His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3)

by Michelle McMaster

  “Is that why you built the cottage?” she asked.

  Darius nodded. “That was my first full-scale project. I had built smaller structures prior to that. A hut for the gamekeeper, a small folly or two for Caro to play in.”

  “Do you plan to build more, now that you have the money to do it?” Serena asked.

  “Perhaps one day,” he answered. “But my first duty is to our estates and the people who live on them. I cannot—and I will not—risk our financial stability in order to pursue my own interests. My father did that. It will be a cold day in hell before I do.”

  Serena made no reply, instead watched as Darius prowled around the ruins like a restless tiger.

  He continued, “It’s quite ironic that my father, the sixth earl, nearly bankrupted us by building facsimiles of ruins such as these. They are magnificent to behold, but not worth the price we all paid, I think.”

  Looking about at the beautiful follies, landscapes and vistas that Darius’s father had constructed, Serena had to agree. Thinking about her own past as a penniless viscount’s daughter, she felt unwelcome emotion swirl within her breast.

  “What’s wrong?” Darius asked. He didn’t seem to miss even the slightest change in her mood these days.

  Serena forced herself to breathe evenly, and said, “It’s silly. And best forgotten.”

  Darius reached out to touch her arm. It was a firm touch, yet gentle at the same time. “Tell me.”

  Serena met his eyes. Instead of the hawkish look she usually saw within his gaze, Darius’s blue eyes showed only quiet concern, and a depth of understanding that unsettled her.

  Serena explained, “Seeing such extravagance makes me think not of the architectural beauty before me, but of how desperately hungry I once was. Only a man who has never known hunger could build such a thing. I suppose it stirs my anger.”

  She walked about the ruins, studying the exquisite facade, touching the manmade crumbling stones. “How impressive it all is…yet, if one looks closely, one can see that it is nothing but a fake. Do you suppose that was what your father was trying to say with all this?”

  “What do you mean?” Darius asked.

  She shrugged and said, “That if you examine something too closely, you may find more flaws than you bargained for.”

  “I doubt it,” Darius replied. “My father wanted only to see his dreams come to fruition. He wanted to look over his lands and imagine its romantic origins. So he constructed them himself. However, in architecture, as in life or art, different people see different things. I’m sure he had no idea someone would look at his creation one day and see only that it was a copy, and not what it appeared to be, at all.”

  Serena looked at another folly off in the distance, and couldn’t help but think of how such structures mirrored her life as a courtesan. Her association with Darius was exactly like the manmade creation before her. It was there, and yet not there at the same time. And in a way, so was she.

  She and Darius shared the most intimate pleasures a man and woman could. There were no secrets between their bodies, only a primal recognition of each other’s heated desire. But that was all they shared. She was under contract to provide Lord Kane with the ultimate in sexual pleasure, and she gave of her body willingly. But feelings were kept tightly locked away, as if coming out into the light would make them wither and die.

  “You said that these ruins made you angry, just now,” Darius continued, walking about, touching the manufactured stone. “They made me angry once, too.”

  “I thought you were proud of Manning Park,” she said.

  “I am,” he replied. “But this estate is a more demanding mistress than any woman ever could be. After my father died, it became apparent just how much money he had spent on these constructions. He had funnelled all the profits from the estates into his architecture, until there were no more profits to be had. The farmers and their families were starving, the livestock depleted. There was no grain to plant because there was no money with which to buy it. You are not the only one who has known hunger, Serena. We had so little food that first year…I often went without in order to keep Caroline and my mother fed. And yes, it made me angry. I came up here one day with a sledgehammer, determined to knock my father’s silly structures to the ground.”

  He beckoned her to look around the back of one of the crumbling temple pillars. Serena followed him, curious to see what he wanted to show her.

  “You see here…and here?” Darius pointed at several chinks in the stone. Unlike the crumbling surface surrounding them, these marks were sharp and jagged, as if the stone had split into shards instead of being worn away by the ravages of time. “This is where I went at it. I pounded and pounded the bloody thing, until I exhausted myself. Father’s construction was top notch, though. The ruins were designed to last for centuries. These few marks were all I managed to accomplish.”

  Serena reached out to touch the chinks in the stone. They seemed to radiate with the anger that had crafted them, still. She imagined Darius out here, swinging the hammer like a mad man. Her lips curved with a smile.

  “What are you grinning about?” Darius asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s just…That’s one way to deal with adversity, I suppose. Hit it with a hammer until it goes away.”

  “Too much of the soldier still in me, I suppose,” he said, grinning, too. “‘Blast the buggers’—that’s what we always said in the army. If I’d had a cannon, I would have blown these bloody things to bits.”

  “Perhaps you should have notified Whitehall that the plot to rescue Bonaparte was a success,” Serena commented, “and he had taken up hiding within these ruins. That would have brought you enough cannon, I daresay.”

  Darius looked impressed, saying, “That’s not half bad, you know. I could kick myself for not thinking of such a plan. Could have looked like half a hero.”

  Serena gave him a sideways glance. In the golden fall light, with his dark hair unruly in the cool breeze, he looked like more than half a hero, indeed.

  She realized suddenly that she had never thought of what hardships Darius might have endured in his past—hardships that were not that different from those she herself had experienced. She was the daughter of a viscount, and it had not saved her from hard times. Darius was the son of an earl, and that lofty title had not saved him or his family, either.

  She was discovering things about Darius that she had never imagined, and never wanted to. It seemed that under his selfish exterior, he was a man with a painful family history, not unlike her own.

  Darius held his hand out to her, his blue eyes glowing wickedly. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the grotto, next.”

  “What happens in the grotto?” she asked.

  He pulled Serena close and whispered sensually in her ear, “Let’s find out.”

  Chapter 19

  “The courtesan should take pains to ensure that she does not form too many attachments during her associations. The only close relationships she should have are with money, jewels, and property.”

  –from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

  The first two weeks at Manning Park had been full of surprises for Serena, the Grotto being but one of them.

  Stepping inside the carefully constructed folly, Serena had been transported to another place and time. The place seemed filled with magic, where faeries might be dancing just around the corner.

  Shafts of natural light entered the chamber through carefully hidden openings, reflecting upon thousands of crystalline stones covering the walls and jagged ceiling. The sound of water drew them to the main chamber, where a little stream trickled down a cascade of sparkling stones to mingle with the depths of a mysterious, mythical pool.

  And there was Darius, strutting about the magical setting like Oberon in Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’

  It had quite fired up Serena’s passions.

  She had begun to disrobe first, slowly, languidly, enjoying t
he excitement of the cool air on her heated skin. Darius stripped as well, and she enjoyed watching him. His body was truly magnificent, his well-honed muscle and battle scars giving him the look of an ancient god.

  He’d spread their clothes on a soft patch of ground near the pool, making a rough bed for them. Darius had lain upon it first, and Serena had climbed atop him like a cat. She’d felt a brazen desire unlike any she’d felt before, and had been the aggressor in their lovemaking. She’d never felt so free, or so powerful, like a faerie queen seducing a mortal man just for the fun of it.

  Perhaps there was magic in the Grotto. There certainly had been that day. As well as the next time they`d used it for a passionate encounter. And the next.

  Back at the cottage, Darius’s cooking had also been a surprise—if not for the very idea of it, for the undeniable quality of the food.

  Serena’s protector was as good a cook as she had ever encountered. His coffee was hot and strong—much like the man himself. His eggs were perfectly poached, and his toast always even on both sides. He could roast a leg of lamb over an open fire, and heat potatoes in the rocks. Some hearty bread, creamery butter and fresh cheese—sent from one of the farmer’s wives—made a tasty addition to any meal.

  As she enjoyed the fresh air and natural surroundings of Manning Park, Serena thought of Marie Antoinette and her penchant for playing the shepherdess in the Trianon Gardens at Versailles. Perhaps that was what Serena was doing here as well, playing a part. But unlike the poor, doomed French queen, Serena was not completely removed from the reality of her life.

  Perhaps the biggest surprise of all, and one which she had been completely unprepared for, was seeing her dear friend, Caro, again. Darius’s sister had come to visit Serena several times already, always with her adorable children in tow.

  More often than not, Serena found herself out in the yard with them, playing hide and seek, or cup and ball, or graces. She especially enjoyed the last game, in which she and her opponent—usually Annabelle, since Evan insisted it was a girl’s game—rolled their beribboned hoops toward each other and tried to catch them with a wand. For some reason, it made Serena laugh with unbridled mirth. And when Serena and Bella laughed, Caro and Evan usually joined in, too.

  Serena had not had so much innocent fun since…well, never. Her own childhood had been sadly lacking in such pursuits. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed these silly games so much, now. She felt as carefree as a child when she played them.

  And once Serena got started, she couldn’t stop. She played and played until she was as breathless and pink-cheeked as her young friends. Then they would stop for some refreshment, usually tea and cakes or lemonade and cucumber sandwiches.

  Being with her friend Caroline again, Serena felt more like her old self—the one that had existed long before she’d ever met Darius or become his courtesan. She had imagined this sort of life for herself back then—married to a good man, blessed with their children. That was all she had ever wanted.

  Fate had stolen that future from her. She would never have it, now. And though she would never have to worry about going hungry again, at times like these, the price she paid seemed too steep. When she looked down into Evan and Annabelle’s shining little faces, Serena’s chest tightened with the pain of a woman doomed to childlessness. At those moments, she felt she would gladly trade her independence and financial security for a chance at motherhood.

  As the group sat in the garden, munching their sandwiches and drinking tart lemonade, Evan scooted closer to Serena on the bench they shared. Then he addressed his mother quite seriously and said, “When I’m grown up, I’m going to marry Miss Ransom.”

  Caro almost choked on her lemonade, and replied, “You can’t marry Miss Ransom, Evan.”

  “Why?” He took a bite of his sandwich and gazed up at Serena, calmly. “Are you already married?”

  “No, I am not,” Serena replied, trying to hide a smile.

  “Why aren’t you married?” Annabelle asked.

  “Bella!” Caro admonished. “That is not a polite question to ask a lady.”

  “Why not?” her daughter asked.

  Caro rolled her eyes. “You see? She’s picked up that dreadful habit from her brother. Will the two of you stop asking so many questions!”

  “Why?” they said in unison.

  Caro looked at Serena, a defeated expression on her face. “I do hope Christopher returns home soon. I cannot last much longer without him.”

  Serena opened her arms as little Evan climbed onto her lap. “It is alright, I do not mind questions. And I am very flattered that Evan would consider me as a potential bride. Though your mother is quite right, you know. I would not make a suitable wife for you at all.”

  “Why not?” came the expected response.

  “First off, I am much too old for you,” Serena explained, “at least sixteen years your senior. It would be quite a scandal for you to marry a woman of such an advanced age.”

  “What’s a scandal?” Evan asked.

  Caro gave her friend a warning look, but she needn’t have. It was not like Serena was going to use her own life as an example when explaining such a thing to innocent children, though certainly, it would have been a perfect illustration.

  “A scandal is a dishonorable or shameful circumstance that everyone talks about,” Serena answered.

  “Why would it be a scandal?” Evan asked. “You’re not so very old.”

  Serena laughed and hugged him close. “Not now, perhaps. But I would be once you got ’round to asking me.”

  Annabelle came to sit on the bench next to Serena. “She can’t marry you, Evan. She’s going to marry Uncle Darius and be our auntie.”

  Serena’s heart plummeted. She exchanged a look with Caro before answering, “Though I would dearly love to be your auntie, children, I don’t think your Uncle Darius plans to ask me any such thing.”

  “Why not?” Annabelle wanted to know. “He loves you very much.”

  Shock coursed through Serena’s veins. Out of the mouths of babes…

  “I think you have gotten the wrong idea, Bella,” Serena said, finally. “Your Uncle Darius does not love me.”

  “Yes, he does,” Annabelle said, confidently. “I can tell.”

  Serena made to answer, but found herself unable to say anything. Little Bella seemed so sure of herself. Serena didn’t have the heart to darken this sweet five-year-old’s view of the world by telling her the truth.

  Instead, Serena put her arm around Bella’s little shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “Oh? And how can you tell?”

  “When he sees you, Uncle Dare looks very happy. He makes a silly smile, like this, see?” Annabelle tried to demonstrate, which made Serena and Caro both stifle a laugh.

  “I’m afraid love is a bit more complicated than a few silly smiles, Bella,” Serena replied.

  “Why?” Evan asked. It seemed to be his favorite word.

  “Alright, those are enough questions for the moment,” Caro said, quickly. “Children, finish your refreshments outside, then play together in the yard. Miss Ransom and I will be in the cottage for a time.”

  Serena and Caro stepped into the relative peace of the little cottage, where the only sound was the ticking of a clock.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Serena,” Caroline said, plunking herself down on the sofa and shaking her head in wonder.

  “Do what?” Serena took a seat in a nearby wing chair.

  “Play with the children with such boundless energy. I confess I do not possess it, though I wish I did.”

  Serena smiled. “In truth, I cannot help myself but join in the fun. Evan and Annabelle are wonderful children, Caro. You and Christopher should be proud.”

  Her friend smiled back. “That is very kind. You’re right, of course. They are wonderful and I adore them, though they often try my patience. Most mothers feel that way sometimes, I daresay.” Her expression changed slightly, and she asked, “Have you truly abandoned any hop
e of marrying and having children of your own, Serena? It seems such a shame. You would make a wonderful mother.”

  Serena lowered her gaze, working hard to control her emotions. “As you know, it was not my first choice. My early association with your brother all but closed the book on that possibility. I am a courtesan now. My marriage prospects, therefor, are nil.”

  “Perhaps where other gentlemen are concerned,” Caro replied, “but surely you have considered marrying Darius, now that you have been together these past months.”

  Serena couldn’t believe her ears. “Certainly not.”

  “But why?” Caro asked, sounding very much like her children.

  Serena rose from her seat. “Because the idea is preposterous.”

  “Why?” her friend asked again.

  “Hmph. Are you sure Evan hasn’t picked that habit up from you?” Serena demanded.

  “I’ve picked it up from him,” Caro said. “Now, stop avoiding the subject. Why, I asked?”

  Serena’s chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice. She did not wish to discuss this subject with her friend, but it seemed she was not going to get out of it. “Even if I wanted to marry someone—your brother not included—I couldn’t. You know as well as I do that it simply isn’t done.”

  “I do not know any such thing,” Caro replied. “The King has lived openly with his mistresses for years. His current amour, Lady Conyngham, is married to another man, and no one seems to mind that, least of all her husband. The Queen herself is on trial for adultery with that Italian, Pergami. Compared to the King and his court, my dear, you are quite dull.”

  “Dull, am I?” Serena said, shocked. “Well, I apologize for boring everyone with the tediousness of my existence.”

  “That is not what I mean, and you know it,” Caro admonished.

  “Perhaps you could get to the point then,” Serena replied.

  “The point is,” Caro continued, “it is quite obvious that you and my brother are in love. There, I’ve said it.”