When she straightened, Regina wore a wide grin, her shoulders and chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
“Another dance?” he asked. “Or have you had enough?”
She practically fell into him when he took her hand, still giggling and snorting. “I could dance with you all night, Mr. Graham.”
“And what a fine dancer you are, Mrs. Hurst.”
“Before my marriage, it was my favorite part of attending any event. Of course, all that ended once Randolph and I wed. I was only ever allowed to dance with him, and he was barely passable. Before I stopped accompanying him to soirees, I would spend my evenings on the edge of the ballroom, watching everyone else enjoy what I longed to do. I have missed it so much, you know … dancing, being in the company of others. Laughing.”
“Then you shall dance and laugh with me.”
Yanking her against him once they stood on the edge of the throng of dancers he positioned her for a waltz—though there was nothing courtly or sensible about this form of the dance. The fiddler sawed the rhythm several times faster than what one might expect in a ballroom, sending the dancers into a dizzy tailspin of stepping feet and swirling skirts.
Regina clung to him, her expression at once surprised and enchanted as she glanced around to find they weren’t the only couple dancing indecently close. A boisterous laugh tore from her as he spun her, using a hand against her waist to guide her into a wild turn before reeling her back in.
As the world beyond them faded into a meaningless blur, David’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He was locked in Regina’s gaze, falling headlong into a trap of his own making and realizing he could do nothing to stop it. A cold tendril of fear snaked its way through the warm haze of drink and revelry as he realized what he had allowed to happen—what he had made happen with his damnable need to please. He’d wanted to give Regina the child she so desperately craved, then he had wanted to give her pleasure. That hadn’t been enough, though. He had gone from wanting to make her climax to wanting to show her the joy in life’s little pleasures—like being held while one slept, drinking a fine ale, and dancing in a room full of people who weren’t criticizing their every move.
But, as the dance came to an end and David stared down at the woman in the circle of his arms, the realization that he wanted to give her so much more struck him like a club to the back of his head. It wasn’t enough, and never would be. He wanted to give her all of him, everything he had.
David acted without thinking, momentarily oblivious to his surroundings and desperate to know he wasn’t alone in his feelings—sudden and frightening as they were. His forehead fell against hers, and he closed his eyes as their lips brushed. Regina’s hand tightened on his shoulder as her head fell back, eyes wide and questioning when they met his. Had she asked him aloud what he was doing, David doubted he would have an answer for her. He was out of his depth here, with no notion of what to do or say.
So, he deepened the kiss—just for a second, just long enough to register the taste of Regina and ale, and to feel regret when he was forced to pull away.
Swallowing past the painful knot in his throat, he cursed himself for the fool he was. David Graham, connoisseur of women, untamed rake, irreverent debauchee who wore the status of ‘courtesan’ like a badge of honor, had been brought to his knees by this tiny slip of a woman. The tragedy of it all was that not only had she not been trying in the slightest, she likely wanted nothing from him beyond their arrangement. He knew that, had known it from the start. Why, then, had he allowed himself to develop feelings for her? Feelings he was too afraid to name or even consider—but that made themselves more apparent with each passing day.
He was a fool. He was an imbecile.
He was doomed.
Chapter 11
David spent the four weeks following his outing with Regina wrestling with the notion that he was falling in love. At first, it felt like a trick of his drink-addled mind. After all, he’d had quite a lot of ale that night at The Crimson Dove, and it wouldn’t be the first time drunkenness had filled his head with nonsensical ideas. He was simply caught up in having a good time, seeing Regina in clothes that weren’t shapeless and black, watching her smile and knowing he had been the one to make her happy. A frenetic, wild fuck in the carriage on the way home had only further muddied the waters. He clung to her afterward, panting and trembling with the aftershocks of what had just passed between them, a voice in his head telling him he could be this way with her forever and die happy.
A good night’s sleep would be enough to cure him of such melodramatics. Regina Hurst was beautiful, sweet, and compelling. That wasn’t enough for him to up and decide he loved her. However, his feelings became no less true in the harsh light of the following day, or the day after that, or the day after that. Difficult to think of it as a ridiculous lark when it greeted him with each new day, persistently and without fail.
There was nothing to be done about it, of course. It was against the rules for him to even entertain such thoughts. Aside from that, there was Regina’s part in all this. She had made herself quite clear from the beginning that he was a means to an end and nothing more. What did it matter if she had come to like him during their time together? He couldn’t forget that she was his employer in a transaction of flesh and seed. That she liked and trusted him did not mean she loved him. He would be foolish to delude himself into believing otherwise.
And so, his days took on a painful sort of routine, with him very much aware that time was running out. They were together nearly every night of the week, their attempts at siring a babe many and vigorous. For David, their sessions had become less about conception and more about enjoying what pieces of Regina he could have while they were still his. Nothing seemed to have changed for her. She never said anything to him aloud, but David could see the lingering glances she gave herself in the mirror, pulling her nightgown tight and turning this way and that as if searching for even the minutest changes in her shape. He observed the glimmer of hope in her eyes after he spilled inside her, the wistful sighs as she used cushions to elevate her hips, one hand resting over a belly that hadn’t yet begun to swell.
He still wanted to be successful, for the money as well as for Regina’s own happiness. Yet, it became increasingly clear that her success would ultimately damn him. The thought of being sent away once he’d gotten her with child now left a bitter taste in his mouth, and not only because the idea of a person walking around with his hair, or eyes, or facial features unnerved him. He didn’t want to admit exactly why he felt this way, so David continued along the path of denial and avoidance, reminding himself why it had to be this way.
“It will pass,” he told himself. “It only feels so intense because it’s so new. Surely once the arrangement is over, you will be able to move on.”
Glancing about as he walked home from visiting tenants, he rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness. He had taken to talking to himself aloud, perhaps in hopes that hearing his own voice raised in opposition to this idea would help him combat it. Benedict wasn’t here to remind him how messy an arrangement could be once softer feelings got involved, so he had to take matters into his own hands.
“Just look at Hugh,” he reminded himself, boots crunching over the frost-covered ground. The air smelled and tasted of coming snow, and the sharp prick of an intense chill propelled him along faster. “He’s become so dreadfully dull and uninteresting since getting married. He’s practically an old man now.”
But then, David could remember the last time he’d seen his friend. Despite cracking a few jokes over his insistence that he couldn’t join the other courtesans because he wanted to get home to his wife, David had witnessed Hugh’s happiness. It was obvious how marriage to Evelyn had improved Hugh’s mood, as well as the quality of his art once his painting of her had launched him to fame.
Hugh was also about five months away from becoming a father, yet another thought that soured David’s disposition even more.
He would get to hold his child once it was born, and perhaps even have a hand in naming it. Hugh would be present for the appearance of tiny baby teeth and those first clumsy, toddling footsteps. He would introduce the child to watercolors and pastels, and discover whether his offspring possessed any of his natural gift for the arts. He would get to watch Evelyn cradle the tiny little bundle of plump cheeks and downy hair they had made together. He would have everything David would be denied because of the parameters of an arrangement he had readily agreed to.
“You don’t want any of those things,” he growled, combing restless fingers through mussed hair. “You only think you do because of Regina. It’s ridiculous, and you need to snap out of it!”
A few months ago, he’d been terrified at the prospect of creating new life, even if he wouldn’t be the one helping raise the babe once it was born. In fact, it had eased his mind to think of leaving his offspring in Regina’s care so he could go on rebuilding his family holdings and caring for the people who needed him. So, what had changed? Why had he now decided that perhaps Regina and her baby—no, their baby—could become part of that family?
You fell in love with her. That’s what changed.
Shaking his head to try to dislodge that thought, David grunted in frustration at his own idiocy. He wasn’t a man who fell in love, got married, and sired brats. Hugh had been cut from a different cloth from the beginning, already filled with notions of romance and all that rot. But then, there was Dominick, the only man of David’s circle who could be called a bigger rake than him. He was the last person anyone might have pegged as the sort to marry for love. Not only had he done that, he’d created the hell of a scandal in the process. How was this unexpected twist of fate to be explained away?
It couldn’t be; not in any way that would make David feel better about his own situation. In fact, he could too easily see himself mirrored in Nick’s downfall, and that was more frightening than it was comforting.
“Pull yourself together,” he groused, stomping up the front steps.
The waning light of dusk usually filled him with energy and excitement. Most days, it hurried him through his evening toilette and a hasty dinner so he could get to Regina. Tonight, David dragged his feet through the entrance hall, shoulders slumped and a frigid weight heavy in his chest. Even the pleasant aroma of new beeswax candles and lemony floor polish—a sure sign that matters were starting to improve in the Graham household—couldn’t lift his spirits. The closer he came to setting things right around here, the closer he also came to losing Regina for good.
“Welcome home, Master David,” called Mrs. Moffat’s cheery voice. She glanced to the half-open door to the blue salon. “There’s a visitor, but you needn’t worry. Your mother and sisters are entertaining her.”
David’s gaze darted toward the room, head tilting as he listened to the murmur of female voices from within. One was clearly his mother, and then the tangled tones of the twins as they spoke as one and finished one another’s sentences. Then, a pause after a question, and a fourth voice that made his chest constrict.
Regina. She was alone in a room with his mother and sisters, who were likely regaling her with embarrassing anecdotes of his childhood or trying to pry into their relationship.
His panic must have shown outwardly, because Mrs. Moffat patted his shoulder. “Not to worry. Mrs. Graham made the twins promise not to put their little noses in your affairs. They simply wish to show her kindness. She hasn’t any friends in the county at all, you know. Except … well, there’s you, innit?”
Clearing his throat, David tried to smooth his expression into a serene one before meeting the housekeeper’s questioning gaze. “Indeed. Thank you, Mrs. Moffat.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, eyes narrowing as she seemed to try staring straight through him.
Ignoring her probing look, David made his way toward the salon. He didn’t think his mother would be able to hold Petra and Constantia off for much longer without his interference.
Four pairs of eyes landed on him as he lingered in the doorway, now feeling like an unwanted intruder in his own home. Regina stood out as the only one not wearing stark black, a becoming gown of deep burgundy velvet enhancing her flawless complexion. It made David want to help her out of it—a disturbing thought to have while standing under the scrutinizing eyes of his mother and sisters.
“Oh, David,” his mother murmured with a smile. “There you are. Mrs. Hurst arrived half an hour ago, and the girls and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to make her acquaintance.”
“Besides, we haven’t had a visitor in ages,” Petra chimed in, giving David a teasing grin over the rim of her teacup. The little minx was clearly enjoying his discomfort. “And Mrs. Hurst is ever so lovely, isn’t she, Con?”
“Oh yes,” Constantia replied. “Why have you been hiding her from us, David? How wicked of you not to introduce us yourself.”
“It wasn’t my intention to keep you from meeting,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice level. “There just never seemed to be a good time.”
He met Regina’s gaze, and found she looked far more comfortable with this turn of events than he was. Perhaps she thought nothing of it because she was simply meeting her neighbors, women she might encounter again once they were all out of mourning and able to be social again. They would never know about her affair with David, or that her child had been sired by him. They would never truly know Regina, because as he well knew, she allowed very few people to get close.
“It is wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Hurst,” he added with a slight bow, finally regaining hold of his senses as well as his manners. “Forgive me for not being here when you called. I had a matter of business to tend to before I could return for the night.”
“Not that you’re ever here for long before you go dashing off to do God-knows-what,” Petra muttered into her teacup before taking a long sip.
David glared, wondering if she even realized how her voice carried. What had been meant as a whisper to Constantia had carried across the room to him, which meant his mother and Regina had heard it.
Wonderful. Now he would have to suffer his mother’s questions about whether his evenings away from home had anything to do with Regina. If she hadn’t been suspicious before, she certainly must be now. For a widowed woman to indulge in an affair wasn’t unheard of, or even particularly scandalous. But if Regina’s baby were born with any distinguishing features such as his bright blue eyes or swarthy skin, and his mother caught wind of it … Christ, why hadn’t he thought of this before?
Because he needed the money. Because he never intended for Regina to ever come face to face with his mother.
Because he was a bumbling idiot. It was a wonder he’d survived as long as he had without wandering off the edge of a cliff or walking into the path of a carriage and team.
“Mrs. Hurst will be joining us for dinner,” his mother said. “I insisted, and she accepted my invitation.”
“Your mother was quite convincing,” Regina added with a shy smile.
There was a silent question in her eyes, as well as a bit of reticence—almost as if she worried he wouldn’t want her here. David wanted to laugh as he was forced to admit he wanted her to stay more than anything, and not just for dinner. Even as her immaculate dress and beauty put the drab environs of the faded blue salon to shame, David was seized with the urge to drop to his knees and beg her to stay forever. Not just to brighten this room, but his entire world and everything in it.
He was going stark raving mad.
“I am glad to hear it,” he mumbled, running a hand over his jaw, which had begun to sprout a fine spray of stubble over the last several hours. “If you will excuse me, I should go make myself worthy of sharing a table with four such lovely women.”
Petra and Constantia shared communicative looks, while his mother reached for the teapot to refill her cup.
“Of course. Mrs. Hurst will be just fine in our company until you return. Won’t
you, dear?”
“Just so,” Regina agreed. Her head dipped in a slight nod when she met his gaze again, and he took that as reassurance.
Leaving without a longing glance back was difficult, but David managed it. His toilette seemed to drag by, though David’s valet moved with his usual swift efficiency. What felt like an hour seemed an eternity, until at last he was clean, shaved, and dressed for dinner. By the time he returned to the salon, dinner had been announced and the ladies had risen to trek to the dining room. David discovered them on his way down the stairs, his sisters flanking Regina with their arms linked through both of hers. Regina was smiling and laughing as the twins chattered about something or another. David could hardly hear them, so entranced was he at the sight of her walking the corridors of his home as if she belonged here. What had felt like a cold and dismal place became something more with her here—not a place to be escaped, but one to be nurtured and shaped and made worthy of her.
“I like her.”
He started at the sound of his mother’s voice, mortified to be caught gaping at Regina’s retreating back.
Raising one dark eyebrow, his mother pursed her lips. “It would seem you like her, too.”
“Mrs. Hurst has been gracious and kind,” he hedged, though he wouldn’t avoid her gaze. She knew him too well, and would see that for the avoidance it was. “Despite being a woman, she is very knowledgeable about the running of an estate the size of ours.”
“Is she?” Taking his arm, she let him lead her to dining room. “That is not at all surprising, though I do find it odd that she would come to call so late in the day if her business with you were pertaining to the farm.”
David nearly tripped as his mother’s words had the intended effect. Her teasing smirk put him on edge, telling him he was doing a terrible job hiding his feelings. Once he registered that thought, another more pressing one, took its place at the forefront of his mind.
Taming of the Rake (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 4) Page 19
