Sex and the Single Earl by Vanessa Kelly Page B

carriage herself. As she turned to follow him, she caught the eye of a sleek, well-dressed man who must have just exited from the theater. He paused at the top of the marble stairs, astonishment written all over his sharp features as he gazed down at her.
    Sophie bit her lip. He must have seen her assist Toby into the coach. The handsome equipage had no honors or crest on its body, but most in Bath knew it belonged to Lady Eleanor.
    “Miss.” James’s voice held a note of warning.
    Sophie took his hand and sprang up the steps, barely pulling her skirts out of the way before the footman slammed the door behind her. She dropped onto the padded bench across from Toby, who eyed her suspiciously in the dim light of the carriage lamp.
    “Here, miss. You best take your bracelet and let me go. Becky will be wanting me to come home.” He slipped the cuff into her hand. Sophie clutched it tightly for a second before sliding it into her reticule.
    “Is Becky your sister?”
    He nodded, then let his gaze drift over the richly upholstered interior of the coach. A grimy hand slowly reached out to trace the stitching in the velvet cushions.
    “Why must you steal, Toby? Does your father have no money? Does he have no work?”
    “Oh, no, miss. He works. We has a tavern down by the docks. Pa says we brings in more blunt than any other flash house in the town.”
    Sophie couldn’t help but catch the queer note of pride in the child’s voice. She felt a little stab of panic as her worst fears were confirmed. Simon and Robert were right—the boy was a professional thief. Was it already too late to help him?
    “How old are you, Toby?”
    “Eight, miss.”
    “Oh, Toby! You are much too young to be a thief.”
    “I know,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Becky hates it, too. She says Ma wanted more for us. Ma was saving up to send me and Becky to London, to stay with my Aunt Sarah. She has a draper’s shop.” His voice sounded wistful, as if Aunt Sarah’s shop might be the most magical place on earth.
    “Does your father want you to go?”
    “No, miss.” Toby’s voice turned hard and bitter, and, for a moment, he sounded much older than his years. “That’s why I stole your bracelet. I has to get Becky away from here. I need the money to get her to London, away from Pa.” His face turned dark with a hatred so intense it raised prickles on the nape of her neck.
    Sophie had to swallow past the sudden constriction in her throat. “Why?”
    “Because Becky’s just turned thirteen. Now that she’s a woman grown, Pa says he’s going to make her a whore.”

Chapter Seven
    “I beg your pardon?” Sophie couldn’t seem to get her brain to work. Surely she hadn’t heard what she thought she did.
    Toby blinked. “You knows what a whore is, don’t you, miss?”
    “Yes, of course,” she replied hastily, forestalling any explanation. “What I meant is, does your father also run a…a brothel from his tavern?”
    “No, miss. He says the whores bring too much trouble into the house.”
    Sophie stared at the boy, oddly dignified in his tattered clothing as he perched on the cushions opposite. She searched for the words to questions she hardly knew how to ask. Simon was right. She knew very little about life outside her own sheltered world—how terrifying and bleak it could be.
    “How do you know he wants to make your sister a…a prostitute?”
    “I heard him talking to Mrs. Delacourt. She keeps a whorehouse on Corn Street. Becky’s a real beauty, miss, just like my ma used to be. It was Mrs. Delacourt put the idea into Pa’s head, to sell Becky at an act…an action?”
    “A what?”
    “You know, miss. It’s like a bet. All the men will bet on who gets Becky first.” Toby’s voice broke.
    Sophie took his small hand in hers. “Do you mean an auction, my dear?”
    “Aye, miss, that’s it. I knew you would get the proper word to call it.” The boy smiled shyly, as if to thank her for knowing something so horrific.