Page 13 of Her Beast

He couldn’t see outside the doors from this distance, but gray light filtered through the leaded glass panes into the store from the world beyond—a world Malcolm had not been a part of for many years.

Oh, he left the store, of course—he inspected all his stores annually—but he never moved amongthe crowds that filled the streets.

No, Malcolm did all his traveling in luxurious privacy.

His custom coach with darkened windows collected him at hisprivateentrance. And then hisprivateyacht took him in opulence and comfort across the channel. Or sometimes hisprivaterail carriage took him to the various cities within Britain.

At the end of each of his journeys was a Barton’s Emporium with a fifth floor that was identical to the original in London, complete with his special transparent mirrors, personal gymnasiums, and pleasure chambers that mimicked those at the Birch Palace, Malcolm’s favorite London brothel—back in the days when he actually visited such places.

Malcolm turned away from the store when he heard the low, distinctive hum of the lift. A few seconds later the heavy bronze door slid open and his secretary emerged.

“Ah, Butkins. I’d begun to think you ran off with Miss Amelia Brown.”

His secretary flushed as brightly as a schoolgirl at Malcolm’s teasing. “I beg your pardon for the delay but both sales ladies were engaged with customers and I thought it best to wait until they were finished.”

Malcolm approved of Butkins’ actions wholeheartedly. He should do because it was his policy: the customeralwayscame first at Barton’s. He had only twitted Butkins because it was so amusing to make the other man blush and stammer.

“So, who is she?”

“Her name is Julia Harlow.”

“Harlow?” Malcolm repeated.

“Thomas Harlow’s daughter. She is engaged to marry the Duke of Angleton’s heir, the Marquess of Basingstoke. The wedding is set for the end of January.”

Malcolm slumped back in his chair, shocked.Thatwas Brian’s niece? Why, the girl couldn’t be more than five years old!

That was fifteen years ago, Mal—the lass is a woman now, Sukey reminded him.

Christ. Had it really been so long ago?

“Sir?”

Malcolm blinked and looked up at Butkins. “Are you sure it’s her?”

“Er, yes sir, I’m positive.”

Malcolm summoned a mental image of the angel and compared it with what he could recall of her father. Yes, he saw a resemblance to Tommy Harlow—both were fair and blue-eyed—but Julia took after her uncle Brian far more than her father. Brian had always been the more handsome of the two brothers, his hair blonder, his eyes bluer, and his features finer.

“How old is she?” he asked Butkins.

“Miss Clemmons mentioned that she was twenty, sir.”

So, not a girl, but a woman.

Malcolm’s damaged mouth pulled into a wry smirk at the twisted situation. What a fucking dog he was to be lusting after a woman twenty-four years his junior who was also the niece of his former lover.

It’s a relief to know you’re still alive, Mal. I’ve not seen your cock get so hard so fast since—well, not since that last time with me and Bri.

Malcolm shook his head at phantom Sukey. He knew the voice didn’treallybelong to his dead wife, but it was hard to remember that when she said things that shewouldhave said if Malcolm hadn’t failed her that night fifteen years ago.

Oh, Mal. How long will you punish yourself for something that wasn’t your fault?

“Sir?” Butkins asked.

Malcolm shook himself. “Hmm?”

“I asked if there was anything else.”

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