The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella (7 page)

The men exchanged glances. “How do you know the places we mentioned are in London?”

She’d made an error, and it was her last hope. Now the men advanced on her, the blond pushing her up against the wall and tearing open her cloak. “Look at those tits,” he said, fondling her.

She slapped his hand away, and he laughed.

“Let’s see what else she has to offer.” Mutton Chops lifted her skirts with the end of his walking stick.

“Get away from me!” She kicked out, narrowly missing the fair one’s balls.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that, bitch,” the blond said. “Hike her skirts up,” he told his friend. “I want her first.”

“No!” She fought him, using all her strength to try to free her arms, but he was too strong. She kicked and writhed until Mutton Chops smashed the walking stick into her legs and then her belly.

She coughed and would have bent in two if the blond one had loosened his grip. Instead, his hand dove into her bodice, ripping the material and exposing one breast. He squeezed her hard, while the other rucked up her skirts.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Caro’s head jerked up at the new voice, coming from the direction of the apothecary shop. The light was dimmer here on the side street, but she would have sworn it was Lochley and his friend Gage.

“Find your own whore,” Mutton Chops said. “This one’s ours.”

“I suggest you unhand the lady now,” Lochley said, his voice tinged with malice, “or you’ll never have need of a whore again.”

Caro lowered her head, allowing her tousled hair to cover her face. She was equally relieved and humiliated to see him. Tears stung her eyes at the shame.

“This isn’t a lady,” the blond said, holding her wrists fast to the wall.

“I beg to differ. I know the lady, and this is the last time I will ask you to unhand her before my friend and I inflict bodily harm.”

“You don’t know her very well,” Mutton Chops said. “She works at The Pleasure Den in Drury Lane—or at least she used to. I don’t remember her name, but I remember rogering her.” He gave her a once-over. “I remember it well.”

Caro closed her eyes. She wished she were dead. She wished a hole would open up and swallow her so she did not have to stand on the street with her breast and all of her sins exposed to four virtual strangers.

But that was not the worst of it. The worst of it was that Lochley was one of the men, and now he saw her for who and what she really was. He’d walk away from her in disgust. Or perhaps his honor would compel him to help her, but there would be no more afternoon talks by the stream or sweet kisses when they parted.

A long, long silence descended. “Be that as it may,” Gage finally said, “the lady does not look like she is interested in your rogering at the moment. Release her, or I will be forced to take action and summon the constable to take you into custody for accosting a woman on the street.”

With a grimace of disgust, the blond released her. Caro immediately crouched down, pulling her dress up to cover her breast and closing her cloak. She huddled against the wall, her head turned toward it.

“She’s not worth this much trouble,” the blond said.

“Have her if you want,” Mutton Chops said. “There are plenty of whores in this town if you know where to look.” The two men strolled away as though they had not just destroyed her life.

L
ochley stood rooted in place, unable to fathom what he’d just heard. Caro had been a whore at The Pleasure Den? He knew she had a secret, but he could not believe that of her. Surely, she would deny it.

“Miss Martin,” Gage said, offering her his hand. “May I help you to your feet?”

She swiped at her eyes and accepted his hand. “Thank you.” She stood. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

Lochley had been waiting for her to deny the men’s claim about her past, but he knew now a denunciation would not come. He felt he should say something, do something, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move or his mouth speak. She glanced at him, then lowered her eyes again.

“You deserve my kindness and more,” Gage said. “Are you in town alone? Can I take you home?”

“My mother,” she whispered. “She’s in the apothecary shop.”

“I’ll fetch her.”

“Wait!”

He paused and looked back.

“Please don’t tell her what’s happened. Please. She has been through enough. Tell her I feel unwell.”

Gage gave a curt nod and started toward the shop again.

Caro gave Lochley another look and then moved past him, back toward the abandoned baskets Gage had noted before they’d both seen the two men cornering a woman. Of all the women Lochley might have expected to see with her skirts half raised and her bodice pulled down, Caro Martin was one of the last. He’d been furious when he saw who the men had trapped, so furious he’d felt a cold seep in and a deadly calm settle over him.

But the fury had fled with the shock.

“Now you know the truth about me,” she said.

Lochley turned to look at her, aware he hadn’t spoken a word since the revelation. He should say something, but he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he thought or felt.

“I know you’ll never speak to me again.” She bent and lifted the baskets. “I won’t embarrass either of us by acknowledging you the next time we meet, but I would ask one boon of you—and it’s not for me—for my family. I’m the one to blame, not them.” She placed the baskets on her arm.

Lochley nodded, acquiescing to her request, even though he hadn’t heard it yet. He knew her enough to know she wouldn’t ask something of him he couldn’t give.

“When you judge the wine-tasting, please don’t hold my sins against my family. Judge the wine fairly. I swear, I haven’t tainted it too.” Her voice broke on a sob, and he stepped forward. He didn’t know if he intended to take her into his arms or to finally speak, but he never had the chance to find out. Her mother’s voice floated to them.

“Caro? Are you there? Mr. Gage says you are unwell.”

“I’m here, Mama. My head felt dizzy for a moment.”

“I knew you didn’t eat enough this morning.”

“Fortunately, Mr. Gage and Mr. Lochley happened by. I don’t know how to thank you, gentlemen.” She gave them a pleading look, begging them with her eyes to go along.

“It was our honor to assist you, Miss Martin,” Gage said.

Lochley had a moment to thank the heavens Gage was with him. He managed to nod his agreement.

“May we see you ladies home?” Gage asked. “I have my carriage. Lochley can stay with my sister and Mrs. Clotworthy until I return.”

“That’s not necessary,” Caro said quickly.

Her mother gave her a dubious look. “You are white as a sheet, Caro. We cannot walk home. Mr. Gage, if you would be so kind, we will accept your offer.”

“Lochley?” Gage arched a brow at him, ostensibly asking if he agreed to stay with Georgie and her companion.

“I’ll find Miss Gage now,” he said, finally breaking his silence. “Good evening, Mrs. Martin, Miss Martin.” Lochley left them and crossed the street to the confectioner’s.

When Gage returned and suggested the party make its way to the assembly, which was the reason they’d gone into Tunbridge Wells, Lochley cried off. He couldn’t imagine dancing and sipping tea while his head still whirled to make sense of what he now knew of Miss Martin.

Unwilling to deprive the party of the carriage, he’d walked back to the Friar’s House. He’d never been much of a walker, but at times he saw the advantage. His head was much clearer, and so was his shame. Why had he not said anything to Caro? Whether what the men said about her was true or not, she’d been attacked on the street. He should have comforted her. He should have been the one to see her home.

Instead, he’d stood there like a mute clodpole. He was an idiot, not just because of his behavior tonight, but because he now realized part of his shock had come from his feelings for her. If he’d cared nothing for her, he would have been merely surprised by the revelation of her past. As it was, he cared for her more than he had been aware. How else to explain the turmoil within him when his impression of her had not meshed with the reality?

He was still awake when the Gages returned from the assembly and Bertie knocked on his door. “I saw your light,” Bertie said when Lochley opened the door.

He’d changed into a brocade banyan with deep cuffs and which almost swept the floor when he paced. He’d paced quite a lot this night.

He pushed the door wide. “Come in. Fancy a drink? I have an open bottle of wine.”

“I wouldn’t say no. The refreshments at the assembly were awful.”

Lochley handed him a glass of ruby wine. “I supposed they would be.”

“You should have come. The music was at least decent, and the ladies were pretty enough.”

“You’re probably right.”

Lochley sipped his wine, while Bertie elaborated on the assembly—the neighbors who attended, the excitement for the fair next week, and whether or not Georgie had danced too much and must be forced to stay in bed the next day to rest.

Lochley grunted his responses, and finally Bertie set the wine glass down and gave him a hard look. “Is it the Martin chit? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“And I’m the King of Spain. You’ve barely said three words since we found her at the apothecary’s, and immediately after I returned from escorting her home, you decided to forgo the assembly. You’ve been going on about how banal the country is, but you cry off at the first chance for entertainment.”

“I was tired.”

“And yet you are not sleeping.” Gage sat in one of the chairs upholstered in damask. “I was as shocked as you, you know. But we don’t even know if the story is true. She didn’t speak on the way home, not that we could have spoken of it with her mother there.”

“She didn’t deny it.” Lochley poured another glass of wine. He lifted the bottle toward Gage, who shook his head.

“No, she didn’t, but still. To think Miss Martin was a...”

“Whore?”

Gage spread his hands. “For lack of a better word. I’ve never been to The Pleasure Den—”

“Nor I.”

“But I’ve heard stories. From what I know of Miss Martin, I can’t think she would have willingly gone to work there.”

“I suppose now we know where she was during that absence of hers that fueled all the rumors.” Lochley drank deeply from his cup.

Bertie watched him, his brown eyes narrowed. “Why the interest in Miss Martin? You dined with her once, and though Georgie did make an effort to throw the two of you together, I didn’t think it took. Besides, everyone knows you have an aversion to the country which extends to its misses.”

“There’s nothing between us.”

Gage’s brows rose. “That was said with a bit too much force. Is there something I don’t know?”

Lochley sighed. “I met with Miss Martin accidentally while out walking. You remember that day you returned without me? I became hopelessly lost and encountered Miss Martin on a section of her father’s land that borders yours. She led me back to the Friar’s House.”

Bertie chuckled. “Some things never change. Do you remember that time we were in Lyon and we became separated from the regiment? You insisted we travel north, even though the regiment had been posted south.”

“My compass was broken.”

“Your head is broken. I suppose when you went out walking yesterday, you met with Miss Martin again.”

“How did you guess?”

“Ha! I told Georgie I was suspicious of your sudden interest in walking. You wouldn’t walk from the drawing room to the dining room if it wasn’t required.”

“Perhaps I’ve changed.”

“Because of Miss Martin?”

Lochley lifted his glass, perplexed to see it empty of wine. He placed it on the table between the damask chairs and lowered himself into the one beside Bertie.

“I liked her. More than I ought to, I suppose. She was refreshing and—good God, I cannot believe I am saying this—unpretentious.”

“She is still refreshing and unpretentious. Her past doesn’t change who she is now.”

Lochley rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head between his arms. “Doesn’t it? Perhaps I don’t know her at all. And Bertie”—he raised his head to meet his friend’s eyes—“she was a prostitute. That is no small sin.”

Bertie sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So now you are the authority on the ranking of sins? Who is to say one is worse than another? And it’s not as though you are blameless.”

Lochley felt his back bristle. “Neither are you.”

“I’m not condemning Miss Martin.”

“You weren’t thinking of marrying her either.”

Bertie’s jaw dropped, and Lochley raised his hands. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean it. I am not marrying Caro.”

“Caro? Oh, you like her,
Peregrine
. You more than like her, else you wouldn’t give a fig that she was once a moll. You’d say something interesting finally happened in the country.”

It was exactly the sort of thing he would say.

“I can’t possibly like her now.”

Without a word, Bertie rose and marched to the door.

“Where the devil are you going?”

Bertie opened the door and made a show of peering out. “To look for the real Peregrine Lochley. The man I know would never judge someone so harshly. Good God, man, you haven’t even asked her for an explanation.”

“What explanation can there be?”

Bertie shook his head. “I always thought you the fairest, most decent of men, but tonight you show a prejudice I find I dislike intensely. Good night.” He slammed the door.

“Good night!” Lochley slumped back in his chair. “Who the devil does he think he is anyway?” He answered his own question. “Only your most loyal and truest friend.” He stood. “He’s not acting like much of a friend right now.” He sat again. “You’re one to talk—and bloody well stop talking to yourself!”

There was only one thing to do—for himself and to prove to Gage he wasn’t a complete arse. He had to confront Caro and hear her story for himself.

***

S
he didn’t know why she’d come to the stream. Lochley wouldn’t join her, not after what he learned about her last night. He hadn’t even been able to look at her, or speak to her, after her secret had been revealed. She was certain he would never deign to acknowledge her again.