“Oh, my dear! It is as I had hoped! An offer from a man of rank who saw you at the Paris ball and has become entranced—enslaved by the memory!”
“Which one was it?” she asked flatly. Would her fate be the balding, potbellied X, with his twenty thousand a year and his deer parks, or Y, with his shipping company, his crooked teeth, and his strange smells?
“It is Monsieur Le Cherche!” her mother gasped.
The shock that went through Electra at that moment jolted her upright and out of her chair. “But Mama, how could an offer from such a man interest you?”
“You misunderstand, Electra. The proposal is from Judge Henri Le Cherche. Not his disreputable brother the viscount Basil Le Cherche. He has asked permission to come this evening to make his offer to you in person.”
Henri Le Cherche? The dark figure dressed in expensive black silk and fine leather boots? A judge? Had she even danced with him? No—she had not even been aware of his noticing her at the ball.
“Does the man’s family relationship with a thief and seducer not give you pause, Mama? Basil Le Cherche is his brother!”
“Not a moment’s pause, my dear. Years of disrespect and poverty will be washed away in an instant. All you must do is make your way to the altar, where you will say ‘I do’ and we will be admitted into every circle in Europe!”
But what Electra knew, more clearly than she had ever known, was that she did not wish to be admitted to every circle in Europe. She wasn’t sure where she wanted admittance—but something in her was awakening, something that pressed for its own concerns to be shaped and addressed. The creature inside her was only just in its infancy, but it had a pulsing vitality.
“He has asked for a private audience this afternoon,” her mother chattered. “We must hurry!”
“Why?”
“There is so much to do! You must be at your most beautiful, and there are but a few hours to prepare.” Her mother called in servants, who helped her truss and curl and bejewel her daughter without protest or question. They were, in fact, unsurprised by the extravagant grooming rituals, as if they had been expecting them. At the appointed time Electra was called to the parlor for the meeting with her suitor. He was not waiting for her. “Have a seat, miss,” the servant said. “He’ll be here direct.” She sat upon one of the only two chairs in the room to await her fate. A moment later Judge Henri Le Cherche entered. She did not rise.
“My dear,” the judge greeted her, sweeping off his hat and making a leg. “Thank you for honoring me with your time upon such short notice.”
Indeed, it was the finely dressed man she had seen across the ballroom. “We are pleased to receive you,” she replied, nodding and retaining her seat. The judge took the other chair before he was invited to do so and turned a smiling face upon her. “You were perfectly mesmerizing at the ball. The dress … such beautiful breasts.”
“Pardon me?” She stiffened. Never had a man addressed her so vulgarly.
“Do not pretend to be so missish, my pet. I observed you with my brother—not the ideal match for any woman, and I’m sure you knew it when you accepted him as your dance partner. A woman who would wear such a thing, move with the … shall we say the carnal sensuality … with which you moved … that woman is ready for the kinds of things that I have to offer. And I am here to offer them.”
“I am afraid you mistake me, sir.”
“I do not. Your mother confirms your eagerness to marry me, and I am here to lay out my expectations.”
“My mother speaks only for herself. Not for me. I am not interested in your expectations, and I do not give you any kind of assurance or consent.”
“You needn’t. Your mother is your guardian and she has the legal right to sign documents on your behalf, including a marriage license. She is eager to sign such a document. So I will proceed. Let me make my preferences in love clear. I enjoy the hunt, sometimes the spirited resistance, and the release that domination provides. My sense is that you will not only accommodate these tastes but will perhaps be talented at satisfying them. On occasion I have enjoyed companions that could be regarded as very young women. Very, very young women. Control is important to me. I enjoy the theatre of submission. Do you understand?”
Electra was young and she had been sheltered, so the specific images that this conversation called up were vague. They were, however, horrible to her, as was this monster sitting across the room from her now. His enjoyment of her discomfort was clear. But there was another sensibility bubbling directly beneath the man’s thin veneer of amused contempt—hostility toward her, a woman he did not know and had come to bend to his will. And perhaps … was she right about the hesitation just before the raised eyebrows and curled lip? She had a sudden and very certain sense that this man was afraid of her as well, and therefore terribly dangerous.
“You will not have my hand in marriage or any other part of me,” she said coolly. “Please leave.”
He continued smiling. Not moving.
“I asked you to go!”
“That is of no consequence to me. Your mother and I will have a final tête-à-tête and settle the financial details. She knows nothing of my … proclivities. But my dear, I suspect that if she did, she would still sign you away. And I also imagine that if you attempt to describe the details of our conversation to her when I leave that she will believe nothing you say. She will see you as willful, attempting to avoid your adult responsibilities in order to continue an indulgent childhood. So you see, there is no point in struggle.”
He rose, moved to her, and pulled her to her feet. He slid his hand inside the bodice of her gown and firmly tugged it downward, then stepped back to inspect what he had exposed. Her hands flew to her breasts, but he restrained her. He smiled. “They are perfect. As I expected.”
Enraged, she covered herself again the instant he released her. “Did you ask Mr. Z to invite my mother and me here specifically so you could stage this ridiculous charade?”
“It is not a charade, and yes, Mr. Z knew your mother would be pleased to come here—so far from the opinions of her vulgar little acquaintances. We conduct a great deal of business here, Mr. Z and I, and he knew I preferred to manage this transaction with your mother far from anyone who might intercede with rude gossip. Or worse.”
“We are leaving as soon as we pack.”
“I doubt that. Mr. Z’s loyal staff will not help you leave for any destination at all but one that I myself name. And at the moment I name none.” He turned on his heel and left her angry, disgusted beyond measure. Dumbfounded, she stood exactly where she was and listened to the distant, polite sounds of the judge’s departure and her mother’s simpering goodbyes.