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At Any Cost

By: AMY_Monaco



Author's Note: I know I've left two other stories hanging; I am still working on them. Meanwhile, I got an itch to write another Regency tale, and so, here it is. Enjoy!

***

The room smelled heavily of perfume covering the faint hint of sex. Around him, the furnishings were very feminine, with frills of silk and lace in various shades of red. Silk damask covered the walls and lush drapes over the windows. A small table was set with two glasses and a decanter of fine brandy. 

Mrs. Winslow's brothel catered to the upper class and any who were willing to pay a ridiculous sum for a night with one of her girls. And therein lay the reason why many men went bankrupt just for spending a few hours in one of these rooms. Mrs. Winslow's girls were reputed to be the most talented prostitutes in all of London. 

Derek had no complaints. In the three years of coming here, he could truthfully say that so far, none compared to Mrs. Winslow's establishment. 

He stood shirtless before the table, pouring himself a liberal amount of the brandy and lifting the glass to his lips. He had requested the pretty blond named Margie, who knew exactly what to do with that pouting mouth of hers. 

Tonight, all he wanted to do was forget. 

But even as he tried, his thoughts turned to the grim memories, the dark things he'd seen in his short lifetime. He was only twenty-nine, but until only four years ago, he'd spent most of his life scaling the underworld of crime and smuggling. He'd dealt with the lowliest sort, the type of men who didn't hesitate to kill on the spot for a wrong word said. He managed to dodge the law until one day, betrayed by another crime lord, Derek was caught. 

Thinking he was to end his life at the end of a rope, he was surprised when the chief magistrate presented him with a deal. Become a Bow Street runner or hang. 

Naturally, Derek chose the former. The magistrate thought him to completely reform, especially because of his privileged beginnings, but could a crime lord really completely reform? 

Derek smirked and drank again. 

All he wished to do tonight was drink, spend himself in a woman and forget.  

*** 

In a room not so far away, Vivian Locke dressed quickly in a scandalously designed dress. The neckline dipped too low to be considered fashionable and barely covered the tops of her nipples. As the gown was white, the fabric was so sheer one could see the outline of her long limbs underneath as she walked. 

Mrs. Winslow said the client she was to entertain would want a virgin tonight. There had been a secret smile on the brothel owner's face when she said this. 

Vivian willed her hands to stop shaking. She swallowed, fortifying herself with her reason for being here. Vivian Locke, the only daughter of the respectable late Mr. Frederick Locke was here to save her future. 

How ironic it was that she needed to be ruined in order to save herself, she thought. As requested, she pinned a few locks of dark blond hair up, leaving the rest of it to cascade down her narrow shoulders. If only her cousin wouldn't force her to marry that horrid man twice her age. 

Vivian shuddered the think of ever being married to Lord Garner. The man was a temperamental imbecile, one who wanted a meek wife with no opinion. Having lost two wives already with no issue, Lord Garner had gone to Vivian's cousin Wendell for permission to marry her. And her loathsome cousin had agreed. 

Curse his greed, she thought. It did not matter to Wendell that Lord Garner was a humorless, cruel person, as long as Wendell got the sum Lord Garner had promised, he was satisfied. 

Pleading with Wendell had gained no results. As her only guardian, he could do with her life as he chose. Her only option was to ruin her reputation. 

Lord Garner had requested she be pure on their wedding night; perhaps it was what drew him to her, because of her sheltered life growing up. He needed to be assured any children born would be his, he had mentioned in a brief conversation they shared upon the announcement of their betrothal. He was blunt about the fact that she remained sheltered until their wedding. He wanted her uninformed and untouched, all the more easier to mold into the ideal woman. No bride of his was going to fill her head with politics and female rights. Men ruled this world. Women needed to be protected as if they were breakable glass objects on a narrow shelf. 

Thinking of that conversation only made Vivian angrier. And in this anger, she found courage to move toward the door. 

Once she was ruined, Lord Garner won't want her. With the little money she had saved, she could always find employment. Perhaps, she could even become a governess to a well to-do family someplace far away, a town where they won't have heard of the scandal. 

The hall she walked through was carpeted richly and lit with oil lamps. She glanced at the numbered doors, heard faint sounds of lovemaking and laughing behind each. One particular door elicited a loud crashing sound, followed by a moan and very male grunt of pleasure. 

Such noises made Vivian's face flush with embarrassment. She almost regretted choosing such a way to be ruined. She could have just had the footman do it. But it was too late to turn back now. At number seven, she knocked softly and without waiting for a response, she turned the brass knob. 

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the client she was to entertain. She was met with the tanned, smooth back of a shirtless man. Gasping softly, she closed the door behind her with a click. She'd never seen a man naked before and her gaze curiously followed the contours of the man's broad shoulders, down his bulging arms to his waist. 

The man turned just then, his dark gaze sweeping over her quickly. He cursed out loud. 

"You aren't Margie." 

Had he been expecting someone else? Embarrassment crept up her neck. She must have entered the wrong room. 

"You are not Lord Trentham?"

He was not narrow of build like most of the men she knew. In fact, his great size made him look almost bullish, his large hands fisting at his sides as if he were ready to run her over. As he moved, the muscles on his chest and waist moved and caught the light from fireplace. In no way was he considered fat, but neither was he to be labeled a dandy or weak. 

The hard lines of his face suggested that he was one who'd seen more things in his lifetime than any other and his brooding dark eyes seemed to penetrate her soul-deep. 

"I am." He answered, his voice rough. "I requested Margie." He said, as if his first response wasn't indication enough of his preference. 

She somehow managed to find her voice as he approached her, realizing he was much taller than she had thought. She lifted her head up to meet his gaze. 

"Mrs. Winslow said I was to come to you."

"Did she?" The corner of his mouth lifted sardonically. "Francesca has an odd sense of humor, it seems." He murmured. 

His nearly black eyes slowly caressed its way down her body, making her squirm against the door, which she had her back pressed against. 

With one large hand lifted, he flicked at the sleeves of her white gown. "How virginal. Did Francesca tell you I prefer innocents?" 

His hand crept up her shoulder until he let it rest over her collarbone, his tanned fingers curving around the base of her neck. Her heart beat rapidly underneath the pad of his thumb. 

His eyes narrowed. "Well, I don't."

He turned abruptly and went to the small table with the decanter. "Leave and fetch Margie. I'm in no mood for Francesca's games tonight."

Vivian let out a slow breath. "I don't understand why she sent me here then, if you never requested for me."

"As I said, she has an odd sense of humor."

She remained where she was. She had come this far, she couldn't turn back now. 

"Why are you still here? Are you deaf?"

"Please," she implored him. "Do not send me back."

He turned his head to her, his sable colored hair brushing over his forehead. "Afraid you will be reprimanded? I'll pay you for whatever you usually charge your clients." 

She shook her head. "I've...I've never had other customers."

His expression was guarded as he stared back at her. "I don't tolerate liars."

"I'm not lying. I've never done this before."

His expression turned cynical. "Then you're in the wrong place. Take my advice, Francesca may be fair, but such a life she offers isn't worth it. Get out of here and marry some nice chap in the country."

"You don't understand, Lord Trentham, I need to be here."

He smirked into his snifter of brandy. "Lusty creature," he commented, before he downed the rest of his drink. "Need a man between your thighs that bad, eh?" 

Vivian flinched at his crude remark. She never intended to tell anyone of her circumstance. But her very life depended on tonight. She knew she hadn't very long to stay hidden. Wendell was bound to find her one of these days, for he had people searching for her every waking moment. 

She walked into the room, finally leaving the doorway. "Don't send me back, Lord Trentham. I need to be...I need to be ruined. Tonight."

She couldn't seem to finish her explanation, and she looked away. Her father would turn in his grave if he knew what she was begging this man to do to her. 

Derek caught the fear in the woman's eyes before she looked away. He set the snifter down and walked to her, lifting her delicate chin up so their eyes met. 

The depths of her blue eyes were mesmerizing. If he were in the right mood, he would have taken her up on her offer, virgin or not. But he couldn't tonight. Tonight, he wanted uninhibited sex. He wanted to lose himself inside a woman without checking his control. He didn't have the patience to initiate a virgin into lovemaking, if she was one. 

This thought piqued him. He doubted she was innocent, for Francesca rarely took them in. She preferred well-trained ladies. Yet there was something entirely beguiling in this woman's eyes that suggested she was very much a virgin. 

"Running from a husband?" He asked. "Was he too ardent on your wedding night that you ran? Here to make him jealous?"

She shook her head, her gaze never wavering from his. This furthered his guessing. 

"Rebelling against family then, because papa wouldn't buy you that pretty gown you wanted?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. This was an emotion he could relate to and was relieved to see it. Her vulnerability seemed to unhinge him.

"My cousin seeks to wed me to Lord Garner soon and I am here to blacken my character."

He recognized the name. Searching his mind, Derek soon came up with an image of a man aging in body and mind. Suddenly an image of Garner taking this woman to bed, seeing her writhe beneath Garner's thin body as he thrust into her...

Derek bent down to kiss her, crushing his mouth to her soft one. In surprise, she gasped into his mouth, and this offered him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in. Exploring her mouth slowly, he happily discovered that she tasted sweet, of a woman who hadn't yet unleashed her passion. 

One large arm wrapped around her waist, arching her against his body until she was pressed against his obvious arousal. He cupped the back of her head, holding her to him.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging against the locked door. Derek dragged his mouth away and stared at the door. He felt the woman's hands squeeze his arms. 

"I have clients here, sir." He heard Francesca's protest on the other side of the door, followed by the response of a very angry man. 

"My men inform me my cousin has entered your establishment. If you do not release her..."

More banging pursued and this time, Vivian jumped. Derek turned to her, his expression one of confusion. 

"It's my cousin." She whispered. "Please, I'll do anything. Just do not let him take me to Lord Garner. I couldn't bear it."

He shouldn't have cared. These trifling matters should be left to the woman and her cousin. 

But the taste of her lingered on his lips and he realized he could not simply turn her in. 

Derek pushed her onto the bed and she landed in a heap of blankets and skirts. As she pushed onto her elbows, she watched in horror as Lord Trentham quickly shed his breeches and started for her. 

"What are you doing?"

The banging grew louder as other voices began to join in the shouting, many from angry clients interrupted from their play. 

Derek pulled at the hem of her dress and laid one hand on her thigh. She instinctively tried to lock her knees together, but he pulled them apart. 

"You have a choice. Be ruined now or I turn you in to your cousin." He said in a hard voice. 

His erection rested on her inner thigh and his breath came in deep pants. He could take her right now if he wished. 

"But..." Her intent to lose her virginity seemed to have fled. 

He moved over her, lowering himself between her legs. She felt the bluntness of his sex against her moist opening. Vivian tensed. 

"Moan, sweeting." He ordered, as he nuzzled her neck. 

"What?" She felt him start to rub against her and arched. 

"Good, keep doing that. Moan, louder." 

She expected him to enter her, but instead, she felt his length slide over her sex. The friction caused a delicious sort of sensation through her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he moved over her. 

The door burst open. 

"Vivian!" 

Her body went tense, but she could not help the little moan that escaped her as Lord Trentham moved against her, bumping into a particular sensitive spot between her legs. Lord Trentham continued to do this until – and she had to admit, he was a talented actor – he realized they were not alone. 

Breathing hard, he moved so that his head turned to see who had interrupted them, yet keeping their bodies touching so it gave the illusion he was still inside her. 

"Sir, I really must ask you to leave. This establishment prides itself in discreet business and I will not have you interrupting my clients." Francesca Winslow said in a voice so regal it would have put queens to shame. 

Vivian managed to lift her head to see Wendell turn beet red. 

"You, madam have housed a woman of good breeding and the fiancée of Lord Garner. That woman," He pointed to Vivian. "Is not who she says she is." 

Francesca lifted an eyebrow. "I believe what my girls tell me."

Derek slowly got up from the bed, gracefully moving so that he pulled the skirt down to cover Vivian. Unabashed of his own nakedness he turned to his audience. Vivian's cousin looked even more embarrassed and Francesca looked high amused. 

"Mind telling me why you come barging into my room?" Derek demanded. 

Wendell Locke frowned. "Do cover yourself, sir."

"He is Lord Trentham." Francesca said. 

"Do you have any idea who she is, my lord?" Wendell asked. 

"Don't usually care. Only matters if she satisfies me or not." Derek replied cavalierly. 

"She, my lord, is my cousin, Vivian Locke, and is the betrothed of Lord Garner." 

Derek rubbed his hair roughened chin lazily, and glanced back at Vivian. She was curled up on the bed, panting and watched them wide-eyed. He could see the silent pleading in her eyes. 

"Is she now?" 

Wendell was trying very hard to check his anger, for on hearing of Derek's title, he realized he could ill afford him as an enemy. 

"My lord, I must take her away from this place. Lord Garner is already furious that she's run away and her family are worried about her."

"You cannot take me back, Wendell. I'm ruined." Vivian spoke. 

"You shouldn't have done that, Vivian." Wendell said. "Garner will be furious to hear this."

"Good. I don't wish to marry him." 

Wendell started toward her, but Derek caught him easily by the arm. His vice-like grip caused the young man to grimace. 

"How do I know this isn't some sort of trick? She could have hired you to act like you've ruined her."

At this, Derek abruptly let the young man go, laughing dryly. 

"If you seek proof of her lost virginity, then you are too late. I took her once before not two days past." 

Wendell looked like he was nearing apoplexy. 

"You will be sorry for this. Garner will make sure of it." Wendell said. He glanced at his cousin. "Garner may still want you. Even if you've whored yourself to Lord Trentham."

Derek frowned. "That cannot happen, for I plan on keeping her for myself a bit longer."

"Garner will pay well for his bride, my lord."

Derek dismissed the young man by turning his back on him. He started for the bed. "Then tell Garner he has a problem with me, not the lady. Now leave us." 

Vivian watched Wendell leave, while Francesca regarded Lord Trentham's back a second longer before leaving herself. At the sound of the door closing, Derek sat on the bed instead of mounting her again. 

His offhanded mood melted away to soberness. He still didn't bother to cover himself. 

"I need to leave." She said, started for the edge of the bed. But his hand clamped around her wrist, preventing her. 

"You aren't leaving until I work this out."

"There is nothing to work out." She frowned, tugging at her hand. Hers looked like the size of a child's beside his. 

He tugged her further until she was straddling him. He kept her there securely with his arms. Before she knew it, he pulled at her dress until she felt his aroused sex against her wet slit. 

"I still want to finish what I started."

"I thought you wanted Margie." She whispered. 

"That was before I had you underneath me." He murmured, pulling her head down to kiss her. He thrust his hips upward so his erection rubbed against her. She moaned huskily and pressed down on him, matching his rhythm. 

Derek had never met a woman like her before. She was untried yet she moved against him like a skilled whore. The vulnerability he'd seen in her eyes had done something to him. it occurred to him that she may actually need him. 

All his life, no one had ever actually needed him. He'd grown up an only child, and very much alone when his parents died too soon. His career in the underworld had been violent and cold. There had been few people he could trust. 

Never had there been anyone who depended on him, needed him. He could see now that Vivian needed him. Or perhaps he wanted to think she did. He desperately wanted to believe it.  

It was that moment Vivian saw something flash in his dark eyes. For that brief, unguarded moment, Lord Trentham looked so desolate and wounded. Then, as if it was never there, his eyes took on that guarded, controlled look again. 

He was no longer kissing her or moving beneath her. Instead, he held still and just stared back at her. 

"Do you intend to stay here?"

"No," she whispered. "I was going to try to find employment."

"No one will want a tainted woman working for them."

His blunt reply gave her pause. 

"I could take care of you."

His comment surprised them both. 

She blinked. He was offering to become her protector. Years ago, the thought of being someone's mistress would have repelled her. Now, it was practically a godsend. She knew that as a man's mistress, she would receive gifts and a generous allowance if she pleased her protector. With enough money put away, she could eventually quit being his mistress and live comfortable in the country for the rest of her days. 

Vivian was about to speak when he began to nuzzle her chest, burying his face into the low dip of her neckline where her flesh practically spilled. 

"Let me take care of you." He murmured. She felt the head of his cock press into her once again, only this time he was intent on taking her. Roughly, he pulled her neckline down, exposing her breasts. His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking on it until it hardened beneath his tongue. 

With his cock positioned at her wet entrance he pulled her down swiftly. Vivian cried out as he stretched her, filling her to the hilt. Lifting her, he slid almost all the way out and pulled her down again. 


At Any Cost Ch. 02



Author's Note: It's wonderful to hear that this story was so well received. I'm having fun creating these characters and I hope you enjoy reading them!

***

On the eve of his engagement, Derek Trentham got very drunk. It was the advantage of being an 'idle gentleman', as it were. He could let his guard down for a little while and drink himself into a stupor and no one would question him. Or steal from his pockets. 

Upon reaching the comfortable detachment only a decanter of brandy could bring, he sat slumped in a winged-back chair, staring into the fire. The burly figure of his butler came into view and he watched dazedly as Sykes took the seat across from him. 

"Fine miss ye got there, milord." Sykes said casually. 

Fine miss, indeed. Derek almost laughed at his predicament. Here he was, a former crime lord, about to settle down with a well-to do debutante who'd thought to escape a betrothal by losing her virginity in a brothel. A brothel! 

He let out a dry chuckle, and then it faded as he remembered the softness of her body beneath his...

"Send her back home, Sykes."

Sykes arched a sandy brow, settling his great weight more comfortably in the chair. "Yer bleedin' mad."

"Am I?" Derek heard himself ask. He rubbed his chin absently. "Know how I proposed to her, Sykes? I announced I would marry her after I tupped her good at Francesca's brothel."

Sykes made no sound. 

"She was there in hopes of ruining herself to escape a marriage to Lord Garner."

"An ugly bastard, he is." Sykes comment was almost comical, as it was coming from a man who's face was covered in scars. 

"Her cousin was forcing her to wed him." After a moment of silence, Derek dismissed the thought of Vivian's relation and said, "Just send her back home."

"She's not stayin' the night?"

"She's not staying ever. I've decided I can't marry her."

Sykes grunted a response, stood up from his chair and came over to knock a good one on his master's head. 

"What the devil are you doing?" Derek demanded, rubbing the side of his head gingerly. 

"Cannot let you make a mistake, milord." Sykes said with all the politeness of a real butler. "Got me a feelin' she'll do you a world of good and you ain't lettin' her go."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "You forget yourself, Sykes." His anger was rising, battling with several other emotions. In the underworld, he'd been known to have a quick temper. "You are under my employ and you follow my orders."

Now it was Sykes turn to glare down at him, making him look more dangerous. "And you forget, milord, I been lookin' after yer hide since you landed in prison." 

He was right...Derek would never have survived on the streets without Sykes. Born to privilege and title, Derek had fallen into crime because it held an appeal of danger he craved. But he'd been unprepared for prison and it was there the two met. Sykes was a few years older, had taught Derek the ins of who to avoid, who to talk up. They managed to escape and with Sykes as his right hand, Derek had made a name for himself as a smuggler, a leader of thieves. 

"I'll be gettin' you a special license tomorrow." Sykes said, when Derek had no other comments of taking Vivian home. 

Wearily, Derek said, "And see to hiring some women."

Sykes looked at him, surprised. "Wenches? I thought with the miss upstairs, you be wantin' to – "

Derek smirked, understanding his butler's meaning. "Maids, Sykes. I need a housekeeper and some maids. Can't have footmen serving my wife all the time."

His butler left. 

Derek thought about his very delectable wife-to-be upstairs. His body and mind were tired, yet images of Vivian bathing her supple, silky body had him stirring to life. By the time he reached the door to his bedchamber, he was as hard as a rock and his breathing was not so steady. 

He didn't bother to knock, heard a soft gasp to his left. Vivian was wearing one of his shirts, clasping the still unbuttoned front together to hide her naked flesh. Blood roared in his ears at the sight of her wearing his clothes. The shirt was so large on her that the hem skimmed her mid-thigh and the sleeves she had rolled up to her elbows. 

"I didn't have anything else to wear." She said defensively, mistaking his gaze. He closed the door firmly behind him and went to stand before her. He let his eyes roam over her lazily, the drink doing a bit more to enhance his senses to her scent and the heat of her body. 

"I'd prefer you to wear nothing." He said in a low voice, his hands going to cover her. He forced her hands apart, pulling open the shirt. His nostrils flared at the sight of more creamy flesh. Her breasts, perky and full beckoned him to taste, the smoothness of her stomach down to the soft triangle of hair tempted him to touch and take. 

He lowered his head to her neck, grazed his lips over her pulse. He felt her shiver as she tried standing perfectly still. He pushed the shirt off her shoulders. 

He started to scrape his teeth lightly up her neck to her ear, breathing over her ear until she was panting. "I'll kill any man who even thinks of being our lover..."

Vivian swallowed. "What?" He moved his head to nibble at her other ear. 

"I don't like sharing. So if you think to take a lover while we are married...think again."

While moving his mouth slowly over her shoulder, licking a trail over her collarbone, he shed his shirt, and welcomed the feel of Vivian's hands on him. For a moment, he closed his eyes, reveled in the fact that she touched him of her own accord, not because she was forced to or because he had paid her to do it. His hands worked on the buttons of his breeches and kicked them off.

With his hands on her hips, he slowly walked her to the bed. 

"Y-You're drunk, Derek."

"A bit." How she found out his Christian name, he didn't know, but he liked the sound of it. "Rule number two: I won't have a prudish wife." 

They tumbled into bed, his hard body landing on top of hers. Swiftly parting her legs, he rubbed the head of his erect cock at her entrance. She was already wet for him and he moved teasingly against her, running the swollen tip over her slit until she was squirming. 

"I'm going to teach you every possible way to make love." He vowed, his eyes half closed as he continued to move. She whimpered helplessly, the sound urging him to bury himself deep inside her. 

"I may be making you my wife," he lowered his head to nibble at the corner of her mouth, heard the intake of her breath. "But you will be acting like a mistress in bed." 

He plunged his long, thick cock inside her, muffling her cry of pleasure with a deep kiss. He was relentless. Perhaps it was the brandy or the way she moved with him, but Derek couldn't seem to find control where Vivian was concerned. Never mind that she may still be sore from their first coupling, his mind could only register the fact that she was his, she was here with him and seemed to accept him willingly. 

Vivian couldn't comprehend why she wanted Derek Trentham so much. But each time he moved, each time he filled her, everything felt right. Like the first time, she felt the warmth coil from deep within and she cried out, wanting release. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper. 

They came at the same time, ending with Derek rolling onto his back as his release shuddered through his body. He brought Vivian with him, felt her going lax above him, her hair fanning over his body. 

A deep calm settled over him as his breathing went back to normal. Brandy, combined with a good bout of sex with a beautiful woman had been enough to make him forget. Grateful that he got what he originally wanted that night, Derek settled an arm over his fiancée and closed his eyes to sleep. 

*** 

It was a strange feeling to wake in a bed not your own. For Vivian, it was even more startling when, upon waking, there was a knock on the door and Ham walked in. He was the other footman, a balding, lanky man with a quick smile. 

"Pardon me, miss. Sykes sent me up to ready you for the wedding." 

Scrambling to cover herself, she backed up against the headboard of the bed, glancing around. "Where's Derek?"

"He's gone to get the holy man to perform the wedding. I'm supposed to make sure you dress right proper for it."

Was he indeed? 

Ham set down a gown for her on the bed. 

"Where did that come from?" She asked, fearing the answer. He was, after all an ex-criminal. 

"Lord Trentham had your trousseau brought here."

Puzzled, she stared down at the gown of pale cream silk. "But how? My cousin wouldn't allow such a thing. He's wanted me to wed Lord Garner."

Ham shrugged a bony shoulder. "Not many can refuse Lord Trentham." Then, as if suddenly noticing her state of undress, he flushed to the neck and bobbed his head shyly. 

"Well, if you don't need anything else, I'll be outside the door. You'll be going to the drawing room. That's where you'll be marrying."

*** 

By the time she descended the stairs, Vivian had decided that this probably wasn't a good idea. She was no longer a virgin now, and surely Lord Garner wouldn't want her now. It really wasn't necessary to marry Derek Trentham. Perhaps he felt obligated to because he took her to bed. She should go into the drawing room and just explain to both him and the priest that there was no need for a wedding. 

Sykes stood at the landing in his livery, the coat buttoned a little too tight over his belly. In daylight, he looked even more unsightly. 

"Lordship's waitin' in the drawing room, miss." Sykes said without so much as a greeting or asking if she slept all right. 

"Is he?" She asked nervously. Was Derek really serious about going through with this? Well, she would just have to explain to him that this was a mistake. 

"He's been pacin' all mornin', waitin' on you."  Then he thrust forward a bouquet of hothouse flowers. "And he sent fer these. Ain't right fer a bride to walk without some pretties."

She took the flowers, a smile tugging at her lips at such a thoughtful gift. 

"Come now, miss. Drawin' room's this way."

Sykes noticed her hesitate and wondered what was going on with these two. Last night, he had seen the way Derek had looked at her, the way his expression softened when he spoke of her. 

And surely the girl desired Derek...Sykes had heard her cries of pleasure as he passed their room. But then there were many who looked their noses down on their lot. Derek Trentham may have been born to riches, but he certainly wasn't the crème de le crème of society now...his reputation was just acceptable and only because of who his father was. 

The girl didn't know the person Derek was – she didn't know about his unswerving loyalty.  Vivian must have hesitated a second too long, for down the hall, the drawing room door opened and soon Derek came forward, a frown on his head. 

"Vivian, the man's waiting. We should go in." He said. 

He looked impatient and slightly annoyed, with himself or with her she didn't know. 

"We need to talk, Derek." She said, taking a deep breath. 

"We can talk once we're married."

"Yes, about that..." She grasped the flowers tightly. "I don't think we should get married."

"Yer both bloody fools." Sykes grumbled, walking away. 

Derek's eyes darkened. "We had an agreement." She could see his jaw tighten, saw the subtle flew of muscle there. His expression was guarded. Why was he angry? She was giving him a chance at staying a bachelor. Wasn't that what most men wanted?

"Should I remind you what would happen if you don't marry me?" He asked slowly. "Word will spread that you've spent the night in my residence. Garner may still want you, only this time his proposal may be of the unsavory sort and whether you like it or not, your cousin is still your guardian until you turn one and twenty."

"How could you possibly know this?"

"I've had my man check into it."

"I still have some money left to me by my mother. I'm not completely destitute."

"A very small amount that won't last you a fortnight. You're too trusting to survive out there. Take my word on that, Vivian." 

That last sentence was said with such conviction that she paused, considering the truth of the matter.  

For the second time, she agreed to marry him, only this time; she could only whisper the vows as their union was sealed. In the end, Derek tugged her close for a long, searing kiss, uncaring of the witnesses they had, the man who performed the wedding, Sykes and Ham. 

Then suddenly there was a loud crashing noise coming from the outside. The doors to the drawing room burst open and Wendell appeared, held up by the collar of his shirt by the giant footman, Pete. 

"Intruder, milord. Insisted on plowing in here. Says he's a relation."

"Unfortunately." Derek muttered. 

"This cannot be legal." Wendell announced. "This man has forced my cousin to wed him."

"Is this true, my lady?" The elder man asked, surprised. "I was under the impression that you desired the union."

"I did." She assured him. 

Derek went over to Wendell, his expression hard. "You have an annoying habit of interrupting me with my wife." 

Wendell had the grace to flush at the memory. "I am concerned about Vivian's welfare."

"I give you leave to end your concern. She's my wife now and I take care of my own." Derek said, and then looked over at Pete. "Take him out of here. I don't want him near my wife again."



At Any Cost Ch. 03



Her new husband seemed to be unsociable the morning of their wedding. They invited the priest to dine with them and naturally, he accepted. But Derek barely said a word to the him, so it was up to Vivian to make the elderly man be at ease. 

Sykes, quite happy to see his employer married served them with a flourish that was unlike his gruff exterior -- and made several mistakes. One served from the left and gathered from the right. The two footmen, Ham and Pete were nearby to offer assistance. 

As the perfect hostess, Vivian walked the elderly man out at the end of the meal. When she returned, Derek was just leaving the dining room. She frowned at him, her hands on her hips. 

"Was that really necessary?"

He arched an eyebrow and brushed past her. "Was what, my dear?"

"I seem to recall that you went through quite a lot of time reminding me why I should marry you. So the man who performed the ceremony could at least have had a warmer welcome from you. You hardly said anything to him."

He seemed distracted. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I'll leave the niceties to you. It's a miracle he married us at all."

"What do you mean?"

As if he regretting that last statement, Derek's scowled. "I'll be out for most of the afternoon, Vivian. I told Sykes we're looking for female servants...hire anyone you need. As a bachelor, I didn't need much." He was already turning away at those last words and headed out the door without donning a hat. 

Vivian was left to stand in the wide hallways, alone on her wedding day. Everything hardly seemed real to her. Her eyes took in all the details of décor around her, displayed to her in full daylight. There were priceless oil paintings, ormolu furniture and lush rugs. Everything was foreign. 

A sense of loneliness settled over her.

"Milady?"

She jumped, whirled around to see Sykes standing there in his livery. 

"Sykes!" She gasped. "You really mustn't sneak up on people like that." For such a large man, he moved with startling silence. 

"I was wonderin' if'n you want to interview the servants yerself. A lady be waitin' below-stairs fer the housekeepin' position."

Vivian blinked. "The housekeeper position? But...I've only just arrived last night."

"Lordship likes things to run smoothly."

Yes, he would, she decided. But the admission only reminded her that she knew very little about her husband. She let out a breath and straightened herself. 

"Yes, I'll interview her. Show her into the drawing room in fifteen minutes, please."

*** 

Mrs. Barts was a large woman with rosy cheeks and a severe expression. Her hair was still bright red and she dressed respectively in dark clothes. She curtsied before Vivian and took the seat Vivian indicated. 

Having no experience in hiring servants, Vivian skimmed the references Mrs. Barts brought with her. 

"Whoever I hire for the position will start immediately, you understand." Vivian began, uneasy because she didn't know exactly how much Derek was willing to pay for a housekeeper.

"I have no qualms about that, milady." 

"Also, until very recently...this house was a a bachelor's residence. Therefore, there aren't any female servants. Any upstairs maids and kitchen help, I will require that you hire them." 

"I've been looking after Mr. Roberts' -- he was my previous employer -- home for more than twenty years. But he's passed on -- bless his soul -- so I know the running of a good household, ma'am." 

Mrs. Barts seemed well qualified for the job. But Vivian happened to look up and see Sykes standing at the open doorway, his profile in her view. Vivian had the most suspicious feeling of being guarded by that man. 

She smiled at Mrs. Barts. "Very well, then Mrs. Barts. You have the job."

The rotund woman beamed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"I will have Sykes show you where you will be staying." She stood up, signaling the end of the interview. "Mrs. Barts, I do have to inform you that...this household houses male servants who are a bit...rough around the edges. So I implore you to exercise patience where they are concerned."

Mrs. Barts nodded, her red hair which was pinned up in a bun above her head moving slightly forward as she did so. "I shall not disappoint you, milady. Or his lordship." 

"Excellent." 

***

Derek arrived at the Runners' office by foot. Head of the office was Jacob Lerner, a man well into his forties who'd been a runner himself in his younger days. He sat at his desk, looking over some documents, probably of assignments that were completed. 

"Came to pick up my assignments, Lerner." Derek said, walking into the office and seating himself in a chair across from his employer. Lerner slowly looked up from his documents, unfurling his face from the deep frown of concentration. 

"Good morning, Trentham. And may I offer my congratulations?"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Who told you?"

"This is the Bow Street Runners' office. There is nothing we don't know." Chuckled Lerner. His gray speckled beard lifted in a smile. "Now what the hell are you doing here on your wedding day?"

"A man has to work to support his wife." Lerner snorted. "You don't. You're rich as Croesus." He leaned back into his chair, causing it to screech faintly. "You should be with your wife."

At the moment, being with his wife was the last thing Derek wanted. He fought the impatience that triggered every nerve in his body, the restlessness that seemed to haunt him every waking moment. Derek Trentham, loving husband and doting father. He couldn't be that person, not yet. He wanted the thrill of the chase, to bring down hardcore criminals with the threat of danger and bloodshed. He wanted that feeling of having nothing to lose...the possibility of dying...

"Are you going to give me my assignment or not, Lerner?"

Lerner made a big show of thinking this over, turning the stylus in his hand slowly. 

"There comes a time in every man's life, Trentham, when he should focus his attention on the more important things in life. A career as a runner is taxing, on both the man and his wife and the children they have." 

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Spit it out, Lerner."

"You've just got married. You've got a woman to consider now. What will happen if you injure yourself on assignment, or worse?"

"You just said I was rich as Croesus. Vivian will be taken care of."

Lerner put the stylus down, folded his hands on the desk. "Vivian, a lovely name."

"I didn't come here to talk about my wife's name -- "

"I'm giving this next assignment to Nathan. As of this morning, Trentham, you are dismissed from the runners, in all honor."

"What the devil?"

"I'm doing this as a favor. Consider your wife, she deserves a husband who will be there for her, not running around for months on end chasing a lead that may not exist."

Derek's eyes darkened. "You're doing me a favor." He repeated quietly. How many favors Lerner had done for him these past few years...the major one being his approach to Derek in prison, offering him a job to catch the very men he used to associate with. 

"You bloody bastard." Derek muttered, standing up. Lerner took no offense from this, as he'd been called worse in his line of work. He shuffled papers around and picked up the stylus. 

"I'll have my wife call on yours soon. Mary's always looking for new blood."

New blood, indeed. Was this what his life was going to be reduced to, Derek wondered. To formal dinners where his wife would gossip and he to cast out charming anecdotes at port and cigars? Derek shuddered at the thought. 

How easily he had started to view Vivian as his wife. She'd be there to run his household and warm his bed at night. 

His cock stirred at the very thought of her soft and willing in his arms. 

He entered the street and headed in the direction toward home, since he had nowhere else to go. Then he thought better of it and turned in the direction of his club. If he was going to fully immerse himself as an 'idle gentleman' than he might as well make use of the very expensive membership at White's. 

Unlike in the rest of society, he was only just acceptable, thanks to his father and several loyal friends. Derek hardly found a reason to spend time there, sitting about reading the newspaper or playing cards. He believed a man could do better things with his time than waste away in a room full of cigar smoke and leather. Yet that very idea seemed more appealing than going home to his beautiful new wife.

*** 

Interview housekeeping position. Make a list of things and rooms to clean. Read off said list to the footman and new housekeeper. Have lunch. Inform the gardener -- an ex-con -- that dandelions are not flowers. Write some letters and then have dinner. 

Vivian never thought she'd spend her wedding day alone. She occupied her day with a list of things to do. Dinner had come and gone, a feast prepared by Cook, a man who used to cook for a French count before the Revolution. However her husband managed to find this odd array of servants, she would never know. Yet they all seemed to be reformed and completely loyal and devoted to Derek. 

As she readied for bed, with the help of Mrs. Barts, Vivian tried not to think of where Derek might have been all day. Had he gone off to drink, to spend time at his clubs? Was he even a member of any clubs? Then she wondered if he went back to Francesca's brothel...the thought tore at her in some horrid way. 

They didn't love each other and certainly men of his rank often visited such places or kept a mistress, yet she would have thought he'd at least delay because it was their wedding night. Obviously such an event would hardly interrupt his routine. 

Vivian settled into bed. She'd taken the room connected to Derek's where the wife was supposed to be. Decorated in pale rose and green with miniature portraits of the ladies who used to occupy the room, it was the very place of femininity. 

She must have lain there for an hour or so, just thinking, when suddenly she heard fumbling in the room next door. Her eyes darted to the connecting door, and she heard a lot of cursing and then a loud bump, followed by another string of oaths. She sat up in bed just as the noise drew closer. The connecting door swung open and Derek stood there, filling the frame with his large form. 

"What the devil are you doing here?" He demanded, none too quietly. 

She was happy to see him, even relieved. And she desperately wanted to ask where he'd been all night. Instead, she said, "I'm trying to sleep." 

He came to the foot of the bed. His jacket and vest were gone, and his shirt was left half unbuttoned. He looked a mess. Shyly, she held the blankets up to her chest. He pointed in the direction of his room. 

"Then why aren't you in bed?"

She looked at him, bemused. "I am in bed." Was he foxed? Oh dear, had she married a drunk? But this fault paled against those of Lord Garner's, she told herself. 

"My bed -- our bed. Why aren't you in our bed?" He said a little more loudly. 

"Married couples don't sleep in the same bed. It's just not the thing..."

He came around to her side and pulled at the covers. He faltered when she instinctively jerked them back. There was a bit of a tug-of-war when finally he yanked them from her. 

"I don't care what is 'the thing' or not. Damn it all. You're my wife and you will sleep where I sleep." He gazed at her intently. "I think it's ridic...ridiculous that wives sleep apart from their husbands..." 

He leaned over to pull her up from bed and now she could smell the liquor on him. He wrapped an arm around her and then without a word, he lifted her into his arms. She feared being dropped, as he was obviously drunk. 

"Put me down, Derek." She said, clasping her hands around his neck for support. He walked slowly to his room. 

"I won't drop you, Vivian." He murmured. So far, he'd walked pretty steadily, but when he looked down at her, he stumbled forward. Vivian clung for dear life, but Derek managed to catch himself and set her gently on the bed. He himself didn't move so gracefully and collapsed onto the bed next to her. 

She sat up, trying to make sense of it all. Derek was finding comfort in the bed, crawling up toward his pillow to bury his face into it. 

"Dismissed." He mumbled. 

"Dismissed? What are you talking about, Derek?" She pushed him onto his back and he dazedly rolled his head to the side and smirked. 

"From the runners. Bow Street."

"You were a runner?"

"Don't worry. I'm still rich...you married a rich man...smart lady."

It felt like another jab at her. First he had called her innocent and naïve, and now he thought she cared only about money. 

"I didn't marry you for your money." She answered quietly. 

"'Course you didn't..." His eyes were closed and his voice grew quiet. "You didn't marry me for anythin'...got nothing but money...shouldn't have married a criminal..." 

His voice had taken on a note of sadness. His hand blindly reached out for hers and he brought it to rest on his chest. 

She couldn't help but brush away a lock of hair that fell over his forehead, as if he were a lost little boy. 

"Are you a criminal, Derek?" She asked.

"The very worst." He mumbled. "Shouldn't-a married me."

He slipped into the deep sleep of drink. Vivian glanced around the master bedroom, warmed by the great fireplace. Sighing, she settled into bed, keeping her hand within his grasp. It made her feel closer to him somehow. She had a feeling he would slip back into that guarded, temperamental persona in the morning, so if she could at least bond with him briefly, it would be enough for now.

"What's made you so angry?" She whispered, staring at his beautiful profile in the darkness. "I hope one day you will tell me, Derek."

*** 

Vivian felt a great weight over her waist when she woke up. As she shifted in bed, she realized it was Derek's arm anchoring her down. For a fleeting moment, she realized that such a feeling of being held was comforting and it made something in her stomach flutter. But she quickly pushed these feelings aside and slipped out of bed quietly. 

She padded back to her room -- her former room -- and rang for Mrs. Barts. She would have to serve as lady's maid until one could be hired. But it was Pete who knocked on the door. 

"Where is Mrs. Barts?" She asked. 

"Below stars, milady. Seeing to hiring upstairs maids, she is. Seeing one now. Mrs. Barts says to the girl to seek a job somewhere else, and the girl started crying."

"Why is she crying?"

He shrugged. "I only heard what Ham told me and he also told me to come get you. Said you ought to see to the girl..."

Vivian sighed. Twenty minutes later, she started below stairs. Mrs. Barts bobbed her. 

"Good morning, my lady." She spoke in a hushed voice. "It's the girl, she won't leave. I told her we have no place for her, but she just won't budge." 

Vivian looked past Mrs. Barts to the crying girl sitting on the bench. She was hunched over, wearing a somewhat daring dress. Though the dress had an Empire waist, it couldn't hide the growing belly of hers. 

"A respectable household cannot have a girl who's increasing, my lady." Mrs. Barts added. "It's just not done."

Remembering her husband's words last night, Vivian looked back at her housekeeper. "Has the girl no family?" 

"She's from...a brothel, my lady. No family." The girl looked like she was the same age as Vivian and her cheeks and eyes were red from crying. She hated to see someone helpless, as until recently, Vivian had been in the same circumstance. 

Vivian walked up to the girl, who looked up. Upon seeing that this was the lady of the house, the girl quickly got up and curtsied. 

"Good morning, my lady." She tried for a smile, but her lips quivered. "I heard that you were hiring, my lady. I know I haven't much to recommend myself...but I'm quick to learn and I'm clever with hair and doing it all fancy, my lady. Or I can help in the kitchen."

"Mrs. Barts tells me you used to work in a brothel." She saw the way the girl winced at the mention of it. "Is that how you got pregnant?"

The girl nodded silently, wiping another tear from her cheek. "I don't want to go back. I won't bother the men here, my lady, if that's what you're worried about. I just want honest work...and to keep my baby. Please, my lady, I will work hard."

"What's your name?"

"Annie Hamill, my lady."

What was one prostitute to the household filled of ex-criminals? The girl seemed genuine in her want to work, so Vivian nodded.

"I will have Pete go fetch your things and move you upstairs. We'll get you your own room so that you and the baby will have privacy." 

The girl's mouth quivered, this time in happiness and she smiled. "Oh, thank you. Bless you, my lady. You will not regret this."

Mrs. Barts was pinch-lipped, but she said nothing. As Vivian turned around, she stopped when she saw Derek. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes regarded her with approval. He held their gaze a little longer, then let it go to the girl being led away by Mrs. Barts and Pete, who couldn't seem to take his eyes off the girl. 

Derek was once again impeccably dressed, his hair slightly damp from his morning bath. He tilted his head at the girl who just left the hall. 

"Your new lady's maid?" He asked. 

"Yes. Do you disapprove my choice?"

He regarded her silently, then said, "No. I think it was admirable of you." He said nothing else and walked up the stairs to the main floor of the house. It sounded like a compliment, yet she couldn't take it that way.

Sykes, of course, was waiting at the top of the stairs. He thrust forward a silver salver containing several letters. 

"The post, milady." 

Feeling exasperated, Vivian took them. "A butler presents the morning post at the breakfast table, Sykes.

"I'll be rememberin' that."

She took the letters to the breakfast room and after settling down with her plate, she opened them. Her fork paused in mid-air when she scanned the elegantly written words. Derek walked in just then, a frown still on his face. 

"Barty's a bit of a bat, isn't she?"

Confused, Vivian looked up. "I beg your pardon?"

"Barty -- that housekeeper you hired."

"Her name is Mrs. Barts and I ask that you treat her respectfully, as she's not one of your ex-criminals." 

Derek shrugged, piling his plate high with food. "She spoke to me after you gave orders for the girl to be hired. The old bat asked that I reconsider the girl, hoping I would see the wrong and send the girl packing. She's supposed to be taking household orders from you." His frown deepened. "Did you explain to her that this is not an average household?"

"She isn't used to it yet. Just give her time."

"Everyone who works for me is loyal. I won't have a housekeeper who's tight-lipped and looking down her nose at those who are trying to make a better life than what they had."

Vivian put the invitation down, realizing this bit of information was another facet to her husband. "I'll speak to her about it." She answered quietly.

"Good." Derek answered gruffly. The headache he suffered at the moment was pounding and making him more irritable than called for. He could barely recall last night's events. All he knew was that he spent a good amount of time at his club, drinking with several friends. 

He opened his own mail as he ate, trying to ignore the headache as he did so. Invitations, all of them. If they didn't know he was married by now, they must have drawn the same conclusion when he sent out word he was looking for female servants. A man like him wouldn't need any unless he married. If only he could keep his personal life private. He could care less of who was caught in bed with whom and which duke was hosting the grandest ball of the season. 




At Any Cost Ch. 03



But Derek's eyes lifted to his young wife, who was reading one of her own letters, probably another invitation and he could see the way the light danced in her eyes at the prospect of dancing. But the light was fleeting and he was sorry to see her eyes darken, as if she was suppressing her own happiness. She would want parties and friends constantly calling on them. 

A pang of guilt hit him. He didn't want her unhappy. In fact, he wanted her to have everything he could give her. He wanted her smiling and dressed in the prettiest gowns money could buy. He wanted her draped in diamonds and sapphires and whatever jewels she wished. Women usually wanted a man's heart, and that was something he couldn't give. But anything he could buy...he'd buy her a whole country if it would make her happy. 

He cleared his throat. "The wife of an associate of mine will be calling on you very soon, Vivian." 

"An associate from the runner's office?" He paused. "I don't remember mentioning I was employed there."

"You told me last night...you were a bit foxed." His eyes narrowed. "What else did I say?" 

She only shook her head and he felt relieved that he hadn't revealed too much of himself. He somehow didn't want her to know the darker side of him. To his mind, it would sully her. 

He cleared his throat again, shifting uneasily in his seat. "I don't work there any more. None the less, Lerner's wife, Mary will be calling to show you about."

She smiled. "I look forward to it. That's very nice of her." Then, cautiously, she said, "I was wondering...I wanted to get some things for Annie's baby...for when it comes..."

"Dean will drive you."

Vivian looked down at her plate. "I wanted to know what my allowance was."

Derek looked at her. "I'm not a stingy husband. Open accounts in any shop you like, have them send the bills to me. And take Pete or Ham with you." 

"I won't have that many packages. I can manage on my own." 

"I don't want you going out alone, Vivian." He said soberly. "Even when I take you to my family seat in the country, I don't want you leaving the house alone. If you go out riding, take either Pete or Ham with you."

"But...why?" She was thoroughly confused. Had this anything to do with his being a criminal? She wanted to ask yet something stopped her. Somehow, she knew it would only make him angry. 

"I don't want your cousin or Garner bothering you. And what would happen if you'd gone riding and had an accident?"

Both were valid reasons and so she agreed to take a footman with her. But a little warning sounded in the back of her mind and her suspicion was drawn up again. Housing ex-criminals, admitting he was the worst sort...taking footman out as guards.

*** 

Annie Hamill followed the imposing Mrs. Barts up to the servants' quarters. Pete followed behind carrying Annie's only bag, a small one stuffed of a few personal items. She had worked in a brothel for three years since she was fifteen. With her parents gone and no money or skill, it had been her only option of survival. She'd been so careful to make sure any of her clients' seed would not take root. But there'd been one particularly rough and abusive client, a man richer than he was cruel. He had to be the father of her child.

But she tried not to dwell on it, as she was five or six months gone with child. She needed to think of the future. Finding an honest job seemed to be the only way for her to keep her child. 

"Lord Trentham likes this household run smoothly, so I can assume only that Lady Trentham will be the same. Uniforms will be provided and here's where you will be sleeping." Mrs. Barts said. 

The room was small, with a wide bed, dresser, chair and washstand. 

"If you want something moved around, Pete here will do it." Mrs. Barts then gave Annie a sever expression. "I won't tolerate any goings on with the men."

Annie blushed and lowered her eyes, feeling Pete's gaze on her. What everyone must think of her.

"Lady Trentham saw potential, do not disappoint her or me. If I catch you getting familiar with one of the men, I'll have you out on the street." With that, Mrs. Barts turned and left the room. 

Pete was still staring at her. Embarrassed, Annie offered a smile. 

"Do you want anything moved, miss?" Pete asked. Having grown up in a family of ten siblings, he'd taken to stealing to survive. He was good at it, too though he no longer practiced it. He was a simple man and it didn't take long for him to realize that the moment he saw Annie, she was the one for him. 

She looked right beautiful standing there in a gown of bold blue, her skin glowing, her golden blonde hair swept up. She had the prettiest blue eyes and she looked delicate and absolutely wonderful with her hands resting on her growing belly. 

"If you could move the washstand over to the window..." 

He did it without hesitation. When the task was finished, he raked a hand through his dirty brown hair, feeling a like giant in that tiny room next to her. 

"That's really it," she smiled again. "Thank you."

He nodded, but turned around to face her once he reached the door. "I'm right handy, miss, so if there's anything you need, I can help." 

"Thank you, Pete."

He nodded, wanting to linger in her presence a little longer. "They just got married, you know, Lord and Lady Trentham. Just yesterday. Lord Trentham's a good man, treats us servants fairly. And Lady Trentham is kind. You'll like it here."

He ducked out of the room, heart beating fast.



At Any Cost Ch. 04



For the next four days, they slept in the same bed, but Derek did not make love to her. Nor did he spend all his time at his club drinking. Instead, he locked himself in his study, doing what, Vivian did not know. He said little to her, though when he did speak, he was formal and polite, which contrasted greatly from the hot-tempered man she first met. 

On a brighter note, Annie proved to be a great asset. Though she was six months pregnant -- Vivian had the doctor summoned to examine the girl -- Annie worked hard, always smiling brightly and willing to lend a hand. Each morning, Annie dressed Vivian's hair in a new fashion that even Vivian wouldn't have been able to create. 

Mary Lerner, the wife of Derek's associate did call on her. Upon arriving at teatime, Mrs. Lerner insisted that Vivian accept every invitation. 

"You'll be the talk of the Town, my dear. Trentham was simply the Eligible Bachelor until he married, even with his reputation."

"Reputation?" How many times had people, even Derek himself referred to his reputation? 

Vivian had lost count, yet no one seemed to want to elaborate. 

"You mean he was a rake?"

Mrs. Lerner, a woman of considerable beauty and understanding eyes gazed at Vivian for a moment. 

"You had better ask Trentham himself for the full story, my dear. Trentham was anything but the usual rogue." 

Sadness filled Vivian so suddenly, as it occurred to her that Derek might never open up to her. 

"Don't look so glum, my dear. Everything will work out." Mrs. Lerner squeezed her hand comfortingly and smiled. "Accept the invitations. Have Trentham escort you, and believe you me you will be a smash. Oh, it will be wonderful. I cannot wait for it."

Vivian hesitated. 

"I don't think Derek likes crowds very much."

"He will when his wife is out and about." 

She highly doubted it, but she planned on bringing it up as they were going to bed. She was brushing out her hair at the vanity, having had it moved from the other room. She dismissed Annie early in the evening after seeing the girl yawning several times. 

Derek was sitting against the headboard of the bed, watching her through half-closed eyes. 

"Derek...I was wondering if you'd like to attend a ball tomorrow evening." She asked, putting down the brush. She turned in her seat to look at him. "I have already accepted the invitation and Mrs. And Mr. Lerner will be there." 

Something in his eyes told her that he wasn't thinking about the ball at all. 

"Come here, Vivian." Was all he said. 

Nervously, she complied, and padded over to the bed in her white nightgown. He made a gesture to come closer. She climbed onto the bed as he pushed away the covers to reveal his erection. He slept naked, she had discovered nights before. 

She made to straddle him, feeling him tuck in between her legs, but not entering. 

He looked at her as he lifted a hand to touch her face tenderly, tucking a long lock of hair behind her ear. He ran his fingers lightly over her cheeks, let the pad of his thumb touch the ends of her eyelashes. His fingertips brushed over her parted lips like light kisses. It didn't take much for her to become aroused, for his gentle touch seemed to do it. 

Skillfully, he unlaced the front of her nightgown and pulled down one sleeve to reveal a pale smooth shoulder. She let out a sigh as he leaned forward to touch that skin with his hot mouth. His lips trailed to her collarbone, nuzzling her neck until he moved up for their mouths to meet. 

She met his kiss enthusiastically, realizing how she missed him so. Going days without his lovemaking had made her wonder if he'd lost interest in her. Yet he kissed her now with such fervor, the idea hardly seemed valid. 

She arched to him, causing a deep groan to escape him. He lifted her up and entered her swiftly, both of them moaning at the same time. He pulled the nightgown off her as he thrust up inside her. 

Derek's kisses were endless and he teased her, building up her pleasure with his hands and mouth, taunting her nipples into sensitivity. She rode him, setting the pace, feeling him fill her so deeply. 

Suddenly, he rolled her beneath him and thrust into her languidly, eliciting a soft cry from her lips. He never looked away from her, wanting to see every little expression, hear ever cry come from those pretty lips of hers. He wanted her slowly, though his cock felt ready to spill. He wanted to ram himself into her until they were desperate for breath, but he wanted this to build and build until it was ecstasy. 

She was arching toward him, urging him to take her faster with her legs wound around him. He only smiled at her and took her mouth with his, teasing her with his patience. 

"Derek!" She cried out, her nails digging into his back. He reveled in the stinging of her nails, and pulled almost all the way out only to bury himself to the hilt inside her. He continued to do this, taking her with deep strokes, then shallow ones.  

Her muscles started to clamp down on his cock and feeling his own orgasm take hold, he let go of his patience. He started to plunge into her wet warmth, mindless. Vivian cried out. He could feel his cock swell, his swollen balls lift and then everything exploded. He let out a groan and drained himself inside her. 

Derek held her even after she fell asleep. For a long time, he remained awake, watching the firelight dance across her face. For the first time, he found himself fascinated with a woman's features. He took the time to memorize the way the tip of her nose lifted a little and the tiny little birthmark just on her left jaw line, the things he never noticed before. 

His wife. 

"You will always be taken care of." He whispered, brushing his finger over her cheek. "I'll see to it." 

As if sensing his melancholy mood, she snuggled closer to him. 

Derek closed his eyes to sleep, but his mind moved rapidly over what he could do to make her happy. He wanted to make her happy so badly. Diamonds. She'd like diamonds. And pearls, strings of it to match that pretty pink gown she wore the other day. He made a mental note to stop by the jeweler's in the morning. 

*** 

He was up at the crack of dawn and walked down instead of having Dean wake up so early. The jeweler's shop was just opening up for the day when Derek slipped in. The man who owned it beamed and immediately came over. 

"Lord Trentham, it is a delight to see you. How can I assist you?"

Derek's eyes scanned the glass cases, dismissing those too gaudy for Vivian or too simple. He wanted something exquisite and rare. 

"Diamonds." He said simply. "My wife and I are attending a ball tonight...I don't know what she will be wearing, but I'm sure diamonds will be appropriate."

The man nodded firmly and led the way to a display case. 

"Indeed, my lord. Might I suggest a necklace or a bracelet, then? Ah, here we are." 

Displayed against dark velvet, was a collection of sparkling diamonds in different cuts and styles. 

"That'll do." Derek pointed to a bracelet with diamonds fashioned like laurel leaves. 

"Might I add congratulations on your nuptials? She must be a fortunate young woman." The man said, wrapping up the bracelet.

Derek refrained from making comment. Instead, he looked around once and then said, "I want to commission something. Several things, a set of jewels, you see. In pearls and emeralds."

"Indeed, my lord." The man's face broke into a smile. "Well now, if you have some time this morning, we can discuss a design you would like..."

An hour or so later, Derek walked home in time to join his wife for breakfast. She was already at the table, going through the morning post, looking the perfect picture in her pale green day gown. Her hair was cleverly dressed up with pins so that several wisps of curls framed her face. 

Silently, Derek walked in, sending Sykes a look as he did so. He set the jewel case down in front of her and took his seat. Vivian paused, staring at the velvet case for a moment before lifting her eyes up to him. 

"Open it." He said. He wanted to see the look on her face. She did and her eyes widened in surprise. 

"Oh my," she gasped, staring down at the bracelet. 

He found himself chuckling and reaching over to take it out of the box. He grabbed her wrist and started to fasten it together. 

"You didn't have to buy me that."

"I wanted to." While he was at it, he leaned over and kissed her. "Good morning."

She smiled. "Good morning." 

*** 

His good mood didn't last too long. 

The ball was overly crowded and he felt stifled. He'd give anything to be out on assignment right now. If he wanted to feel suffocated, he'd rather it be inside a dank, moldy abandoned buildings than in a room full of dressed up hens. 

The whispers started the moment he and Vivian arrived. Their host was Lady Kissington, apparently a woman of some distinction and had a say on who got an invitation to Almack's. He could understand why there were hushed voices, but he glanced at his wife to see if she did. She seemed to ignore it and held her head up high. 

As the evening began, Derek noted how beautiful his wife looked. She wore a rose satin gown with a wide neckline that revealed ample cleavage, much to his delight. The diamond bracelet sparkled on her delicate wrist and he noted silently, a few women in the room eyed the piece with envy. 

Thinking she was safe with Mary Lerner to be introduced around, Derek took himself to the edge of the room, where he was able to observe more than participate. 

"Now tell me," Jacob Lerner said casually. "With a wife as beautiful as yours, why aren't you dancing with her?"

Derek made a sound, but did not answer. He let his eyes roam over to Vivian, who was talking with a group of women. 

"She'll manage better without me." He answered

Lerner paused. "She'll need you there for her, Trentham. You're her husband."

"She'll have an easier life." 

Lerner arched an eyebrow. "Is that what you think?" He gestured to the young men making their way to Vivian. At first, Derek wasn't at all bothered by it -- but it gave him pause when one of the young men dared to let his lips linger on Vivian's hand a second too long. 

"Bloody hell." He muttered. But he wasn't able to cross over to her, for the man started to lead his smiling wife onto the dance floor. 

"Calm down." Lerner sounded amused. "It's only one dance."

Only it wasn't. Suddenly, Vivian became a smash at the ball and every man was vying for her attention. As one dance ended, she would be led back to the floor for the next by another partner. 

Derek watched every man intently, making sure none of them overstepped their boundaries. There'd be hell to pay if one of them did. 

Finally, late into the evening, he could stand it no more. He managed to reach her before the next dance started. 

"Let us get some fresh air." He said curtly, his eyes on the young buck who was about to ask for his wife's hand. Derek tucked Vivian's hand into his arm and led her out into the cool night.

She was smiling and leaned against the balustrade with a sigh of contentment. 

"Oh, I am having such a lovely time. Thank you, Derek." 

She looked utterly beautiful in the moonlight and seeing that smile touch her eyes, all his jealous anger dissolved. Her pulled her into the shadows and brought her close.

"Was it necessary to dance with every man who asks you?" He asked huskily. He had her trapped between him and the balustrade. 

"I like to dance."

"I'll dance with you."

Excitement shone in her eyes and she was about to pull him back into the ballroom. 

"Let us go then. The music is so lovely."

He kept her firmly within his arms. Brushing his lips over her cheek caused a delicious shiver to run through her body. 

"I was speaking of a different sort of dance, Vivian. One where you...and I...are naked." 

He started to nibble at her, holding her closer so she could feel his arousal. 

"And all I see, all I hear...is your voice calling my name over...and over again...as I plunge into you."

He hadn't planned on feeling this turned on so suddenly. Now desperate to have her, he grabbed her hand and dragged her down the steps toward the walled garden, a small one that still allowed for them to hide away. 

He yanked her behind a hedge and brought her against the wall. 

"Wrap your legs around me, Vivian." He whispered harshly into her ear. He pulled at her skirts as she did so. Undoing his pants, he brought out his erection and lifting her, sank deeply into her wet warmth. 

He silenced her moans with his own mouth, taking her fast and deep. He was mindless with desire and the possibility of someone finding them just added to their passion. Vivian's nails dug into him as he moved within her. Blindingly, her muscles clenched around his cock tightly. He thrust up and emptied himself inside her

Derek wanted to stay inside her all night, but unfortunately, they were attending a ball. 

Vivian trembled slightly in his arms as he set her down gently. He straightened out his clothes and gave her a lingering kiss. 

"Let's return home. You can dance at the other balls you've accepted invitations to." He suggested, his voice still husky. She leaned in close to him -- and this warmed his heart for a reason he could not pinpoint. 

"Yes, let's." She answered. 

*** 

Lord Garner watched the couple slip away from the back, jealousy rising inside him. He remained behind a hedge, wanting to let the night air cool both his anger and arousal before he went back inside to the ballroom. 

The little chit was supposed to be his wife, not Trentham's. He berated himself for being so patient with her before. When he had requested Vivian's hand in marriage, he had thought to offer her time to get used to the idea, had even hoped that if he spent enough time with him, she would come to care for him. 

His fists clenched at his sides as he recalled her soft, throaty whimpers as Trentham took her against the wall like a common whore. Vivian deserved so much more respect than that. She was a well-bred lady who deserved to be made love to on a bed covered in the softest sheets. 

But his cock throbbed in pain, distracting his anger. He had so wanted to be the one to take her virginity. He had looked forward to being the one to initiate her. Now he was jealous of Trentham for taking her to wife. 

To think he had saved himself these past few months for her -- avoiding and eventually dismissing his longtime mistress. To even think her kind nature would see past his looks. 

Lord Garner was not a handsome man. He was plain with no real features to recommend him, save for his eyes, which even at best were a shade of wilted green grass. His lips were thin and tended to curve naturally in a sneer, making him look angry when he really wasn't. He had not the social graces as most men of his acquaintance, for he tended to keep to himself and when he spoke, sometimes stammered. 

Perhaps he had hoped too much for a woman of Vivian's beauty would care for a man like him. Nonetheless, he desired her still and began to unbutton his breeches. His gray brown hair fell over his forehead as he reached down to circle his raging cock, his other hand massaging his balls. 

As his orgasm built, his heart ached for Vivian. She was no longer free to him. Yet it did not stop him from imagining, deep in his own fantasies that he was able to take her against the wall like Trentham had -- that he -- Lord Garner was her husband. He imagined himself buried inside her, of hearing her cry out his name and telling him she loved him. 

Lord Garner let out a soft grunt as thick ropes of his seed shot out onto the low bush in front of him. With a heavy heart, he buttoned up his breeches and ran a hand through his hair, deciding to leave the ball early. He had only attended in hopes of seeing Vivian. Without her presence, nothing seemed worth it.

*** 

Lord and Lady Trentham retired early that night, leaving Annie to her own time in her room. She sat in a chair by the window, reading a page of the newspaper. Her stomach growled for the third time that evening, reminding her that she should have eaten a bit more at dinner. 

It got to be too distracted and she wondered if there were leftovers. Cook was already generous enough with her helpings, but it seemed that she could consume enough food to feed an entire family. 

She slipped on her robe and slowly went below stairs to the kitchen. She found Pete sitting at the large butcher's table. She froze in her tracks. 

"I...I didn't think anyone would be up so late." She said lamely. 

Pete had a plate of food in front of him and the sight of cold meats and bread only made her mouth water. 

"I got hungry." He said simply. "Seems you did too, miss." 

Annie felt embarrassed, but nodded. "I'll just grab myself an apple." 

She started forward to the bowl sitting there with several green ones. His hand came out to catch hers and suddenly his large form unfolded from the chair. She looked up, slightly alarmed. 

"An apple's not going to do it." He said. "Sit there." He indicated the chair next to him. For such a large man, he moved fast and comfortably in the kitchen. He came back to set a plate full of food in front of her. 

"I remember my sisters eating like cows when they were carrying." Then he had the grace to flush from the neck up. "I didn't mean to compare you to a cow, miss." 

She let out a laugh and started on her meal. 

"Thank you, Pete. Do you still see your family?"

He shook his head, taking his seat again. Even sitting down, he made her feel tiny. 

"They live in the country. I suppose most of 'em are married with little ones. I left home when I was ten. I got nine brothers and sisters." 

She smiled. "It must be nice to have such a big family."

Pete grinned. "You are never without company. I liked it...suppose I should visit one of these days...see how my parents are doing."

They ate for a while in companionable silence and she thought it rather nice to have someone -- dare she say a friend to be there. Aside from the housekeeper, Mrs. Barts who still disapproved her previous employment, everyone else was kind to her. 

After finishing her plate, Annie let out a yawn. She smiled sheepishly. 

"I should be getting back to bed. Lady Trentham's got an early appointment tomorrow." 

Pete seemed to hesitate, then nodded. 

"I'll be wishing you a goodnight then, miss." 

He got up because he'd seen all the rich gentlemen do it whenever a lady left the table. He watched her leave the kitchen. 

Lord, she was beautiful, he thought to himself. Just like an angel with her halo of blond hair. She looked too young to be carrying a child, but then, who was he to judge? 

Pete's fingers itched to do what he'd been doing all his life. He thought about the possibility of pinching a diamond necklace from a grand lady on the street. Oh, he'd never steal from his own employers. Lord Trentham was more than generous in giving him a job as footman. A diamond necklace could be sold back for a nice amount or even a pair of earrings -- enough to get him a ring. 

He allowed himself to let the plan hatch in his own mind, though he had no real intention of going through with it. His days of thievery were over. But once in awhile, he let his imagination run, if to only relive them. 

He did dwell on the thought of a ring. His wages wouldn't permit him to buy anything fancy. He made a mental note to check the jeweler's on his time off. A simple wedding band would do and he could even purchase two tickets to travel back to visit his family. 

Satisfied with this plan, Pete started back to his own room, only to meet Mrs. Barts on his way up the stairs. 

The woman was wrapped in a thick robe, with a mop cap over her hair. She looked positively matronly.




At Any Cost Ch. 04



"I just saw Annie go up to her room." She announced, her eyes narrowed on Pete. He arched an eyebrow in return. 

"Shared a late meal, is all." 

"The girl's under my charge, Pete. You just leave her be."

"She's already carrying," he said, feeling anger thicken his blood. "She can't get into any more trouble than that."

Mrs. Barts sniffed, lifting her nose into the air. "I know men. Lusty creatures and she formally from a brothel -- It's not to be borne."

"Annie's safe from me." 

"It's her I'm more worried about."

"Leave her be, Mrs. Barts. She's innocent."

"Oh, is that so. That must explain why she's pregnant out of wedlock."

"Shut your mouth, you silly hen." He grumbled and continued up the stairs. The housekeeper was a tiring old thing and he hoped Lady Trentham would consider hiring someone less uppity. 

*** 

It was in the wee hours of the morning when a broken sound woke Vivian up. She turned in bed, thinking to snuggle closer to Derek only to be pushed away. Blinking in confusion, she found him thrashing in bed, his head bathed in sweat. He growled low in his throat then mumbled something incomprehensible. 

Alarmed, Vivian reached out to touch his arm. He jerked in response, as if he'd been burned by her touch and hissed out loud. 

"Derek, wake up." She said gently. "Please, wake up."

She started t shake him by the shoulder and he pushed at her. His fist was coming out straight for her and she gasped. Suddenly, he was awake and staring blankly at her for a long intense moment.

"Bloody hell," he whispered hoarsely. "Fucking hell." 

He sat up, his hand loosening his grip on her arm. "Good lord, did I hurt you." 

"No." She whispered, shaking her head. "You were having a nightmare...do you have them often?"

He buried his face in his hand. "Sometimes." He felt her cool hand touch his shoulder, smoothing away the tension there. 

How he loathed the nightmares. He didn't have them often, not as often as the thoughts that haunted his mind during the day. The nightmares were darker, more violent and eerie. Usually they were about the ghosts of men he'd killed or had killed. Before, they'd taunt him, telling him how they looked forward to his joining them in hell. Now they threatened to take Vivian's life, as revenge for their own deaths. He'd been fighting them off in his nightmare when he woke up. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked soothingly. She leaned close to him, her naked body warm and inviting. Her invitation was more than tempting. He only shook his head. 

"It's only a nightmare...everybody has them." He said huskily. He captured her mouth with his to stop any more questions. 

Delving into her mouth, exploring her with his tongue, he started to bring her down to the bed until she was underneath him. Instinctively, her legs spread to wrap around his waist and he entered her. 

Memories of his nightmare quickly faded in the ecstasy she brought him. He took her agonizingly slow, with deep thrusts each time. She made beautiful throaty sound each time the tip of his cock touched her womb and he'd pull back, almost all the way out and then slide back in. Her inner muscles stretched and tightened around his throbbing staff each time, pulling him in deeper, holding him. 

Derek groaned as she lifted her pelvis to bring him in deeper. Vivian had become a quick study, learning quickly everything he'd taught her and becoming creative in other ways. As he buried himself into her, she rotated her hips, causing a delicious shiver to run through him. 

Putting his weight on his knees, he started kisses from her mouth down her neck to her full breasts. He filled his hands with them and took each nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the little tip, biting down softly. The soft cry from her lips only made him harder. 

Her slender body arched to him as he paid homage to her breasts and he pulled her closer to him, thrusting inside her hard. 

Closing his eyes, he moved over, reveling in the way her wetness coated him. Neither spoke as he made love to her, picking up the pace when she started to cry out. Then she bucked and came. Feeling her climax clench around his cock, Derek plunged into her. 

He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. He breathed in the smell of sex and the faint rose water that lingered in her hair. He lifted a lock of her hair and brought it to his nose. She smelled so sweet. 

It suddenly jolted a memory in his mind. He had smelled roses in his nightmare, the one where his former associates in the underworld were threatening to seek revenge on him by harming Vivian. He'd smelled roses as he made his way home to ensure her safety, only to find her gone, taken away. He had panicked. He knew the men who'd taken her didn't demand ransom, but her life. 

The nightmare left an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach. This one had his instincts up. Something was going to happen. He glanced down at his wife, now sleeping soundly with her head pillowed on his chest. 

He cursed the nightmare. He cursed the gut feeling he had. 

He would have to speak with Sykes and his men.



At Any Cost Ch. 05



Derek was considering moving them to the country. After the nightmare last night, the unsettling feeling stayed with him through the morning. With his dismissal from the Runners, nothing really kept him in the city. 

The country would provide enough amusements for his young wife, he thought. And working with his tenants would offer him a worthy cause. He thought it over during breakfast, which Vivian did not attend, as she was still sleeping upstairs. While leaning against one arm of his chair, Derek hid his smile behind his hand. There was something quite satisfying about lying in one's wife's arms all night. 

*** 

Nathan McGallagher was able to hide his brogue well when he wanted to. Not that he wasn't proud of being a Scot. It's just that, in his line of work...one had to possess a certain skill for acting. Deception -- and being good at it -- was a key point in survival. 

He was hunched over the bar of a dank tavern, dim and smelling of ale and wood shavings. He had in front of him a large tankard of ale, the best of the house, he was told. 

It tasted like piss.

But he drank it anyway, pretending to enjoy it. 

"So yer travelin' to London?" Nathan asked, breaking his words down to those of the common folk. "Fancy nabobs they got there. With their hats and canes and horses."

The man next to him, already deep in his cups nodded. "Gettin' me a job there, that's why I'm goin'." 

"Oh yeah?" Nathan asked, fighting the urge to wince every time he took a drink of the ale. "Good wages?"

"Yeah...yeah...very good. Man named Bergs. Owns a business there, you see."

"Business?" Nathan pretended to sound disinterested. "Everybody say they got a business. Me own cousin tried his hand at it. Sold trinkets an' such, to all those pretty ladies up in those high streets. Ain't made any money, the poor fool. I told 'im, I told 'im it wouldn't work...got him a good whore at one o' them brothels though. The whore loved those trinkets!" 

Nathan lifted his drink as if toasting the whore. Caught up in the spirit of their discussion, the man clinked his tankard and drank. Then he slapped a hand over Nathan's back. 

"Not just any kind of business. Bergs has got a successful 'un. He's into cargo."

"Cargo?" Nathan grunted. 

"Cargo." The man nodded, then stared at Nathan for a long time and leaned in close. "You're down on yer luck, why don't ya come with me and see if I can get ya a job. We be moving shipment around. Pay's good and I heard we get to play with the merchandise."

"How's that?" Nathan put a dazed look into his eyes and took another drink. "What sort of merchandise?"

The man smiled almost gleefully, his arm hooking over Nathan's shoulder in camaraderie. "Women."

"Pshaw!" Nathan chuckled. "Yer be fantasin' about women too much. No man has women as cargo."

"Bergs does, I swear upon me own mum. He runs a business in...slavery. English roses," the man lifted his hand and waved it around as if reading a store sign. "Taken from their homes and brought to your own."

"They take young ones then." Nathan said with a bit more interest. 

"He sells 'em as servants in America or in India. Or even to the highest bidder. As servants, private mistresses, mail-order brides, you name it. I plan on gettin' me one." 

"I could use one meself." Nathan smirked. Satisfied, the man slapped him on the back again. "I'll see to gettin' you a job. You'll be thankin' me. It'll be like a harem there." 

Indeed, thought Nathan. He finished his drink and after given some information about finding Bergs, he left the tavern. He was getting somewhere now, he thought. Bergs, the British slaver. The Runners had been onto him for a year now but finally were able to get a lead on where his so-called business was. 

Bergs was responsible for kidnapping young girls and women of the lower and middle class to be sold off.

Compared to his other assignments, this one was proving to be an easy one. If everything went according to plan and if Bergs was indeed, still on English soil, he could be thrown in jail within a week. 

*** 

His ward was returning from a holiday at Bath today. Lord Vincent Garner wasn't all too thrilled about it, namely because of his current mood. After last night's discovery of Vivian in the arms of Trentham, Vincent Garner had a restless and sleepless night. He sat in his study reading quietly in his favorite chair as the grandfather clock just outside chimed one. 

Helen DeGarrick was twenty and his ward of one year. How she became his ward was a long, complicated series of events that didn't countenance explanation unless absolutely necessary. In short, her father left her with a modest inheritance and as she was still unmarried, had been thrust into Vincent's care. 

Vincent barely knew her, as he and Helen's father had been school chums decades ago and rarely spoke. But Vincent must have left some impression on George DeGarrick, a strong one for the man to list Vincent Garner as the sole guardian of his only child. 

As Vincent knew nothing of being a guardian and Helen being a shy young woman, those first six months had passed in silence. She was mourning her father and he had no courage to try to comfort a crying woman. A woman shedding tears had always left him feeling helpless. After that, Helen wanted to spend the remainder of her mourning period in Bath. He had no objection. 

They barely knew each other, so combined with his mood of feeling pathetic and unworthy, Vincent wanted only the solitude of his book and a good cup of tea.

At one-fifteen, he heard the faint sounds of Helen's arrival. Fifteen minutes later, a soft knock sounded at the study door. 

"Come in." He said curtly. 

"Miss Helen, milord." His butler, Conrad announced. Vincent dreaded the moment he would have to reacquaint himself with his ward. 

A slender, beautiful creature appeared at the doorway, dressed in sprigged white muslin and pink rosebuds in her black hair. An inner glow seemed to radiate from that pale skin and green eyes danced, though her lips were curled only in a slight smile of greeting. 

"Lord Garner." Helen greeted. 

Awkwardly, Vincent Garner stood up from his chair. "M-Miss Helen." Damn it, he was stammering again. He clenched his jaw together to try to control that quiver one felt when one could feel a stammer coming on. "I...hope your journey was pleasant." 

His voice came out stilted and he silently berated himself for it when he saw some of the light disappear from Helen's eyes. 

"It was uneventful, but comfortable enough. Thank you for having everything arranged." Vincent sat back down in his chair, but left his book closed. "I did what I had to."

He could see her glance around the room, debating whether to stay or leave. Then without waiting for an invitation, Helen took a seat on the sofa across from him. Her hands were ungloved and Vincent found himself watching as she folded them gracefully in her lap. 

"Your holiday in Bath...was it well spent?" 

She smiled. "Yes. I met some interesting people and the waters benefited my health." Then she paused. "I heard of your engagement...I'm sorry to hear it will not take place. The young woman, her name..."

"Vivian Locke." He supplied moodily.

"Yes, Miss Locke, she married another?"

Vincent broodingly opened his book again and forced his eyes to where he left off. "To Lord Trentham. I d-don't wish to s-speak of it." He clenched his jaw tightly. He wanted her to go away and leave him be. He didn't want to stammer or think of Vivian. 

A long silence passed. Embarrassed that she angered her guardian so easily and on the first day of her return, she stood up and went to the door. "I will see you at dinner then, Lord Garner." 

Dinner with Lord Garner was a lavish affair. The table was set like a grand dinner party complete with large bouquets of flowers and an elaborate setting of crystal, silver and porcelain. He owned one of the largest houses in the London and its rooms were matched in size by the scale of furniture and chandeliers that adorned it. 

He sat stiffly in his chair and stared down at his plate as they waited for the first course. Helen studied him from beneath her eyelashes, trying to decipher him. He made her nervous, probably because of his abrupt and cold manner. Yet she trusted her father's judgment. She was convinced her father would never have entrusted her into the man's care if there wasn't some semblance of goodness. 

"I've read in the newspaper that recently -- " Lord Garner scowled and looked up. "Why do you read the paper?" He grumbled. "Women shouldn't f-fill their heads with s-such stories of tragedy and coldness."

She frowned a little. "I'm afraid you're very old fashioned, Lord Garner. Women want to be informed these days."

"T-they should b-be tending to their husbands and c-children."

"I happen to think women are talented in many things and are able to stay well informed of England's happenings while being good wives and mothers."

He only shook his head and remained quiet for the rest of the evening's meal. Near the end during dessert, he said, "I'm going out. To the opera."

Helen's face lit up. "Oh, may I go? I've never been -- "

"You won't like it." He said quickly, his face flushing at the cheeks.

"Please?" 

Fighting back a particularly strong stammer, he ended up barking, "Fine!" He hated it when it happened, so he stood up and tossed his napkin down. "W-wear s-something ap-appropriate." 

He escaped while he still could, before he ended up making a complete fool of himself. He was making a terrible first impression on his ward and perhaps that was the reason why he felt the need to leave her company as soon as possible. 

He wanted her to like him, even just a little. After all, he was her guardian until she married and for once, he wanted someone to talk to. He had dreaded her arrival hours before, but after seeing how pretty and sweet she was, he wanted her around after all. 

It would be nice to have some company around. Loneliness began to eat away at him in the night and it hit particularly hard last evening when he thought of Vivian. His longing to have a family of his own had been killed the very moment he discovered she had married someone else. 

So until Helen married, he would have the pleasure of her company...at least until his abrupt manners drove her away. 

*** 

Men displayed their wealth by dressing their ladies in splendor. Attending the opera offered just an occasion for them to show off. Grand dames had their hair twisted up with elaborate feathers of exotic birds, while others adorned their tresses with jeweled clips and pretty blooms. 

Helen DeGarrick did the latter, using pale pink rosebuds to compliment the white of her dress. It was an Empire waist gown, which was all the rage at the moment with puffed sleeves and a rounded neckline. The gown was simple compared to the other ladies' outfits, but it was chosen in good taste. 

Lord Garner walked with his back straight and head high, escorting her into the opera with barely a glance at anyone. Yet men nodded to him in quiet respect and women still eyed him with interest, most likely wondering if he would ever take a wife. He was a man with a title and wealth, it shouldn't be too hard for him, they'd say. Surely a young woman could overlook his rather unpleasant appearance if she were promised a life of ease, others remarked.

Lord Garner at age forty-three would want a young wife, especially since his betrothal to the Vivian Locke hadn't taken place. 

Helen wondered if Lord Garner knew what they said about him as he led her up the grand staircase. Many lingered there to greet friends and gossip and thus created a lovely display of satin, silk and fine gossamer; jewels of every kind winked and sparkled from the chandelier and candlelight. Gloved hands extended out to be kissed by gentlemen. 

"Lord Garner." 

Garner hesitated for a moment and then stopped, waiting for whoever it was to approach him. The voice belonged to the widow Friedwald, a large woman who had three daughters to marry off. She was approaching him with two of them in tow, meek creatures who kept their eyes down. 

"Mrs. Friedwald." He tipped his head -- just barely -- in greeting. He spoke stiffly to avoid stammering. "Let me introduce you to my ward, Miss Helen DeGarrrick, w-who is just arrived from a long holiday in Bath."

Helen would tell by the critical expression of the Widow Friedwald's face that she was figuring how close she was to Lord Garner. 

"I do hope you've enjoyed Bath, a wonderful place, for we visit there once a year. A lovely place to meet new people. And you, my lord, do you travel often?"

"Rarely." He said shortly. His eyes darted around. Widow Friedwald noticed she was losing his interest and stepped aside to introduce her daughters. 

"My lord, allow me to introduce my two youngest daughters, Chastity and Frederica." The woman emphasized the name 'Chastity', for it was no secret that Lord Garner saw virtue as one of the requirements in his bride. Garner barely noticed. 

Helen only smiled and turned to her guardian, whose jaw suddenly started to clench and a frown mar his face. 

"If...if you will excuse us," he began rather abruptly. "We must find our seats." 

Their private box was decorated in rich fabrics and comfortable chairs. Garner led Helen to her chair before seating himself. 

"Have you met Mrs. Friedwald's daughter's before tonight?" She asked, hoping to start a conversation. Their carriage ride here had passed in silence. 

"No." He sat up a little straighter. "Only the eldest, Miss Wendy Friedwald." Then he paused and his mouth set firmly. "Th-there is a rumor she has recently run off with s-s...some man."

"How terribly romantic." She smiled and turned her eyes to the crowds below, watching as other sound their seats, the orchestra preparing their instruments. The private boxes on either side of them were full of activity. 

Garner frowned. "It's not romantic at all. It's shameful behavior. If...if the man respected the w-woman, he would wed her properly. Elop-eloping sh-shows bad taste." 

His stammer was getting worse and she wondered what brought it on...then two private rooms down, she heard the light laughter of a woman, which caused her guardian to turn his head. He went pale, then red in the face. As Helen followed his gaze, she put two and two together and realized the woman must have been the one he intended to marry, before she decided to marry another in haste. 

Perhaps this gave Garner reason to dislike the idea of elopement.

"So, you are saying, sir that you would not elope? Ever?" She inquired. 

He turned to look directly into her eyes and against the dark green damask wallpaper covering their private box, his eyes looked even greener. 

"No elopement. I..I would want t-to sp-spoil my bride with courtship and a wedding to her request." 

*** 

That very same night, Derek found himself watching his wife more than the performance. He was eased back into his chair comfortably, his thoughts slightly distracted by the fact that Garner was just a few rooms down, when the performers must have done something extraordinary for the entire audience started applauding. Vivian was no exception, a smile lighting up her eyes as she clapped. 

He was bored out of his mind, as sitting in one spot for hours on end tended to do that to him. But according to Lerner, the opera was one of the It places to escort one's wife. The more Derek spent time with his wife, the more he wanted to please her. 

Yet the feeling of something happening kept coming back to him. He could sense it in the air like one would a downpour. 

During intermission, Lerner pulled him aside, letting their wives mingle with the crowd. 

"You've got that expression on your face. Tell me." He said. 

"The assignment you sent McGallagher on, what was it?"

Lerner narrowed his eyes. "Classified."

Derek scowled. "Then how the hell am I supposed to explain to you?" His scowl deepened when two young men approached his wife and proceeded to charm laughter from her. Like a hawk, he watched them. 

Lerner thought for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Bergs Exportation."

"The man who's supposedly made his fortune in shipping goods from exotic lands. You've got Nathan on his tail?"

"Trail's hot when there was a tip he's got cargo going out in a week. Fresh cargo." 

"Women." Derek said grimly. 

"He's managed to kidnap them from all over England, different times, different places so not to be suspect. He ships them out in smaller numbers, sometimes passing them off as the crewmen's wives. It's how he gets past the law."

"He's fairly green." Derek meant in criminal history, for he would have heard of Bergs and known more about him otherwise.

"Less than a year, but we've known almost from the start."

Derek shook his head. "I just had a feeling. It means nothing until I know more."

"That 'feeling' has jailed more criminals than nearly half my staff put together. 

"Put me back on the job. I can help Gallagher."

"Gallagher knows what he's doing."

Derek's mouth set firmly. "Then refrain from asking me about my 'feelings'." 

*** 

The performance was met with success and the audience left feeling satisfied. After seeing and sensing Vivian nearby, Vincent Garner had been tense all evening. He wondered if she'd seen him and if she would greet him. But she hadn't and he hadn't enough courage to approach her. Thus, he led his ward toward the staircase, only to be stopped once again by the Widow Friedwald. 

"My daughters and I so enjoyed the performance. My Chastity has a passion for opera, my lord and often spends hours on the pianoforte as she practices her singing." 

"A young lady should be accomplished." He said. 

Widow Friedwald beamed. "Indeed, sir."

"Goodnight." Garner nearly growled out and immediately left the woman's company. Their carriage was waiting just outside and Lord Garner helped her in. In the darkness, Helen looked over at him. 

"There are so many women out there, milord. You shouldn't feel so hurt." She said gently. 

His eyes shot to hers and he held her gaze for a long time. 

"You could have your pick of a wife the way those women offer their daughters."

"Money." He grumbled. "They only covet my mo-money."

"Not every woman wants money."

He let out a dry laugh, his lips curved into a deeper sneer-like line. "Young Helen...A man l-like me will only attract th-those who w-want wealth."

Her back stiffened a little. "I find it rather insulting that you think my sex to be shallow, money-hungry, unfeeling creatures."

"Isn't that what women are?" He growled out. "They a-a...are all silly cre-creatures who cuckold their h-husbands without a th-thought."

"Men do the same with their mistresses." She shot back. 

He leaned in close, a lock of gray-brown hair falling forward. "I in-intend to be de-devoted t-to my w-wife." 

Helen sat back into the cushioned seat. "And I intend to stay faithful to my husband. Pray, do not apply your assumptions of the female sex on me." 

She was shaking with irritation inside. She fumed silently as the carriage turned and finally stopped in front of Lord Garner's home. The butler and maid took their evening things and she hoped to escape to her room before another disagreeable word could be exchanged between them. 

"Y-you need n-new dre-dresses." He blurted out curtly. 

So he thought her clothes not good enough. Oh, they were nothing compared to that Lady Trentham's gown, but she was a wealthy, married lady. Helen suddenly felt tears wetting her eyes and she hurried up the stairs toward her room, unable to bear crying in front of her guardian. 

Vincent silently berated himself. He hadn't meant to insult her. He had merely meant to suggest that she go shopping for some new things. Yet, while holding back his stammer, which seemed worse tonight, he ended up blurting out a disapproving comment. 




At Any Cost Ch. 05



George had been wrong to leave him as guardian. He let himself into his study, where a blazing fire warmed the room and dismissed the staff for the night. He slumped into his favorite chair, glancing at the book he'd been reading earlier. 

For an hour or so he stared into the fire, thinking of nothing really. Until his thoughts turned to Vivian again. His heart felt the sharp cut of hurt right before blood shot to his loins as he recalled the beautiful sounds of her sighs as Trentham took her against the wall. How he wished he'd been the one to take her...he'd give anything to be Vivian's husband. 

Months of celibacy left him hard as rock. He touched himself through the fabric of his evening breeches before unbuttoning them. His cock sprang out from the wiry curls and with his large hand, he circled it. He grunted softly, picturing in his mind Vivian's face, imagining himself entering her for the first time. 

From the tip, his hand moved downward, caressing over the veins that protruded from the sides of his shaft down to the base, then back up again. Precum glistened in the firelight and he spread it over his staff. His breath quickened as he pumped his hand faster. Vivian with her throaty cries stayed in his mind. But suddenly, the face changed. The woman he was making love to possessed not the golden blond tresses of Vivian, but the raven colored locks of Helen. 

The thought of Helen sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock and he moved his hand faster, even as he fought to bring back Vivian's face. With a deep groan, he spilled himself onto his own hand, then slumped back onto the chair. After, he stripped off his coat, then vest and used the later to clean himself with before straightening his breeches. 

He flushed from the neck up as he started up the stairs, ashamed he would find pleasure in thinking of his own ward in such a way. He could barely glance at her door as guilt swept over him. 

Unintentionally, he slammed the door to his bedroom and stripped himself before getting into bed. He reasoned that he only thought of Helen because they had argued. It was Vivian he wanted. 



At Any Cost Ch. 06



She didn't bother to come down to breakfast, much to Lord Vincent Garner's disappointment. 

At precisely eight o' clock, he waited in his seat at the head of the table, delaying his own plate -- even refusing to take a cup of coffee until Helen appeared.

At a quarter past, he was still waiting with no sign of his ward. Another fifteen minutes went by.

"Where the devil is she?" He asked gruffly. By now, he knew exactly why she hadn't come down to breakfast. 

The footman nodded his head briefly. "Miss Helen has requested to take her breakfast in her rooms, sir."

"S-she will not."

Damn it. He knew he'd been rude last evening. He'd hoped to make it up to her this morning. His disappointment and dislike of himself overpowered his reasoning and he threw down the napkin he'd been fisting in his hand and stood up.

He walked up the stairs, intending to fetch her himself. Upon reaching her door, he took a deep breath and rapped on the heavy wood.

"Helen. Open the door this instant." He demanded more harshly than he intended. A few moments later, the door swung open. She wore a dress of spring green that had seen better days, but it nonetheless made her look youthful and quite pretty. Her hair had yet to be fully pinned up and hung over her shoulders in ringlets.

She looked beautiful. And very upset.

Her rosy mouth was pursed together and the fire in her eyes was like a stab to his gut. Suddenly his anger seemed pointless.

"Helen, please join me for breakfast." He said carefully. 

"I would much rather breakfast in my room this morning."

"You will dine with me. I won't have the servants running around this house acting on the whims of an upset female. It's not practical."

"Is that all you care about? Being practical?"

"When it's necessary. Now, I shall wait for you to finish your toilette. But I suggest you hurry. Cook has prepared a fine spread and it grows cold as we stand here. Not to mention I have not yet eaten, because I have waited on your behalf."

Her lips thinned even more. "Fine, I shall join you. And I'm all ready."

Wordlessly, he offered his arm and she stiffly took it -- much to his relief.

Their meal was passed in silence, but he could hardly complain. At least she was here with him, eating. She owed him nothing more. But he itched to make up for last night. He hesitated as he finished the last of his coffee.

"Would you like to join me on a s-shopping expedition this morning?"

"Oh?" She questioned wearily. 

He paused, his mind quickly trying to find an excuse of what to buy.

"I...I was thinking perhaps it's time to re-decorate the music room."

It was a lie. The music room was perfect the way it was.

"It needs new rugs...and the other sort of details women seem to know much about." He frowned, thinking perhaps she would be able to see through his lie.

But she seemed to be deep in thought. 

"How...how much do you plan on spending for this project?"

"How much?" He grunted. Did she think he was cheap? He was almost insulted. "I shall leave it up to you on what will look best. I don't care how much you spend. We'll visit the shops and others you'd like on Bond Street."

When she said nothing, he decided the matter was settled.

In an hour, their carriage pulled up on Bond Street. Lord Garner felt a bit easier when Helen accepted his arm and allowed him to escort her from shop to shop.

In less than half an hour, he had discovered two things about his ward. The first, she was not an extravagant creature. She spoke with the shopkeepers and bargained for the best price possible.

The second, his ward had excellent taste. So far, the music room was getting all new wall coverings. Helen had chosen a robin's egg blue damask with gold foil.

"Let us stop in there for a bit."

"Hmm?"

He indicated M. Thompson's Dressmakers Shop. He'd heard it was the most popular choice for design among ladies. 

The woman who greeted them smiled, but eyed Helen curiously.

"I would like to purchase a new wardrobe for this young lady here."

"Oh." Helen turned pink in the cheeks, surprised. "Lord Garner,"

"After all your help, it's the least I can do." He tried for a smile. She couldn't really think of what to say. A man buying her clothing seemed like such an intimate act, but the tone of Lord Garner's voice brooked no refusal. The dressmaker heard the exchange and seemed to be even more curious and slightly perturbed.

"Helen, why don't you take a look around and pick out w-what you like."

"Oh, but it's not so easy." Said the dressmaker. "We will need your wife's measurements, she'll need to choose from templates, fabrics, trimmings and come in for alterations."

"She is not my wife." He answered, not bothering to expand otherwise. He need not explain himself to anyone.

The dressmaker instantly stiffened. "My lord, we do not cater to men's paramours. I have a reputation to maintain and no amount of money can change my mind."

Insulted, Vincent Garner stiffened his own back and rose to his full height. 

"My dear lady. You have lost yourself a valuable customer." He replied curtly. "Come, Helen, let us visit a different shop. I find this establishment displeasing."

"But why?" Helen asked from across the room. Though confused, she did as he requested and went to stand next to him.

"For the record, ma'am, she is my ward." He had the satisfaction of seeing the shock on the woman's face before he left. "Good day." As they left, she asked why they had left so abruptly. 

He glanced at her. "She insulted us. So I forbid you to ever step foot in that shop. The lady will soon realize how sorry she is to offend our patronage."

"What did she say to make you upset? I insist on knowing."

"It's not for your ears, Helen."

"Oh, come now. I am not a weakling to faint at every inappropriate remark." He made an impatient sound. "Do not make me repeat such things."

"Please, milord."

"Fine." He practically spit out. "She thought you were my mistress." Helen's face turned red. "Oh."

"'Oh', is right. I didn't feel up to becoming a client of a woman who thinks someone as beautiful and innocent as you could ever be anyone's mistress." 

Too much had slipped out and he clenched his mouth shut, embarrassed by her confessed opinion of her. He stared ahead at the street, not daring to see her reaction. But his heart beat just a bit faster -- that he couldn't avoid -- nor could he avoid the softness of her arm on his. He was aware of her as they continued down the street and suddenly, such a thing as simple as wandering the shops didn't seem so tedious with Helen accompanying him.

"We shall try this shop." He stopped in front of a smaller one. The doorbell chimed as they entered, which was followed by a rather cheerful greeting. 

"Good morning! Welcome. My name is Miss Calloway."

The woman was rather tall and very slender. Her face was freshly scrubbed, unlike the other lady who's face was caked in powder. By her easy manners, Miss Calloway seemed friendly enough. The woman gave Helen a look and nodded in approval.

"My dear, you have wonderful features. I have a silk design that would bring out the color of your eyes." Miss Calloway said to Helen, then asked, "Is there anything in particular you two wish to look at?"

"She needs a new wardrobe."

"Your wife has come to the right place."

"He's...he's not my husband." Helen murmured, expecting some sort of rejection from this shop as well. Anyone could see they were not related.

"I am her guardian." Vincent said.

"Ah. I only wondered. It helps in the selection of garments. Well now, let us get you started. Would you like a cup of tea? My assistant shall bring some out along with a few pastries, while you wait. Come now, let us begin."

Relief washed over him and Vincent nodded, taking a seat on a wide ottoman, half listening to the rapid speed of the woman's chatter. 

"Very good. If you will start my account here for Helen, we shall deal nicely." 

***

Honest work agreed with Annie Hamill. Unlike her days in the whorehouse, where she could sleep in well into the afternoon, she rose early and made sure that hot water was ready for the washstand in her ladyship's chambers. Then she would pick out an appropriate outfit, unless her ladyship stated a specific activity such as riding. Annie would then see to her ladyship's hair and jewels.

She very quickly learned that the Trentham household had not the usual sort of servants. Most were larger than life, both in size and personality, and in her old line of work, she'd grown accustomed to some of the meaner sorts. Yet here, she felt safe amongst the houseful of men. They all went out of their way to help her when they could and the amount of kindness and welcoming she received from them was overwhelming. 

She'd only been here one week and already she was feeling quite at home. But as there were no other maids yet hired, a lot of the chores fell on her shoulders. In this, Mrs. Barts, the housekeeper was not lenient on.

Annie was kneeling in front of the fireplace of one of the drawing rooms, emptying it of ashes so that a fire could later be built. She worked carefully, trying not to stir the ash into the air. She coughed a few times doing it at first, but soon gained a knack for it as long as her hand was steady. She was going into her seventh month of pregnancy soon and knew that once her belly got too big, she wouldn't be able to work. Knowing this, she saved every penny she earned now. 

Absently, she thought about the future and heard nothing when Pete walked into the room. 

"Hello, miss." He greeted in his deep voice. 

At his approach, she jumped, startled by the sheer size of him. Her hand jerked in reaction, causing a cloud of ash to form. 

"Oh, Pete, you gave me a fright." She coughed and tried to clear the cloud with a brush of her hand. 

"Barty should be hiring maids to do this." He said matter of factly. He bent down on one knee and started to take the small shovel from her hand. 

"No, you better let me. Or else Mrs. Barts will have my head." She cast him a look and took a firm hold of the shovel in case he objected. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, but it was enough to feel his calloused fingertips. Her mind moved quickly to what it would feel like to have those very hands caress her in an intimate way. 

Pete frowned, but said nothing else about it. He remained where he was, watching her. He liked being around her and damn Mrs. Barts and her rules and so called 'responsibility' for Annie. That housekeeper cared nothing more of Annie than the woman did for anyone else in this house. In the week since she's started, the male servants have avoided her. 

"Once the maids get here, you won't have to do this sort of thing." He stated.

She offered him a small smile. "You seem bent on keeping me upstairs. Do you object to my working here among you?" She asked, referring to the role of lady's maid. 

He made a noncommittal sound, but still he did not get up. 

"Did you come in here for something?" She asked. Finished with her task, she stuck the shovel in the bucket and started to get up. Pete was there to steady her with a hand to her back and she immediately forgot about her question. He was looking down at her intently, and they were both aware that he let his hand linger at her back a few seconds longer. 

"I need to go." She said hurriedly." "I have a few other rooms to finish." 

Some ash was smeared on her chin and unable to help himself, Pete lifted a hand to rub it off. She had the softest skin he'd ever touched, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her face while he kissed her. 

Pete cursed out loud when a loud banging sounded from the doorway. He knew it was Barty, there to act as prudent chaperone. Sure enough, when he looked up, the housekeeper had her eyes narrowed at the both of them, arms crossed over her wide bosom. 

"Get to work, Annie. His lordship won't like a cold room."

Annie cast Pete a quick glance and hurried away. Mrs. Barts was still watching him. 

"You keep away from her, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do." Pete merely said. In this house, he knew where his orders came from and it was definitely not from this woman. The only person who could ever kick him out of this place was Lord Trentham. 

"By god, if I could -- "

"But ye can't." Sykes interrupted Barty, stepping through the doorway to stare down at the housekeeper. "Pete is under me responsibility, lady. So ye better lay off the man. Let 'im be if he wants the girl."

"Relations between servants are not proper in such a household." Mrs. Barts said in her best snobbish tone. "That girl's spread her legs for men before, she'll do it again. And I bet my bottom dollar that she'll be growing with child soon enough."

Pete was livid with anger by her words, but he kept it in check. Sykes' eyes narrowed in his ugly, scarred face. 

"Ye better be watchin' what you say 'round here. We don't take kindly to words of them sort. Annie's a good girl, and she ain't botherin' anyone. She came here to work and she be workin'. Don't care if she be under yer care; if I see ye mistreatin' 'er I'll be forced to speak to 'is lordship. You let Pete an' Annie do what they wants to, else ye deal with me."

Mrs. Barts was no match against Sykes, and huffed before leaving. Frustrated, Pete started to leave, but Sykes stopped him at the doorway. 

"Ye be careful with the girl. She's got a babe in 'er belly to think about." Sykes said wisely. "I see the way ye be lookin' at 'er. All of 'em can see it."

Pete said nothing. "I don't like it when Barty talks about Annie that way."

"I don't like it meself. But she be the housekeeper and she ain't leavin' 'til his lordship or 'er ladyship throw 'er out. You better watch yerself. That woman'll make it hard on Annie."

Pete's hands fisted and he merely nodded before leaving. 

*** 

The ship was nondescript. Nothing out of the ordinary took place. 

The dock Nathan McGallagher worked on looked like any other -- chaotic and noisy with men dressed warmly for the wee hours they started in. For several hours, nothing warranted his interest. But then he heard someone call him by his alias.

"Tom."

He was Tom Crane, man of all trades, traveling where the work was and a lover of drink and easy women. 

Nathan recognized the man as the one he'd spoken to in the tavern. His name was Jimmy and as promised, had helped 'Tom' get into this job. Jimmy came forward. "I gots something to show ye, man. Come with me."

"Can't leave me station, mate." Nathan said in his best undereducated tone. "Or else I get the sack. I need me this money."

Jimmy gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Boss wants ye to see this. We go in." He led the way up the roughened plank into the ship. Cargo elevated by netting and rope crossed over above them, with men shouting orders and others reaching for it to land safely. 

Nathan followed him down into the ship, well below to where some of the crews' cabins were located. Over the creaking of the ship to the shouts from above, Nathan could detect faint moaning and sighing, which grew louder as they approached a certain door. His eyebrows lifted and he gave Jimmy a look. The man only smiled and unlocked the door.

Sure enough, a man and a woman were locked in an embrace on the bed. Upon hearing the door open, the man on the bed looked up, frustrated and elated at the same time.

"Eh, what's this? I'm busy." Said the man.

Jimmy smirked. "Just showing Tom here what's what."

The man thrust into the woman and grunted at the tight feeling of her before getting up. He walked naked to the door, looking smug. He swiped a bottle from a nearby table and took a swing. His erection was very evident but he seemed to pay no mind. 

"Told her if she let me ride her a coupla times, I'd let her go." Said the man, wiping his mouth with his arm. 

Nathan felt bile rise in his throat, but he fought the disgust and instead, mirrored the reaction of Jimmy standing next to him. He did glance over the man's shoulder, seeing a young wide-hipped woman lying naked on the bed. He noted the slight bruises on her arms and wondered if that was the reason why she didn't bother to cover herself in their presence. It was obvious the women were punished. 

"The thing is," continued the man. "She seems to enjoy it. She was a virgin, too!" He laughed, taking another swig. "Think I wanna keep her for a bit. Have her warmin' my bed. I could get her with child and sell it for profit."

Nathan wanted to kill the man right then and there. It would have been easy. He'd learned that a certain jab to the jaw could kill a man instantly. But then, he'd have to deal with the rest of the ship and god knows how many of them were in on this crime. 

He didn't even realize he was fisting his hands until Jimmy made a comment.

"I can see yer anxious to get a virgin fer yerself." Jimmy said, glancing at Nathan's fisted hands. "Plenty o' that once ye see the runnin' of things."

The other man dismissed them and tossed the bottle aside, starting for the bed.

"Spread 'em good." He ordered the woman. 

"No," she whispered desperately. She glanced at the door. "Please, they're still here."

Nathan wanted to leave as soon as possible, and was about to turn away when Jimmy, who was leaning against the doorframe, stopped him. He gave Nathan a sober, warning look.

"If ye want the job, ye better stay an' watch. Otherwise, it's six in dirt."

So this was the test. Easy enough for a man like Tom Crane who had no morels. But for Nathan McGallagher, it was enough to make him sick. 

The man thrust hard into the woman who cried out, still sore from the earlier session. She did indeed seem to enjoy it after awhile. 

Knowing there was an audience, the man forced the woman onto her knees and he thrust back into her. 

Nathan endured it, however short it was. Have people watching must have turned the man on, for it didn't take long for him to finish. He made a big show of it, grunting loudly and slapping the woman's bottom as she trembled. The man collapsed on the bed, his cock limp now and smeared with blood and their spending.

She was a virgin all right, but it wasn't enough proof to send Bergs to prison. It was still too early. And Nathan had yet to meet the man. Nathan and Jimmy left, walking down the dim and narrow hall.

"We get to play with the cargo?" Nathan asked, remembering he was still in character.

"If ye like. But we get paid more if they stay virgins, ye see." He indicated a few doors. "We ship five or six per trip, keep 'em locked separately to keep em from getting' away. Play along if the authorities come 'round. Just say one of em's yer wife or sister, and the like. It's how we get 'em out of the country."

He opened the door, inside was a woman, her dress torn and she'd been crying. She was chained to the bed. Nathan clenched his jaw.

"Like this one. I been sayin' she's me cousin." Then he laughed. "I been feelin' up me cousin all week! If ye want a good suck on yer knob, she's yer lady." He paused and then he laughed again, as if he made a great joke of it. He slammed the door shut.

"Come on, we gots a few ladies to bring in."

"Where's Bergs?"

"Eh, he's never on the ship. He shows up sometimes to check on us and the cargo, but not often. Don't need to. He's livin' like a bleedin' king. Got a harem of women, he does." 

*** 

The sentences were brief, so brief that the average reader could easily overlook it for the more exciting articles of gossip and scandal. But Derek's sharp eye for detail caught it. It spoke of the disappearance of yet another two young, unmarried women since Tuesday. Both were suspected to be elopements. 

He folded the paper and glanced up at his wife. Vivian was going over the morning post. Sykes entered the room carrying a silver salver with a single calling card on it.




At Any Cost Ch. 06



"Odd sort of man, milord." Sykes announced as he approached. "Dressed like a gent, but he came through the back."

"McGallagher." Derek murmured. "Show him in."

"Very good, milord." The butler nodded. Vivian looked up curiously from her post. "Who is it, Derek?"

He was already standing up from the chair and discarded his napkin. "An associate." Was all he supplied to her question. 

"From the runner's office? But I thought you no longer work there."

His temper was flaring up. There were reasons why men don't marry, one being so they wouldn't have wives asking them silly questions or inquire about everything they did. And they had the worst way of getting under your skin. He looked into Vivian's eyes. Well, he married her, he would protect her, but by god, he wasn't going to explain his every move to her. 

"It is nothing to concern yourself with, Vivian."

"Is this your lovely bride?" They both turned to the man who entered the room, his thick Scottish brogue filling the room. He possessed a beard, his reddish brown hair had grown unruly and yet underneath it all, he looked to be quite handsome. As Sykes had pointed out, he was dressed as a gentleman, his clothes made by the finest material and tailor and he walked in with a confident ease that not too many men could pull off.

He went straight up to them and bowed. "I will take it upon myself to start the introductions. Nathan McGallagher, at your service ma'am. I'm an old friend of Trentham's. You must be Vivian."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McGallagher."

"Nathan, please." Then he turned to Derek, casting him a boyish smile. "Looking good, mate. Marriage agrees with you."

Derek frowned. "Let us go into the library."

"Lead the way." Nathan replied. 

Vivian slumped into her seat when they left. Derek was trying so hard to push her away and keep her away, at least in the daytime, letting her close only at night. Suddenly losing her appetite, she did nothing but toy with her napkin ring, even ignoring the morning post, which normally gave her so much delight.

It was a long time before both Nathan and Derek emerged from the study. She heard Nathan say something in a low voice and then something about giving his best to the wife, meaning her, before leaving, through the back, it sounded like. It was another moment later when Derek returned to the breakfast room. 

"Did he come on business?" She asked rather casually. She made a point of eating her breakfast as if she had been doing so all along. Derek looked up. 

"Yes and no." He paused. "Vivien, I've decided we're going to the country."

"The country?" She asked, utterly confused. "But we've accepted all those invitations. We cannot possibly go now. Besides, no one is there right now."

Exactly, he thought. She would be safe, completely safe on his vast property, where all his staff, all his men would be there to look out for her. 

"I've already informed Sykes about it and we're leaving in a week. There will be plenty for you to do there and I have neglected my tenants there for far too long." 

"I suppose I can send out our apologies for canceling, but really, Derek, this just isn't done. I hope you do not always intend to change plans at the last minute in the future. Everyone will hate it."

Now that was a comment that made his lips curl slightly into a wry smile. "No one could hate you, Vivien."

"And you?" She hoped he would take this opportunity to tell her everything. About this reputation of his that everyone seemed to whisper about. But he merely smiled. 

"As long as you're with me, Heaven itself would accept me into their gates."



At Any Cost



The sensation of the suck and pull of their flesh made her gasp and moan as he quickened their pace. It no loner hurt and a slow heat began to build as she started to move with him. 

"That's it," he groaned out, his hands curved over her waist. Boldly, she lowered her head to meet his torrid kiss. Their tongues danced and explored, catching each other's cry of pleasure as they thrust against each other. 

She raked her fingers through his silky dark hair, pressing his skillful mouth to her exposed breasts. 

"So good..." He whispered against her damp nipple, moving over to the other to kiss and bite gently. "So sweet..."

All at once, he rolled her beneath him and started pumping faster inside her. Her legs wrapped around his thick, hard waist, wanting to pull him closer. Her mind was a flurry of erotic images and the heat from his body. Then, without warning, everything shattered and her inner muscles quivered around his staff. 

Derek found oblivion. White-hot light shot through him as he shuddered into her arms, releasing months of pent up frustration and need into her warm, soft body. He couldn't have pulled out if he wanted to and at that moment, he could care less. Sated, he collapsed over her, breathing deeply of their musk. 

Minutes later, her rolled beside her, his mind contentedly dazed. Vivian's body was prettily flushed from their lovemaking and she'd dozed off, her head tilted to him. He glanced down at her parted thighs, frowning when he saw the blood mingled with their come. 

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and donned his breeches and shirt, uncaring if they were rumpled and stained. Silently, he put Vivian's gown to rights and lifted her into his arms. He left the building, thankfully, without running into Francesca. He would explain things to her later. 

His driver hurried to the carriage door as he saw his master approach. 

"Gor, didn't know you could bring 'em home, milord." Dean said, regarding the soft bundle in his master's arms.

"You saw nothing, Dean. Just home." 

Smartly, Dean just nodded and quickly put the carriage into motion. Home for Lord Derek Trentham was on the fashionable side of London, at a three-story townhouse. The door opened before Derek even approached the door. Vivian chose this moment to stir from her sleep. 

The motion of Lord Trentham carrying her up the steps caused her to blink in surprise. 

"Where are we?"

"My home." He answered. 

Lord Trentham's butler showed no sign of surprise, but what really caused her alarm was the way he looked. Instead of the usual aging man with a balding head serving as butler, this man was perhaps a few years older than Lord Trentham; his full head of dirty blond hair was swept back, his face marred by several scars that rendered him fearsome looking. His large belly protruded forth making him look clumsy, but he moved with sure-footedness. 

"You can put me down now." She said. Lord Trentham obliged her, setting her on her feet in the center of his richly decorated foyer. 

The butler took one look at her gown, and then back at his master. 

"Should I be sendin' supper up to yer room, then?" 

His informal language made Vivian look at Lord Trentham in confusion. 

"Do that."

"Should I have a carriage waitin' fer the wench?"

Now Lord Trentham's expression changed. "Watch your language around my fiancée, Sykes."

"Fiancée!" Vivian and Sykes exclaimed at the same time. 

"Gor!" Was Sykes reaction. 

"I don't understand." She said after. 

Derek ignored their surprise. "Have Pete and Ham bring up hot water for the lady's bath." With that, Derek took Vivian by the arm and led her up the stairs. 

"What did you mean by telling your butler I am your fiancée?" She demanded. He led her down a hall, opened a door. 

"I intend to marry you." 

She pulled away from him, dismissing the luxurious decorating the very masculine bedchamber. "I thought I agreed to be your mistress." 

One dark eyebrow lifted. "Did you? Now there's a thought." He answered, as if considering this. 

"You said nothing about being your wife. You don't even want one!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because...because you were in a whorehouse. You don't need a wife if you've got women like Margie servicing you." 

Derek started to shed his rumpled shirt, tossing it over the chair as he looked at her. "I think marriage could benefit the both of us. I can protect you from your cousin and Garner. I also find myself suddenly in want of a wife."

"Men like you don't want a wife. You only want someone who's submissive."

Suddenly his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you compare me to Garner?"

"What if I am?"

"You will soon discover, Vivian," He was using her name for the first time. "That I don't like being compared to anyone."

As he turned from her, he heard her hesitate. And well she should. His character was not something a young lady of her breeding should ever have to encounter. Yet she had held her own with him, instead of shirking in fear. Silly fool. She should fear him. 

Derek glanced down at his hand, more dark images flashing through his mind. 

"It's either marriage to me or I take you to Garner myself." He said ruthlessly. 

She sounded resigned when she said, "Fine. I choose you." 

Given the choices he presented, he didn't feel triumphant by her answer. Instead, he berated himself for being so cold with her. Thinking back now, he regretted also for taking her in a brothel. Someone like Vivian deserved patience and languid lovemaking, not a quick tumble. He rubbed the back of his neck. 

"I suppose I should hire some female servants soon." 

"You mean you don't employ any maids? Not even a housekeeper?"

"I'm a bachelor. I didn't need them."

"Your butler, Sykes...he looks very young."

"Ugly git, isn't he?" Derek smirked. "He won't harass you, if that's what you are worried about. I'd have his hide if he does." 

Supper was served by a footman named Pete, who was almost as large as Lord Trentham. 

"Your bath is coming up, milady." Pete said, his gaze sliding over Vivian none-too-subtly. 

Derek smacked the back of the footman's head and dismissed him from the room. 

Recalling the weathered look of Pete and the scars of Sykes, Vivian couldn't help but asked, "Wherever did you find these servants?"

"The underworld."

She nearly choked on her hot tea. "Excuse me?"

"They're all reformed criminals."

"You mean you employ ex-criminals? But why would you do such a thing?"

Derek regarded her seriously. "Not all of them want to be criminals. Most steal because it's their only way to stave off hunger. Or they kill because it's either kill or be killed." He was silent for a moment, then, "Plan to call the wedding off because my servants use to steal?" 

There was a trace of taunting in his question, as if he wanted her to refuse his marriage proposal on that account. She wondered why he would want that. 

"You trust these men?"

"With my life."

"Then no, I don't plan to call off the wedding." She said quietly. He didn't appear satisfied with that answer and frowned, turning his attention to his meal. Very soon after they finished they meal, Pete returned with Ham, and together they poured hot water into a tub in the bathing chamber. 

"I will leave you to your bath." Derek said, seemingly distracted. He turned and left the room. 

For a long time, she stared at the door Lord Trentham had just shut. His moods seemed to change at will. One moment he was almost kind to her, the next dismissive and cold. What had she gotten herself into by becoming engaged to him? And to live in a house filled with criminals...

If it didn't seem so real, she might have laughed. But it was real. She was to marry a man she only just met a couple hours ago.