. No, she’d had years of practice masking her feelings. She was the very definition of control. At one time mothers had forced their daughters to emulate her, and young men had used her as an example when searching for a wife. Eleanor bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. How would the ton feel about her should they uncover her location?

  “He will arrive at any moment.”

  A warning shiver raced over her spine. If she was going to put a stop to this nonsense, it best be done now. Eleanor took in a deep, trembling breath. She was not nervous. No, she was never nervous. So why was she twisting her gloved hands together? Gritting her teeth, she forced her fingers to uncurl and lie still upon her lap. Her green taffeta gown suddenly felt too stifling, the neckline too high. Blast it, she couldn’t seem to breathe properly.

  “Yes. He’ll be utterly perfect.” Lady Lavender pushed away from her desk and stood. “I’ll be only a moment. Shall I get you something to drink?”

  “Sherry, please.”

  Determined to calm her racing heart, Eleanor studied the office as the woman strolled to the sideboard. She had to admit she was a bit underwhelmed by the entire place. The rumors were so very much gaudier than reality. In reality it was a beautiful English estate surrounded by sweet-smelling lavender. She wasn’t sure if she should be disappointed or amused.

  Marble flooring, golden sconces, French wallpaper… the place reeked of sophistication and elegance when she’d been expecting the gaudiness of a true brothel. Lord, it felt as if she was sitting in her mother’s parlor. Well, if her mother collected French paintings of naked couples indecently embracing. The risqué artwork hanging above a cold hearth was the only thing so very bold about the place.

  The door opened. Eleanor jerked her head toward the foyer, but it was only the tall mountain of a man who had greeted her upon her arrival. At least she’d taken his grunt as a greeting. She didn’t like the look of him… a man who used his fists instead of reasoning.

  “Wavers,” Lady Lavender said, handing the sherry to Eleanor. “Please send for James. If you’ll wait a moment, Mrs. Richards?”

  She’d given a false name, of course, too nervous to give her true identity although it was said that the queen herself would have to pry the client list from Lady Lavender’s cold, dead hands, she was that adept at keeping secrets. But the rumors didn’t ease her worry. Whether society believed it or not, Lady Lavender was human, and humans made mistakes.

  The brothel owner started toward the door when fear got the better of Eleanor. “Wait!”

  Lady Lavender turned quite calmly and quirked a blonde brow. “Yes, my dear?”

  Eleanor tugged off her gloves, needing something to do. The heated blush that rushed t
o her cheeks was a combination of embarrassment, shame, and the intense heat of the room. Why didn’t the woman open a blasted window, for God’s sake?

  “Yes?” Lady Lavender prompted impatiently.

  “I’m not… sure.”

  Lady Lavender sighed and nodded toward Wavers, who stepped back into the hall, giving them some privacy. “What is your purpose, my lady?”

  “Pardon?” Eleanor stood, too nervous to sit. She’d saved her pin money for weeks in order to afford this place. Not that she didn’t have the funds. She had plenty, but it would be missed. And so she’d taken a coin here and there that wouldn’t be noticed. And now… now she was thinking of leaving when she’d already paid? Giving up when she’d spent months concocting her escape?

  “Why are you here?” Lady Lavender seemed annoyed, which made Eleanor feel all the more guilty for wasting the woman’s time. She was a businesswoman; she didn’t have time for silly misses, and Eleanor was most certainly being a silly miss.

  Heat crawled torturously slowly up her neck. “I… I want to find pleasure, of course.”

  “Why?” There was no empathy upon Lady Lavender’s face. She was quite serious as she crossed her arms over her full bosom.

  The heat shot to Eleanor’s cheeks. Dear Lord, she never, ever blushed. “I… I… want to know passion.”

  Lady Lavender gave a nod. “You want someone warm and gentle, and James is perfect.”

  James. She liked the sound of his name. “James,” she whispered out loud.

  “Just try him.” As if he was a new French pastry. It was a dare. She shoved the glass of sherry into Eleanor’s hand. “What have you to lose?”

  In other words, Eleanor had already placed her reputation in jeopardy by coming here, she had already paid, why not partake in the pleasure the visit might bring? Besides, she never ever backed down from a dare. “Very well.”

  She settled in her chair and drank her sherry, the liquid burning a fiery path of courage down her throat. Lady Lavender didn’t bother to hide her grin of amusement, as if she had won a battle of some sort. Without another word, the woman moved into the foyer, closing the door behind her. The room went utterly silent. The only sounds were the soft patter of rain against the windows and the tick of the porcelain clock on the mantel.