Читать книгу Seducer - Kayla Gray - Страница 6

August 1774, Charleston, SC

“You look lovely, Madelaine. Now, you musn’t be nervous. Geoffrey is a fine gentleman.”

Madelaine Hartwell looked up at her father, wondering at his odd comment. His hand shook as he reached up to knock on the door of the impressive Bay Street town house. He lowered his hand and sighed heavily. “I need a moment.”

Madelaine stood patiently by his side, having gotten used to his tremors since his drinking had overtaken his last bit of control.

She smoothed her palms over her dress and swallowed hard, his anxiety contagious. “I am a little nervous. After all, we haven’t attended a social event since Mother died.”

“I know. I just haven’t been myself since my Sarah passed. I thought I’d fixed that damn wheel. I thought the carriage was safe….” he trailed off, sniffing gruffly.

“The accident wasn’t your fault, Father,” Madelaine said, adjusting her bodice.

It was true he hadn’t been the same. Neither of them had, but it seemed that for Madelaine, the last seven years had been all about taking care of her crumbling father and trying desperately to keep food on the table as his gambling debts grew well beyond his ability to pay. She had watched in emotional agony as piece by piece their old life had been taken from them. First, her mother’s jewelry, then the silver and china, soon followed by every bit of furniture and finally the lovely home where she’d grown up.

Last month they had been forced to move into a two-room unit above a dressmaker’s shop. Madelaine had been forced to sell every lovely gown in her mother’s wardrobe to keep them going and was now down to one. Though much too casual and a bit out of style, the gown was clean and presentable. The light shade of sky blue had been her mother’s favorite and Madelaine had put the dress away shortly after her mother’s death. Now that she was twenty-two, the dress fit, though a little snug in the bust. Madelaine had meant to let the seams out, but this evening’s invitation had come up so suddenly, she hadn’t had time to make the alterations.

“Tell me again how we came about being invited to this dinner, Father?” she asked, fidgeting with the tight material.

“Geoffrey is a business acquaintance,” he replied evasively. He stiffened his shoulders and rapped the knocker three times before dropping his hand by his side.

Madelaine’s heart leapt at the loud crack of brass on brass. What is wrong with you tonight? she chastised herself. She had never been the type to be skittish, but she couldn’t shake the strange feeling of foreboding that sent a shiver up her neck as the door slowly opened. She wasn’t used to her father acting so…fatherly, and it was a bit unnerving.

They were taken to a large parlor, where Madelaine counted six people, not including her and her father. As their host approached them, Madelaine began to feel more uneasy. His cold brown eyes roamed over her with much too much familiarity. Then when her father nudged her forward, she had the sudden feeling of being a rabbit stalked by a hungry fox.

“Geoffrey Townsend, this is my lovely daughter, Madelaine.”

“Yes, she certainly is,” Geoffrey responded, eyeing her up and down.

Madelaine felt increasingly self-conscious in the tight dress and when Geoffrey lifted her hand and brushed his tight lips across her knuckles, she had to fight not to pull away.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Townsend. Thank you for having us here tonight.”

“I hope to have you many times in the future,” he whispered for her ears alone.

Madelaine jerked her hand away and backed up a step, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. There was no reaction from anyone, except a voluptuous brunette who seemed to glare a warning in her direction.

Introductions were made, drinks were served and Madelaine tried to relax as she chatted with a lovely older couple. Thank goodness her social skills weren’t as dusty as she’d feared. But as the evening progressed and despite Madelaine’s best efforts, the brunette named Felicia ignored her, returning often to Geoffrey’s side. Madelaine would have thought they were a couple, though Geoffrey seemed irritated at her attentiveness and brushed her arm off his sleeve more than once.

A portly butler entered the room, announcing that dinner would be served soon. Madelaine glanced at her father, who seemed terribly ill at ease. Geoffrey approached him, said a few words, and she watched as her father’s face paled considerably. Thinking he might be ill, she set her glass of sherry down and went to him.

“Father, are you well?” she asked, touching his hand.

“I’m fine,” he responded, without looking at her. “Geoffrey requests a word in the study.”

Madelaine turned to look at their host.

“It will only take a moment,” Geoffrey said, his tone insistent.

Geoffrey offered his arm and Madelaine took it, feeling once again like the hunted rabbit. It was rude of her to assume there was something uncouth about Geoffrey, and she hated the fact that she could be judgmental at times. She attributed that unflattering characteristic to the difficult lessons she’d learned at a much too young age. Countless times, she’d had to roam the city’s unsavory side in search of her father, only to have to drag him away from one card game or another.

Once inside the study, Geoffrey went to his desk and sat down. He pulled papers from the top drawer and motioned her father forward. Avoiding her gaze, her father put his signature on the bottom of each of three pages. Geoffrey then handed him a small leather pouch, which he accepted in a trembling hand. When he finally turned to look at her, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Madelaine’s stomach did a sickening flip. She moved toward him but he put up a hand, stopping her.

“What is it, Father?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I have to tell you good-bye, Madelaine.”

“What? What do you mean? Are we leaving now?”

“Forgive me,” her father repeated as he rushed out.

“Father!” Madelaine began to follow him but Geoffrey reacted quickly, coming around to stop her.

“Wait, Madelaine. There’s more. Allow me to finish what your father started to tell you.”

“No, thank you. I’ll let my father tell me on our way home. Excuse me,” she said, stepping aside.

Geoffrey grabbed her arm in a bruising crush, pulling her back to stand in front of him. “You are home. And you should be grateful, you little guttersnipe. But you’ll learn to be, in time.”

“How dare you.”

“I dare, because I can. Your father just gave you to me to do with as I please.”

“What?” she asked, incredulous.

“Not ‘gave’ really, since I paid him quite a sum for you.”

“Paid? Is that what this was all about—the envelope, the papers? Oh, God, what did he sign?” she asked, feeling her heart drop to her feet.

“Simply put, he signed you over. He had amassed a sizeable debt to me, you see. But I forgave that debt, even gave him a small amount of money in return for you. You should be quite flattered. I’ve never paid for a woman in my life.”

“Well, you’ve made a terrible mistake thinking you have bought one now. I assure you, sir, you have not.”

Geoffrey advanced on her until she felt the backs of her knees bump up against a chair. He shoved her down with force, though his tone remained calm. “Your opinion is of no consequence. What’s done is done—and quite beyond your control. I suggest you become a little more amiable and soon, before I lose my patience with you.”

“I want to talk to my father.”

Geoffrey leaned down over her, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping her. His low voice was filled with menace when he spoke, his eyes filled with undisguised lust.

“Your father just gave you to a relative stranger for money to stay good and drunk for all of six months. I would think you would be grateful that I have intervened in your pitiful situation.”

“If you have been of assistance to my father, then I am grateful, Mr. Townsend. But your business is with him, not me.”

“I know you haven’t been in circulation for some time now, my dear, but surely you have heard of me. I am a wealthy, powerful man in this city and you are fortunate to become my mistress. Without the deal I made on your behalf, you would likely end up a whore to a much lesser man.”

“I refuse to believe that my father would make such a deal with you. I am all he has left in the world. Do you really expect me to believe he would sacrifice me this way because you offered him money? You disgust me for even suggesting such a thing.”

Geoffrey laughed contemptuously. He lowered his head close to her and spoke, his sour breath fanning her face with the putrid truth. “I am not the one who approached your father. He came to me.” When she shook her head in denial, he said, “Oh yes. It was only after I saw you last week leaving the dressmaker’s shop that I agreed.”

He ran a finger along her jaw and her skin crawled. She turned her face away and he jerked her chin back to face him.

“You will find pleasure in my bed or pain. The choice is up to you. I enjoy both immensely.”

He pulled her up from the chair by her elbows, her knees ready to buckle at any moment. Nausea flooded her.

Her father had gone to him? It wasn’t possible. As low as her father had sunk to get alcohol and gambling money, she just couldn’t accept that he would…sell her. How could he?

Madelaine felt desperate with pain. Her heart had shattered in the last few years. She had come to believe that there was nothing left of it. But now…she swore she could feel her heart breaking inside her chest.

She barely noticed as Geoffrey leaned down and placed his thin, hard lips against hers. But when his tongue forced entry into her mouth and his hand squeezed her breast cruelly, her instincts came alive. She shoved him away and wiped her lips with the back of her hand as he laughed with sadistic humor.

“You’re so untried. It’s a pity the innocence doesn’t last for long. I really like it when they protest. No, all too soon you’ll be begging for my touch.”

“Never!” she hissed, backing farther away.

A knock at the door caught Geoffrey’s attention and he opened it to the butler, who announced that the guests were waiting in the dining room. Madelaine had forgotten anyone else was in the house. Oh, God, what was she to do?

“Come, my lovely. I’ll have to instruct you later, but for now, this is all you need to know. Tomorrow, Felicia and I are to be wed. She believes you are her new maid. Your days will be spent seeing to Felicia’s needs and whims and your nights will be spent in my bed, though I see no reason to upset her with the truth. I will assure you discretion for as long as you please me. Anger me in any way, and you will suffer—that is a promise. Now, shall we go in to dinner? I am famished.”

He held out his arm as if nothing unusual had just occurred.

Madelaine stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t expect me to go back in there?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes, I do. I have guests out there waiting for me. Unfortunately, your drunk father couldn’t wait one more night to conclude our business, so I had to invite you tonight. Now I can’t very well tell everyone who you are, and I refuse to try to explain your absence from the table along with your father’s abrupt exit from my home. So come along.”

She couldn’t speak; her brain refused to process all that he was telling her. Too numb to resist, she let him lead her out of the room, down the hall and into the large dining room. He seated her next to the elderly couple she had been talking to earlier. She heard nothing they said, their words blending with the ringing in her ears. Across the table, Felicia’s eyes shone with disgust and jealousy. She knew exactly why Madelaine had been brought here and it was plain as day she wasn’t going to stand for another woman in her home. Madelaine shivered at the deadly promise coming from her cool, blue eyes. At the head of the table, Geoffrey watched her as intimately as if they were already lovers.

She felt trapped. And utterly alone.

As the dinner wore on endlessly, the sense of survival that had gotten her through her worst months, days and hours began to awaken. She hadn’t called on it for some time, and she suddenly realized she’d been existing in a semiconscious state. If she hadn’t been, she would have seen this coming. God, she could have prevented this entire nightmare.

In that moment, she knew there was only one way she would survive this ordeal—alone. By her own wits.

So she made a promise to herself. Never again would she allow her fate to be in the hands of a man. Every woman she had ever known lived under the control of the men in their lives.

And love? What about love? Madelaine’s innocent visions of that fairy tale had been destroyed more than once. She wouldn’t be fooled again.

No, there was only one person she could rely on for all the things she needed in this world. Only one person she could trust with the freedom of thought and choice she desired more than anything else.

That person was her—and she vowed from now on she would never answer to another man as long as she lived.