A/N: Thank you for all the encouraging comments you sent me for the first chapter. Glad you liked the start and hope you will enjoy the continuation.

Chapter 2

When Charlotte woke up, there was a blissful moment during which she had forgotten where she was, and it felt like any ordinary day about to start. Then she took in the sight of the room, where the sumptuous bed she was lying in was the predominant feature. When everything came back to her, reality hit her like a punch in the stomach. She was far away from home, held captive in a brothel. The room may be luxurious but had one purpose only; to serve her on a plate to anyone who was willing to pay. She had been lucky to escape that fate last night, but she was clever enough to know that luck would not last. Likely she would be introduced to another man who was less considerate already this evening.

This made her thoughts drift to Mr. Sidney Parker. To her own surprise, she was disappointed to find him already gone. The armchair was empty and there was no sign of him, the coat he kindly had borrowed her was missing too and instead she was covered by a blanket. She seemed to remember gentle hands tucking her in and caressing her forehead as if she was a child, but perhaps that was a dream.

She had been so frightened when she entered this room last night, certain that on the other side of the door she would meet the first man who would bed her against her will. Home in Willingden her family used to joke that her appetite for adventures was bigger than was healthy for any young lady, but in that moment she had not felt courageous at all. She feared that at best she could expect one of those overweight, lustful but effete elderly men who she had seen around with the other girls, men who wanted much but had energy for little. At worst, she dreaded to meet a brute who would have his way with her all night.

He had turned out to be neither.

At first sight he had been intimidating, so tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes, all dressed in black and seeming strong and tense underneath the clothes as if harbouring rage or perhaps distrust against the world. His stern face was the handsomest she ever had seen, and she thought there must be some hidden serious fault to him, because why would otherwise a wealthy man, looking like him have to pay for company? Even if she knew it was common, she could only feel contempt for such men. Her own father had always adored and been faithful to his wife and had set the bar high for any man Charlotte would come across.

When the stranger first looked up, he had seemed surprisingly annoyed at the intrusion, like he certainly did not want her there. It was not the expected reaction, but an explanation had followed, and she had realised that he wanted to escape this too, even if not with such desperate intensity as herself. He was free to walk away, she was not.

As he listened to her story, his initially hard expression had softened. He had comforted her, had taken care of her like a brother and made it crystal clear he would not claim what his friends had paid for. She got the impression that he was a good and kind man, but for some reason reluctant to let the world know. In his presence she had felt safe for the first time since she was brought here.

She woke up once during the night and saw him sleeping in the armchair. Dressed in white shirt, waist coat and with the cravat untied, he looked less threatening than clad all in black. Sound asleep, he was almost boyish except for the emerging stubble on his chin. She wondered how old he was and if he was not married, since his friends thought a night at the brothel was a fitting birthday gift. She knew that none of that ought to matter to her but was grateful for his presence because for one more night she was able to sleep untouched, unruined, even if he was the only one besides herself who knew that.

Apparently, he had woken up before her and decided to leave without saying goodbye. Of course he had no obligation to do so, but she wished that she had had the chance to thank him once more and being alone made her feel as desperate as before. She irrationally wished he could be there to protect her, but of course he had better things to do with his life than remaining by the side of a woman he did not know and who was nothing to him. She wanted to be brave, like the heroine in one of her novels, but reading about such adventures was one thing, experiencing them in real life was something completely different. There was no salvation or happy ending in sight here.

Suddenly the door flung open, abruptly interrupting her thoughts. Madame was standing there, with a creepy, false friendly smile and Charlotte immediately feared what it might implicate.

"So, you are awake. Don't sit daydreaming here then girl, come with me!" she ordered.

With heart thumping in her chest, Charlotte bent down to put her shoes on, her fingers trembling as she did so. Would she be forced to meet another customer already?

"No need to look so frightened. I hear you have been so pleasing to a certain gentleman this night, that he wants to keep you to himself. Not bad, I never expected you to be so capable. I thought you would be more like a timid little deer."

She chuckled to herself, but Charlotte froze.

"What do you mean? Keep me to himself?"

She knew very well she had not given any pleasure to Mr. Parker. This was all very confusing.

"Apparently he found you such a gem in bed that he wants you to become his mistress fulltime. He doesn't want to share you with anyone else, so he has paid quite a substantial sum to ensure that you are his alone."

"What does that mean? Am I to stay here, with him as my only visitor?"

That would be so much better than having a stream of different men as customers, yet she felt her heart drop with disappointment that he would stoop so low. He had promised he never would. What made him change his mind? Or had he played her all along in some kind of cruel game?

"No, silly. Wealthy men who have private mistresses set them up with an apartment, to keep them away from any other men who might find them tempting. A man with any dignity would arrange a beautiful home for his mistress, that is the way it works. You are his property now and he can do as he pleases with you, but I must say it seems to me you have won the jackpot. He may keep you for years, perhaps you will even bear his children. Well played."

Madame sounded as if Charlotte had won a prize.

"It won't be a home, it will be another prison." Her voice trembled with fear, anger and pointless defiance.

His consideration last night must only have been an act. Was this what he had plotted all along, to take the virgin away from the whorehouse, to where he had her to himself, then do what he pleased with her? What if he was a vicious man after all? A man who could fake such sympathy and concern to lull her into false security, only to then pull away the rug under her feet again, must truly have a twisted mind. She was ready to burst into tears but held back. She did not want to break down in front of this horrible woman, whom she knew would show no compassion but rather laugh at her tears.

"Don't complain my dear, I can assure you this is the best option you have."

"I'm a gentleman's daughter. You have no right to sell me, I am no man's property."

Madame laughed.

"Try tell that to Mr. Parker. Considering what he paid, I think he would disagree."

He had bought her. Like a vase, or a horse or a slave. How could he?!

"He is waiting downstairs but requested that you clean off your makeup and dress in something more modest before he takes you away from here."

"Why bother, if he anyway intends to treat me like a whore?"

"A mistress Charlotte, that is very different. I think he would not want people to know where he found you. He wants you to look proper when he takes you to your new home. Look boring, if you ask me, but that is his call. I have kept the sad clothes you brought in your valise and will bring them to you. Put on one of those dresses and you will probably look prim enough for him, though a bit simple."

Madame laughed heartily, but all Charlotte could hear was her own blood gushing in her ears.

She did as she had been told, understanding there was no use acting defiant now. She washed away the black eyeliner, the rouge, the remains of red lipstick and soon looked like her own fresh-faced self again, though sadder than usual. She pinned her hair up as tidy as her unruly curls would allow and picked a white muslin dress with small blue flowers on. It was one of her favourites, she and her sister Alison had had identical ones made and she thought that perhaps it could give her strength to live through this day. Finally, she put on a bright blue spencer on top. The girl in the mirror looked like Charlotte Heywood, not the mistress of some filthy rich man and she told herself that she must try to remember who she was, no matter what happened to her this day. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists, before descending the stairs. She knew that Madame was right. Of her available options right now, this was likely the best thing that could happen, but even so the situation was a disaster and the uncertainty regarding her own fate almost unbearable.

Even at this early hour of the day, there were some customers and she passed a few intimate couples on her way to the table where she saw Mr. Parker sitting, staring down at a full glass of amber liquid without touching it. He looked lonely and tormented and had she not been so furious with him, she would have asked why he seemed so distressed.

"Here you have me."

She deliberately made her voice as cool as she could manage. In no way would she let him think she was grateful for the 'service' he had done her, neither would she have him think she pitied him. If he was miserable he probably deserved it.

He looked up and she saw his eyes widen with surprise. No doubt was he disappointed to see what an ordinary girl she was when she was not dressed up like a courtesan. She wondered if he would make her dress like that again behind locked doors, when it was only the two of them. The idea repulsed her and fuelled her anger.

"Miss Heywood?"

"The very same."

"I almost did not recognise you."

"Well, this is the way I look when I can choose for myself, but I understand that I am to ask you about such things going forward."
"What?"
"Madame told me you bought me. I am apparently your possession and as such I suppose you intend to tell me how to dress and behave. I assume I will need your permission before going anywhere, effectively changing one prison for another. Is that not your intention? I hope you don't regret your purchase now when you see how plain I am, because I have been told you paid a considerable sum."

He got to his feet and took her by the elbow.

"Enough! I won't have this conversation here. Let us go, a carriage is awaiting us outside."

"As you please, sir", she answered with her most contemptuous voice and did not miss the tick in the small muscle at his jaw. Good, she wanted him to know exactly what she thought of him.

They came out in the greyish daylight and Charlotte glanced around with curiosity. It had been dark when she arrived in London a few nights ago so she had not seen anything of the city yet. Mr. Parker urged her to take her seat in the carriage, so she did not get to see much now either and when the carriage with a jerk started to move, she turned her attention from the street to him.

She had feared he might start to touch her lecherously immediately when they were alone, but he sat at a distance and did not even look at her. His gaze was fixed somewhere outside the window and he looked quite grim. After a while she found the silence unbearable. She wanted to never talk to him again, but she had to know more about what he planned for her or she would combust.

"So, Mr. Parker, are we driving to an apartment somewhere here in London?"

"No."

"No? The Madame said that is how things commonly are arranged."

He turned to her, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Please enlighten me Miss Heywood, what is arranged how?"

"You know."

"No. Pray, tell me."

"When wealthy men take a mistress. Madame said they usually set her up in an apartment..." she stuttered, and the end of the sentence faded away.

Already before he answered, she could tell by the look on his face that this was not what he had planned for her. Dear God, what was it then?

"I may have misled Madame about my intentions when it comes to you, because it is none of her business."

The smile was gone, and he looked even grimmer than before, as if he found it hard to say the words that came next.

"I do not intend to arrange you a special apartment and I do not intend to take you as my mistress."

His dark eyes were locked with hers and she had never been so anxious yet mesmerized in all her life.

"In fact, we are about to leave London. I am taking you to Gretna Green to make you my wife."