His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3)

by Michelle McMaster

  Now Serena truly was speechless. She paced about the room, looking for answers in the wallpaper. “Darius and I…in love? How can you even think such a thing, after all that’s transpired between us?”

  Caro looked unimpressed. “Because it’s true. And what’s more, I think you have been in love with each other ever since you first met. Do not forget, I was there, Serena. I introduced him to you. I saw the spark in my brother’s eyes when he first beheld you, and I see it there still. And though you are trying valiantly to hide it, I see it in your eyes when you look at him.”

  Serena sucked in a breath. It could not be so between them. Could it? And if it was so, what was she going to do?

  She and Darius in love? How could she possibly love a man who had once treated her so appallingly? In the past five months, they had shared a searing physical passion that was unforgettable, to say the least. But that was all it had been, all it could ever be. And even though they had grown closer during their time together at Manning Park, it would never make up for the past wounds that still lay bleeding between them.

  “I am sorry to disappoint you,” Serena replied, coolly. “But that is clearly impossible. Your brother cannot be in love with me. One needs a heart in order to love. If indeed Darius has one, which I doubt, I would wager it is made of stone. As for me, my heart was broken two years ago. It hasn’t worked properly, since.”

  Caro gazed at her, sadly. “I know he hurt you, darling—he shouldn’t have lied to you. And he hurt you terribly when he married Henrietta. But did you ever stop to think of what that choice cost him?”

  “Cost him?” Serena said, giving a bitter laugh. “It cost him nothing, and me, everything. Are you forgetting the fortune he gained when he took Miss Barton as his wife? He seduced me, Caro, knowing full well he would never offer marriage to me. My reputation was destroyed, and my mother made so ill by the scandal that she died. If that does not constitute the actions of a heartless man, I do not know what would.”

  Caroline rose and joined her, an expression of disapproval on her face. “Now, this must stop, Serena. I cannot abide you continuing on with these mistaken beliefs about my brother.”

  Serena looked her friend in the eye, refusing to back down. “I assure you, I have no illusions where Lord Kane is concerned. I know, perhaps better than anyone, exactly who and what he is.”

  But Caro would not back down, either. “You may think so, but you are wrong. Most dreadfully so. You are not the only one who has been hurt, Serena. I see now that I have no choice. I must tell you something…even though Darius would not want me to.”

  “What is it?” Serena asked. “Some sad story to soften my feelings toward him?”

  “Perhaps so. You see, I can assure you that my brother did indeed pay a price for his marriage to Henrietta. One even greater than you did.”

  “You will pardon me if I find that difficult to believe,” Serena said, flatly.

  Caroline took a deep breath, and said, “Henrietta was a violent and hateful person, Serena, and she tortured Darius terribly with cruel words and vicious acts. And when she died, she was with child. Darius’s heir died with her that night. He believes that she took her own life on purpose, largely to spite him. I believe it too, that it was a final dagger she enjoyed plunging into his heart.”

  An icy wave of shock seeped through Serena’s veins. She swallowed painfully, for suddenly her mouth had become dry as dust. “Are you certain?”

  Caro’s sapphire eyes grew dark with sadness. “I wish I wasn’t. But Henrietta had confided in me regarding her condition, the week before. I had guessed the news already, having exhibited the same telltale signs when I was expecting. But oh, Serena, I was very frightened for the child, for I believe Henrietta was a monster.”

  Serena finally let out the breath she had been holding. The world seemed to have inexorably changed, somehow.

  Caro continued, “Of course, none of knew what she was like until months after the wedding, when she finally let her true colors show. So you see, Darius has paid his own terrible price for marrying her. One even steeper than yours. You lost your reputation. Your mother, in her frail health, could not survive the shock of it. Both outcomes were very unfortunate indeed, and I am sorry for them. But Darius lost a child, Serena. An innocent child that he will never come to know, and who will never know him. And that, my dear, is the real tragedy.”

  Serena looked out the window at Caro’s children as they played in the yard. Evan was pretending to be some sort of fearsome creature, and a delighted Annabelle ran shrieking about while her brother chased her.

  Darius’s child would never have the chance to play and run with such freedom. It now lay with its mother, buried in the Manning family plot.

  “How did he take the news of such a loss?” Serena asked, finally.

  Caro looked down at the floor, and said, “He took it very hard, indeed. I was the one who had to tell him about the baby, for I was the only one who knew, besides Henrietta, of course. I had never seen my brother weep. But he did that day—in anger, and in sorrow.”

  Serena tried to imagine Darius being so overcome by grief, but it seemed impossible. Her dashing protector was always in control, always the epitome of masculine power. The pain of such a loss must have been excruciating to make him react so. “Why are you telling me this, now?” she asked.

  Caro touched Serena’s arm, gently. “To let you know that my brother is not the unfeeling rake you make him out to be. I have known him my whole life. He is not a heartless man. In fact, far from it. I see him with you, and I see that he has finally found happiness. I think you both have.”

  Serena gulped, painfully. She didn’t want to hear such things from Caro, not now, less than a week before she would leave Darius and return to London. Her voice shook ever so slightly as she replied, “If your brother seems happy, it is because he pays me to make him so.”

  Caro frowned. “You cannot honestly tell me that you are with Darius simply because he is funding your expenses. I see how you are together. And though you both play at animosity, I garner to say it is an elaborate facade, constructed to hide your true feelings for each other.”

  Serena felt an uncontrollable wave of dizziness overtake her, and she reached out a steadying hand toward the back of the sofa. “Stop this,” she whispered. “I beg you, Caro. I cannot hear these things from you, now. Not when I must return to London at the end of the week.”

  “That’s just it, my dear,” Caro said. “I don’t believe you must return to London, at all.”

  With each word, it seemed as if Caro were twisting a pointed little knife in Serena’s heart.

  “Of course, I must,” she argued. “I have accepted another engagement. And after that contract is at an end, I shall accept another, and another. I am a courtesan, now. Nothing can change that. I am sorry to disappoint you.”

  With a resigned expression, Caro gathered her shawl about her shoulders. “It is not me you disappoint, Serena, but yourself, I fear.” She kissed Serena’s cheek before turning to depart. But at the door, Caro stopped and pulled an envelope from the pocket of her skirt. “I almost forgot, this came for you at the house this morning.”

  Serena accepted it, turning it over in her hand. There was no indication of who had sent it.

  “Think about what I have said, Serena. I shall return tomorrow afternoon with the children, as usual.” With that, Caro departed, leaving Serena standing alone in the little cottage.

  Now, along with the ticking of the clock, the beating of Serena’s heart made a similar staccato. She sat down on the sofa, for in truth, she felt weak from the emotional exchange with her old friend. A sick feeling swirled in Serena’s stomach. She had not felt this ill since the night of the Telford Ball.

  When Darius had seduced her.

  When Darius had betrayed her.

  When Darius had set them all on a collision course for disaster.

  What did it all mean?

  In less than a week, her ti
me with Lord Kane would be over. Serena would leave Manning Park, never to return.

  Absently, she opened the note, expecting to see another gossipy message from Lady Devlyn. She had received several since coming to Manning Park.

  But it was not from Lady Devlyn.

  It was from the man who was contracted to be her next lover, the Duke of Balfour.

  Chapter 20

  “Occasionally toward the end of a contract, the protector may take it into his head to propose marriage to his courtesan. If this should happen, do the following: give him a good slap, a whiff of smelling salts, and call a doctor.”

  –from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

  Darius walked through the grand foyer of Manning Hall, toward the opulent drawing room. His mother had invited him for tea, as was her custom when her son was in residence at the Park.

  He was late. But that was not what his mother would comment upon. She would notice his rough-hewn jacket and dusty boots—hardly the proper attire for an earl, she would say.

  Darius had spent most of the day meeting with farmers from the adjacent lands of the estate. He refused to dress the part of the high and mighty earl when working with his tenants. As he had seen firsthand during the war, the troops usually had much more respect for their commanding officers when they were as dusty and dirty as the foot soldiers themselves. It was the newly arrived officers from England, boots and buttons gleaming, that no one would listen to.

  Darius was pleased. Things were going very well on the estate. The farmers had enjoyed a plentiful harvest. They had enough grain to last through the winter, as well as to plant in the spring. Large yields of apples and root vegetables would be put into cold storage. The cattle, pigs and sheep were fat and happy. Even the poultry looked plump.

  Darius had only to convince his mistress to stay with him, and his life would be perfect.

  As he stepped into the red drawing room, he saw his mother look up from her needlework.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  “Uncle Dare!” Evan and Annabelle cried, dashing across the room before launching themselves into his open arms.

  “Caroline, do endeavor to control your children in my presence,” the Dowager Countess of Kane snapped.

  “I apologize, Mama,” Caro said quickly, rushing over to admonish her children. They hung swinging from Darius’s arms like monkeys in a tree. “Evan, Annabelle—get down at once! That is not how you greet your uncle, the earl.”

  Darius reluctantly let his sister pull her clinging children off him.

  “I think it is time my grandchildren retired to the nursery, Caro. I tire of their presence,” Lady Kane said.

  Caro obeyed, and called for the nurse to come and usher Evan and Bella upstairs.

  Lady Kane was a very critical woman. She always had been. But she seemed to take a perverse delight in criticizing her daughter, above all others. As Caro resumed her needlework, the dowager countess shot her a disapproving look. Her blue eyes, the same that her offspring had inherited, seemed always to be judging everyone and finding them wanting.

  As if it were a great favor to her son, she offered her cheek to be kissed in greeting. As usual, Darius dutifully followed suit. The dowager looked him up and down. “You could have at least changed. Your boots are a disgrace, Darius. I have no doubt that you shall ruin the carpet.”

  He made a little bow. “My apologies, Mama. It could not be helped. I have come directly from meetings with our tenants to the south. As the work entails inspecting each man’s lands and livestock, I must dress accordingly. Please do not concern yourself with something as trivial as my wardrobe.”

  He looked for somewhere to sit, but could find nothing he wouldn’t ruin. A decorative cloth was draped over the pianoforte. As if reading his mind, Caro handed it to him. He placed it over a finely-upholstered chair before sitting down upon it.

  The aging butler, Kilstrom appeared in the doorway. He had been with the family for decades, but strangely, looked exactly the same as when Darius and Caro had been children. “Tea, Ma’am.”

  “Put it here, Kilstrom,” Lady Kane directed, indicating a low mahogany table nearby. Even that was said with a short tone in her voice, as if the butler should have known exactly where his mistress would want the tray to be placed.

  But that was life here at Manning Hall. The dowager countess found fault with almost everything and everyone around her.

  Which was probably why Darius chose to stay at the cottage when he came home.

  The butler nodded and took his leave. Lady Kane barked over her shoulder, “Caro, come here and pour your brother a cup of tea.”

  “I can pour it myself, Mama.” Darius made to get up.

  “Certainly not! As long as you force me to be mistress of this house, I will uphold the social customs of the Manning family to the letter.”

  Darius mouthed a ‘thank you’ to his sister as she poured his tea and handed it to him. “Whatever do you mean by that—forcing you to be mistress here?” he asked his mother.

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “Must I explain it to you?”

  “If you would, yes.” He reached for a scrumptious-looking sugar biscuit.

  “You are without a wife, Darius,” she explained. “And a man without a wife is a man without an heir. You have a duty to uphold, and do not try and tell me you are still grieving over Henrietta. The girl was completely mad. I urge you to make a more careful choice with your next bride.”

  Darius took a deep breath, forcing himself to control his temper. Even so, he spoke in a low, warning voice to her. “Henrietta was many things, Mama. And as difficult as she may have been, it is thanks to her that we are still sitting here in Manning Hall and not living in a crofter’s cottage. I wonder how you can keep forgetting that.”

  It was a curious thing. After they had received the financial settlement from Henrietta’s father, the Dowager Lady Kane conveniently forgot how dire their situation had been.

  Lady Kane paused for a moment, clearly shocked. She was not accustomed to being argued with, by anyone. “How dare you speak of those circumstances to me?”

  “I speak of those circumstances because they are the truth,” he replied. “And because I choose to. As the seventh Earl of Kane, it is my right to speak freely in my own house.”

  His mother’s eyes shone with anger. “And as the Dowager Countess of Kane, it is my right to remind my son of his duty to take another bride. You have spent all summer in London. Do not tell me that you could not have found a suitable girl by now.”

  He shrugged, saying, “Perhaps I have.”

  Both Caro and the dowager’s heads abruptly swung to stare at him.

  “Who is she?” his mother demanded, raising a quizzing glass to her eye. “Is she of good breeding?”

  “The daughter of a viscount,” Darius replied, trading a meaningful look with Caro.

  “What is her name?” Lady Kane demanded.

  “I would rather not say at this point,” he replied, “so as not to get your hopes up.”

  His mother frowned, but wisely did not push the matter. “And what of her appearance? Is she fair of face and figure?”

  “Very fair, indeed. Beautiful, in fact,” Darius said.

  “Well, that I approve of. Your first wife was rather plain,” the dowager said, curtly. “If I must look at your children, I would rather gaze upon pleasant-featured faces. Where does she reside?”

  “She lives nearby,” he replied.

  Caro almost choked on her tea. If his sister had any doubt before, she knew now of whom Darius spoke.

  Serena Ransom.

  His courtesan.

  Living in the little cottage just over the hill.

  “When will I meet your prospective bride?” the dowager asked.

  “Hopefully, before the end of the week,” Darius said.

  His mother seemed pleased with that.

  But she would not be so pleased when she realized who he intended to take as his wife and c
ountess. She would most likely throw a fit of epic proportions. She might even take to her sickbed, to punctuate the dramatic effect.

  Darius did not care.

  He had paid his dues.

  He had sacrificed himself once before for the good of this family, and he was not going to do it again. This time, when he married, it would be to a woman of his choosing. He could imagine no other woman as his wife but one—a flame-haired temptress who ignited his desire like no other, who made him laugh with her sharp wit, and who challenged him intellectually.

  Serena.

  When he had brought her to Manning Park three weeks prior, he’d planned to seduce her anew with the genteel beauty of his estate, with the quiet pace of life in the country, and with the freedom of life away from the prying eyes in London.

  Little did he know he would succeed in another seduction, this one unplanned—that of he, himself.

  Certainly, he had desired Serena before, with great intensity. But living with her here, in the majesty of Manning Park, he had realized what he had always truly known, deep down. He wanted her not only as his lover, but as his countess, as his partner, as the mother of his children. For he could imagine no other.

  Devil take it, she was his courtesan, but she had been a virgin when he first bedded her. It was no different than what transgressed between husband and wife. Certainly, their past association had been marred with scandal, but here on his estate where he was master, who would care?

  He felt no need to impress the neighboring nobility, who, incidentally, were all of lower rank than he. They would not dare to openly criticize him or his wife.

  At Manning Park, he had fallen for Serena all over again, and in ways he could never have predicted. Watching her as she played with his niece and nephew kindled a deep, abiding admiration for her. With Annabelle and Evan she gave her all, running and chasing them until her face was flushed and she was out of breath, then collapsing on the grass as the children piled on top of her, giggling uncontrollably.