Page 54 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“She took a watch that my father had given me. And a silver candelabra from my mother.”
“I hope you got them back. After you mended.”
He grinned. “Oh yes. I got them back.”
“And wot of Cara? Did you beat ’er?” She sounded bloodthirsty, which made him laugh. But he shook his head.
“No. By the time I discovered the full truth, it was too late for Cara. She’d tried to blackmail half theton, and they had banded together to oust her from their ranks. She wasn’t allowed in any of the places courtesans go to meet protectors. She couldn’t even buy goods from reputable merchants. It had already begun when she’d come to me. I was her last resort.”
“So she was the maker of ’er own end.”
He nodded. That was certainly true. “By the time I found her again, there was little left of the woman who’d used me so cavalierly. I took back what was mine and left her.”
“But is she still there? In London, preying on other young men?”
“No,” he said. What came at the end was ugly and hard, but no more nor less than what happened to many courtesans. “She became a back-alley tart and from there, a gin sot. She died of the pox.”
“I don’t know whether to be grateful or sad,” she murmured, echoing his thoughts.
“Do not think of it at all anymore,” he said—more to himself than her.
“But you thought me like her,” she said, outrage in her tone.
He looked up, seeing the crown of her blond hair, the purity of her skin, and the honesty in her expression. “I cannot explain myself,” he said truthfully. “You two are nothing alike.”
Except that he wanted her as fervently as the young man he’d once been had wanted Cara.
“I would never do that to anyone. I couldn’t even imagine it.”
He arched his brows. “Oh, surely you could. Surely in your darkest moments you’ve thought of blackmail.”
“No—”
“You are privy to all the county’s gossip. I’ll bet the witch-woman knew—”
“She was a good soul!”
“Of course she was. It is not one’s thoughts that determine good and evil. It is one’s actions.” He let her think on that while he maneuvered her legs so that he had better access. Then he leaned forward.
“Shall I tell you a secret?”
She nodded, her eyes lighting with interest.
“I have thought of the money I could make in blackmail.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I did not.”
“Why not?”
Because he remembered Cara. Because he saw where she had been leading him, and he’d sworn never to be duped again. Butmostly, because it was easier to make an honest living than it was a false one. Blackmail only led to complications. It was an illusion of easy wealth, paid for daily in watchfulness and fear.
“Because it was easiest to wait for Dicky to betray me.”
She frowned. “That’s a ’orrible time. Waiting for yer friend to betray you.”
He shrugged. “It pays well. And I already knew that Dicky wasn’t my friend.”
