“And how old were you, my pet?” His voice was silky soft.
“Just turned seventeen. There’s no need to feel sorry for me. I agreed to it. Agreed to become a whore. ”
“And why was that?”
“My mother said he preferred Lydia. ”
“Ah. And what was this gentleman’s name?”
If he’d shown pity it would have been unbearable. His calm curiosity had the desired effect—it kept her recital calm and matter-of-fact. “Why would you want to know that?”
“Simple curiosity, my pet. His name?”
“Sir Christopher Spatts. He went back to England, I believe, and married. ”
“Did he indeed?” Rohan was very still and calm, almost unnaturally so. “And did your mother continue to barter you to her acquaintances?”
“Hardly. I’ve lived a life of blissful celibacy ever since. I’m not made to be a courtesan. My only value to Sir Christopher was my virginity. Without that and lacking a pretty face I had no value to anyone. ”
For some reason she wanted him to say something. To tell her she had value to him. God, she wanted him to tell her she was pretty! How pathetic!
He rose, graceful in his cloth-of-gold coat. “I was going to continue your education, my dear Elinor, but I find I have something more important that has arisen. I know it will desolate you to know I’m not going to teach you about your breasts tonight, but there will be other times. ”
Odd, but his words set a sudden, ridiculous tingling in her breasts, almost as if he’d touched them. In the pictures, grown men had suckled on the breasts of women, something that surprised her. Now, with the sudden tight sensation his words had inexplicably caused, she could begin to understand.
He crossed the room to her, graceful as ever, and she didn’t move from her chair, managed not to jerk away when one slim, elegant hand reached out to touch her face. “Poor poppet,” he said softly. “With no one to avenge her. ”
She wanted to turn her face into his hand, to press her lips against his palm. She was mad. “My mother is dead, sir. I believe she was the one who sold me. ”
“Indeed,” he murmured noncommittally. “I’ll let you rest tonight. Tomorrow is time enough to continue your education. ”
“What if I don’t want to learn?” she said, trying not to tremble at the gentle touch.
His smile was genuine. “You will, my child. I assure you, you will. ”
21
Francis Rohan moved through the vast hallways of Maison de Giverney, his jeweled heels clicking on the parquet flooring. He no longer bothered to pace himself, to achieve the perfect mincing walk. Most of his guests had retired to places of privacy, and those who were still cavorting in public would be far too interested in their partners to notice the King of Hell striding through their midst.
He found Charles at one of the gaming tables, staring at his hand with a complete lack of enthusiasm. He turned inquiringly when Rohan came to stand over him, and with one look at his face he immediately turned his cards over and rose, following his friend to the empty hallway.
“You look like death,” Charles said. “Was your ‘poppet’ that bad in bed?”
Rohan gave him a measured look. “Do you really want to be discussing the sister of your true love in such a crude manner?”
“She’s not my true love,” Charles said. “And considering all the blasted effort you’re putting into having Elinor Harriman, I would assume a question would not be out of line. ”
“Phrase it better. ” There was a note of steel in his voice.
Charles looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment. “You, too,” he said ruefully. Before Rohan could respond he went on, “Was your time with Miss Harriman less than you hoped?”
“We held a short conversation. I have something I must do, and I need your help for it. ”
“And what is that?”
“I need to kill a man. ”
Charles’s sleepy eyes opened more widely. “Anyone in particular?”