Sophie tried to hide her interest, but her eyes shone. Eva would send his invitation immediately.
“Why don’t all of you make a list of potential suitors and give it to me?” Eva walked to the desk. “I will send invitations next week.” She smiled at the women. “You have proven to be fine students. We should complete our lessons in the next few days.”
To look at the women now, one would find it difficult to recognize a former courtesan in the group. They were respectably dressed and free of face paint and gaudy adornments. Each had a lovely spirit that made her delightful to spend time with.
Eva suspected her male clients would be pleased to take any one of them as his wife.
Harold took Eva home a few hours later, giving oneword answers and avoiding her questions about where he had been. He was still put out with her, and she with him, but at the moment she had more pressing worries than her disgruntled servant and friend.
Yvette’s absence nagged at her. Not once, since that day when they had gathered for their first meeting, had Eva believed Yvette regretted her choice to give up the courtesan’s life. Though she had not taken easily to instruction, she had settled in and satisfactorily completed her lessons.
And in the last few days, Eva had seen Yvette smile more easily and appear less resentful of her circumstance. Though Sophie assured her Yvette was just adjusting to the restrictions of her new situation, and would return to Cheapside very soon, Eva wasn’t so certain.
“Where is my mother?” Eva asked a passing maid, and was directed to the garden. She found Mother resting beneath a tree with her nurse hovering nearby. At Eva’s arrival, Mrs. Brown nodded and wandered back to the house.
“Good afternoon, my darling.” Charlotte smiled and took Eva’s hand as she settled into a chair beside her. Her hands were cool. Eva tucked her quilt higher around her lest she take ill. Charlotte buried her fingers in the folds. “I could not stand another minute in my room. I just had to get some air and watch the birds play.”
“Today is a perfect day to do so.” Eva agreed. Her mother was too pale. Months had passed since last Mother had allowed Eva to take her on an outing. She preferred to remain shut in her room with her memories. “The sun is hiding, but it is neither too hot nor too cold. I think summer will soon be upon us.”
Charlotte nodded. “It is almost time for the Season to start full swing. I used to love to attend the parties.” She let out a small sigh, and her eyes took on a dreamy cast. “There were so many beautiful gowns and such handsome men to dance with every night. It was glorious.”
The parties her mother was invited to were outside of polite society. Still, she had traveled on the fringe of the Ton. Those parties and balls could be just as fine, if not more extravagant, than those given by a duchess or a wealthy countess. Eva could imagine the crush of men who’d fought to dance with the beautiful Charlotte Rose.
It was during her first courtesan ball that Mother had fallen in love. One look at the dashing Lord Seymour, Eva’s father, and Mother had never again danced with another man.
“I do remember how you loved parties, Mother,” Eva said. “Father took you out many times, and you looked so beautiful . . .”
“You remember?”
“I do.” Eva squeezed her hand. Her parents had been a magnificent couple. “You had a blue gown with a sheer overlay sprinkled with tiny glass beads. It was the color of a summer sky. When you walked, it shimmered like stars.”
Charlotte nodded. “I still have that gown.” Mother looked into her eyes. “I saved it for you.”
Eva startled. The gown had to be very out of fashion. It was surprising that her mother had kept it. Perhaps it was the memories she savored when looking at the gown. It was what she wore to one of the last functions her parents attended before her father’s death.
“I would love to have it, Mother.” Eva blinked back tears, remembering their happiness. She’d envied their love at the time. Her mother’s suffering after his death had cast a pall over those memories. “Unfortunately, I have nowhere to wear such a treasure.”
“Oh, but you will, darling.” Charlotte smiled wistfully. “I believe one day a man will carry you off to his castle. Then you will wear my dress and remember how happy your father and I were, a long time ago.”
Eva sensed Mother slipping away, so she rushed to keep her in the present. “I met someone who claims to have known you before I was born. His Grace, the Duke of Stanfield.”
The name chased the shadows from her mother’s eyes. “Nicholas?” Charlotte’s mouth twitched, and she placed a hand to her cheek. “He was such a dear boy, so charming but a bit wild.” She peered at Eva, and light danced in her gaze. “He must be a devastatingly handsome rake now.”
It seemed to Eva that her entire body flushed. “He is handsome,” she admitted. Her mother did not need a description of the sculpted muscles beneath his clothing or how he used his body so expertly in the art of love play. It was a secret she’d keep to herself.
She resisted the urge to tug at her high collar and tried to forget His Grace’s magnificent mouth. When had the day gotten so hot?
A funny look crossed Mother’s face. A sly stare followed. “His Grace owns a house that is nearly a castle, Collingwood House, here in London. Perhaps you will soon have occasion to wear my gown after all.”
Eva struggled to retain serenity on her features. The mere thought of His Grace was enough to send delicious tremors across her skin. If her mother sensed the tiniest bit of interest in him, she’d never let it rest.
“Don’t be absurd, Mother, it isn’t a castle.” It was nearly as large, though, and a fit setting for a duke. “We do not travel in the same circles.” Eva traveled in no circles at all. “We have met twice quite casually. I would not sit by the door awaiting an invitation to join His Grace and the dowager duchess for tea and cakes.”
She hated to lie about their connection, but the hours she’d spent writhing with the naked duke in his bed was something she could not discuss with anyone. It was difficult enough to suffer Harold and his grim scowls. If her mother knew she’d briefly become the duke’s lover, Charlotte would have impossible visions of a summer wedding settling in her head.
“Well, I would not be so quick to dismiss him as a suitor.” Mother yawned behind her hand. “My daughter would make a fine duchess.”
Sighing, Eva held her tongue as Mrs. Brown came to retrieve her patient. The nurse helped Mother to her feet. “It is time for your nap, Mrs. Winfield.”
Smiling sadly, Eva gave Mother a kiss on the cheek and watched her make her way gingerly up the path. Eva could never be a duchess. The ridiculous notion was the product of her mother’s confused mind. A courtesan’s daughter could never become a duchess.
However, another idea came to the fore. If anyone could help her find Yvette, it was His Grace. His investigator had uncovered her secrets with very little difficulty. Perhaps Nicholas could be persuaded to allow the man’s talents to aid her in this matter. Yvette needed to be found, and quickly.
Suddenly feeling lighter, Eva hurried into the house to change into something suitable for a meeting with His Grace.
Since Harold was missing and Eva did not want him to know her destination, lest they have another argument, she chose to hire a hack to take her to His Grace’s town house. She hoped he had not yet returned to Collingwood House. She could not visit him where the dowager duchess resided.
He’d mentioned once, during a quiet moment, that he’d taken up temporary residence in the empty town house to get away from his mother’s fussing. She wanted him to marry and produce grandchildren for her to dote on. The duchess encouraged his pursuit of the young misses.
Eva had listened, silent, as the conversation left her oddly saddened that she would never experience the wonder of motherhood. Not once before that moment had she considered becoming a mother. Afterward, it was often on her mind.
The hackney coach slowed. Dusk had fallen by the time she’d set out to
visit the duke, and she felt darkness lessened her chances of discovery. She was an unmarried woman visiting an unmarried man without a chaperone. Not that she had a reputation to ruin.
It was only after she knocked on the town house door that she realized he could be entertaining a woman, or women, if that was his predilection. He’d kept Arabella here, and probably a whole line of mistresses before her. And likely after her, too.
After their last encounter, he’d clearly been unhappy with her. It wouldn’t be beyond reason that he’d found a woman with a more agreeable temperament. A man such as His Grace certainly wouldn’t go long without female companionship.
The thought stopped Eva’s hand on the knocker before she could drop it again. She tried to untangle the sudden feelings of resentment she felt at the idea of His Grace replacing her so quickly. It irritated her that she cared, and that at this moment he could be nibbling the breasts of another woman.
An urge to flee had spun her around when the door was jerked open, and the duke himself glared at her, surprised.
“Eva?” There wasn’t a smile of welcome, nor a hint anywhere in his cold expression that he was even slightly pleased to see her. His dark hair was ruffled and his shirt untucked from his breeches. He looked like he had right before he’d shucked off his clothing and pushed her down on the bed. It was very possible a naked woman awaited his return.
Pained, Eva swallowed past hurt. “This was a mistake. I should leave.” She stepped back. His arm reached out to catch her wrist. He pulled her over the threshold and into the dim entryway. His housekeeper walked into the hallway. His Grace waved her away.
“You have already intruded on my evening,” he said tightly as he pulled Eva along behind him. “You might as well state your business.”
Annoyance welled. Three days ago he’d made passionate love to her. Now he acted as though she’d arrived at his door covered with oozing sores. She wanted to give him a set-down, but worry for Yvette stilled her tongue as she stumbled along beside him.
Once they reached the library, Eva twisted out of his grip and took a few calming breaths. She looked around the space and felt a touch of envy over his floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Though she had had little time to read of late, she enjoyed burying herself in worlds outside her own. If she had a library such as this, she might never venture outside its comforts.
“Intruding was not my intention, Your Grace.”
Without comment, he walked to a sideboard to pour a drink, then settled into a chair. He did not offer her tea or a seat. Clearly he was still angry with her.
It was the silence of the house she felt most deeply. Unless he had hidden a woman somewhere on an upper floor, he was alone. This pleased her immensely.
But his affairs, or lack of them, was not her pressing concern. She had not returned to share his bed, so she ignored his glare and straightened her shoulders.
“I have come to ask a favor of you. It is a situation of grave importance.” She pulled in a deep breath to steady her rapid heart. “One of my courtesans is missing. I would like to hire your investigator to find her.”
Chapter Ten
The woman did have a steel spine. He’d give her credit for not cowering under his glare. Even after his assurances he’d not expose Charlotte’s secrets, and though she had allowed him untold liberties with her body, he was certain she still distrusted, and possibly still despised, him with everything inside her.
Yet, his spinster-courtesan had come to ask him for help in spite of those feelings. She was a puzzle.
Truthfully, Eva had every reason to feel nothing but contempt for him, and knowing she would not fall in love with him was a relief. He desired her, and nothing else. If only he could convince her to continue a physical relationship without strings, it would be mutually satisfying.
Love had no part in such agreements.
He swirled the brandy in his glass. “Why would I agree to such an ill-advised endeavor?” he said, keeping his voice bland. He’d hoped that after she’d become his lover, his stubborn busybody would give up her efforts to change courtesans into wives. Obviously, he’d been mistaken. It was another reason to limit his interactions with Eva to those of the carnal kind. She was entirely too rigid in her beliefs. “If a courtesan chooses to stay with her protector, it is not your place to interfere.”
The argument was old between them and should’ve already been put to rest. But Eva could not see that her actions would not alter the tradition of wealthy men taking lovers outside marriage. Men always had their mistresses. One woman would not change history or the future.
“I understand your disdain, Your Grace, though I do find your thoughts a mite confused. The courtesans come to me. I do not seek them out.”
She visibly struggled to control her anger.
“But I do not believe Yvette is with her lover, Your Grace.” She pressed a palm to her head. “He abused her.”
He clicked his tongue. “You have proof of this?”
She shook her head. Her delightful mouth thinned. He remembered how it felt when she kissed him and nibbled his jaw, then moved down to press kisses on his chest. He hardened despite her serious tone, and he shifted to hide the bulge in his breeches. She was driving him mad!
“It is more of a feeling.” She turned her palms up, pleading. He struggled to concentrate on her words when what he really wanted to do was rip off her clothes and take her, up against a bookcase. “It cannot hurt to prove me wrong.”
A feeling? That was her proof?
Feelings muddled up every interaction one had with women. It started at birth and grew until there was no reasoning with them most of the time. She was distressed over this . . . feeling?
“The woman has likely found herself another lover and is happily settled into a cottage or town house, counting her good fortune,” Nicholas said and waved a hand dismissively. He had more important matters to discuss. Like how to relieve the strain in his breeches.
Eva stiffened. “I do not think so, Your Grace.”
Nicholas expelled a harsh breath. Eva was a bottomless well of arguments. She could argue with a man until he was ready to hang himself with his cravat.
Evidently, her mouth needed something else to keep it occupied. Once he settled the case of the missing courtesan, he had a few ideas in that regard.
“If this Yvette has gone off and gotten herself into a fix, it is not my worry, or yours,” he said. “She’ll eventually turn up from her adventure, perhaps a bit the worse for it, and ready to resume her studies.”
Studies? He bit back a snort at his choice of words. As if it was possible to change the essence of a woman, a courtesan, and make her a proper wife. A foolish notion it was. That was why most men didn’t make their mistresses their wives. Their nature lacked the moral discipline to keep faithful to one man. A man should know with absolute certainty that he was the father of his own children.
“Do you lack even a single drop of compassion in that noble body of yours, Your Grace?” Eva said, her voice rising. “You may see women as less than your equal, but Yvette is a good person and she has people who care about her and her safety. I am not asking you to spend your gold to pay for this, as you call it, ill-advised endeavor. I only ask you make the introduction.”
It wasn’t her snide words that captured his attention. It was the way a few silky strands of her hair had escaped her bonnet and curled delightfully down and around her neck. They trailed across the creamy skin above the square neckline of her simple gown. There was something about her flame-licked hair that took his breath away. It was such an unusual shade.
His arousal pressed against his breeches to a seamsplitting degree. He vividly recalled the lilac scent of her skin and their eager couplings, as if they had just come from frolicking in his bed. She came across prim and pinched like a schoolmarm, but once she was extricated from her clothes, she was a wild entity.
Slowly he walked around her, dipping his head now and again to inhale the sweet scent
of her, not touching, keeping a modicum of distance between them. He saw her go rigid, yet he sensed she was not entirely immune to him, anger aside.
“I believe I might be more inclined to help if you had on a few less clothes.” He suppressed a smile when her spine stiffened beneath a row of tiny buttons. The curve of it was expertly made for marking a trail for kisses. “I am finding it impossible to concentrate on your plight when my cock is occupied with other thoughts.”
She let out a low sound that was somewhere between exasperation and rage. He watched her hands curl into fists.
“You are the most maddening man.” She turned around to face him fully. Her face was pink and her neck mottled. “Irksome, vexing, and vile. A woman’s life may be in danger, and all you can think about is your baser needs.”
He reached to trace a finger across her stomach. “My baser needs?” He cocked a brow and cupped her hips. She tried to step back, but he held tight and bent to press his mouth against her shoulder. “You cannot tell me your courtesan was your only reason for darkening my door this night. You are as eager to return to my bed as I am eager to have you in it.”
This wasn’t entirely true. His desire for her was tenfold hers at the moment. If he did not get her to bed quickly, and her legs draped around his hips, he was in dire danger of spilling his seed in his breeches.
But Eva had other ideas. She twisted awkwardly and sidestepped, leaving his arms empty. He drew up and watched as she walked a few paces away, her hips swaying enticingly.
“I think, Your Grace, you have long become accustomed to having everything your way.” She shot him a perilous glance over her shoulder, promising him ill will. And yet, there was mischief tugging at her mouth. “But I, too, have difficulty taking orders from others.”
He crossed his arms. “I hadn’t noticed.”
A single lamp marked her passage as Eva crossed to the back of the room and leaned against his desk. “I think, though taking to your bed is clearly pleasurable to a certain degree, that I gain nothing by giving in to your demands.” She reached up to push a cap sleeve off her shoulder, exposing creamy skin.
The School for Brides Page 12
