Why me? Oh, dear Lord, why me?

That was the question I asked myself while I was skilfully and determinedly steered upstairs. The soft arm around my shoulder, it had turned out, belonged to the brothel madam. And while it was soft, it was also astonishingly strong and determined to make sure a potential client didn't slip away.

'No need to be nervous, lad,' she purred into my ear as she manoeuvred me down the corridor. I was dividing my efforts between trying to wrestle free and throwing venomous glares over my shoulder at the figure of Mr Ambrose. Neither seemed to have the least effect. 'I'll 'ave Amy take care of ye. She'll let ye do whatever ye want.'

Oh great! How about screaming and running away?

'And if ye're skittish, she'll take care of everythin'. Just lie back and relax, and she'll make ye scream.'

I don't doubt it! I'll scream bloody murder!

Still smiling, the brothel madam pulled open the door at the end of the corridor.

'Amy! Got a new gent for ye. This here is young Victor. Be gentle with 'im, will ye? It's his first time.'

And hopefully my last!

Gently but determinedly, the madam shoved me inside and closed the door. Immediately I whirled, my hands going for the doorknob – but before I could reach it, I heard the scrape of a key in the lock. Bloody hell! The conniving little...

Well, I had to hand it to her: she was a good businesswoman. Even Mr Ambrose could not have handled a prospective client better.

'Victor, eh?' The voice coming from behind me was melodious, like a little bird sitting on a tree in spring. 'Well, ye certainly shall be the victor tonight. Why don't ye turn 'round and let me see yer handsome face?'

Taking a deep breath, I made sure that my belt buckle was tightly shut and turned around to face my doom.

My doom took the form of a small, slender young woman, probably only a year or two older than me, who regarded me with interest from a chaise longue in the corner. To my intense relief, she wore clothes. However, the big bed in the middle of the room suggested this happy circumstance might not be of long duration.

'I, um...Miss...'

'Amilia,' the slender girl whispered, her eyes twinkling. Was she laughing at me? 'But ye, young stallion, may call me Amy.'

Young stallion?

She was laughing at me!

Slowly, she rose from the chaise longue and started towards me. I retreated until I bumped into a corner.

'Now, err... look here, Miss. There's no need for that. We can just wait a little and go out again, surely? We don't need to...you know. I'll pay you anyway. I'll pay you anything you want!'

'That won't be no good.' She shook her head, her eyes sliding over me, assessing. 'Madam always knows if a customer ain't satisfied.'

'Trust me, I'd be a lot more satisfied if you let me sit quietly in a corner somewhere!'

'Oh, come on.' She gave a little laugh. 'Don't be shy. I'll take good care of ye and your little friend.'

'My little friend?'

'Or maybe 'e's big. Who knows?' She shrugged. 'Let's find out, shall we?'

And she reached for my trousers.

With a squeak, I jumped back – and slammed right into a wall.

'No! Let's not!'

'Oh, so ye're one of those who like the chase, are ye?' Her eyes sparkled, and she started towards me.

'No! No, I'm definitely not.'

'There ain't no reason to be ashamed. I'll be discreet.' And she leapt like a panther. Giving another squeak, I ducked out of the way just in time.

'No, please! You don't understand! You don't want to do this. I'm not what you think. I can't... I haven't...'

Her eyes widened in understanding. 'Oh dear.'

'Yes!' Relief flooded through me. Finally! She had understood. She had seen me for what I really was.

'Ye...ye are...'

'Yes.'

'...a virgin?'

What?

'Never dipped your wick before, 'ave ye, poor boy?'

No! No!

She gave me a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring. 'Not to worry! Like I said, Amy'll take good care of your little friend. We'll start with something easy. Ye lie back, and I'll–'

I covered my ears with my hands just in time to prevent having to hear what exactly she planned to do. Not getting the message, she started towards me again. Frantically, I glanced from left to right – and suddenly spotted it. My way to freedom. My salvation. The window.

So what if we were two stories up and I would probably break my neck? Desperate times demanded desperate measures. Leaping out of the reach of Amy the Terrible Temptress, I grabbed the window latch and wrenched it open. One thrust of my arm and the cold wind blew into the room through the open window.

'Stop! Remain where you are! Um...one foot nearer, and I, err... I plunge myself from the precipice! Yes, that's what I'll do! I'll plunge myself straight down, and my body shall be crushed out of the very form of humanity upon the stones of that courtyard, ere it become the victim of thy brutality!'

All right, maybe that was a little bit over the top. But it worked for that girl in Ivanhoe backed into a corner by a lecherous Templar.

The girl frowned. 'Eh? What?'

'Stay the bloody hell away from me or I'll jump!'

'What?' Planting her feet a few feet away from me, the girl put her fists on her hips. 'Now listen 'ere, guv! I ain't that bad!'

'Oh. Um...I didn't mean to imply–'

'Just so you know, there's plenty a fellow who'd ask nicely and pay good money for a little romp with Amy!'

'I, err...am sure they would. It's just–'

'It's just what?' Her bright eyes bored into me like daggers, and suddenly she didn't look so much like a delicate songbird anymore. 'Ain't I pretty enough for ye? Someone 'as a pretty 'igh opinion of themselves here, eh?'

She started towards me, and before asking my brain about it, my legs started backing away. My hands rose pleadingly. 'No, it's not that. You're, um...quite pretty.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Quite?'

'I meant to say very! Very pretty! Beautiful, in fact.'

'And ye don't think I'm ugly?'

'No! No, not at all.'

'Oh. Well, well.' Suddenly, she was grinning again. 'That problem's solved, then,'

And she leapt forward. Before I could move so much as a finger, she had me in her clutches.

'Aww,' she purred. 'Good, strong. Now, let's see...' And she reached for my crotch. Her fingers searched, once. Then twice. Then a third time. Slowly, her eyes, widening with shock, rose from my nether region to my face.

I did my best to conjure a smile.

'Surprise, surprise.'

*~*~**~*~*

'...and when we had all the gold loaded back onto the ship, we returned to London. And here's where I've been ever since, slaving away for His Mightiness, Ambrose the Miserly.'

Clearing my dry throat, I reached for a carafe of water on the bedside table and filled myself a glass. When I was done soothing my parched vocal cords, I looked over at Amy, and caught her wide-eyed stare.

'Ye...ye dressed up as a man to vote?'

'Yep.'

'And that man hired ye off the street as his...'

'His private secretary. Yes, he did.' I smirked. 'Though he was less than pleased when he found out that under my top hat, trousers and waistcoat I wasn't exactly the strapping young man he thought he'd hired.'

'But he kept ye. And ever since then, ye've bin gallivanting 'round the world with him, to Egypt and America and God only knows where!'

'Oh, I didn't see all of America. Just the South half. Argentina and Brazil, mostly.'

'And, of course, that's so little!' Amy shook her head, still staring. 'And under that getup, ye're really...ye ain't got no...you know.' Reaching out, she poked between my legs.

'Hey! Hands off! That's a restricted area.'

'Sorry. I just 'ad to be sure. 'ad to see whether you're really...you know.'

'I believe the word you're looking for is "female".'

She gave a little snort of laughter. Again, she let her incredulous eyes roam over my disguise. I had to admit, I was rather proud of it. I had come a long way since I first slipped into my Uncle Bufford's dusty Sunday best. I had bought my own clothes, with my own money. And quite nice ones they were, too, if I do say so myself.

'So ye've been running around behind yer guardians' backs for years, making money of yer own, in the company of men...'

'With my clothes on!' I reminded her.

Well, most of the time, anyway.

A giggle escaped her. 'I believe that! I ain't sure I could 'ave pried your clothes off ye with a crowbar! And all this time ye've been with 'im, ye've bin pretendin' to be 'is secretary?'

I raised my chin. 'I'm not pretending. I am his secretary.'

'But you squash yourself into a corset to 'ide yer boobies.'

'Ehem. Yes. I suppose I do that.'

'Bloody Christ!' Leaning back, Amy waved at herself, as if she was in danger of fainting. 'That's just...well, I don't know. I ain't got no idea what to say.'

I grinned. I had to admit, I was a tiny little bit pleased. I had never been able to brag of my exploits before, mostly because if my aunt learned of them she would rip my head off and pickle it in vinegar. This unexpected chance to share my experiences with a fellow victim of the patriarchy did give me quite a little bit of an ego boost.

'Wait!' Snapping her fingers, Amy suddenly shot straight again. 'Scratch that! I do know what to say! Bloody 'ell, yes I do. Or rather, I know what to ask.' She turned towards me with an evil grin. 'Ye've left something out.'

I blinked at her. 'I have?'

'Ain't no good playin' the innocent with me, missy! I know all the dirty tricks. So, out with it! What's goin' on between the two of ye?'

I managed to blink at her innocently, while inside, my stomach made a somersault. 'Going on? Why, he pays me for keeping his calendar in order, and filing his papers and–'

'Don't ye take me for a fool, missy!' Amy grinned. 'I know there's bin exchanged more between the two of ye than files and folders! Ye're sweet on 'im.'

My ears heated. Damn! 'No, I'm not! There's nothing between us! Nothing!'

'Nothin'...?'

I cleared my throat. My ears grew even hotter. 'Well...'

'Ha! I knew it! Ye've got it bad!'

'No need to overexaggerate. There might have been one or two instances...'

'One or two?'

'All right, maybe more than two.'

'Or maybe more than a dozen?'

I sent her a stern look which she answered with a cheeky grin. 'Instances of what, exactly?'

My eyes flicked to the door. Was it possible the madam could have had mercy on me and unlocked it by now?

Amy noticed the direction of my glance, and shook her head, her grin widening. 'No chance, missy! Ye ain't going nowhere before I know everythin'.'

My gaze was drawn to the window.

'Don't ye dare try!' Amy threatened. 'I'll drag ye back by yer hair.'

I believed her. Damn!

'We...kissed.'

'Ha! I knew it.'

'Repeatedly.'

'Ha!'

'Don't get me wrong, I didn't plan to! Not at all. Rikkard Ambrose is the most disgustingly chauvinistic miser on the surface of this earth. I would never have...could never have...well...it just sort of...happened.'

Amy patted me on the shoulder. 'No need to worry. I understand.'

My face brightened. 'You do?'

'Of course! I saw 'im from the gallery earlier. If I'd been workin' for a man who looks like that, I'd have seen to it that things "sort of happened" sooner or later, too.'

I threw her another glare, which she completely ignored. Instead of looking at me, she was staring into space, and had a contemplative expression on her face.

'So, tell me,' she mused. 'What 'ave ye done to catch 'im?'

I blinked. 'Catch him?'

'Of course! God, are ye daft? Ye don't let a man like that get away!'

'You don't?'

'Of course not!'

I met her gaze, and as I did, I realized she was right. I didn't want to let Rickard Ambrose go. I didn't know what I wanted from him, exactly, but I knew I couldn't let anyone else have him. The mere thought made me want to strangle the world.

So...there was only one thing left to do: get him!

A tentative smile tugged at my lips. Who said it was only men who could chase women? I was a feminist! I could do anything I bloody well wanted. And I wanted him. He was mine! He just didn't know it yet.

Squaring my shoulders, I leaned towards my co-conspirator. 'How do I catch him?' I enquired. 'With a net?'

She gave me a queer look. 'Ye ain't got much experience in chasin' men, do ye?'

'Of course I have! Plenty!'

'Aye?'

'In chasing them away,' I admitted, grudgingly. 'It always seemed the much more sensible option.'

She gave an evil little chuckle. 'It is, mostly. But in this case...'

'Yes.' I sighed. 'I know.'

'Has he said anythin' that tells ye he wants ye?

'Said anything? You do realize you're talking about Mr Rikkard Ambrose, don't you?'

'Stubborn one, is he?'

'You can say that again!'

'Aye, well...' Rubbing her hands, she, too, leaned closer until we were huddled together, the perfect little feminine conspiracy, ready to take over the world. 'We'll have to do something about that, then, won't we?'

Reaching into the bedside table, she pulled out a book with a plain black cover. When she let it fall open on her lap, I saw it was a book with illustrations. Lots of illustrations. And not the kind you'd find in children's books.

I stared, my eyes going wide

'Good God! That man...is he...is that his? And how is he able to bend...? And her...Holy moly! She can't really be...'

Amy grinned. 'Practice makes perfect.'

I swallowed. She patted me on the back. 'Listen up, and listen closely, because we ain't got much time. I'm gonna tell you some things. And then, I'm gonna show you some things. And when ye and him are alone next time in a nice, quiet place...' She winked. It was the lewdest and most brilliant gesture I had ever seen.

'Then I cast my net?' I guessed.

'Ye won't need one. The best way to catch a man is to make him want to get caught.'

*~*~**~*~*

Forty-five very educational minutes later, I came down the stairs, just as Mr Ambrose was rising from beside the prone, opium-drugged figure of Mr Cox, signed contract in hand.

'Ah. There you are, Mr Linton.' He regarded me as if I were a chastened lapdog. 'And? Was your tryst...entertaining?'

'Oh yes.'

'I trust you learned your lesson?'

'Oh yes.' Somehow, I managed not to smile an evil smile of anticipation. But it was very hard. 'I certainly did.'