The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch. Louise Allen
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collar and bands with a grunt of relief. ‘You are a virtuous young lady, are you not, Miss Wilson?’
Her flaming cheeks were all the answer he wanted and a smirk of satisfaction crossed his nondescript features, which up until that moment Joanna had found reassuringly bland.
The sudden change in tone was completely disorientating. ‘I think there must be some mistake,’ she said coldly, taking a step towards them. ‘I will leave now.’
‘Oh no, dear,’ Miss Thoroughgood replied. ‘You will not leave this room until we are ready to send you to London.’ She turned to her brother. ‘When is Thomas collecting the next consignment?’
‘He has a carriage making the rounds now, he should be with us by the day after tomorrow.’
‘London? What are you talking about? Let me go at once.’ Joanna tried to keep her voice steady and confident, but it shook despite her efforts. The brother and sister seemed to grow before her eyes until all she was aware of was their assessing looks, their amused smiles, the way their eyes slid over her body.
The woman addressed her frigidly. ‘You go where we send you. You belong to us now. In a day or two you will be in the hands of your new master, on the way to your new…home.’
‘Belong? What are you talking about? I have an employer…’
‘You are about to get an owner. Milo Thomas, the biggest whoremaster in the capital, is going to pay us very well indeed for such an untouched treasure as you, my dear.’
‘Whore…no!’ Joanna backed away, stopping abruptly as the back of her legs hit the bed. ‘You are wrong about me! I am a respectable girl, not…’
‘Not yet.’ Thaddeus sounded amused at her lack of comprehension. ‘Not yet, but you will be. You will learn all you need in one of Milo’s closed houses, and you will earn him a fortune. Someone is going to pay very good money to deflower such innocence and beauty, and even more are going to pay handsomely to watch.’
‘No!’ Joanna pressed her hands to her mouth. She was going to be sick, she was going to faint and then wake up and find this was a nightmare. His words made no real sense to her, except to convey a disgusting, terrifying threat. How could they imagine… She struggled for courage and to think. ‘I told you I was a governess, that I was alone in the world. That was not true. I am running away from home and I have a rich and influential family. They will be looking for me—they will pay you to get me back.’
She broke off, panting, and watched the expressions on the two predatory faces opposite her. There was calculation going on and for a moment she dared hope, then Lucille said, ‘No. She would, of course, say that to buy time. But even if it were true, if we released her, she has seen us. As it is, a few months in Milo’s care and her family, if they exist, will not want her back to shame them.’
She took the valise from her brother’s hand and opened it, sorting roughly through its contents. She removed a nail file and a pair of scissors, then tossed it into the room. ‘There. Now, rest and do not try to make a noise. There is no one to hear you and you will not want to annoy Thaddeus. He would not leave a mark on you, naturally, but you would be sorry none the less.’
The door closed and Joanna heard the sharp click of a lock, then the further sound of two bolts being drawn. Shaking in every limb she sank down on the bed and tried to think, tried to plan, but all that was in her head were those obscene words. Someone was going to pay to…to… No! She buried her face in her hands and still the Thoroughgoods’ words invaded her mind, a rape in themselves. Pay to watch…pay handsomely to watch…
It was impossible. Of course, men went to brothels, she knew that. But surely they went because they wanted women who knew what they were about, who would know how to give them pleasure? How could they want to watch a terrified girl being raped, let alone carry out the act? The sheer perversity and wickedness of such a thing steadied her as she applied her reason to it. There were people who got pleasure from being cruel to animals, there were bullies, people who maltreated their servants; perhaps this was an extreme example of that. But that there should be so many men that a brothel keeper could grow rich from them was appalling. Had she met such men? Could they go about in society hiding such evil behind a mask of respectability?
The thought brought her back to her own fate and, for all her courage, she suddenly gave way to racking sobs, curled up on the musty counterpane where, she supposed through her misery, other girls had sobbed in despair before her. Other girls. Joanna sat up, scrubbing the back of her hand across her wet eyes. Other girls. If she did nothing, not only was she damned to this hell, but all the others who followed her would be. Under no circumstances was she going to be worthy of Giles if she gave up now.
Joanna blew her nose, got to her feet and examined the room. Her legs felt like string, every now and again a sob escaped her, but she forced herself to search. There was nothing that could be used as a weapon. The bed was screwed to the floor, the sheets were thin with age and would tear easily. The washstand was bare of ewer or basin and under the bed the chamber pot was of such thin china that it would hardly bruise a head if she struck someone with it.
The door, as she expected, did not even move when she pressed against it and there was no handle on her side. The window was barred, not with wood, but with iron set into the frame, and the opening sash had been screwed up.
Joanna stared out down the front drive to the glimpse of road at the gate. Could she attract attention if someone passed? No, she would have no warning of their passing, the hedge was so high.
So, she could not escape from here. Then it would have to be the carriage when it came. From what the Thoroughgoods had said, there might be other girls in it, girls in the same predicament. That seemed too easy—a carriage full of frantic, healthy young women would be difficult to control. In the Thoroughgoods’ shoes, if it were possible to imagine inhabiting them, she would drug the prisoners. Which meant she must not eat or drink anything, dispose of what she was given, and then feign the right kind of reaction to an unknown drug.
Difficult…Joanna paced away from the window. The practical problem of escape was mercifully blocking out the true horror of her situation, but it lurked in the back of her mind, surfacing every now and again to send shocks of paralysing terror through her before she could wrestle control back again.
Giles…what would Giles do if he were captured? The thought steadied her again, gave her courage, something to fight for. If she never saw him again, if these evil people defeated her, she would at least know she had done all she could and had not been a feeble victim.
There was the sound of carriage wheels on the drive outside and she ran to the window. Surely this was not the threatened Milo Thomas so soon? But all she could see was a curricle, the reins looped around the whip, a pair of handsome matched greys in the shafts standing steaming, their heads down.
Probably a friend of the Thoroughgoods. But what if it were not? What if this were some innocent neighbour or passer-by? Joanna looked around the room wildly. Faintly from below came the thud of the knocker sounding. How could she open the window? The door below must have opened, for she could just hear the rumble of masculine voices. Desperately she snatched a sheet from the bed, wound it around her fist and punched a hole through the glass.
‘Help! Oh, help!’ she screamed, hitting the glass again until it showered down on to the front step below. ‘Help!’ There was a scuffle from below, then silence.
Joanna snatched up a long sliver of glass from the floor and ran to the door, standing at the hinge edge, desperately trying to quieten her gasping breath. There was a noise on the landing and the sound of bolts being dragged back. The visitor? Or Thaddeus Thoroughgood? If it was Thaddeus she was going to stab him, she had no doubt about it, not even the slightest qualm. The back would be the place…
The door swung open, she took a step forward and a voice she could not believe she was hearing said, ‘Joanna?’
‘Giles?’ She must be hallucinating, delirious, the whole thing was a dream. Then he came into sight around the door and she was stumbling forwards and into