Restrained
Restrained
Lord Dixon’s Shadows book 2
By Adella J. Harris
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Matthew Greensleigh finally gets his chance to help in the family business, only to learn his father expects him to spend a year as a concubine for the notorious Lord Dixon. Sir Robert Farnsdale prefers to keep his pleasure professional, but when Matthew asks to be shown what to expect from his time with Lord Dixon, Robert finds himself agreeing to an afternoon together. Matthew knew it was only one afternoon, so why can’t Robert stop thinking about it?
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copyright (c) 2017 Adella J. Harris
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
Chapter 1
***
MATTHEW GREENSLEIGH PUT DOWN HIS FIFTH newspaper of the afternoon and rubbed at his temples. Father had just merged the wool mill in Surrey with the cloth mill nearby. It was the sort of thing he would have been told about if he were considered of any value to Greensleigh Enterprises at all. But he wasn’t. He was the second son, always thought of as the youngest, if he was thought of at all. Ironically, he’d just asked Father last month if he could work on improving the wool mill, and one of his ideas had been to work more closely with the cloth mill since both sold to most of the same businesses, although merging them seemed extreme as they did produce different fabrics. If he’d mentioned that plan to anyone, he’d have thought someone was stealing his ideas, but he hadn’t been given a chance to even have any ideas. Father had said, “Do you think I don’t know how to run my own business?” and ignored him until he’d left.
Matthew folded the final newspaper neatly and checked to see if he’d missed anything in the others. He’d been asking Father for a role in the company ever since he’d come home from Oxford, and he’d been turned down every time. He’d tried asking Father to find him a job in the company of one of his friends, but that had been met with “What, you want to work for the competition?” And he couldn’t apply for a position without Father; the first question would be what was wrong with him that his own father didn’t want him.
The butler entered and gave him the same sort of look he’d given him as a child. “Master Matthew, we will be needing to prepare this room for your father’s return.”
“Of course, Stanford. I’ll get out of your way.” Stanford wouldn’t have done anything if Matthew had insisted on staying, but Father would certainly have been told the reason his study wasn’t ready was because his younger son had needed it, and that would not have gone over well. Matthew straightened the newspapers then went to his room. He could be alone there.
If he could have started his own business, that would have been something. His Uncle Ned had taught him about running a company when he’d been a young man, but that took capital. And the small inheritance he’d gotten from his mother had gone to bail out Greensleigh Enterprises when the Maryanna had sunk off the coast of Spain. He’d thought Father would take him more seriously when he had some of his own money invested in the company, but he’d only been in his second year at Oxford, and coming home would have been met with anger. When Mother had died, Father had answered Matthew’s wish to stay at home for a semester with, “Why am I letting you study at that place if you don’t want to stay and learn something?” By the time he’d received his degree, the investment had been forgotten.
Matthew had just settled on his bed with a book when there was a knock at the door. Stanford didn’t wait for an answer but came in with an envelope on a tray.
“A message for you, Master Matthew.”
“Thank you, Stanford.” He waited until the butler had left before opening it.
It was from Father, of course. He’d guessed that. Stanford wouldn’t have bothered taking a message to him personally unless he thought the sender was worth his trouble; Matthew certainly wasn’t. Father was summoning him. That was nothing new. But this message said it was “time to do your duty towards the family.” He had a sinking feeling that there was a female involved. He’d resign himself to it, he supposed. He’d realized years ago that that was not what he aspired to, ever since he’d gone to stay with his Uncle Ned and met his business partner, the man he had been told to call Uncle Ted. He hadn’t understood why at the time, but that had seemed to be what he wanted for himself, what would make him happy the way other young men his age wanted a wife. But he’d also known that marriage was more about alliances than happiness. He supposed he should change into something more fashionable to meet whoever it was to be. He glanced at the address as he went to the closet.
Not a wife. Even he knew the address listed on the note was for one of Lord Dixon’s brothels. Why on earth would Father want to meet him in one of the most notorious brothels in London? He sighed. Father wouldn’t explain until he was ready. All Matthew could do was obey. At least he didn’t need to bother about what he wore there.
Sir Robert Farnsdale put aside the contract he’d finished reading and stared at the stacks of paper on his desk. It was a good contract, and he knew precisely which clauses Romley would object to and what he concessions he could make on those to keep the important parts intact. Now there was the question of what to work on next. He needed to decide on a new shipping company. There were the canals he was thinking of investing in once he’d studied the maps he’d been sent. And then there were the accounts from three of his businesses that he ought to go over. He pulled the list of shipping companies towards him. The sooner he got that sorted out, the sooner he could begin shipping goods north.
He heard the door open and recognized the cautious footsteps of his secretary. “Sir Robert?”
Robert glared at the page in front of him. “Yes, Dalton?”
“I have the research you wanted on the workforce in Surrey. If you would like, I could have a summary of it for you by tomorrow morning.”
The button factory he was considering buying as the owner was declaring bankruptcy. “No, just leave it on the desk. I’ll look at it myself.”
“Very good, sir.”
When the secretary didn’t leave immediately, Robert tried ignoring him more obviously. When that didn’t work, he finally looked up. “Something wrong?”
“Well, sir, Romley left his copy of the new contracts behind.”
Of course he had. And if he didn’t have them in front of him, he’d forget all about the deal unless he wanted to remember it. “And you didn’t remind him when he left?”
“I was assisting Peters with the accounts.”
Robert rubbed his forehead. Losing his temper never achieved anything. He considered his plans for the evening. “Leave the contract here. I’ll deliver it to Romley myself.”
“You’re certain, sir? I could...”
“Yes, I’m certain.” He knew Romley well enough to know where he’d be tonight. Lord Dixon’s brothel near Covent Gardens. Robert wasn’t fond of Dixon, but he cultivated the acquaintance because it was convenient for him. Being known as a friend of Dixon’s led people to assume all sorts of scandalous things that made enough gossip to hide the truth. He hadn’t been to one of Dixon’s places in weeks. It was well past time to make an appearance. If he stayed until eight o’clock, that would be long enough to be seen and still allow him time to return to the office and finish going over the information on the availability of workers for the button mill. Or he could take the research with him and go over it at home. Either way, it was more of an inconvenience than anything.
Father had the carriage, so Matthew was forced to find a hack and give the address to the driver, who surely knew where he was going. Matthew hopped in quickly to avoid seeing the man’s expression, but he was certain the man was thinking that it was rather early in the day to be visiting a brothel. But he wouldn’t say it out loud any more than someone would tell a drunkard it was early for a drink.
Matthew spent the trip worrying about how to avoid the driver’s look when he paid him, but as it wasn’t a very long ride, he hadn’t come up with anything by the time the hack stopped. But the driver merely told him the fare and drove away as soon as it was paid, leaving Matthew standing on the street, looking up at the house in question.
The townhouse looked like any other in the area, but if he looked closely, Matthew could see that the drapes in all the rooms were closed and a bit too many of the visible surfaces were gilt. He’d never been to one of Lord Dixon’s brothels; he only knew them by reputation. And that reputation was for the most depraved of pleasures. Lord Dixon was, in fact, a real lord, a marquis in fact, and had inherited plenty of money. He ran the brothels for his own amusement.
Matthew swallowed and approached the door. The longer he stood on the street, the better the chances of someone spotting him and knowing what he was about. Matthew realized there had to be a secret entrance for those who visited regularly, but Father had not seen fit to tell him what that was, so he was forced to climb the stairs and use the heavy knocker, which he was certain could be heard all the way down the street, telling everyone Dixon had a new client.
The door was opened by a tall, silent butler who made Stanford look almost welcoming. He stood in the doorway, blo
cking the entrance.
“I’m supposed to be here,” Matthew tried, nervously pleating his cuffs. When the butler didn’t move, he added, “My father summoned me. Sir Hector Greensleigh?”
The butler continued to stare in silence. Matthew wondered if the man acted as a sort of guard as well. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note his father had sent him. Thank God he’d brought it to have the correct address. “Here’s the summons. He’s waiting for me inside.”
The butler took the card and stared at it, reading the words then examining the paper they had been written on. Matthew shifted from foot to foot, keenly aware that anyone passing by would know he was trying to gain entrance to Lord Dixon’s brothel and was putting enough effort into it to be standing out on the doorstep, waiting for admittance.
The butler finally handed back the card and stepped aside. Matthew realized he’d been granted access and hurried inside.
Matthew entered a small hallway. There was one door, which the butler stood in front of, so Matthew followed the hallway farther into the house. It ended at an open door leading into a large room that seemed to have been designed to host balls. The room was in semi-darkness, all the curtains drawn, and lit only by candlelight. It had been furnished in what seemed to be a parody of a study, with leather chairs and shelves that held books and statues that would never have been found in a respectable home. There were men standing around, talking, and women in clothing meant to suggest various stages of undress. He tried to spot Father in the crowd, but the room seemed to be full of hard, older men gone slightly to seed, most of whom could have been mistaken for his father in the dim light. Anytime his gaze landed on a man who he thought could be Father, the man seemed to sense it and turned to stare at him, looking him over as if he were one of the half-dressed prostitutes wandering around. Every time, Matthew quickly dropped his gaze. He had heard the rumors that Lord Dixon used men for his most exotic amusements. Surely they couldn’t think he was there for one of those.
But then Matthew wasn’t sure why Father had asked him to come there. Surely he didn’t suspect… No, that would mean he’d been paying attention to Matthew, and that certainly wouldn’t happen. Matthew wandered around the room, trying to spot his father without attracting notice. There was a group gathered around something happening in the corner. Mathew wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was, but if that was where Father was... He made his way across the room.
A woman was bent over a chair while a man Matthew assumed was one of the patrons used a paddle on her bare bottom and the others yelled encouragement. Matthew stepped away quickly, feeling his face flush. A couple of the men noticed him and chuckled at his embarrassment. At least they didn’t know the real reason for it. He wasn’t imagining being the one with the paddle but the woman bent over the chair, having someone else in control, bringing him to the edge where pain and pleasure mingled. He forced himself to look around the room, anything to distract him from those thoughts. If they had known he wanted to be the one bent over, it would have been embarrassing enough, but he would also want the one wielding the paddle to be not the fair Clarissa he thought he’d heard the woman’s name was, but one of the handsome men he’d seen hanging about Hyde Park or at White’s. If they’d known that, he never would have survived it.
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Sir Robert had the hack leave him off near the row of carriages waiting for their owners to summon them. He had never seen the point of asking his driver to wait for him while he was at the office, and it had seemed much simpler to take a hack from there to the brothel. He knew better than to trust the contracts to the servants at Dixon’s, and if Romley decided to avail himself of the pleasures of the house, it was very possible that he would forget the papers somewhere there as well. Robert located what he thought was the most likely pub for the drivers to be congregating at and went in. A quick word with one of the barmaids directed him to Romley’s driver.
The man was seated at a table with three other drivers. All of them got to their feet as soon as Robert approached. “Don’t let me disturb you. I have some papers for Romley. One of you is his driver?”
“That’s me, sir. I’ll keep ‘em safe.”
Robert looked the man over and decided he was trustworthy. “Then let me buy the next round for your trouble.” He handed over the folder and arranged for the promised drinks. All that was left was to tell Romley he’d left the contracts and have himself seen at Dixon’s.
Robert was well-enough known at Dixon’s to be admitted without introduction by the side door, which led into the house next door. It was now part of the brothel as Dixon had purchased it quietly and added connecting doors and even removed some of the shared walls to make his large receiving room on the ground floor. That was where he knew he would find Romley, looking over the women working that night. Robert found him watching the room while talking to Lord Brisban by the drinks table.
He went to join them. “Romley. Brisban.”
Brisban nodded in his direction before returning to his drink.
Romley turned. “Farnsdale, good to see you.”
“Did you forget something at my office?”
“Forget? The contracts. Completely slipped my mind. I’ll be by in the morning to get them.”
Robert wasn’t quite certain how someone could forget contracts between the time they had stopped discussing them and the time he’d gotten his overcoat on, but he kept that to himself. “I brought them along and left them with your driver.”
“Good of you, Farnsdale. Although I bet you were coming here anyway.”
“Well, I’d been thinking of it. Anything interesting?”
“Clarissa is putting on a good show. You should show them how it’s done. Don’t see why you lot can’t have girls like her in the playroom. Why you’d want to look at some scrawny sod when you can have all that bouncing under your whip.”
“You should come up and see.” Robert knew Romley never would. He had no interest in such things at all. Not that Dixon appreciated a finely muscled chest either. Robert had known him long enough to understand him. He enjoyed humiliation and thought it was more humiliating for a man to submit to his darkest desires. That made him a useful cover. As his peculiarities were known, and it was known he enjoyed women as his main sexual outlet, most who knew Robert frequented his brothels and house parties assumed he was the same, so any rumors connecting him to a man were treated as a daring anomaly rather than a scandal.
Robert scanned the room as he sipped his drink. He spotted Clarissa walking with old Lord Pertwin towards the staircase to the private rooms. That made it safe to say, “Maybe I’ll go have a look at Clarissa’s show.”
“It was back in the corner there.”
Robert nodded and wandered in the direction indicated.
Chapter 2
***
MATTHEW MADE A CAREFUL CIRCUIT of the room and came to the conclusion that either Father wasn’t there and had summoned him on some whim, or he was in one of the private rooms and Matthew would be expected to cool his heels until Father deigned to summon him. Normally in a circumstance like that, Matthew would find a quiet corner to hide in until the summons arrived, but he had the feeling that in this place, all the quiet corners would already be occupied and not in the way he was planning. Instead, he wandered around the perimeter of the room, trying to avoid staring at anyone for too long lest they mistake him for what he wasn’t certain. There were so many rumors about Dixon, they couldn’t all be true.
One of the men who’d seen him glance at Clarissa said something to a friend who turned to stare at him. Matthew hurried away. So the rumors that Dixon played with men upstairs were most likely true. But why would they think he... No, they couldn’t tell those sorts of things. Certainly not. Someone would have said something years ago if they could. Unless... This was the first time he’d been in a brothel. Suppose those who were more well-versed in what went on in the bedroom could tell things that the normal crowds he found himself in could not?