Once Upon A Wedding Night Read Free

around the quill and, with a deep breath, began to write. A small spark of hope flared to life deep in her soul as the tip of the pen scratched parchment.
Lifelong security
.

----
Chapter 2

     
    Nick was not a pimp.
    No more than he was a man interested in engaging the services of a whore.
    "I'm afraid you've been misinformed. I don't conduct business in this manner." His gaze raked the beautiful young woman in front of him dispassionately. "Nor do I substitute payment of debts for a quick tup."
    Old Lord Basslye's new bride flinched, and Nick felt an annoying stab of pity. Basslye, a gamester with a vicious temper who lost a fortune every night at Nick's tables, had
lowered
himself to wed the chit—the daughter of a rich merchant who cared not that he married off his child to a degenerate, only that said degenerate came with an old, renowned title. Every bit of her generous dowry had been applied to Basslye's debts. Still, it wasn't enough. Apparently Basslye thought his wife's
charms
could make up the difference.
    She wasn't a whore. That much was clear. The stark misery in her face proclaimed her humiliation. His acceptance would offer her a reprieve— at least until her husband sunk them back into debt. Then Basslye would force her to offer her body yet again in exchange for his debts. Who knew whom the lender might be the next time?
    Yet the thought of using her repulsed him. The fear in her too large eyes reminded him of another woman brought low by the very man who was supposed to love and protect her. He couldn't be a party to it. Couldn't be his father. Over the years, he had done some terrible things—thieving, stealing, and, when called for, killing. But even he had his limits.
    "Sorry, love. I may be a bastard, but I'm not interested. Leave the way you came." He waved his hand to the door of his room. "Be careful you're not seen. And tell your husband if he sends you here again, he'll face my pistol."
    Her eyes grew even wider. Rushing forward, she fell to her knees and grabbed his hand in both of her cold ones. "Please! He'll only beat me if I tell him you refused." Her head dipped in shame, a cascade of flaxen hair obscuring her fresh young face. "He'll only send me to others until I've earned enough. He said a lot of men would pay good coin for me."
    Nick felt something dark and dangerous coil in his gut and was certain that if Lord Basslye were in front of him he would gladly strangle the son of a bitch with his bare hands. He still might do just that.
    She lifted her face, shiny with tears, and clutched his hand tighter, her nails digging into the back of his hand. "I would rather it be you. You're handsome. And there is kindness in your eyes… even though you try to hide it."
    A sudden knock at the door saved him from refusing her again.
    "Who is it?"
    "It's me… Mac. There's a gent here to see you."
    "Tell him to come back later."
    "Don't think he'll go away."
    Nick sighed and pulled his hand free. "Go home. Tell your husband the debt is cleared."
    Her mouth fell open. "But—"
    He sliced a hand through the air, silencing her. "It's done. Be gone when I return." He hurried out of the room before she drowned him with gratitude.
    "Damn," he muttered under his breath as he made his way to his office and wrenched the door open, the hinges squeaking in protest. He couldn't afford to be soft. He had not gotten this far in life by being tenderhearted.
    For the moment, he ignored the room's other occupants, making his way to the liquor cabinet, feeling the need for a little numbing. It had been a long time since he thought about his mother, but that sad little pigeon in the other room had conjured her ghost. Settling himself into the chair behind his desk, he turned his attention to his uninvited guest. Mac Swell relaxed in a chair beside the stranger, not bothering to ask if he could remain. Equal partners in several gaming hells and betting shops throughout London, they had no secrets.
    Wasting no time,