LITMIR.BIZ

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bare boards, well polished but worn, dipping in places where it was most frequently walked on. She could barely see it, because most of the space was taken up. Two long tables stretched widthways with a jumble of chairs, none matching, gathered around them. All were occupied, some of them double.

      Men were engaged in drinking, laughing, and fondling. On one corner of the table, two men were engaged in what appeared to be a game of piquet. Their cards were in neat piles, together with tokens that would presumably be converted into money at the end of their play. They were oblivious to the goings-on in the rest of the room. The room was ill-lit, probably on purpose, dark corners providing useful corners for more intimate play.

      Claudia had never seen anything like it in her life, and it fascinated her.

      The women were in various stages of undress. A man dragged a bodice down and sucked on the girl’s breasts. Claudia stood close enough to hear the growls he made and the giggles from the girl. How could she allow anyone to maul her like that? The bitter flavor of distaste filled her mouth. Even for money, that was taking matters much further than Claudia wanted to go. She couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone, even Lord St. Just.

      She dismissed him from her mind. This was most certainly not the time to think of him.

      An older lady, wrinkled breasts on full display, approached her. “Yes?” she said. “Did Harold let you in?”

      Claudia moistened her lips. “Yes, he did. I have to show you something.”

      The lady had shaved her brows, but the penciled ones demonstrated her surprise as well as the originals would have. “You’re not showing enough as it is. If you want to get some customers, you’ll have to tempt them more than that.”

      In response, she drew out the copies of her letters that she’d hastily made that afternoon and handed them over.

      Claudia had pushed her bodice as low as she’d dared, but she wouldn’t dream of exposing her nipples, as this lady did. Even less talking rationally while having them on blatant display. The more Claudia tried not to look, the more she wanted to, although it was far from a savory sight.

      The lady carried an odor with her, a mixture of camphor, lavender, and stale sweat. What wreathed around her nose most was a heavy, thick, unpleasant scent, spiked with a sharper smell not unlike two-day-old fish. Her stomach roiled and she pressed her hand to it. Maybe the lamps in the hall outside were using cheap fish oil.

      No, it wasn’t that. She knew what it was, and she hated to admit that she did. Unwashed female. The heavier smell must be the men in the room, although she had no knowledge of what men’s private parts smelled like. If this was a sample, she wanted none of it.

      She couldn’t imagine Lord St. Just carried that scent under his pristine, expensive clothes. When he’d kissed her, all she’d smelled was a faint citrus aroma and warm, clean male. She was accustomed to that scent in her brothers, but not the heat and the muskiness. The memory helped to block out the unpleasant ones assaulting her now.

      The woman sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand before returning the papers to Claudia. She took them and folded them, taking care not to touch the spot the woman had smeared with her snot. She’d as lief throw them in the fire, but this evening had proved mild and there was none. Besides, it would look decidedly strange. She’d tear them up when she got home. They were only copies.

      “You’re the new owner. What do you plan to do with the place?” the woman demanded.

      “Nothing,” she said. “I only wanted to see it.”

      “What, you couldn’t make an appointment like any normal gentry-mort?”

      Fascinated, Claudia tilted her head and wondered what a gentry-mort was. Whatever the meaning, it appeared she was one. “I wanted to see it during…working hours.”

      The woman cackled. “Well, here we are. Do you like what you see?”

      She moved closer and Claudia was hard put not to step back.

      “Some ladies come ’ere of an evening to join in. Are you of that mind?”

      Claudia shook her head. Waves of nausea swept over her, and she had to fight to keep her dinner in her stomach. “May I watch? Please, don’t tell anyone who I am.” She could put up with a little stink.

      The woman shook her head, the lappets of her cap grazing her bare shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t let any of my little ’uns see me in working hours. Whatever is your mother thinking?” She clicked her tongue. “You could get robbed, or worse. Still, Mother Finch’ll take care of you. If anybody asks, tell them you’re reserved and your gentleman isn’t here yet. He’s paid a lot for you, and he wants you to wait. We gets all sorts ’ere. Some like to watch and most gentlemen have their favorites. I’ll send you some wine over. There, in the corner near the fireplace. Don’t sit there like the specter at the feast. Smile and laugh and look like you’re having a good time.”

      After a nod, Claudia made her way down the side of the room to the seat the lady—Mother Finch—indicated. A big man who could have been the twin of the one outside, except that the pattern of battering was different, handed her a grubby glass of red liquid. She thanked him and sniffed the contents of the goblet. Wine, for sure, but she had no idea what else was in there. It could be vinegar from the way it smelled. She wet her lips with it and her tongue shrank from the acrid taste.

      The sound in the room had continued unabated. A fat, florid man stared at her, his gaze roaming lasciviously over her figure. She wished now she’d worn a less vivid color, for the pink gown seemed almost gaudy in this place. She had a double ruffle of lace at her elbows, not her finest lace to be sure, but too fine for this room. Lace was expensive, so dear that smugglers gained a good price from it. As well she hadn’t worn her gown with the laced petticoat. The people here might have ripped it off her or even killed her for it.

      She shuddered and took a delicate sip of the wine.

      The man was still watching. His face was red, from wine or the heat of the small room crammed with unwashed, excited people, she didn’t know. He wore relatively grand clothes. Blue and mustard in color, the waistcoat was a little too long for current taste, the sleeves of his shirt even fuller than her brothers had. No, not unfashionable. Foreign. The style was French, or maybe Italian.

      She didn’t care. The man had a bulbous nose, no doubt from over imbibing over a period of time, and his pale blue eyes were unpleasantly prominent. His lips were full, almost like a girl’s. He smiled, revealing white teeth, though she wasn’t close enough to ascertain whether they were his own or artificial.

      She didn’t care. Looking away, she was just in time to catch the rush of a dark green coat as its owner sat next to her. He smelled of citrus and warm, clean male.

      “What…”

      With a laugh, Lord St. Just caught her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her mouth, stifling whatever she was about to say.

      Chapter 4

      When he’d stepped into the brothel, Dominic’s first urge was instinctive. He wanted to shake her until the teeth rattled in her head and then hold her close so that nobody would see her or know her. What the hell was she doing here? From his vantage point across the street, he’d seen her arrive, but hadn’t recognized her. He did now she’d thrown her hood back. She was sitting wide-eyed, watching his quarry.

      A half mask and powder did not disguise that straight nose and those sensual lips. He’d know them anywhere. The curl of red-gold hair missed when her maid had powdered the rest of her locks only confirmed his firm belief. Lady Claudia Shaw had once more ventured to a place she had no right to occupy.

      If anyone else recognized her, she was done for. Didn’t she realize that men she might have met in a ballroom earlier in the evening might come here to carouse before the night was over? The idiotic woman didn’t have the sense she was born with.

      He sent away the chairmen who’d brought her, swearing

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