Devil's Bargain by Jade Lee Page A

well dressed with a round face and an impersonal smile, he nevertheless seemed to disappear. Even for Lynette, who had spent a lifetime noticing peculiar aspects of her father’s parishioners, this man faded away. In fact, it was difficult to acknowledge him as he stepped forward, bowing politely over first the baroness’s hand and then her own.
    “You are Lynette?” he asked, his voice somewhat high and nasal.
    She nodded, her questioning glance hopping between the man and the baroness. It was only thenthat she realized the modiste had disappeared, shutting the door behind her.
    “My name is Mr. Smythe,” continued the man. “I am the surgeon who will be performing the inspection.”
    “Inspection? What inspection?” Lynette addressed her question to the baroness, who did not deign to answer. Instead, the woman settled down beside the fire with a sigh. It was the small Mr. Smythe who continued.
    “I am to check for diseases, weaknesses, any type of scarring.”
    Lynette turned to stare at him. Abruptly, it dawned upon her that he meant to look at her for those things. She stiffened, outrage pouring from her. “I assure you, Mr. Smythe, I am in perfect health.”
    “Of course,” continued the man, nodding. “Then this should go quickly. Please remove your clothing behind the screen.”
    Lynette turned to the baroness, who was in the middle of a huge yawn and was easing her feet toward the fire.
    “Baroness, surely you understand that this is not necessary. I am in perfect health.”
    The lady shrugged. “Of course you are. But you certainly cannot expect your prospective bridegroom to take your word for it. It must be authenticated.”
    “Authenticated?” she stammered.
    “Naturally. Mr. Smythe is well respected. He is quite discreet and cannot be bribed.”
    Lynette turned her shocked gaze to the man in question. He merely bowed in an unassuming way. “I will, of course, be authenticating your virginity as well.”
    “No!” Lynette took a sudden step back, her eyes widened in horror. The thought of this man seeing her body was unacceptable. The idea that he would touch her… there… was horrifying.
    “I assure you,” the doctor continued, “the procedure is quite painless and can be accomplished speedily if you cooperate.”
    “Of course she will cooperate,” the baroness said.
    Again he bowed, this time to her. “Of course.” Then, with a welcoming expression, he gestured Lynette to the screen. “You may ask as many questions as you like. I am quite knowledgeable on the subject of virginity.”
    “Questions?” echoed Lynette weakly.
    “Come, come,” inserted the baroness, “we haven’t all day. Remove your clothing.” When Lynette did not move, the lady’s eyes grew hard and cold. “You have no choice.”
    Lynette stared at her, blinking back the tears that blurred her vision. Gone was the delightful companion she had laughed with so freely yesterday. In her place sat the witch: the woman who had stared at her so coldly when they’d first met at St. James’s.
    Lynette hated it. And she hated the baroness. Yet the baroness was right. She had no choice. Once again, she could not run. Even if she could escape the hideous Mr. Smythe, where would she go? Her uncle would not take her in. Not now. Not unless she were wed. As for other options: she had no money, no means of employment, nothing.
    Nothing except the memory of Adrian’s words: “If you run, I will find you. I will make you fulfill your commitments—to me and to your bridegroom.”
    “Come, come,” Mr. Smythe coaxed. “I will make this as pleasant as possible.”
    Pleasant? Lynette turned once more, staring at the little man. Pleasant? She nearly laughed out loud. Not because the word was so opposed to what she was about to experience, but because she had just answered her own question. This was worse than losing her choice in clothing. And yet for all the irony of the situation, for all the naïveté she felt slipping