Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender (14 page)

“Well, maybe we should have. Maybe we could have saved more girls. Even one more would have been a blessing.”

Dalia walked to the table where several crystal decanters sat and poured two large glasses of chilled wine. When she returned, she handed one to Hannah, then sat in a chair facing her.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really behind this,” she said after she’d taken a sip of her wine. “And spare me the denials. We know each other too well to test our friendship with lies.”

Hannah lifted her glass to her mouth and drank a swallow of the wine. She and Dalia often sat in these same chairs and shared parts of their pasts that no one else knew. That’s what best friends did; they listened to each other without judging.

“It’s Rafe. I’ve tried, Dalia, honest I have, but I can’t forget him.”

“Your vicar?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “My vicar. I’ll be thirty next month, and I’ve been a prostitute nearly half my life. I’ve slept with scores of men and have never given any of them a second thought. Why now? Why him?”

“Because he’s special. Because he’s opened some of the doors you’d slammed shut years ago by telling yourself that you didn’t deserve to be loved the same as other women are. Unfortunately, even though we lock the doors to all the chambers of our heart, when you least expect it, someone comes along with a key to unlock those doors.”

“But why
him
? Why a
vicar
?”

Dalia smiled. “Because God has a unique sense of humor, and He often plays tricks on His creations.” Dalia laughed. “I have to admit, He played a real good one on you.”

Hannah looked at her friend. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you talk about God. I didn’t know you were a religious person.”

Dalia laughed. “I doubt your vicar or any of the good people who attend church on a Sunday morning would call me a religious person, but I was raised in a good home. My granny was a churchgoer, and she read my sister and me a story from the Bible each night before we went to bed. Those were my favorite times.”

Hannah took another sip of her wine. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if your granny and sister hadn’t died of a fever?”

“I used to a lot, but not so much anymore.” Dalia sat back in her chair. “How about you? Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you’d had a different father?”

Hannah shook her head. “It doesn’t do any good to want to change your life. I learned early on to accept the life you were given and make the best of it.”

“But you’re not ready to accept your vicar? Or the fact that he might truly care for you?”

At first, Hannah thought to answer Dalia’s questions with a flippant reply, but something stopped her. She needed to face the feelings she had for Rafe, no matter how much they hurt.

“When we first met, I knew he was attracted to me. I’d seen that look in men’s eyes plenty of times when they first saw me. I know I’m passably attractive—”

“You’re more than passably attractive. You’re beautiful and you know it,” Dalia interjected.

Hannah smiled. “I’m pretty—nothing more. And I know how to please a man. Over the years I’ve met several men with whom I could have easily fallen in love. But didn’t. Love wasn’t something I thought I’d ever experience. Then, when I least expected it, there he was. A man who was everything I wanted a man to be—mild yet possessing an inner strength that made me feel safe and secure. Kind and gentle and honest and giving. He’s the first man I thought could accept who and what I am.”

“If you’re sure he can accept you, what’s stopping you?”

Hannah rose from her chair and walked to the window on the other side of the room. “He’s a vicar, Dalia. He stands up in front of a congregation each and every Sunday and preaches about godliness and virtues. A connection to me would make every word he utters a lie.”

Dalia didn’t speak for several long seconds. Her silence told Hannah she agreed. A future with Rafe was impossible.

“Have you considered turning your back on your life here and going away with him?”

Hannah turned with a smile on her face. “You sound as naive as Rafe.” She took a comforting sip of her wine. “How long do you think it would be before someone recognized me? How long before Rafe is driven out of one church, then another, because of me? How long before he comes to hate me because I’ve ruined his life?”

Dalia’s silence indicated she knew Hannah was right. Her question confirmed it.

“What are you going to do?”

Hannah walked back to her chair and sat. “What I’ve always done. Run Madam Genevieve’s. We need to turn a profit to keep Coventry Cottage open. And I’ll try as diligently as I can to save as many girls as possible from Skinner’s clutches.”

“What about your vicar? It’s obvious he means a lot to you. He’s not going to be easy to forget.”

Hannah breathed a heavy sigh. “For now, I’ll keep myself as busy as possible. Maybe in time I won’t think of him as often as I do now.”

“Which is?”

Hannah tried to hide the tears that filled her eyes. “All the time, Dalia. All the time.”

A sharp knock saved Hannah from embarrassing herself with the tears that threatened to fall. The door opened, and one of the girls stood in the entryway with a paper in her hand.

“Miss Genevieve, this just came for you. It came from that whore who works for Skinner who’s been telling us when the blackguard leaves to get a new girl.”

Hannah reached for the note. “Thank you, Molly.”

The girl smiled, then left.

Hannah opened the note and read it. She rose from her chair. “Dalia, tell Humphrey to ready the carriage. Skinner left to pick up another girl.”

“I don’t like it, Genny. That’s the second girl today. Something’s not right. Send Converse with Humphrey and you stay here.”

Hannah laughed as she headed for the door. “The poor girl would probably run to Skinner for help if she
saw both Converse and Humphrey come after her. They’re big as barns.”

“Then take Converse with you too.”

“Who will stay here in case one of the girls needs him?”

“When’s the last time one of the girls needed either Humphrey or Converse? They’re only needed when one of us goes out to rescue another girl.”

“I’ll be fine, Dalia. You’re fretting like a mother hen.”

“Take Converse too. Please.”

Hannah gave up her arguments. “Very well. I’ll take Converse too. Now go. Have Humphrey bring my carriage to the back door and tell Converse he’d better be there or I’m leaving without him.”

Dalia breathed a sigh Hannah heard across the room, then did as she asked.

Hannah followed Dalia to the door, but stopped before she left her room. Even though she didn’t think she had anything to worry about, it didn’t hurt to be extra cautious.

She walked back into the room and opened the drawer at the back of the small table that sat beside her chair. She reached inside and wrapped her fingers around the small pistol there, then tucked it into a pocket in her skirt.

She wouldn’t need it, she was sure. But it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

A
light mist fell as Hannah made her way to London’s seedier side. The first time she came here in search of a young girl to rescue, she’d hated it. Everything about this part of London reminded her of what it had been like when she’d first arrived nearly fifteen years ago. And even though she’d been here scores of times since, she still didn’t like it. She wasn’t as frightened now as she’d been then, but she still didn’t like the memories that surfaced when she came here.

The carriage turned a corner, then slowed.

“Are you sure this is where the note said, ma’am?”

“Yes, Humphrey. Let Converse out here, then drive ahead, but stay in the shadows.”

Hannah sat back against the squabs. There was no use peering out the window. Humphrey would keep watch like he always did. When Skinner or one of his associates showed up, he’d let her know. Then they’d wait until the girl arrived.

If Skinner followed his regular routine, someone would bring her—either one of Skinner’s henchmen or the woman called Maude, who ran the holding house where he kept the girls after he pretended to rescue them from the streets. When Maude came, she usually had a guard
with her. Hannah always thought she’d rather deal with the guard than with Maude. She was one of the few women who frightened Hannah, and Hannah would hate to have to defend herself against her.

Hannah leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifted where they always did when she had a quiet moment—to Rafe. She wondered what he was doing. Wondered if he’d started his life again. If he was having as hard a time forgetting her as she was him.

She pressed her fingers to her lips and remembered the last time he’d kissed her. There were moments when she swore she could still feel his lips against hers. She prayed she’d never forget what that had been like.

She heard a noise outside and came alert.

“There’s a wagon coming, Miss Genevieve. It’s that Maude woman and that rotter they call Fish. They have the young’un with ’em.”

“Can you see Skinner?” she asked through the open carriage window.

“No. The driver seems to be alone, as always.”

“We won’t do anything until—”

“Wait,” Humphrey interrupted. “Here comes someone.”

“Is he alone?”

“Yah, he’s alone.”

“Good. We’ll wait until they exchange the girl, then we’ll follow him. Stop the carriage before he reaches the next street if you can.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll—
Oomph!
” Before Humphrey finished what he was saying, the carriage lurched, and then the door burst open. Strong, brutal
fingers clamped around her arms and pulled her from the carriage.

Hannah struggled, but her efforts only caused the two men to tighten their unyielding grasps. She looked around and spotted two more men standing over Humphrey’s limp body.

Her heart pounded frantically. This was Skinner’s doing. He’d set a trap, and she’d walked into it. She knew whatever he had planned, it wouldn’t be pleasant. “Let go of me,” she ordered.

“We ain’t lettin’ go, missy. Skinner said he got you first, then we could all take turns. I’ll be the one after Skinner, just so you know. You won’t be sorry.”

They all laughed, and Hannah’s heart thundered so hard inside her that she thought she would be ill. She tried to twist away from them, but their painful grasps only tightened.

She looked down at Humphrey. Blood seeped from a gash in his head, but his chest rose and fell with each breath. He was hurt, but still alive.

She needed to go to him, needed to stanch the bleeding, but she couldn’t free herself. She lifted her gaze to find Skinner before her.

“Well, well, well, Genevieve. What have we here?”

“How dare you, Skinner,” she hissed, trying to sound confident. Trying to hide how frightened she was.

“I dare because you have come to my part of town, and everyone knows how dangerous that is.”

“I demand you—”

“Demand all you want, Genevieve. It won’t do you any good.” He laughed. “Look around you. There ain’t nobody who will help you. Nobody cares down here.”

Hannah didn’t need to look. She knew no one would be there who could help her. Or would risk helping her.

Skinner took one menacing step toward her, then another. She was glad it was dark and she couldn’t see the arrogant gleam in his eyes. She knew how menacing and terrifying he would look. A cold shiver raced down her spine.

“I’m glad I finally have you to myself,” he said, clasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve wanted to teach you a lesson for a long time. It’s time I repaid you for stealing those young girls that belonged to me.”

His hand cupped her cheek. Then his fingers traveled down her neck toward her breasts. She struggled harder, but all she earned from her efforts were bawdy guffaws and crude comments from the men holding her.

“Touch me and you’ll be sorry, Skinner.” She tried to free at least one of her hands. If she could reach the pistol in her pocket she might have a chance to—

Skinner’s hand closed around her breast, and she couldn’t think. He was going to rape her. He was going to use her like she’d been used the first time. And this time she wasn’t sure she could survive it.

“See what happens when you interfere in my business?” Skinner reached up to the neckline of her gown and clamped his fingers around the material. He was going to rip it from her body. He was going to expose her to—

“Get your hands off her. Now!”

Skinner’s grip on the material at her neck loosened.

Hannah knew it wasn’t possible, but in her mind the voice belonged to Rafe. But it couldn’t be. He’d left weeks ago. She only thought it was because she’d always
considered him her safe harbor. She thought of him as the anchoring rock to which she could cling in times of trouble. But she knew it was only her mind playing tricks on her—she
prayed
it was her mind playing tricks on her.

She slowly turned toward the voice, and her heart fell to her stomach. Rafe stood in the shadows and faced Skinner with more courage than she’d ever seen from anyone in her life.