“Peter can be very persuasive. He knows how to play right into one’s weaknesses.”
“I didn’t want to be unfaithful, but I didn’t fight him. My head was spinning, and before I knew it, my legs were open for him. Oh, Brody, I’m so ashamed! Another stranger!” she sobbed. “It was a miracle he stopped. I would have gladly let him have me, rather than call for help.”
Peter Lawton had twisted Angelica in so many directions that she didn’t realize she hadn’t been willing. That man was a predator. No woman—or gentleman, if he set his sights on one—was safe.
“Did you think I wouldn’t have believed you?” He wrapped his arms around her. “Angelica, I love you. I know your heart, as surely as I know my own. What Peter did to you wasn’t your fault.”
She sniffled into his shirtfront. “He said you couldn’t love me…”
“Well, he’s wrong.” Brody kissed her dark head. “We’ll show them all how wrong they are about us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
After seeing Angelica settled into her bath, safe under her maid’s watchful eye, he went in search of Peter Lawton. Brody pounded on his door until it flew open in his face. His old friend was half-dressed. His waistcoat and dinner jacket were draped across the bed behind him, alongside the gold case Brody knew so well.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” Peter said, inviting him in. “What’s your pleasure?”
Brody crossed the threshold, closing the door at his back. “Stay away from Angelica.”
“You mean Miss Grey, your chaste little sweetheart?”
He resisted the urge to murder him where he stood. “She is off limits!”
Peter only laughed. “Did she tell you that? I hate to break it to you, old bean, but if you’re not putting it to her, someone is.”
“I am.”
“Are you, by God? Well, I suppose when you can get hard, opium does do wonders for staving off orgasm. Remember that one time when we brought those two whores back to The Langham and—”
Brody put his hands up. “I’m not here to reminisce. I only came to ask you, as my friend, to leave Angelica alone.”
“Why, are you in love with her? Going to marry her and whatnot?”
“I never said that…”
Peter shrugged into his crisp white shirt, and began doing up the studs. “Then you aren’t being very sporting, refusing to share her. We’ve always shared in the past.”
“This girl is different.”
“She’ll never be faithful to you. Believe me when I tell you that it hardly took any effort to have her moaning in my arms. She was ripe for it. I only stopped myself because I’m a gentleman. The next chap who gets his hands up her skirts won’t be.”
“Let me worry about that.”
Peter tied his tie in the mirror. “If you insist. But don’t come crying to me when you get your heart broken.” He studied his reflection, and then shifted his eyes up to meet Brody’s in the glass. “I’ve missed you terribly since you’ve been gone. When things with the girl run their course, you ought to come back to town. You act as if it were all bad, but we had our fun… It could be like that again. Keep the little slattern, if you like, but give up this pretense of being a changed man. We both know what you are. Now, be a good chap and cut us a few lines. You know where I keep the stuff.”
“I told you, I’m done with all that.”
Laughing, Peter turned and opened up the gold case that held his bottle of cocaine, his spoon, a razor blade, and a snorting straw. It was all specially made from one of the finest jewelers in London.
His old friend put his golden spoon to his nostril, and sniffed. “It’s going to be a long week-end, old bean. Do let me know if you need anything to keep you going.”
Without a word, Brody turned and fled the room. He had to get away from temptation. He wasn’t in his right mind to fight off Peter and the drugs. He understood now that Angelica wasn’t the real target. She was merely caught in the middle of another one of Peter’s sick, twisted games.
He wished—just once—that his old friend would be caught out and exposed for the devil he was. But chaps like Peter never got caught. They lived the rest of their lives preying on the weak and the desperate. And, worse, taking advantage of the people who loved them.
Brody didn’t knock to see if Angelica was dressed. He barged into her bedroom, locking the door behind him. She wore nothing but a fresh pair of lace drawers and matching brassiere. God, he would never grow tired of seeing her in lingerie—he’d rather have that than any drug.
“Peter won’t bother you anymore.”
She turned to him. “Is he dead?”
“No.” Brody actually laughed. She could always cheer him up. “I talked with him.”
He crossed the carpet to stand behind her. Bessie patiently slipped a black satin dinner gown over her head. While the maid adjusted the frock to sit perfectly against her figure, he kissed Angelica hungrily.