Free The Fighter and the Fallen Woman by Pamela Cayne

Collins’s appointment with King.” Nessie tucked a stray curl back into Lady’s coiffure. “But since it was too late to do anything, Mr. Adams seemed to shrug it off.”
    “What a blessing that turned out to be. Now I need to remember to brush off the flowers as pathetic and give him a brief update myself on King, and we’ll be fine.” Lady wrapped her friend in a brief hug, needing the comfort after a disturbing thought that Mr. Adams might not think all was fine after all. “Thank you for taking care of me, Nessie.”
    “Of course I do. And I still think Mr. Adams does too—in his own way,” Nessie hastily amended when Lady suddenly pulled back. “Remember that. He does care for you and I think he’s trying to do good by you. And I’ll always do what’s best for you too, Lady. Always,” she said and Lady felt the first sting of tears. Even with Nessie’s torn loyalty, twelve years of friendship had built some very deep bonds. Lady could push the issue with Mr. Adams if she wanted, but now wasn’t the time.
    Nessie gave her one last squeeze and opened the front door. Softly, she said, “Now go on with you. Your carriage is here, Princess.”
    As long as the door was open Lady couldn’t show her any other signs of affection, especially if there was a possibility Mr. Adams or Shade could see. She’d learned that hard lesson with the first housekeeper Mr. Adams employed for her. Her name was Mrs. Wilkins and Lady still visited her grave on occasion. She took a breath, then slipped on her haughty whore’s persona easier than she had put on her wrap. “Make sure the house is clean for when I return, Mrs. Nesbitt, and be prepared to have tea ready. I’m sure I shall want some.”
    Lady approached the carriage, and held out her hand for Shade to help when she noticed it wasn’t Shade standing there, but King. The surprise of him waiting for her, watching her, caused her to abruptly jerk to a stop.
    “Are you well, Lady?” King stepped forward and reached for her as though she needed firmer footing. Little did he know her footing became more precarious the closer he got.
    “Yes, King, I’m fine.” She gave him her polite-yet-distant smile. “I twisted my heel in a crack in the cobblestones, but no harm done.” She allowed him to help her into the carriage, and per usual, she sat beside Mr. Adams but not touching him.
    “Hello, Mr. Adams,” she said in a sultry voice, offering him her hand as King seated himself opposite them.
    “Hello, pet.” He kissed her hand through her glove. “You’re looking especially ravishing this evening.”
    “I wanted to look my best for you, of course.” She gave a little moue and tilted her head. “And I think the men at the tournament need to know what they’re up against—a purveyor of the finest available.”
    Mr. Adams laughed like a man who was both surprised and pleased, then stared at King until he laughed along. She wasn’t sure if Mr. Adams didn’t realize the absurdity of bringing King in on the joke, or if he did and was being exceedingly cruel.
    “That’s right, pet. The finest a man can buy,” Mr. Adams said, still chortling slightly. He reached over and roughly squeezed one of her breasts. She managed to turn her gasp of surprise and pain into one of delight. King had pushed forward and she almost teared up, knowing he wanted to protect her. She prayed Mr. Adams hadn’t seen him do it. It would get very ugly very quickly if he had and, as far as Mr. Adams’s assaults went, this was minor, not worth a fuss. But she treasured his gesture anyway, tucked it away with the few other attempts he’d made, like a posy in a book.
    “So, Mr. Adams,” she asked, affecting a coquettish pose that also protected her chest from another direct attack, “where is Shade this evening? I pray he is well.”
    “He’s well, and you’ll see him soon enough, pet.” He leaned over to look past Lady and out the window. They were arriving at the warehouse,