Why did Bastian have to be that Sebastian, the Earl of Shaftesbury, and the very man responsible for her having to sell her body in this way in the first place?
She had been totally confused when she woke this morning, alone in bed and still in the room where she had dined with Bastian the evening before. The fire had gone out in the interim, but she was snug and warm beneath the bedcovers, which had been pulled over her.
Her cheeks had become hot with embarrassment when she recalled the events of the previous evening. Removing her clothes. Demonstrating for Bastian how the doctor had examined her. The way in which Bastian had taken control of those caresses until she attained a climax far more powerful than the one she had experience in Dr. Winter’s presence.
But she remembered nothing that had happened after that release.
Had she fallen asleep and Bastian had simply left her there? Or had he remained for a while, hopeful she might awaken so that he could take his own pleasure?
Whatever the answer to that question, the lack of discomfort or blood between her legs indicated she was still in possession of her virginity. Which told Abigail he had not taken advantage of her in her sleep.
She had felt an emotional softening toward him then for his consideration. A curiosity to see him again and perhaps discover why he had decided not to take her innocence last night after all.
Overhearing his conversation with the Duke of Blackborne and Dr. Winter had told her exactly the reason Bastian had not been in any hurry to take her innocence the previous night. It was because, despite her having already refused him, Bastian still had every intention of continuing with his plan to make her his mistress.
His arrogance in believing he had the right to make that decision for her had infuriated her immensely.
To the point Abigail now no longer cared whether she saw Bastian Forbes ever again.
“Care to explain what that was all about, old chap?” Gabriel prompted lightly as he resumed his seat behind the desk.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” Winter dismissed as he bent to pick up his medical case. “I have another young lady I need to go and molest.” He nodded abruptly before crossing the room to open the door, his back stiff and unyielding.
“I believe you owe Winter an apology,” Gabriel said softly once the other gentleman had departed the room. “Two apologies, in fact. One for having hit him, the other for having accused him of taking sexual advantage of the ladies here.”
“To hell with that.” Bastian threw himself down in the chair in front of the desk. “I had Gail show me exactly how Winter examined her and…and… The bastard touched and manipulated her tits, cunny, and clit until she climaxed.” He scowled his displeasure.
Blackborne shrugged. “As he stated, that, along with verifying her virginity, was the purpose of the examination. Considering Winter’s good looks and sexual prowess, most of the ladies in my employ have been only too happy to submit to the intimacy of his examination.”
“Gail is not one of the usual ladies you employ here!”
The duke eyed Bastian curiously. “Dear God, are you jealous of Winter?”
He glared. “Yes, damn it, that is exactly what I am. The thought of any other man touching Gail, for whatever reason, is revolting to me.”
“Why?”
“Because… Because… Oh fuck off, Gabriel!” he snapped.
The other man relaxed back in his chair. “I saw something in Gail just now that interested me greatly.”
Bastian scowled his displeasure. “Am I going to have to fight you for her too?”
“I did not mean that kind of interest.” Gabriel gave a distracted shake of his head. “As I said before, I prefer my women more experienced. No, it is only… I had not seen it before but… Did you notice how well-spoken Gail is even when angered? How courtly her manners? How she carries herself with the grace of a lady?”
Of course Bastian had noticed it. That combination of the lady and the wanton was one of the things he found most intriguing about her. “And?”
“And perhaps that might be because she is those things?”
“Well-spoken and well-mannered?”
“And a lady.”
Bastian gave the matter further thought. “You now believe Gail might be a daughter of a gentleman of the nobility, albeit in all probability an illegitimate one?”
“I believe Miss Abigail Brown— Yes, that is her name. At least that is the one she gave me,” Blackborne confirmed as Bastian raised questioning brows. “I now have reason to doubt its validity. As I also believe she might be harboring other secrets it would be in my best interest to expose. I have no intention of being visited by a male member of Society—worse, of having him visit here as a client, only to discover his own daughter is one of the ladies on offer for a night’s entertainment.”
Abigail stood in the adjoining room and listened unashamedly to the conversation between the duke and the earl.
She had still been standing outside in the hallway when she heard Dr. Winter take his leave, and rather than be caught and possibly questioned by him as to her reason for malingering, she had ducked inside the storeroom next to the study. Her intention had been to wait until the doctor had disappeared into the bowels of the club before leaving herself, but she had remained frozen in place when she heard her name mentioned as Shaftesbury complained to his friend concerning the intimacy of the doctor’s examination of her.
The doctor, who was indeed a very handsome gentleman, had examined her intimately, but surely it had been her own uninhibited response to it that was the most scandalous?
As shocking as Bastian having admitted to feeling jealousy of the other man having touched her in that way?
Abigail was given little time to dwell on either of those questions as she heard her name mentioned again. At least, the name she had given the duke when he interviewed her with a view to offering her the employment she was so badly in need of.
Giving her true name had not been an option during that conversation, mainly because the duke’s suspicion was a correct one. Oh, she was not of Society, nor even on the fringes of it, but neither was she the poor country girl, abandoned and alone in the city, she had told the duke she was.
A claim, and a name, the duke now stated he intended to investigate.
Leaving Abigail with no choice but to leave Club Venus as quickly as possible.
Tears fell softly down her cheeks at the thought of once again stepping out into a world she had discovered to be cold and unforgiving since her mother died five years ago, leaving her to the less than tender guardianship of her stepfather. She already knew him to be a man who had quickly spent the little money his wife, the widow of a soldier and aged only three and twenty, brought to their marriage. Her stepfather had not been unkind to either Abigail or her mother, but he had not been particularly attentive either, and within months of their marriage, his young wife was forced to take up sewing again for the aristocracy.
Being guardian to a stepdaughter aged only thirteen, after his wife had died, had not been in his future plans. But as Abigail had the same skill with a needle as her mother and was able to bring in some coin each week, he had begrudgingly kept her with him.
As Abigail aged and matured, he had begun to look at her in a different and assessing way. Oh, not for himself, but if he had not died so suddenly, Abigail had every reason to believe her stepfather would eventually have sold her to the highest bidder as a means of making more of the money he both coveted and instantly gambled away.
Instead, he had been attacked and killed three months ago by the men sent to collect on a debt he owed.
By the Earl of Shaftesbury’s men.