1
L’Anonyme, London
December, 1885
Well before midnight.
Lewis Joseph Ambrose, ninth Duke of Ansford, stepped out of L’Anonyme, his favorite pleasure club, and shut the door promptly behind him. Sounds of debauchery wafting from within instantly silenced.
Sounds he’d immersed himself in on multiple occasions.
But not this night.
Tilting his head back, he drew the crisp winter air into his lungs. A gentle snow had begun to fall. It was the only thing that brightened the darkened alley where the discreet entrance to the club was located.
Why the hell had he bothered to come here? Not even the enticement of drinking and fucking could rid him of his ill humor tonight. And he knew the reason.
Christmas.
He hated the holiday.
Each year, he made a concerted effort to distract himself, to forget about it. More precisely, to forget about the reasons this time of year had earned his disdain.
He thought he could improve his mood by indulging in the sort of anonymous carnal encounters he’d come to prefer. But he was wrong. He’d walked out within a short time—without enough drink in him to thoroughly soak his brain. And, like a fool, he’d just rejected an attractive, well-warmed, willing woman.
Now he stood in the cold. Alone.
In a fouler disposition than when he’d arrived.
Adjusting his top hat with an impatient jerk of the rim, then his greatcoat, he strode out of the alley in search of his hired cab. His personal carriage awaited him streets away. No one arrived at L’Anonyme in their own transportation. “Anonyme” meant anonymous in French. Anonymity was expected in every regard by members who frequented the club.
He glanced across the street where he’d told the driver to wait. The cab was there, but he didn’t see the driver. By the time he reached the other side of the road, he spotted the man racing up the street toward him, clearly having been in conversation with a fellow cab driver.
“Sir, are you ready to depart?” the young man asked as he stopped abruptly before him. He knew nothing about Lewis, as was the intent.
Lewis was already irked enough tonight, and decided to ignore the man’s slight dereliction of duty. He just wanted to get home, and any discussion would only prolong that.
“Yes,” was his curt response as the door to the cab was immediately opened for him. The four-wheeled cab was more than he needed. But it was all that was available during this festive holiday season. He gave him the address to where his personal carriage awaited with his own driver, along with his trusted man Darius Farley. He’d decided to return to his smaller, recently purchased residence in Cadogan Square rather than his stately childhood abode on Camden Hill that had hosted many Christmas celebrations—and that came with the title he’d inherited six years ago. The smaller six-story red brick home was much more comfortable. More welcoming. He’d finish off the night with some of his favorite brandy. The sweet burn of the amber liquid down his throat would be the best part of this abysmal evening.
Settling into the darkened cab, he tossed his hat beside him, rested his head against the velvet seat, and shut his eyes. The cab door closed, followed by a forward jerk and the clattering of horses’ hooves on the cobbled roadway.
He was on his way home. Thank God… The tension in his shoulders relaxed.
“Sir?” The female voice came from within the cab.
His eyes shot open, only to stare into a black void.
What the bloody hell…?
All the curtains were drawn. The opposite side of the cab was obliterated in the dark.
“I’m sorry to have startled you. There’s no reason for alarm.” The female voice was calm.
Glancing down, he saw a sliver of light stream in from between the curtains, illuminating a small section of striped skirts for just a moment as they passed one of the gas lanterns on the street. He couldn’t tell the exact color. Nor the fabric. And he certainly couldn’t see her face.
How had he missed her there?
“Who are you? What are you doing in my cab?” Perhaps he could have conveyed the questions with less of a snarl, but this situation was only adding to his disagreeable temperament.
“I’d rather not say my name at the moment. I did think of an alias to use to make it easier to address me. You may call me Sarah.”
She’d plotted whatever she was doing beforehand? His initial irritation suddenly turned to concern. While she sounded calm, he was anything but. What the fuck was happening? Was he being kidnapped? Robbed? Was the driver involved? Lewis wasn’t a small man, normally standing almost a full head taller than most other men. He was fit, strong.
He’d been in a bare-knuckle brawl a time or two in his life as a youth.
He wouldn’t go without a fight.
Lewis leaned forward and shoved the velvet curtains beside her open.
The woman’s face stared back at him, now lit by the night’s silvery light. A pretty face, from what he could see of it—though half was hidden in shadow. At least he now knew there was just the two of them in the cab.
Opening the rest of the curtains to flood as much light into the confined space as possible, he had a better view of not just the interior, but outside as well. No one seemed to be following them. And thus far, the carriage was going in the expected direction.
He could see her better now. She wore a dark-colored winter hat and cloak, the hood of which rested on her shoulders. And she was even more attractive than he’d first surmised. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Beautiful cheekbones and mouth. That alone made her dangerous to men.
To idiotic men like him—who’d been known in the past to think with his prick.
“What do you want, Sarah?” he bit out.
“May I call you Alfred?”
“No.”
“Then what alias would you like?”
“I don’t want an alias. I want to know what the hell you want and whether the driver of this cab is in collusion with you.”
“The driver? No, of course not. He doesn’t even know I’m in here. And your request to know more is certainly fair.” She looked down and rubbed her gloved hands together as a single lock of dark hair escaped her coiffure. Perhaps she was cold. Though he sensed she was…nervous? He wasn’t sure. He’d abandoned the notion long ago that he possessed any ability to discern women’s emotions or thoughts outside his sexual encounters with them.
She returned her gaze to his. “I’m in need of your assistance. You are in possession of certain…delicate…information I desperately need. I know this is all rather surprising and rather unconventional, to say the least. I could pay you for your time. I have a piece of jewelry that I could offer…”
Lewis relaxed a little. She didn’t know who he was. She wouldn’t be trying to sway him with an item of jewelry if she knew the extent of his wealth.
“I don’t know what information you think I have. Whatever scheme you are about, I’m not interested. I’ll stop the cab at the station down the street, and you can get out and go about your business.” He glanced out each window. Again, there seemed to be no one following them.
“No, wait! Allow me to explain. I have been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? Why?”
“Because you’re a man who frequents L’Anonyme. You are clearly a member.” She leaned forward and tucked that errant lock of hair behind her ear. In a loud whisper, she said, “I know what sort of club it is and what one does there.”
Why was she whispering?
He leaned forward and in a similar loud whisper confirmed bluntly, “One fucks there.”
She didn’t admonish him nor shrink back at his wording. Instead, she nodded. “Yes, and that is precisely why you’re the perfect man to advise me.” Advise? “I saw you enter, and within a short time, you left. You must be very accomplished at, well…copulation, if you can finish it so quickly.”
Lewis blinked—suddenly wishing he was being kidnapped.
It was better than being unmanned and rendered speechless as she’d just done.
He wasn’t about to defend his stamina or sexual prowess to this woman. Nor explain why he’d driven all the way to a pleasure club just to down two brandies and then leave like the imbecile he’d been tonight.
Before he could formulate a response, the cab came to an abrupt stop. He darted his gaze about and saw an empty street—except for his driver and Darius standing near his personal transportation at the end of the road.
Lewis snatched his hat from the seat, threw open the door, and practically jumped out before the driver could assist. Within moments, the man stood beside him, looking bewildered as to why Lewis hadn’t waited, then seemed even more befuddled by the unexpected female passenger poking her head out from inside his cab.
They were both looking up at her, but Lewis was transfixed. The street lantern was right above them. Shadows no longer hid her face. A winter wind blew against her, sending that errant lock of dark hair brushing away from her cheek.
She was bloody beautiful…
He simply stood there, hat in hand, admiring the details of the loveliest face he’d ever seen. Big dark eyes, delicate brows, and her mouth…so lush. Just the right fullness. Made for hours of oral bliss. A wave of raw lust licked up his spine. The urge to bite that plump lower lip, to taste that mouth, almost overwhelmed him. He was forced to tame it, stunned by his intense reaction to her.
She held out her hand to him. “Sir, if you will…”
And without a single other thought in his head, he helped her alight from the cab.
That was when he was hit with a second surprise. Standing in front of him, the wind and snow beginning to intensify, she was practically eye to eye with him. Only a few inches shorter. She was far taller than the average woman.
She was incredible to behold.
Pulling her hood on, she looked about, fighting with the wind to keep the thing in place. “Is this where you live?”
Stop gawking at her, for God’s sake. The cold temperature was doing nothing to cool his stiffened cock. He slammed his hat onto his head, trapping some of the snow inside it, without giving a single damn.
This is what you get for not partaking as you should have at L’Anonyme, you fool.
“No.” Turning to the driver, he said, “Do you see those men at the end of the street?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Speak to the taller man for your payment, as well as funds to take this lady wherever she wishes to go.” The weather was worsening, and he would dispatch her quickly and see to that brandy awaiting him at home.
“Yes, sir.” With that, the driver rushed off to see Darius, the cold temperature quickening his steps.
“I’m not going with him,” his female tormenter advised. “We have not concluded our discussions. I’m going with you.”
“No, you are not.” Lewis began to walk toward his men and carriage.
Immediately, she was there beside him, matching his pace. “I haven’t explained everything.”
“Explain it to someone else.”
“But you’re knowledgeable. I need to know what a man enjoys when he…well…during bed sport. Also, I need to know what is involved in the art of seduction.”
He stopped his strides. “You jest?”
She let out an exasperated breath. “I do not. I am standing in a winter storm with a complete stranger, having waited outside a pleasure club, and stowed away in a cab—all of which a woman wouldn’t dare do. I have ploughed far past acceptable conduct. Clearly, I am not jesting. Aside from a bit of your time, what would it cost you to aid me?”
“My sanity. It’s already being taxed right now.”
“Sir, as a member of L’Anonyme, there is much you can tell me. I could speak endlessly about geometry”—she gestured theatrically with an extended arm—“but I’ve learned that’s not what a man wants. I am utterly hopeless when it comes to social interactions with men.”
Shocking, that.
“I will be attending a Christmas ball in precisely twenty-one days. I really must have more of an understanding of the intimate acts between lovers by then. You need not concern yourself with my reputation or my making myself unmarriageable. I’m quite beyond that—for many reasons. I have attempted to learn as much as I could on my own. I obtained a book on the matter from one of those so-called ‘scandalous’ bookshops on Holywell Street. I read it thoroughly. I have several questions. I would very much like to arrange a time to meet with you to discuss my questions in depth. I do appreciate that the hour is late. When might you be free? Tomorrow? Where would you like to meet?”
Lewis looked around. His men were busy speaking with the driver of the cab. No one else seemed to be on the street.
“Has someone put you up to this ridiculous ploy?” This had to be some sort of prank.
She looked taken aback. “No, and it is not ridiculous. Nor a ploy. Will you help me?”
“Absolutely not. Go back to the cab, madam. Go home.” He’d get Darius to escort her back to wherever she came from.
“I know how bizarre it must be to be asked to relay intimate information to a complete stranger, but I haven’t anyone else to ask. At least no one with your advanced knowledge to best advise me. If you will but answer some questions, I’ll never bother you again. Perhaps it would make this easier if we were better acquainted. I should tell you a bit about myself…”
Good God, no. Lewis walked away. “Not necessary.” Not interested.
“I’m not a virgin,” she exclaimed. For some reason, that stopped him dead in his tracks. He caught the amusement that flashed on Darius’s face, as her announcement had clearly carried down the street to his ear, before he had the good grace to school his features and look away. She quickly caught up to Lewis. “I gave myself to my love, Alfred.”
“His name is Alfred?”
“No, it’s an alias.”
“I thought that was my alias?”
“You didn’t want it.” She frowned, her expression having a tinge of are you daft? and don’t you recall? in it. “Are you married?”
That inspired his feet to move again, but she kept up with his long strides once more. Damn her. “No,” he said curtly.
“A fiancée?”
“No.”
“Any significant female in your life?”
“I had a dog once.”
“Then we have something in common.” She smiled, holding on to her hood. Still keeping pace with him with no difficulty. He tried not to think about how long and gorgeous her legs must be. “I had a lovely dog once too—Thalia. I named her after one of the Greek muses, the patron of comedy. My Thalia was amusing and intelligent. A collie. I do love dogs immensely. I loved Thalia very much.”
“Are you ever going to stop talking?”
Ignoring him, she forged on. “Alfred and I were intimate just one time. I’m in desperate need of your insight to gain a better understanding of men—in an intimate setting—and what I can improve upon. I promise not to take up much of your time. I do learn quickly. I have two degrees from the University of London.”
“Really,” he said dryly. It was a statement. Not a question. He had no idea if she’d truly graduated from the university. Or if anything she’d told him thus far was the truth.
He’d grown a general sense of distrust when it came to people—strangers, acquaintances, those who’d once been in his intimate circles, and beautiful women.
Most emphatically that last group.
“Yes, truly. Alfred will be in attendance at the ball on Christmas Eve. I’ve done something wrong and I must remedy that. The probability of a favorable outcome under any circumstance increases when one possesses greater knowledge.”
Lewis let out a sharp breath in frustration and abruptly halted his steps. She took two brisk steps away from him before realizing he’d stopped, then turned around and rushed back, her hand on her head, still fighting the wind that blew stronger the closer they moved to the corner of the street.
She stared at him with those big transfixing eyes.
“If any of this is true, and I do mean any of it, I’m going to be blunt with you,” he said, forced to elevate his voice slightly over the whirling wind. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps Alfred said whatever he had to say, did whatever he had to do, simply to bed you? That you were merely a conquest to him and he has moved on to his next? It may be caddish of him, but not unheard of.”
“Alfred is not a cad,” she countered, that frown returning. And he hated that he found the way her brow crinkled adorable. “He is a brilliant mathematician. He’s published a number of papers with the London Mathematical Society. He’s sensitive, and bashful. I cannot broach the subject with him. I did something incorrectly. I must know what. I truly feel you’ll be able to decipher that for me.”
Lewis clenched his jaw to keep from spewing out the profanity burning up his throat, not just for this ridiculous situation he was in, but for some reason he was annoyed with Alfred the mathematician, who sounded like a pompous ass—and was definitely a cad.
His every rakish instinct told him so.
“Stay here.” Stepping around her, he walked straight up to Darius and grabbed his arm. “A private word with you,” he said, pulling him away from the drivers, the horses, and, most importantly, the woman plaguing him.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Darius, who was a year Lewis’s junior, gave him his usual smile, taking in stride the sudden yank on his arm and the wintery disturbance awhirl about them. Though almost the same in stature, in contrast to Lewis, Darius had fair hair and blue eyes.
“There’s not one fucking thing that’s good about this evening,” he told him.
“Oh?” Darius cast a glance at Sarah and suggested, “The lovely lady with you seems to be a good thing.”
“That’s because you don’t know her and don’t address me as Your Grace. Do not let this—likely mad—woman know who I am. I cannot get rid of her.”
“An attractive woman,” Darius lowered his voice to add, “who is not a virgin desires to be in your company. Are you certain you don’t wish to bear that suffering?” His lips twitched as he tried to hide his mirth. The difference in their station didn’t matter a whit to Lewis. Darius was like a brother—and not a subordinate in society. They’d gotten into mischief together since boyhood. Darius’s father had been steward to the late duke, Lewis’s father, for as long as Lewis could remember—until their passing mere weeks apart.
Darius’s father of natural causes.
Lewis’s sire prematurely in a fire.
Darius was the only man on this side of the stars Lewis trusted implicitly. He’d been by Lewis’s side through every trial of his life.
There was a time, years ago, when he’d enjoyed jesting with others. At one time, he’d possessed a more genial disposition. Darius was the only one left in Lewis’s life whom he permitted to rib him this way—which he only ever did in private.
“I’m glad you find this amusing. She waited for me to exit L’Anonyme, having stolen her way into my cab, and wants me to give her advice as to what she did wrong during her amorous encounter with Alfred the mathematician.”
“Alfred the mathematician?”
“It’s an alias. Don’t ask about it.”
“Very well.” Darius cast another glance at the woman in question. “She’s well dressed. Has some means. A widow?”
Lewis shook his head. “No. I don’t believe she’s been married.”
Darius gave a nod just as an icy gust assailed them. “The weather worsens, Your Gr…er… How should I address you?”
“Anything but Your Grace. And yes, we’re all about to freeze our bollocks off if we stand here much longer. The problem is, she won’t get back into the cab I’ve paid for to return her home. This woman is beyond insensible.”
“We really must get the horses back. What if you offered to answer a few questions in the carriage, as we take her home?”
Lewis blew out a sharp breath. “It’s worth a bloody try.”
He walked up to “Sarah.” Her eyes widened in anticipation of his next words. She’d switched hands and was now holding her hood in place with her left. Again, he couldn’t help but admire her lovely face and the pretty dark curls that rustled wildly in the wind within the hood of her garment. He cleared his throat. “Madam, if you will not get in the cab, may I offer you a ride to your home? I will answer some questions you pose of me—”
“Excellent!” A big, bedazzling smile shone on her face, unbalancing him for a moment. That is until the next words came from her lips. “Will you please remove my trunk and valise and place it on this carriage,” she said to the driver of the cab. Trunk and valise? “Oh, and I left my muff on the seat. Would you be so kind as to fetch me that as well?” The driver was off to do her bidding before Lewis could object.
She turned back to him. “May I call you Percival?”
“No.”
“Really? I rather like the name. I think it suits you.”
From the corner of his eye, Lewis could detect Darius fighting back a smile.
She stepped around Lewis and stopped at the door to his carriage.
Lewis scrubbed a hand down his face, wet with snow. He needed a moment to wrestle down his impatience. Both drivers were loading her belongings onto his carriage. “Why on earth do you have a trunk and valise with you?”
“I was on my way to the Christmas ball. I’ll be happy to discuss it further in the carriage.”
“I’d rather not.” That made about as much sense as anything else she’d told him this night. “And how did you get them onto—”
“The driver of my cab helped me as yours was indisposed.”
Clearly, his cab driver had been far more preoccupied than Lewis first realized. And for far longer.
“Yet again, you feel utterly comfortable entering my carriage alone? What if I’m a crazed murderer?”
Her pretty brows rose. “Are you a crazed murderer?”
“Do you expect crazed murderers to simply admit to it?”
“Probably not. But in seeing your kindness in offering to pay for my cab, to make certain I return home safely, and in having done everything you can to rid yourself of me, I’m confident your intentions are not nefarious. By the by, you should know that I don’t back down easily where men are concerned. I would never have achieved my scholarly aspirations otherwise, nor relent in my support of the suffrage movement. And besides, after what I’ve put you through this eve, if you were indeed a crazed murderer, I should think you would have strangled me by now.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes as she flashed him another dazzling smile before climbing into his carriage unassisted.
Darius choked on his laugh.
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