Page 29 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)

One person, it was difficult to tell if it was male or female, was lying on their back with their legs pulled up and over their partner’s shoulders until only their neck and head rested on the mattress. She could see how it might work, but it looked jolly uncomfortable.

“I love that position. Much deeper penetration, don’t you agree?”

She snapped the book shut, heat flaming her face, and tucked the book into her pants, under the flaps of her jacket.

She turned her head to find a man, about the same height as her, peering over her shoulder.

She swung round to fully face him and took a small step back, her retreat blocked by the bookshelf.

The young man before her was dressed as a pirate, yet he looked more angelic than evil. Marisa guessed he was about her age. Perhaps her age is why he’d approached her.

He was incredibly handsome, with his ebony hair long, hanging past his shoulders, and it curled in girlish ringlets. But it was his eyes that held her spellbound. They were the palest blue, almost the color of deep, thick ice.

“I can tell by your blush that you are new to this game. I’m Clarence.

” He briefly looked back at Maitland. “You have managed to score a distinguished and rich . . . protector.” He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes drawing her in, and she hoped her disguise held.

“I can see why. You are breathtakingly beautiful. The feminine-looking men always do well. Just ensure you save the money and gifts he showers on you. Then you can afford to be fussy when looking for your next protector.” His smile diminished.

“Having a protector is better than ending up in a Molly house, even an upmarket one like the Top Hat.”

“Why do you not have a protector? You’re certainly beautiful enough.”

He shrugged his slim shoulders and repositioned the cutlass at his side.

“I have a younger brother. At first he was too young to be ‘useful,’ so no protector was interested in a small boy as well. Starving and on the streets, we ended up here. It’s not an unusual story, and I could have done a lot worse. ”

“How old is your brother?”

“Simon is ten and two. If I could I would see him away from this life. He hates it here and is unable to cope as I did. I don’t mind the company of men, but Simon . . . It turns his stomach. I’m saving our money so I can set him free. I can’t have him on the streets; his life would be worse.”

Marisa shuddered to think what could be worse than this.

“At least I’m lucky because I’m one of Angelo’s favorites. That fact affords me certain protection and allows me to be choosy. I have my pick of clients.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “If you’d like to invite me upstairs with you and His Grace, I’d be very interested.”

She ignored his offer, curious about Simon. “I hope you’re protecting Simon from this life.”

He looked at her with guilt-ridden eyes. “How do I protect him from the realities of life? Everyone has to work for their keep.”

A knot began to form in her stomach. “What sort of work does he do?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you.” At her horrified stare, he added, “I started servicing clients at ten, Angelo at least waited until Simon’s twelfth birthday. When did you begin this life?”

She pretended to look at the books on the shelf, trying to hide the well of tears in her eyes.

How could anyone let a child—yes, child; twelve was still the age of innocence—be used this way?

Nausea swam in her stomach and she gripped the bookshelf, willing away her dizziness.

She had to get out of here now or she’d race upstairs and try to find Simon.

Then everyone would be in danger, including the boy.

Thankfully, something across the room drew Clarence’s attention.

“We shall talk later, yes? It’s time for the show.

” He winked at her. “I shall be thinking of your lips wrapped round me when I’m in David’s mouth.

If you’re interested, find me later.” With a stroke of his thumb over her lips, he turned and sauntered across the room to where a bench had just been positioned in the middle of the floor.

Upon reaching the bench, he leapt onto it with cutlass raised.

“I’m Big Dick Pirate, feared across all the seven seas. Bring forth the prisoner who dares to try to sail past me without due payment.”

Maitland was urgently beckoning her, and she moved toward him; she had a pretty good idea what was about to happen, given a naked man was being led into the room by a chain attached to a collar round his neck. She really didn’t want to see this.

What stopped her in her tracks and made bile rise from within her churning stomach was the sight of a young boy walking hand in hand with Lord Hewitt, a man old enough to be the boy’s grandfather. She recognized the young lad immediately; he looked exactly like his older brother, Clarence.

Simon’s eyes met hers with a look of cold contempt. She saw the outward appearance of a young boy, but his eyes were those of an old, cynical man.

She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t bear knowing Simon would see the show, see his brother . . . No doubt Simon had seen and experienced a lot worse. Her heart beat painfully in her chest, raging at the impotence of her, Simon’s . . . the whole bloody situation.

Maitland stood to greet her. “It’s time we took our leave.”

The baron looked at the two of them suspiciously. “You’re not leaving before the show. It’s the highlight of the evening. Angelo enjoys his theatrics because he knows it gets his customers’ peckers up, if you’ll excuse the pun, and they then spend their money on his boys.”

Maitland halted his departure, torn between wanting to protect Marisa from seeing the show, but realizing their cover would be strengthened if they watched, seemingly enjoying the sexual display. He smiled at the baron and kissed Marisa’s cheek. “Perhaps I can contain my desires until later.”

The baron’s face eased its frown and he smiled. “I assure you, Clarence’s show will only increase your desires.”

Something had upset Marisa. She was shaking in his arms. It wasn’t the act being sordidly played out in front of them, because Marisa’s head was cradled against his chest, she was not watching. He whispered in her ear, “It will be over soon and we will leave. I’m so sorry for bringing you here.”

The prisoner was on his hands and knees, the pirate’s cock in his mouth while another man took him from behind. The noise from the trio, and the crowd, was deafening, and at the spectacle’s crescendo Marisa cringed and shuddered.

Damn bloody Arend to hell. He should never have involved Marisa in this. Her fine sensibilities must be disheveled, and he’d played a part in willfully destroying the last of her innocence.

Anger saw him scoop Marisa into his arms as he rose to his feet. “Excuse us, Baron.” The baron’s titillating laugh followed him from the room. Instead of going upstairs to one of the private rooms as most other men were doing, Maitland took his leave, indicating the lad in his arms was unwell.

Once safely in his carriage, Marisa burst into tears. Maitland hugged her tightly, cooing apologies.

They were almost home before her sobs subsided. She pushed out of his hold and took the seat opposite him, chewing her bottom lip while staring out of the window.

“Don’t worry, little one. We are never going back. I won’t expose you to anything like that again. We will simply have to find another way to get Angelo to talk.”

She swung to face him, a look of horror etched on her pale face. “No. We have to go back. I can’t leave him there.”

“Leave who there?”

“Simon. He’s only twelve.” She dropped to her knees on the floor of the carriage and grabbed his hands. “Promise me we will go back. That we finish this and finish Angelo.”

He pulled her up into his lap. “Finishing Angelo won’t save these boys. We cannot stop that which has been going on since the start of time.”

“That doesn’t mean we do not help those we can.”

Maitland’s heart swelled with pride. His wife was quite a woman. “The boys may like their life as it is.”

She shook her head so hard the tight weave Susan had constructed started to unravel. “Clarence is saving to set his brother free. Little Simon hates this life.”

“What will you do with Simon once you save him? He’s older in years than his age, marked by his hard life.

He may not be able to put his past behind him.

He may not want to, he may prefer men.” He whispered against her cheek.

“Some things a man can never forget.” An image of himself at sixteen flickered unwanted into his mind, of him in his father’s barn, tied down, enjoying the sensations . . .

Like Simon, Maitland was marked by his sordid past. He fought every day not to succumb to his inner beast. He didn’t think Simon, at the tender age of twelve, could overcome what had been done to him.

He probably didn’t have the skills to process the shame and horror.

Maitland had survived because he was older and he had the other Libertine Scholars to help him.

Marisa cupped his chin, turning his head to look into his eyes.

“I can’t stand by and do nothing. I know I can’t save them all, but Simon wants saving, deserves saving.

He hates this life and what is done to him; you should read his eyes, he’s dying inside, and it sends daggers through my heart to think another human being could corrupt a child, abuse him like this.

I wanted to kill the man who walked in the room holding his hand as if what he’d just been doing with the boy was perfectly normal. ”

“Angelo is going to be angry enough when I win his money. Tampering with his other assets, Simon, will not be tolerated. It will be dangerous.”

“Not if I can get his brother to help us.”

Maitland shook his head. “No, too dangerous.”