Say You Love Me by Johanna Lindsey

was feeling no guilt himself that it had ended so badly. And he’d learned his lesson—at least he’d thought he had.
    To be fair, though, the woman he had acquired earlier that night wouldn’t—at least shouldn’t—be anything like Marjorie. Kelsey Langton wasn’t gentry, even though she might sound like it, wasn’t raised to privilege, so she would be genuinely grateful for anything he might do for her, whereas Marjorie had expected it as her due.
    Furthermore, he’d actually bought her. He had the bill of sale in his pocket to prove it. And he still didn’t quite know what he thought of that. But she’d put herself up for sale. It wasn’t as if she’d been sold without her permission and…better not to even think about the bought-and-sold part of it. He’d acquired a mistress, and he hadn’t even done it to acquire one but to keep that blackguard Ashford from brutalizing still another woman, and this one without an avenue of escaping his cruelties.
    Beating Ashford senseless obviously hadn’t put an end to his perverted ways, as Derek had hoped. He was just going about it more legally now, as in that absurd auction and in making use of houses like Lonny’s that supplied women for such purposes.

    Previously, David Ashford had bought cheap whores for a night. Such women had no recourse against lords of Ashford’s ilk, and worse, probably felt the few pounds he tossed them was ample compensation for whatever scars he left. Pathetic, but true. And even if Derek brought charges against Ashford, having witnessed firsthand the man’s sick excuse for pleasure, he knew no victims would be found to bear witness against the man. They’d be bought off, or disposed of, before it ever came to trial.
    But Derek felt so strongly about this that he was going to have to do something further now that he knew for a fact that Ashford was still at it. And he couldn’t go around buying up every female Ashford tried to purchase outright, even if he caught wind of every auction of that sort. He didn’t have an endless supply of money. Tonight he’d acted on impulse.
    Perhaps he ought to talk to his Uncle James about what to do. James had dealt a great deal with the unsavory side of life during his pirating days. If anyone would know how to deal with scum like Ashford, he would.
    But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, he was having a devilishly hard time enjoying himself. And he finally began to wonder, when he kept seeing a pair of soft gray eyes in front of him instead of the blue ones belonging to his present partner, if Jeremy and Percy hadn’t been right. What the bloody hell was he still doing at the ball when there was a lovelyyoung woman—under his own roof, for that matter—who’d probably gone to bed tonight wondering why he wasn’t with her?
    Of course, “under his own roof” put a damper on matters. One reason he got along with his father so well, and was rarely taken to task for anything, was because he understood that his father wasn’t going to try to curtail his pleasures as long as he practiced them with complete discretion. And Derek had always done so.
    Which meant he’d never dallied with a wench in the London town house, not even at the two estates that had been turned over to him. Servants’ gossip could be the worst gossip there was, there being no faster grapevine than the one that connected each house down a street and beyond through their butlers, their drivers, their maids, their footmen, and so forth. And that meant he wouldn’t be getting to know his new mistress any better tonight.
    Finally he gave up the pretense of enjoying himself and found Jeremy and Percy to let them know he was leaving and would send the carriage back for them later. They, of course, gave him knowing winks and smirks, thinking he was heading home to enjoy himself. But, then, they didn’t have fathers like Jason Malory.
    Which wasn’t to say he didn’t give going to her a lot of thought on that ride home. Kelsey