Darius regarded her coolly. “I admit nothing. Besides, you are a courtesan now, not a naïve girl. This isn’t the Marriage Mart. You are selling yourself to the highest bidder.”
“A courtesan never sells herself, Darius,” Serena replied. “She chooses with whom to spend her time, and settles for nothing less than being treated with respect. You may have succeeded in prejudicing your competition, but then again, that was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
“All is fair in love and war,” Darius replied. “Shakespeare said that.”
Serena folded her arms across her bosom, which still burned from Darius’s touch. “No he did not,” she spat. “It was John Lyly. And the quote is, ‘The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.’”
“Really?” Darius looked impressed.
“Really.”
“I stand corrected,” he said.
“Is that all you have to say?” Serena asked in disbelief.
Darius quirked a brow. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about the correct identification of Renaissance poets.”
“There is much you do not know about me, Darius,” she replied, glaring at him. “Very much indeed.”
“And it is an aggrieved state which I very much wish to remedy.”
“And this is how you think to do it?” she demanded. “By embarrassing me again in public?”
“Public? It was Havelock and Balfour. And you can bet neither one of them will say a word about it.”
“You think so, do you?”
“I know so,” Darius assured. “Havelock is a loyal friend. He would never betray such a confidence. And as for your precious duke, exposing us would only serve to make him look the fool. He would rather fall on his sword than do that.”
Serena seethed with anger. “Tell me one thing, then. Why?”
Lord Kane’s blue eyes burned with heat, primal and possessive, as he looked down at her. “Because I want you, Serena. I will see you in no man’s bed but my own.”
“And you think this dirty little trick will serve to win my favor?”
He gave an unapologetic shrug. “Every good soldier has a few tricks up his sleeve.”
Serena gave him a contemptuous stare. If she could have killed him with it, she would have. “Well, I have a new experience for you, Darius. I am leaving.”
She turned abruptly and began to stride away.
“What about the diamonds?” Darius called after her. She thought she heard a tinge of amusement in his voice.
“They’re my diamonds, now.” Serena flung the words over her shoulder at him, wishing they were daggers.
* * *
Darius returned to the house and sought out his partner in crime, Major Havelock Price. While the ball continued on in the grand house, Darius crept down hallways and dark passages, staying out of sight of any of the guests.
He entered the library, closing the door quietly behind him. Havelock waited in a chair beside the fire, his expression curious.
Darius poured a brandy for each of them, then sank into a seat in a red leather wing chair across from Havelock and raised his glass, but felt no pleasure in it. “To a successful mission.”
Havelock grinned. “And to Miss Ransom’s beauty and spirited nature. I suspect she put you in your place, Darius, and deservedly so.”
Darius gave his friend a dark look. “She most certainly did, and though the so-called mission was a success, it was bloody wretched of me, and still, the battle is not yet won. You are always too quick to assume victory.”
“Pish tosh,” Havelock replied. “I’ll wager you’ll have her in your bed soon enough.”
Darius sipped his brandy and watched the flames dance behind the grate. Yes, Serena in his bed. As she should have been long ago. Though it was coming with a cost.
Tonight, Serena had admonished him for using a dirty trick to achieve his goal. How could he possibly excuse his behavior, except to say that the war had taught him to be single-minded and ruthless when dealing with the enemy, and right now, the enemy was the Duke of Balfour.
Once his rival was out of the running, Darius would be the only logical choice for Serena, due to his wealth and status. And if he had to resort to trickery to help her realize that, so be it. Did the end not justify the means?
The brandy burned his throat as he swallowed another mouthful, reflecting upon the current state of affairs.
Deep down, he supposed he and Serena were more similar than she cared to admit. Though she maintained that life as a courtesan would be empowering and exotic, the fact remained that she was about to sell herself to the highest bidder.
Wasn’t that exactly what he had done, in marrying Henrietta? Miss Barton had paid him handsomely for putting a ring on her finger and coming to her bed. And he had done exactly that. It was no different than the path Serena had chosen for herself.
That was another reason he had to have Serena as his courtesan. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being at another man’s mercy, in another man’s bed, nothing more than a plaything—for Darius understood exactly what it meant to be someone’s plaything. He had been Henrietta’s, forced to endure her vengeful presence day after day.
His wife had presented herself as a rational woman at first, but not long after the honeymoon, she became like a child who squeezed the stuffing out of a much-loved doll, then picked its eyes out. She never forgave him for his indiscretion at the Telford Ball, and her bitterness and hatred grew with every passing day. To escape the unpleasantness of his marriage, Darius had gone to Town when his wife was in the country, or gone to the country when she was at Town. A few days later, Henrietta would turn up wherever he was, with a malicious sheen in her eyes that she tried to disguise with a lighthearted voice in front of others. But as soon as they were alone…
Where had he been? she would ask. Who had he seen? Why had he not returned to her? Was there another woman? Who was she? The woman from the Telford Ball? That whore?
Henrietta’s moods could change as quickly as the weather. One moment she’d be weeping, the next, screaming and throwing a vase at his head. His reflexes were well-honed, but once or twice she’d hit him with a well-aimed missile. That was how he’d earned the scar above his left eyebrow. Most people thought he’d suffered it in the Peninsula, when in reality, he’d gotten it at Manning Park.
Once, he’d caught her slicing up his portrait with a knife, stabbing at his heart and cutting out his eyes. And when she kicked his dog down the stairs for no apparent reason, except to satisfy her punishing cruel streak, Darius feared ever siring a child with her. He knew he would live in constant concern for his son’s or daughter’s wellbeing.
Perhaps it had been a premonition…
Though it was difficult, Darius had kept his wife’s fitful behavior a secret from everyone save Havelock, who was always there to lighten the mood with a dram of brandy. It was Havelock who observed that if Wellington could have assembled an army of Henriettas, they could have won the war back in ’09.
So Darius had done his best to stay out of his wife’s way, for all the good it had done. In some ways, it merely made her more desperate to be with him, more hateful and vengeful. But at least it kept one of them sane.
Darius felt a wash of anger come over him suddenly. Serena had no idea what she was getting into with this new vocation of hers. She thought that she would be the one in control. That was what he’d thought about Henrietta, too. But he had been wrong.
Imagining a free spirit like Serena under the thumb of a man like the Duke of Balfour made Darius want to smash something, for Balfour was not what he seemed. Weak men usually weren’t. Though quite useless in the company of other men, they rarely missed an opportunity to oppress the fairer sex, for it made them feel stronger than they actually were. Balfour might shower Serena with gifts, but the price would be his ill treatment of her.
Havelock’s voice pulled Darius out of his thoughts.
“I daresay the duke will remove his suit, now that
he saw you sampling Miss Ransom’s considerable charms.”
“Then our plan will have been a success,” Darius replied, hoping it was worth it.
“Of course, the wild card in all of this is Miss Ransom herself,” Havelock pointed out. “She may be so infuriated with you that she’ll refuse your suit on principle.”
Darius pondered that outcome. “Yes, I’m sure she will want to do exactly that. But if I were a betting man—and you know that I am—I’d wager that Lady Devlyn will advise her to accept my offer posthaste. For it is not only Serena’s future, but that of the Courtesan Club as a whole, which is at stake.”
Havelock grinned. “Exactly. If it becomes known that a powerful man like the duke has seen fit to reject the most desirable woman in London, then perhaps the Courtesan Club is something of a hoax. Their careers might be over before they even begin.”
“Lady Devlyn is a shrewd business woman,” Darius pointed out. “I’m sure she’s thought of that already and is advising her protégées accordingly. Come, let’s have another drink.”
Havelock held out his glass. “To you and Miss Ransom. May you next sample her charms in a more private setting, which doesn’t include an interruption from the duke.”
Chapter 9
“In some ways, the courtesan must be like a general. One must always have a contingency plan, for more often than not, the battle does not go as expected. Victory is not the result of fate, but of careful engineering.”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
“It is as we thought,” Lady Devlyn said, closing the vellum note in her hand. “His Grace, the Duke of Balfour, has rescinded his offer to you, my dear.”
Serena placed the delicate china cup back in its saucer, wishing the strong hot coffee could do more to improve her mood. Mansfield had delivered the duke’s missive shortly after the ladies had sat down for breakfast. Serena hadn’t felt much like eating, and especially didn’t after she’d received the duke’s note. Unwilling to face it, she’d handed it to Lady D to read aloud.
Felicity and Bliss exchanged a concerned look, but kept mum. It seemed no one knew what to say.
“An unfortunate turn of events,” Lady Devlyn pronounced. “We must act quickly in order to repair the damage before it spirals out of control.”
Serena’s stomach tensed as she asked, “What do you mean?”
“Ladies, a large part of being a successful courtesan is the image you project,” Lady D said. “Desirability, exclusivity, and unattainability are every bit as important as the sensual skills you’ve learned. The sad truth is, no one wants a courtesan that no one else wants. If the gentlemen of the ton find out that the duke no longer desires your company, Serena, your future—and indeed, that of the Courtesan Club as a whole—may be in peril.”
Serena fought against the anger that swelled inside her like a storm. She stood up from the breakfast table and stalked across the room. “This is all Darius’s fault. Once again, he has ruined me. I should very much like to kill him,” she said quite seriously.
Lady Devlyn smiled, as if she understood exactly how Serena felt. “Alas, killing him won’t help you achieve your goal, so I do not recommend it. Though I can see why the thought might tempt you. No, no—killing Lord Kane will do nothing to repair the situation. That is why you must become his courtesan, and quickly.”
“What?” Serena cried.
“You must accept Lord Kane’s offer, Serena—before anyone knows that the duke has removed his.” Lady Devlyn set down her coffee cup, as if that settled the matter.
“But I hate Darius now, even more than I did before,” Serena protested. “He tricked me with what amounts to blackmail. How can I let him get away with that?”
“Who said anything about letting him get away with it?” Lady D asked. “I am not suggesting that at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. By becoming his courtesan, you will have the opportunity to make him pay for his mistakes, over and over. It will all turn out to your advantage, if you play your cards right. You’ll see.”
Serena looked at her friends beseechingly, as if they could somehow help her out of this mess. But she knew that was impossible. No one could help her now, except Serena herself.
“But this is not what I wanted,” she insisted. “This is not how it should have turned out.”
“But this is how it has turned out,” Lady Devlyn reminded her. “You must make the best of the matter and move on. That is, if you still wish to be a courtesan. It is your choice to do that, or not. A true courtesan would not let this turn of events disrupt her long-term goals. A true courtesan can take any situation and turn it into a victory.”
Serena absorbed her benefactress’s words. She knew deep in her heart that Lady D was right. She was right about everything, it seemed.
The problem was Serena’s heart. It was bucking and clawing at the thought of Darius coming anywhere near it—ever again.
“Serena, dear, it is your decision to make,” Lady Devlyn said. “I am not trying to convince you of anything. You can walk away right now, and I shall continue on with Felicity and Bliss. I suppose I could try to find a proper husband for you. I do have some connections. I’d wager no one would hire you as a governess for their children, so that line of work will be closed to you.”
Serena’s heart sank like a wounded bird. If Lady Devlyn was trying to cheer her up, she was doing a damned poor job of it.
Lady D continued, “Promise me one thing, Serena, that you won’t let fear influence your decision. For if you do that now, you will let fear control your life forever. And we both know that is not any way to live.”
Serena nodded in understanding. Needing a moment to herself, she walked across the room toward the windows that overlooked the garden below. She raised her fingers to touch the pane of glass and marveled at how such a fragile thing protected her from the elements outdoors, which right now rained cold and dreary.
Perhaps control over one’s life was much like this window pane—thin, brittle and transparent. In some ways the safety it imparted was an illusion, for the glass could be so easily shattered. And yet it could also withstand quite a lot.
That was the real problem. Darius had shattered her sense of security a year ago, even her sense of self, and she was afraid he would do it again.
Staying away from him had seemed the best strategy. But the man kept turning up, like a bad farthing. Someone, or something was testing her mettle—the gods or the devil himself, she knew not which. Of one thing she was certain: if she ran away now, admitting defeat, she would let Darius win.
And she, Serena Ransom, London’s newest courtesan, would rather die than do that.
She turned to look at her friends, Felicity and Bliss, who sat at the breakfast table and regarded her expectantly. They had followed her on this thrilling adventure to become a courtesan, and she was not about to leave them in the lurch.
She would conquer her fear.
She would take Darius as her lover.
And she would bleed him dry of every pound she could.
* * *
Darius speared a bite of poached egg over toast and hungrily ate it, washing it down with strong, black coffee. The meal was tasty, yet it did nothing to satisfy his other hunger—the one that raged in his veins for a certain flame-haired temptress.
Oh, how he hated waiting. But it was now up to Serena to return the volley. If she didn’t, her future as a courtesan would most likely be over.
Not that he cared much about that. He would prefer it, actually, and perhaps that was his intention, deep down. To become her protector for as long as she would have him, and then set her free her to live as an independent woman, with her dignity intact and without ever having to sell her body to another man. Lord knows she’d earned that right.
“Do you think we’ll hear from Miss Ransom today?” Havelock asked, spreading raspberry jam over a thick slice of buttery toast.
Darius tried to ignore the spike of unease he felt as he consid
ered the alternative. “Of course. Serena is not stupid. She’ll realize that I am her best option to secure her future and will act accordingly.”
“Are you sure?” Havelock asked. “She might be so angry that she’ll continue to refuse you out of spite. Perhaps she’ll take Lord Bainbridge to her bed just to annoy you.”
“That old goat?” Darius replied with horror. “Certainly not.”
“Why? He’s almost as rich as you,” Havelock pointed out. “And I hear from his current mistress—Mrs. Calloway—that he falls asleep most nights straight away after supper. Serena certainly wouldn’t have as heavy a workload with old Bainbridge. Not like she would with you, I presume.”
Darius cut off a link of sausage, stabbing it angrily with his fork.
“Or perhaps she wishes to play tickle-tail with Sir Hector Houndstooth,” Havelock continued. “He has much to recommend him, not only one foot in the grave, but a nice collection of art, which presumably could be hers if she docks him to death.”
Just the thought of any of those rusty old bluffs touching Serena made Darius burn with fury.
“After all you’ve done to her,” Havelock said, “I couldn’t blame her, you know.”
Darius glared. “You make me sound like the very devil himself.”
“Aren’t you?” Havelock asked, taking a swig of coffee. “You’ve said it yourself, more than once.”
“Dammit.” Darius chewed his bread and tried to rein in his frustrations. It wouldn’t do to fight with Havelock. “Do not forget, you helped me ruin her chances with the duke. Now that it’s done, all that matters is that I’ve made Serena an excellent offer, the best one she’s likely to get in her line of work. Not to mention, I’ll be keeping her safe from all the lecherous bastards out there, some of whom you were just good enough to mention.”
At this, Havelock laughed. “Darius, you totty-headed fool, don’t you see? You’re one of the lecherous bastards!” His friend kept laughing, but it wasn’t the kind of laughter Darius felt like joining in on, because it wasn’t what he wanted to be.
His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) Page 10
