Mike looked up at the tall residence in upscale London. He detested the dandies that populated this city who so famously call themselves the “ton”, but their taste in elegant houses were impeccable. With a determined stride, he climbed the steps to his query’s door.
The butler who answered the door was big and burly with a patch over his left eye and a permanent snarling look on his face. He looked down his crooked nose at Mike and growled. “May I help you?”
Mike put a determined look on his face and replied, “I would like to see Lady Wentworth.”
The giant of a butler turned around and started down the hallway. Mike stood at the door for a while a bit confused and with a huge sigh; he followed along making sure to close the door behind him. It was obvious even to an American like him that the butler was very untraditional.
He sauntered into the room that the butler indicated and with a low grunt, he left. Mike took that to mean he was to wait for the Lady in this pleasantly blue sitting room. It became apparent to Mike that Lady Wentworth loved blue for the dresses she wore to the balls and now it was devastatingly apparent with this elegantly blue sitting room. He smiled ruefully at the thought that she would probably have a blue fire if it were possible.
Lady Ambrosia Wentworth looked up from one of the many financial papers that littered her desk when she heard the heavy footsteps to her butler, Pig. She blew one of her slightly curly brown bangs out of her crystal blue eyes and wished that there weren’t so many interruptions this day.
“Yes, Pig dear, what is it?” She lowered her glasses down her straight nose slightly.
“Man. Sitting room.” Her hulking butler grunted.
Ambrosia smiled to herself as her butler stomped out of her study. Pig was wonderful and highly intelligent, but unfortunately not a man of many words. She whistled cheerfully as she bustled down the hall and the stairs to the sitting room.
As soon as she walked through the sitting room door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Michael Flanagan was in her house and admiring her favorite royal blue window curtains.
She had detested the man the very first time she saw him. He was by no means unpleasant to look at with his light brown eyes that held intriguing gold flecks, his tousled dark brown hair, and his tall fit build. With each dance she had with him, she came to the conclusion that he was full of himself. She delicately coughed to get his attention. He spun around with a rakish smile on his face.
“Lady Wentworth, how very pleased I am that you’ve agreed to see me.”
Ambrosia plastered a smile on her face and indicated a chair. “Won’t you have a seat? Maybe have a spot of tea?”
“No thank you, my Lady. Just here to tell you that I know that you’re blackmailing a great many members of the ton.”
Anybody would have to hand it to her, even herself that she was great at not showing any signs of distress on the outside. She wouldn’t have bet money that she stayed that way on the inside though. Her heart was pounding away and her brain was screaming her denial.
She smiled pleasantly at this and sat down on the love seat in the center of the room. “Blackmail? Me? Surely you are mistaken! Blackmail is for lesser people with no money and not to mention something only a man would think of. As you know I have plenty of money as my solicitor tells me and I am a woman. We know that the female gender is not of a proper mind to scheme as we are too worried about looking pretty.”
Mike chuckled and sat rather closely next to her on the love seat. “You forget that I am American and not English. I know women are a lot smarter and dastardly then the society gives them credit for. Drop the act, Princess, I’m on to you.”
Ambrosia looked him in the eye and glared. “Fine so you found me out. How may I ask did you do it?”
“Just a matter of asking around in the most seedy of ton circles and a bit of matching. Have you heard of the Devil May Care Circle?”
She stiffened up at the name and looked away, for she was only too well acquainted with that lot. They were a group of rogues and ruffians of the worst kind that got their kicks out of a certain game they played every week.
To gain a rank in the circle one would simply bring the best pick of the female population whether they are ton ladies or the lowliest of street misses. After a brief ceremony of sorts they would then proceed to shred the garments of the woman with a knife and while they held her down to the “sacrificial table” they would take turns raping her.
