Page 46 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)

THIRTY-EIGHT

London, England

The day had been dreary and wet, the type of day when all one wanted to do was stay at home, close to the fire, and read or talk quietly before retiring for the night.

And that was exactly what they had done.

Valentina read, while Dmitri and Elena played several hands of whist. Dmitri had taught Elena how to play, and she’d fallen in love with the game, always ready for a rematch.

Tanya sat quietly, just staring into space, a small smile playing about her lips.

She was a dreamer, preferring to indulge in her own fantasy rather than the product of someone else’s imagination, like Valentina.

“Are you still reading that book?” Tanya finally asked.

“It’s very long, and very difficult for me to understand,” Valentina complained. “There are so many words I still don’t know. I can only get through a few pages a day since I’m reading so slowly. I try not to move on until I fully understand what’s happening.”

“Must be some story,” Tanya said as she yawned. “Well, I’m off to bed. This weather is perfect for sleeping.”

“Good night,” Valentina replied wistfully.

She wished she could go to bed and forget the despair that had been gnawing at her for the past few days.

Dmitri looked relaxed and happy, his demeanor betraying nothing of what went on beneath the surface.

Valentina had taken his good nature at face value, assuming he was sincere in his regard for her family, but now she knew better.

Dmitri had known all along that Valentina would agree, and had bet on it, in fact.

And now that the day was upon them, he was solicitous and kind, treating her as if she were precious to him.

She supposed she must be, if he was going to make as much money off her as he hoped.

Valentina lowered her head so her mother wouldn’t see the panic in her eyes.

She knew what would happen tonight, but it still seemed surreal.

Would Dmitri really force her to go through with it?

Would he allow her to change her mind if it came to that?

Probably not. The arrangements had been made, and tonight money would change hands, money so filthy, she didn’t know how it wouldn’t soil Dmitri’s hands when he touched it.

What kind of man forced a young woman to debase herself to prevent her family’s ruin?

There were many such men, she realized with bitter clarity, ranging from fathers who sold their daughters into advantageous marriages to pimps who preyed on defenseless women and took a large chunk of their earnings to “protect” them from violence, which they themselves would readily inflict should the women refuse to cooperate.

She wouldn’t be the first, nor would she be the last, to suffer at the hands of a ruthless and greedy man.

She should have demanded a percentage of her earnings, but she knew what Dmitri would say.

She had a debt to pay, a debt that accrued with every passing day.

Only yesterday Dmitri had taken Elena to collect her new winter coat from the fashion salon.

It was made of fine blue-gray wool and adorned with the sumptuous fur of black fox at the collar and cuffs.

It hadn’t been cheap, but Dmitri had encouraged her to order whatever she liked, reassuring her that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to make her happy.

“Do you need a new coat, Valya?” Dmitri had asked back in September, his eyes brimming with concern for her well-being. “It promises to be a cold winter.”

“My coat should last for another year or two,” she had replied. She’d never ask Dmitri for anything ever again. She couldn’t bear to.

Valentina’s innards tightened into intricate knots as the evening wore on.

A part of her wanted to stall forever, but another part wanted to get the deed over with.

All she wanted was to lock her door, climb into her bed, and lose herself in deep sleep.

She’d borrowed a few drops of laudanum from her mother and mixed them into a glass of water she’d left by her bed.

She planned to drink it when she got home and slip away into opium-induced oblivion.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to get to sleep on her own and would lie awake for hours, reliving the awful minutes spent in Timothy Mayhew’s company.

She hoped it would be minutes and not hours.

She simply couldn’t bear the thought of having to keep up the facade for longer than was strictly necessary.

At last, Elena wished them a good night and went to bed. Dmitri turned to Valentina, the smile slipping and his eyes boring into her in a way that warned her not to try any delaying tactics. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, too terrified to speak. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart hammered in her chest, her panic forcing her to recall the night her father and Alexei had died.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever be so scared again, but here she was, in a warm, comfortable house in Belgravia, deceptively safe in a civilized, cosmopolitan city, about to become the victim of a man she’d trusted and even loved.

She donned her coat and hat and followed Dmitri into the rainy night, to the motorcar he’d left parked around the corner from the house so the noise of the engine wouldn’t wake Elena.

She would know nothing of her daughter’s plight.

Nor would Tanya. This sordid secret was between Dmitri and Valentina.

“Wipe that look of abject misery off your face,” Dmitri said as he pulled away from the curb, his eyes on the foggy road. “No man can possibly enjoy making love to a woman who looks as if she’s about to vomit.”

“I’m frightened,” Valentina admitted, immediately sorry that she’d shown him her weakness.

“There’s nothing to fear. Timothy is a gentleman. He won’t hurt you, nor will he treat you with disrespect. Could be a lot worse. ”

How would you know? Valentina thought angrily. She huddled deeper into the fur collar of her coat and stared straight ahead, bracing herself for what was to come.

The drive wasn’t long. Valentina wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the building they pulled up in front of wasn’t a posh hotel in the center of London, but a small, nondescript establishment.

It was called the Falmouth Arms Hotel, and its name was probably the grandest thing about it.

Valentina briefly wondered if Mr. Mayhew had paid the concierge to turn a blind eye to a young woman going up to a man’s room, something a finer establishment wouldn’t allow.

The foyer was small and cozy, with a trio of sofas arranged around a low table stacked with newspapers and magazines.

The reception desk was to the left of the door and manned by a middle-aged man who instantly perked up when they walked in.

“Good evening, Mr. Ostrov,” the concierge said.

“Evening, Mr. Block.”

Valentina glanced at Dmitri in surprise. How often did he come here?

“I own this hotel.” Valentina detected a note of pride in his voice despite his stony expression.

“Are there others like me?” she asked as she followed Dmitri up the stairs.

He stopped and turned to look at her. “You’re not as na?ve as I first imagined.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That doesn’t concern you. Come.”

Dmitri knocked on a door at the end of the passage, and a familiar voice from within bid them to enter.

Timothy Mayhew was sitting in a wing chair by the fire, reading.

He was in his shirtsleeves but wore a tie and a pair of crisply pressed trousers.

He set aside his book, sprang to his feet, and came forward to greet them, behaving as naturally as if they’d come for tea.

“Good evening, Valentina. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Dmitri,” he said, shaking her cousin’s hand.

“I’ll be downstairs in the parlor, Tim. Just send her down when you’ve finished. There’s a good man.”

Dmitri departed without further ado, leaving Valentina with Timothy Mayhew, who locked the door and invited her to sit down. “Would you care for a drink? There’s sherry, and brandy if you require something stronger.”

Valentina wanted to rage at him, to kick him in the shins or scratch his eyes out, but she mutely accepted a glass of sherry, her gaze pinned to the tips of her shoes.

There was no point in making things more difficult.

She’d only find herself back here another night, possibly with another man.

At least Mr. Mayhew was courteous and respectful.

She hoped he would continue to be. She took a sip of sherry and wondered what she was meant to do next.

“Valentina, I’ll have you know I’ve never done this before.

I am married and have four children. My youngest are ten-year-old twin girls.

My wife never recovered properly after their birth, and we haven’t lived as husband and wife since.

I’m very lonely, you see. The lack of intimacy does something to a marriage.

It chips away at the core day by day, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind after a decade of skirting around the issue and covering one’s true feelings with pleasantries,” he added, clearly hoping she’d pity him.

But there was no pity in her heart, only resentment.

It wasn’t her fault his wife didn’t share his bed, nor was it her responsibility to assuage his loneliness.

She was heartbroken and lonely for Alexei, but she kept her grief to herself and didn’t cause anyone pain to make herself feel better.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” she said. “What would you have me do?”

“I’d like to watch you undress,” he said softly. “I’ll help you with any hooks or buttons, if you require. ”

“I can manage, Mr. Mayhew. Thank you.”

“Won’t you call me Tim?”

“No, I don’t think I will.”