Love Redeemed (The Market, Book 2)

A businessman and a prostitute might find forever if he can show her the redemptive power of love...

Brennan Whitling wants for nothing but the love of a goods woman. He has a close family, good friends, and a successful textiles import business. But, a beautiful and elusive young woman he has only seen from afar haunts him. Until a chance meeting leads to far more than dinner. 

Serena Freemont has only ever known the life of a prostitute. When an invitation to dinner by a handsome gentleman provides her an opportunity to experience life as a young lady, it’s too tempting to pass up. Much like the man issuing it. After a night of passion she must disappear or face his reaction when the truth is revealed. 

To find happiness Serena must shed her past long enough to realize she is worthy of a future. To win her heart, Brennan must show her the redemptive power of love. 

Brennan cringed as a high-pitched squeal grated across his eardrums. He much preferred visiting the tailors. Squealing was not permitted. However, in a modiste’s shop such behavior was expected. He sighed and reminded himself he made a very good living by catering to every desire of the rich and entitled. Well, their every desire for sumptuous textiles and fabrics to decorate their homes and adorn their bodies.

He specialized in exquisite silks from the Far East and fine laces from France. He never allowed himself to imagine how those fabrics might appear against the creamy white skin of the noble ladies. Those kind of women, as a general rule, would not deign to acknowledge a man like himself, a man in trade. But rules were made to be broken, weren’t they?

Shaking himself from his reverie, his gaze drifted to the order lying on the counter. A review of the list of fabrics confirmed everything sat in one of three warehouses around the city. Satisfied there would be no issues fulfilling the order, he turned to Madame Le Fleur’s shop assistant. “Mrs. Keeling, I should be able to provide the fabrics by Thursday without a problem.”

“Very good, Mr. Whitling, thank you for stopping by today.” She smiled and disappeared into the back room. Brennan knocked the edges of the parchment together and tucked them into his leather folio. Another peal of delight rang through the small shop and shivered down his spine. He placed his hat atop his head and gratefully departed. Pleased with his client visits for the day, he headed to his main warehouse and office by the wharf.

A rare day in London found a blue sky, sunshine, and the air almost warm. Tucked neatly in his folio, Brennan had the biggest set of orders collected in months. All seemed right with his world except for the loneliness of his bed. While on occasion he took up with a woman or visited one of the pleasure houses, he had yet to meet the one woman who would stir his blood and maybe even his heart. His sister had discovered love. He’d seen the joy it could bring. He craved it in his own life, but all the social climbing women he met were of little interest. Particularly since he’d been ruined for most women when he spotted the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen walking down the street. None of the simpering misses who aspired to join the ranks of the Ton, or at least live as they did, could compare. Reining in his unproductive musings, he headed down the street toward his office.

There she was.

The mystery girl he had seen on Bond Street for the last few months. The sightings were always random, yet nonetheless impactful for their haphazardness.

Her bright auburn hair glinted in the sunlight, mimicking the first rays of sunset caressing the hills. Her gentle curves called out to a man’s hands in a way a lithe woman’s figure never did. Her corset hugged her silhouette, exaggerating the nip of her waist and flare of her hips in the most sensual way. Heedless of the grossly inappropriate time and place Brennan’s cock rose to attention.

The strategic placement of his folio over his groin provided immediate cover and allowed him to think about each order taken that morning. In itemized detail. Despite his best efforts at distraction, he marked her progress until she ducked into a milliner’s shop.

He decided this was going to be the day.

The day he introduced himself to the most beautiful woman, ever. No reason not to meet her when the worst-case scenario was she would dismiss him and the best was he might learn her name. By the time she emerged from the shop he had his body back under control and a plan in mind.

A few feet away, Brennan drowned in her big brown eyes set under a thick fringe of bangs. Her grin teased the corner of her lips as men stopped to tip their hats. He stepped forward to introduce himself when calamity struck.

Serena secured the band around the hatbox holding her newest acquisition before picking up her other purchases. The little top hat with a veil and trailing ribbons was a perfect match with her riding habit. She waved to the girl behind the counter and scooted out the door excited to try the hat on with her dress. The bright sunlight blinded her as she paused on the stoop of the store. In the glare of the brilliance the most handsome angel drew her eye. His blond hair glowed, a nimbus around his head, as he lifted his hat in greeting.

                                                            **

Serena questioned her own vision until the sun shifted, confirming there was, in fact, an incredibly handsome man staring. She started to smile at him, but became distracted by another gentleman who saluted her as he strolled by giving her an appraising eye.

She shifted her weight and quickly found herself off balance. The world reeled. Her feet were no longer solid underneath her, and her limbs waved in a wild display. Her hatbox flew off her flailing arm as her other bags dropped to the ground. Guided by the solid feel of a steady arm around her waist, she righted herself.

Her breath caught in her chest. If she did not know better, she would have thought Lettie, one of the housemaids, had laced her corset too tight. But that was not the case. The very solid and very male chest pressed against her argued the inappropriate truth of the situation. She stood on the street in the arms of a strange man.

Serena slowly peeled herself from his warmth. Hands braced on his powerful shoulders, she took a moment more to be sure her feet were steady before stepping back to see her angel had rescued her. Her heart pounded as he bent to retrieve her packages from the ground.

“Are you all right, Miss?”

For a moment, for this moment, she was a normal young woman experiencing the attentions of a handsome young man. Heat crept up her cheeks as he held her hatbox out, and the burning had nothing to do with the sun. “I-I— Yes, I am. Thank you.” His blue-gray eyes seemed to bore into her.

“I am so glad. I was sure you were a goner there for a moment.” He flashed a brilliant grin liquefying Serena’s insides instantly. “Please let me introduce myself. I’m Mr. Brennan Whitling of Whitling Textiles Importers and Wholesalers.”

“How do you do, Mr. Whitling?” Serena allowed her lips to curve up ever so slightly. “I am Miss Serena Freemont.”

“It is a pleasure. Might I interest you and your”—he glanced around the bustling street as his grin faded in confusion— “chaperone in a cup of tea?”

A wave of horror swept over Serena. Chaperone? Harlots did not require one of those. 

“Oh, Aunt Henrietta is in the bookstore, and I fear she will be in there a very long time. I am certain she won’t notice if we slip off for a quick spot of tea.”

“Excellent! There is a lovely little shop just up the street.” A beautiful smile spread across his face, causing her pulse to quicken.

He escorted her up the block where they stopped at a quaint little teashop. They settled in at a table and ordered a pot of tea.

“What has you on Bond Street today, Mr. Whitling?” They sat in semi privacy at the back of the shop.

“Oh, I was visiting some of my customers and taking new orders. I am very glad I was there to help you, and by virtue of said assistance make your acquaintance.” Did his already deep voice grow huskier? Their tea service arrived, dispelling the moment.

“As am I. Landing on my backside in the middle of the street would have been rather embarrassing. But in truth, thank you for your assistance today, and now the tea.” She lifted her freshly prepared cup to her lips and took a dainty sip from the delicate china. Through lowered lashes, she watched his graceful movements as he prepared his own.

“It is my pleasure on both accounts. You seem familiar to me. Have we met somewhere before? A ball perhaps?”

“Oh, I think I would remember that. No, but I do find myself on Bond Street on a frequent basis. Mayhap you have seen me there?” Even if he were a customer of The Market, the notorious members-only brothel, there is no way he would associate her with the establishment. Most customers wouldn’t if they met her outside of the house. Then again, most customers wouldn’t want to be recognized themselves, which was why they wore masks. No, he couldn’t know her from The Market.

“Of course, I’m sure that’s it.” His voice wobbled hinting at a bit of nerves. “Tell me, Miss Freemont. Do you enjoy reading?”

“I do. I enjoy the classics and of course a good gothic tale, as well. It can be quite titillating to read about all those old musty castles chocked full of ghosts and monsters.” Not so titillating as being near such a handsome and kind specimen of the male species.

“Oh, well now, why doesn’t that shock me? I haven’t personally read a gothic novel, but I do enjoy the classics. You can’t go wrong with Shakespeare. What would you recommend as a first time gothic read?”

“Hhhmmmm….” Serena considered him with his gentle manners, quick wit, and well-muscled form. He resembled the image of a man most of her customers attempted to portray. Her angel smacked of everything she would want in a man if given the choice. “Do you enjoy a love story? Maybe something by Elizabeth Gaskell? She has a new gothic out full of thrills and chills in between stolen kisses.” He raised an eyebrow. “No. Maybe something more masculine, less romantic. You should read G.W.M. Reynolds’s newest gothic. It is very dark and sad with lots of ghosts and monsters and no less than three moldering castles.” She nodded, sure of her final recommendation.

“G.W.M. Reynolds it is. Why don’t I escort you to your aunt and then I can stop at the bookstore and pick up a copy today.”

Panic. Pure panic swamped Serena’s senses muting the bustling sounds of city life. She had no aunt. He would learn the truth and look at her as everyone else did when they learned who she was. What she was. After enjoying the brief respite in her otherwise secluded existence, she did not think she could stand to see her angel look at her in such a way. No, far better to disappear and leave him wondering than to witness his perception of her colored by the reality of her life.

She drew a calming breath.

“Oh, Aunt Henrietta will be quite cross already. I dare say appearing with a strange man in tow would be the death of me. If you don’t mind, I will leave you here and find my own way back.” She grew certain her fragile facade would crack at any moment. A bittersweet pain fisted in her chest where her heart should have been. Regret for all she would never experience washed through her, coming very close to breaking her right there.

“Very well. I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble. How will I see you again?” He appeared so hopeful it pained her to lie.

Her body stiff with her determination to escape, she rose and grabbed her packages. “I am sure we will run in to each other again soon. Good-bye, Mr. Whitling,” she called and disappeared into the crowd.

No sooner had she faded into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk than the wetness trickled down her cheeks in little rivulets of pain. Not that she had any great feeling for the handsome man, she assured herself. After all, they’d only just met. But, the realization she did not even have the option made her sad. Her life offered very few choices, and love was not one of them. A suitor, a man like Mr. Whitling, could never be for a woman like her.

Serena walked the five blocks to The Market and climbed the front stairs. The unassuming portico sustained their deception as much as her proper dresses and hats. The veneer of propriety allowed them to survive in a world that frowned on all things immoral, and at The Market all things immoral were bought and sold.

One just needed to name the right price.