The Sweetest Revenge Read online

  “Perhaps even then he planned to make you his mistress.”

  Anna’s body stilled, and she spoke very softly. “Had he asked me then, I would have agreed.”

  A look of pain crossed Susan’s face. “But why?”

  “I was utterly ruined, Susie. Lord Archer found me at my worst, my very worst. He knows how wretchedly low I fell. Of course he would not marry someone like me. I wouldn’t expect it of him. I would have been grateful to become his mistress.”

  “Why, Anna?” Isabelle’s voice was breathless.

  Anna gave her a blank look. “Have I never told you what happened to me after the night I spent with Leo, Isabelle?”

  “No.” She gave her friend a faltering smile. “I can’t help feeling a little curious.”

  “I tried desperately to find a means to live, but I had no skills anyone in London could use. I was on the streets with nothing—no friends, no money. I wandered aimlessly for a few days, and then I found a woman named Beatrice Snow. She heard my genteel accent and thought I would bring in the blunt for her whorehouse.”

  Isabelle could not prevent the soft gasp that emerged from her mouth.

  Anna’s lips twisted. “She was a clever woman, and she ran quite a successful brothel. She was right about me. I stayed with her for over a year and eventually became one of her most sought-after whores. But with each passing day, I sank more and more into a terrible sadness and despair. And then one day, Lord Archer simply sauntered in.” She smiled. “Oh, you should have seen the looks on the women’s faces. Wide eyes and gaping mouths. As if they’d never seen a lord before. And they probably hadn’t.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Well, he just walked right up to me and bowed. It was so funny, Isabelle—he apologized for speaking to me without a formal introduction. As if that kind of thing mattered in that place. Then he said he was taking me away.” She draped the mantle over her shoulders and absently stroked the fur.

  “What was Lord Archer doing in the…in there?” Isabelle asked.

  “At first I thought he was looking for some companionship for the evening, but now”—her dark brows drew together in consternation—“now I am not certain.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “Haven’t you ever wondered why he chose you? Why he took you away?”

  Anna nodded solemnly. “A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t wondered. I think about it all the time. Why was he there at all? Why me?”

  Isabelle released a deep breath. Anna covered Susan’s hand on her shoulder and went on. “He took me into his carriage. At first I believed his intentions were sinister—and I didn’t even care. I knew he was a handsome young lord, and I only wanted to be away from there.” She sighed wistfully. “But he was so kind to me. He didn’t touch me. The expression on his face, oh, I don’t know why, it just made me break down. I told him everything. Everything, from the night Lord Leothaid took me, to that very day.”

  “Did you give him Leo’s name?” Isabelle asked breathlessly.

  “I did,” Anna said solemnly. “I told him everything.”

  Isabelle couldn’t understand how anyone could remain Leo’s friend after hearing Anna’s tale.

  “When he brought me to you, Susie, he knew that you would take pity on me.”

  “There was no pity, Anna. I only did what was right.” Susan’s eyes shone with tears. “It was not long after I’d broken with Leo—less than a year after Henry’s death. When I heard what he had done to you… Well, it was then that I began to plan our revenge.”

  “Lord Archer waited almost a whole year before coming to see me.”

  “I invited him, Anna. He did not ask to see you.”

  “But don’t you see? He wouldn’t have asked. Like the gentleman he is, he waited patiently for me. He waited until I was completely healed.”

  “Are you healed?” Susan asked.

  She nodded firmly. “Yes.”

  Isabelle gazed at Anna. She didn’t quite believe Anna when she said she was healed. She tried to imagine herself in the younger woman’s position. She doubted she could have borne it.

  “And now that you are a lady again, he wants you,” Susan said.

  Anna’s eyes flashed green. “He always wanted me. Now that I have returned from that darkest of places, he knows it’s safe to have me without hurting me.”

  “He wants you as his mistress, Anna, not as his wife.”

  Anna rose to her feet. “I know. What more could I ask? He is a viscount! I pose as a lady for society’s sake, but he knows the truth. I am a mere shadow of a lady. It would be my honor to have him, not the other way around.”

  “Viscount, lady,” Susan sneered. “What’s in a title? What’s in a name? You are his equal in all ways. Perhaps you are more than him, Anna, for after his recent behavior I am not so certain about him.”

  “Do not pretend my moral standards are any higher than his,” Anna warned, placing her hands flat on the breakfast table. Isabelle saw that they were trembling.

  “But he attends orgies and the like by choice,” Isabelle said softly. “You were forced into the…into your reduced circumstances. It was entirely beyond your control.”

  Anna snapped her gaze to Isabelle. “I pursued Leo, Isabelle. It was not the other way around. I pursued him.”

  Susan flicked her wrist as if swatting at an annoying insect. “That does not excuse his actions.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But I will not pretend I stand on higher moral ground than Lord Archer.”

  Susan shook her head. “Should anyone discover your dalliance—”

  Anna snorted. “Do you think I would be so foolish? I’ve been hiding various facets of myself from society for a year, Susie, and I have become quite the expert at discretion.”

  Susan’s voice was soft. “But, dearest, is this truly the course of action you wish to follow?”

  “You were just telling Isabelle she ought to pursue Mr. Sutherland. Now you are telling me I should not have Lord Archer?” Curling her fingers in the fur of the mantle, Anna gazed at them with glistening eyes. “Why?”

  Susan threw her hands in the air. “I was teasing her, Anna. Her heart is not at risk when it comes to Mr. Sutherland. It is different with you. I am concerned about Thomas’s intentions. I worry he will hurt you.”

  “You are wrong about him.” Anna tilted her head and brushed her cheek against the fur. “I will accept this.”

  “Oh, Anna,” Isabelle whispered.

  “You are both overlooking the most important thing.”

  “What is that?” Susan asked.

  Anna’s eyes flashed at them once more. “I want him, too.”

  She spun around and swept out of the breakfast room, clutching the fur mantle to her chest.

  Isabelle met Susan’s distraught gaze. It seemed Anna had already ceased to take her own advice. When it came to Lord Archer, she had forgotten to be careful, and she had never been cold.

  ***

  “Good evening, Leo.”

  He knew the gravelly voice right away. He sketched a bow. “Good evening, Lady M. Or would it be more accurate to say afternoon? I am never quite sure anymore, especially with this” —he paused deliberately, pretending to conjure a word that the lady would not find offensive— “dratted blindfold.”

  It was good she’d waited until today to come to him, he supposed. If she’d come last night, he’d not have been able to hold in his temper. Today was a different story. He’d promised himself to keep it under tight rein.

  “There is no need to mince words with me, Leo,” Lady M said. “Tell me what you really think of it.”

  “It’s a deuced inconvenience.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Why do you force me to wear it, then?”

  “You know why.”

  “Because I would identify you if I saw you. Well, Lady M, I have already identified one of your treacherous trio. It is only a matter of time before I know all of you.”

  “We shall endeavo
r to prevent that,” she said dryly.

  Recognition flashed, but then it fled before Leo had a chance to grasp it. It left behind the assurance that he knew this woman well. He smiled and sat back comfortably on the chaise, trying to ignore the throb in his ankles where the shackles had worn the skin raw. “You will reveal yourselves in the subtlest ways. You cannot prevent it. Observe how easily I uncovered Belle’s identity.”

  “Whose?”

  “Belle’s.”

  “I can’t say I’m acquainted with anyone by that name.”

  Leo gritted his teeth. He should have expected this. “Isabelle Frasier. The lady I exposed the day before yesterday. Why isn’t she here now? What is she afraid of?”

  The sound of a long-suffering sigh came from Lady M’s direction. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Leo. Are you addled? Why, I thought you’d be able to keep your wits about you longer than this. It has only been four days, after all.”

  “Do not toy with me, my lady.”

  He did not know she was so close until her hand skimmed his shoulder. Her touch heated his skin through his shirt. God, he missed being touched. He missed warmth.

  She moved away. Pages rustled as she flipped through the book. “Are you enjoying Vindication, Leo?”

  “Fascinating,” he muttered. He hadn’t touched the book. The title said it all, didn’t it? Lady M had lectured him enough—he was not about to submit to a two-hundred-page treatise on the evils of the male gender written by some mad-as-a-hatter female who’d probably locked hundreds of men in her own cellar.

  “Ah, I agree. Mrs. Wollstonecraft was a brilliant woman, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.”

  “What did you think of chapter nine, about the ‘pernicious effects of the unnatural class distinctions in society’? You know, just this morning, I was discussing that very topic with our own Mistress Jane.”

  Leo licked his lips. “Quite enlightening.”

  “Really, Leo?” Her voice was soft.

  “Absolutely. Now that I’ve finished it, would you mind bringing me another book? Perhaps a history or one of the classics? Haven’t read those since Eton.”

  “So you’d like a Homer or Virgil, perhaps?”

  “Yes, those would do. Bring back all the fond memories of my boyhood, you know? And I haven’t tested my Latin or Greek in years. I am sure it’s rather rusty. What a useful way to spend my time.”

  “Oh yes,” Lady M said agreeably, but then her voice hardened. “However, I think you might do better to read through this one again. There are endless subtleties within the text, and I am afraid you did not grasp all of them.”

  The nerve of this woman. First she called him addled, now she implied he was incapable of understanding the written word.

  Of course, it was quite an impossibility to understand something one hadn’t read, and if he tried to argue for his intelligence, he would expose his ignorance about the damned book.

  He changed the topic instead. “My lady, I planned a trip to Scotland next month. I ought to send my regrets, since you clearly intend to keep me here for some time. Perhaps I might pen a letter. Would you be so kind as to procure me some stationery and ink?”

  “No, Leo. Don’t worry about it. It has been taken care of.”

  That sent a chill down his spine. Just how much did these women know of his life? Far, far too much, obviously.

  He swallowed down the lump of emotion rising in his throat. “Very good. Perhaps you could bring a few pies? We could make a pleasant picnic here, I should think. This state of perpetual hunger you’ve kept me in makes me think incessantly about food.”

  And Belle. He hungered for her, too. To see her, to touch her, to hear her whispering voice. Now that would be a sweet sustenance.

  “Good food,” he added, “not the scraps you’ve been providing.”

  “Oh, poor Leo. Ever wonder how the women you ruin get their next meal?”

  This woman’s gall was beyond compare.

  “Surely my coin provides it,” he retorted, curling his fists behind him. “Not that I admit to ruining women. I don’t—there is no pleasure in it. I try to get to them after they’ve been properly ruined. Like you, Lady M.”

  He heard her breath catch and knew he had struck a chord. He felt his lips curl into a Cheshire cat grin, far too self-satisfied to be gentlemanly. But why work to be a gentleman when these women did not behave like ladies?

  “That was unkind, Leo.”

  His grin twisted, turned into a snarl. “Would you describe your actions toward me as kind, Lady M? You keep me frozen and on the brink of starvation. All I have to look forward to are brief periods of interaction with you, in which you deride me, ridicule me, and blame me for society’s shortcomings. How can you expect kindness from me?”

  Lady M’s voice dripped with acid. “You are warm enough. I see Mistress Jane has given you a blanket. She is far too kind, in my opinion, for not very long ago, she nearly froze to death on a London street because of you. Furthermore, you are given enough food to survive. If it is not to your taste, I am sorry about that. I believe Mistress Jane and Miss Juliette have subsisted on less, no thanks to you. As for me, I am accustomed to better, but only because I was lucky enough to have been able to hide my own ‘ruin,’ as you so aptly put it.”

  The wind rushed out of Leo’s lungs. He felt as though she’d slapped him. Belle had nearly starved? Because of him? And how could he have been solely responsible for Mistress Jane having nearly frozen to death on a street? No, it couldn’t have happened. Completely impossible. And yet…

  Not wanting Lady M to see his confusion, he hardened his face. He opened his mouth to say he was blameless, but it was a lie, and of course Lady M knew that.

  Instead, he said, “Whatever happened, it was not with intentional malice on my part.”

  “You know,” she said softly, “I believe you. The problem, I think, is that you just didn’t care enough.”

  He shook his head, unable to speak, not knowing whether to contradict her or agree wholeheartedly. He had cared about Belle more than anything in the world. But if that was really true, why had he not seen beyond his family’s deception and learned the truth for himself?

  Maybe they had given him what he had wanted to hear. Maybe they had freed him, opened the door to his innate libertine ways.

  No! No. He had loved Belle. He truly had. He had been mad with grief, not thinking straight.

  “You don’t give the reverence due to the gifts women give you, Leo,” Lady M continued. “You treat them cheaply, and therefore what they have becomes cheap.”

  “My purse would disagree with you, my lady.” Leo’s voice was not as smug as he would have liked. He was suddenly exhausted. He didn’t want to be arguing with this woman.

  He wanted Belle.

  Belle, Belle, Belle.

  “This has naught to do with a few shillings. I am speaking of the inherent value of the individual. What you do diminishes the value of women.”

  He wasn’t quite following her line of thought, but her attacks had consumed his self-worth. His self-worth must have little value if she could purchase it with a few select words.

  “Bring Belle to me, Lady M.”

  “What?”

  “I want to see Belle. Let me explain—”

  “There is no ‘Belle.’”

  He lunged to his feet, chains clanking over the flagstones. “Don’t do this. I know she’s here. Let me talk to her.”

  Her words were patient, as if she spoke to a small, idiotic child. “Leo, dear, who is Belle?”

  Sweat broke out on his temples. He gulped in a breath. “Bring her!”

  “How can I bring you someone I do not know?”

  His skin crawled. His body shook. He dove for her, pulling the chain taut. He heard her scramble backwards, the quickening of her breath.

  “Now what do you think you will accomplish by slamming your body into mine? This is not a wrestling match.”
Her voice remained soft and unaffected, but by her erratic breathing, he knew she struggled to stay calm. If only he could see her, gauge the fear in her eyes.

  “Bring Belle to me,” he growled.

  “Goodness gracious, Leo, you’re behaving like a child. It is quite disagreeable.”

  She affected to sound bored, the bitch. She opened the door.

  “Don’t you leave me!” he shouted.

  “I must go prepare for our evening at the theater.”

  “The theater?” For some reason, that infuriated him even more.

  “I’ll see that you’re given something for your supper. Do be good, Leo. Read your book.”

  The door creaked open, then shut.

  “Don’t push me, Lady M! I’m warning you!”

  The bolt scraped into place.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Isabelle had worn her blue silk the night before, so she could not wear it to the theater. Susan’s gowns were all much too petite for Isabelle, but some of Anna’s almost fit when she squeezed into them. The day went by in a flurry of skirts and ribbons and petticoats and alterations. Before long, the sun had set and it was time for all of them to dress.

  Isabelle stood still as the maid yanked on the strings of her stays. She gazed at the dress Anna had loaned her, a beautiful beribboned yellow silk, simple but quite elegant.

  It would be the loveliest thing Isabelle had ever worn, and she was thankful to have it. Susan had voiced a concern that someone at the theater would recall Anna wearing it, but it didn’t matter. At least Lord Archer and Mr. Sutherland wouldn’t see her in the same dress two nights in a row.

  The maid tugged and tightened until the stays squeezed Isabelle’s torso in an approximation of Anna’s more slender figure. Just as the maid finished, someone knocked on the door.

  “Isabelle, it’s us.” Anna’s voice.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened to reveal Anna in petticoats with Susan at her shoulder, elegant in gold satin. Isabelle had already seen the gown Anna would wear tonight—a white muslin festooned with ruffles, chosen specifically to call attention to her lovely new mantle.

  Susan’s mouth twisted wryly as she moved from behind Anna. Following Susan’s gaze, Isabelle looked down at the object her friend held in her hands. It was another white box wrapped in blue ribbons.