Wages of Sin Read Free

rose in the back of her throat at the thought of sharing a bed with this wizened old man, instead of her beloved Ralph. Marry Sir Harry? Never!
    She spun on her heel and stalked towards the door, her skirts swishing angrily. ‘Wed that filthy old lecher,’ she spat over her shoulder. ‘I’d rather die!’
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Chapter Two
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    â€˜What is it, my lamb?’ asked Alice anxiously as Jane marched into her bedchamber and flung herself on the bed. She dropped the armful of clothes she’d been tidying away and sat down beside the girl, laying a comforting hand on the quivering shoulders. ‘What’s upset you?’
    â€˜I’m to be married,’ said Jane brokenly.
    Alice smiled. Was that all? Most girls got a touch of the greensickness at the thought of leaving their mothers. Time remedied all. Why, this time next year Mistress Jane could be a mother herself and all this pother forgotten. ‘There, there,’ she soothed, patting her shaking charge. ‘‘Tis nothing to fret about. Master Ralph is a fine boy. He’ll treat you properly, you mark my words.’
    Jane sat up, her eyes red with weeping. ‘You don’t understand,’ she cried. ‘Ralph’s dead! They want to marry me off to his stinking old father instead!’
    Alice’s mouth fell open. Her pretty young Jane, still barely out of childhood, wed to that old popinjay? She sighed and shook her head. The child would have no say in the matter. If her stepfather said she would be married, then married she’d be, no matter how she felt about it. And as the old country saying had it, ‘What can’t be cured must be endured’.
    Still, she did her best to console the girl. ‘It won’t be too bad,’ she soothed. ‘He’s an old man. How long can he last? A few years? Then you’ll be mistress of his estate and your parents too, when the time comes.’ She smiled slyly. ‘And a rich widow can pick and choose to please herself.’ She thought of Jane’s mother and a frown creased her brow. ‘Mostly,’ she added honestly.
    Jane shuddered. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘How can I share a bed with him and - and do that? She closed her eyes, shivering with disgust.
    Alice could imagine her thoughts: those clammy, age-spotted hands crawling over Jane’s innocent body; those bony knees forcing themselves between her thighs and...
    Jane shook her head. ‘I just can’t,’ she repeated desperately.
    â€˜Maybe you won’t have to,’ smiled Alice. ‘If your parents know how strongly you feel.’ She did not have much faith in that idea, but Jane was prepared to cling to any straw.
    â€˜Do you think so?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ Hope gave her more confidence and she corrected herself. ‘Of course you’re right!’ She laughed contemptuously. ‘They can’t force me into his bed, can they?’ She shuddered as though she was suppressing a wave of sorrow. Alice was not surprised. A lady did not weep and wail in public like a serving maid. No doubt Jane would mourn for Ralph later, in the privacy of her bed, when the candles were blown out and the darkness hid her tears, but for now she was putting on a brave face.
    â€˜Undress me,’ Jane ordered. ‘There is no point to this finery now. My green gown is good enough for everyday wear.’
    Muttering, Alice did as she was told, lifting the heavy amber velvet over her charge’s head and smoothing the full skirts before going to hang it in the garderobe.
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    Dressed in her shift, Jane sat down at her tiny mirror and impatiently began to untwine the pearls from her hair.
    â€˜Wha-!’ she exclaimed as the door of her bedchamber banged open. She looked up with startled eyes to see her stepfather standing in the doorway. He strode in and seized her arm in an iron grip, spinning her