Page 82 of Their Master

“Of course, you will get rid of it!”

“Why couldn’t I have the baby and pay somebody to care for it?”

“Are you mad? Do you think the marquis would want a bastard? Youknowthis is not what these men expect. You can have children later—as I did—when you no longer command the price you do now.”

Sandrine had resisted a little more, but in the end, she had complied with Marie’s wishes.

Her sister had never really been the same after that. Oh, she’d been just as lovely, but a light had gone out of her.

The same thing will happen to you.

“Shut. Up,”Moira hissed into the quiet room, pinching the bridge of her nose hard, praying the pain would drive away the incessant voice.

Her parents would be furious if they found out she was to have Smith’s child. They would make her get rid of it.

Go to Smith and tell him the truth. Don’t go through with this mad plan. Stay with him, raise the child in the luxurious house he has promised you.

Moira growled.How could I possibly stay with the man who killed my sister?

The savage thought quieted the voice.

But she knew it would return.

∞∞∞

“You look magnificent this evening, my dear,” Smith said, his hot eyes roaming over her body.

She lifted a hand to her throat as his gaze lingered on the diamond collar. “Thank you.”

He looked magnificent himself wearing his ivory robe, the deep V exposing a goodly amount of his torso.

Moira’s gaze moved on to the huge array of food spread over two tables, which the servants must have erected especially for the occasion. “Goodness.”

Smith laughed. “Quite outrageous, isn’t it? Cook was worried we might starve as he has the evening off, so he took precautions. Don’t worry, you won’t have to eat it all.”

“It looks delicious,” she said, her stomach churning so badly that she felt ill just looking at it.

“The wine should be decanted,” he said. “Will you bring me a glass? I’m feeling quite lazy tonight.”

“Of course.” Moira went to where the bottle and glasses sat.

“I hope you don’t mind that we won’t be making our own Guy and joining the bonfire,” Smith said.

She carefully angled her body so that it was between the wine and her employer. “I’m relieved not to go out as it seems rather a madhouse.”

“It will get worse before the night is through.”

Moira knew that Turnbull—who was currently hiding in a cupboard in the music room—was counting on that chaos to aid their cause.

“Are you sorry that you aren’t participating in the celebrations?” she asked as she flipped up the stone on the gaudy ring she’d purchased a week before, exposing the white powder she’d acquired from the chemist.

“I’d much rather be here with you,” Smith said.

Moira swallowed down the stab of shame she felt at his words as she tipped the powder into to the glass with shaky hands and then sloshed the wine around until it was dissolved. She took a deep breath, fixed a smile on her face, and turned.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a big swallow before setting the glass on the end table.

“You look a bit tired,” she said, settling beside him on the settee.

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