Gail Ranstrom

by The Courtesans Courtship

  Geoff grimaced. “You’ve never asked me what I was doing in Vauxhall Gardens that night.”

  Harry squinted in a frown as he asked, “So, what were you doing in Vauxhall Gardens that night?”

  “I was following a lead from one of our operatives that a suspected agent of el-Daibul’s was on the hunt. The whispers had it that he ‘had a job to do.’ I didn’t know if that meant another kidnapping, or something else.”

  “And the only thing that happened in Vauxhall Gardens that night was a murder,” Harry finished.

  “I’d just gotten there. I must have missed him by seconds.” Another failure to protect a charge? A heaviness settled over him and he removed a scrap of fabric from his pocket and held it out for Richardson to see. “I caught the edge of his cloak when he broke into the house on Curzon Street, and this is what I came away with.” He turned the scrap over in his hand. Black worsted on one side and scarlet silk on the other.

  Richardson raised one eyebrow in a query. “A bit flashy, wouldn’t you say?”

  “But useful,” Geoff told him. He ran his finger over a stiffened section of the red lining. “It would disguise blood. If you wanted to murder someone in a public place and make an escape, a red cloak could be an advantage. I waited at the gate when Dr. Worley said the murderer would be covered in blood. Nothing. Unless it was disguised by something like this.” He turned the fabric in his hand once again before replacing it in his pocket.

  Richardson ran his long fingers through his hair. “Should we expect a break-in on Salisbury Street next?”

  “I’ve left that house under the previous owner’s name as a protection. No one but you and a small handful of trusted people know I have that residence. I think we’ll be safe enough.”

  “We? Are Hanson and Giles still with you?”

  “Always,” Geoff said, hoping to end the subject before Richardson became too inquisitive. He had no desire to explain Miss Lovejoy’s presence on Salisbury Street.

  He kept seeing her in his mind as she’d been that morning in the library—sitting there mending a gown. He found it deeply disturbing that something so mundane could have awakened such a strong yearning in him. He’d never thought he was the sort to find domestic scenes so charming, nor to pine for someone to sit with, share the news of the day, laugh with or watch a toddler weaving his way across the room to him. But all that and more had come to him in a rush when he’d seen Dianthe Lovejoy mending her gown. Absurd. Utterly ridiculous. He would get rid of her the moment—the very second—he could.

  Ah, but the weight and softness of her breast in his hand drew his mind back again…wanting, needing, something he could never have.

  He swept his hat from the table, tossed down the remains of his whiskey and headed for the door. He needed to forget as he always forgot, at a gaming table or in another woman’s arms. “I’ll see you later, Richardson. I hear the hazard tables calling my name.”

  “Your party has arrived ahead of you, my lord,” the footman said as Geoff handed him his hat.

  “My party?” he asked, wondering if he’d forgotten an engagement.

  “Upstairs, my lord.”

  He nodded, purchased some counters and continued into the main salon. The footman had confused him with someone else. He wasn’t expected here tonight, nor had he made any arrangements to meet anyone. He was sure of it.

  Most of the tables were full. It was a busy night at Thackery’s. He nodded to several acquaintances and filled a brandy glass from a sideboard. As he strolled past the tables, there were no whispers about any high stakes games, nor were any of the usual pigeons looking particularly flush. It appeared, in fact, as if it would be a dull evening ahead.

  He was contemplating going on to another club when an acquaintance stopped him.

  “Congratulations on your latest mistress, Lord Geoffrey. She’s a stunner, right enough.”

  “My…mistress?” he asked, the hair rising on the back of his neck.

  “I was coming in right behind her and heard her tell the footman that you’d be along soon. I must say, I hadn’t seen her before. She has every red-blooded man here under her spell. Did you import her? Or find her when she was just come to town?”

  He forced a neutral smile and tried to keep from gritting his teeth. “Just,” he said. With a polite nod, he headed for the stairs. He knew who the fraud was as surely as he knew his own name. He finished his brandy in a gulp and put the glass on a footman’s tray. The liquor burned its way downward and seeped through his veins as he climbed the stairs. What a pity he did not have time for a few more before he confronted his “mistress.”

  When he passed through the glass doors of the mezzanine salon, he focused on a tight group around a faro table at the far end of the room. She had her back to him, and she was wearing the dark wig and the pink confection she’d been mending this morning. Good God! He’d thought she was sweetly domestic, when all the while she’d been fashioning a temptress’s gown! And why the hell did he feel betrayed by that?

  Flora Denton, who had been laughing at something, paled when she saw him coming. She touched Miss Lovejoy’s arm and whispered in her ear. Miss Lovejoy’s shoulders squared and she turned slowly to face him. Three or four young bucks who’d been courting her attention also turned to him. Only his former brother-in-law, Lewis Munro, held his ground.

  Smiling grimly, Geoff stopped close enough to see her rapid pulse in the hollow of her throat. He recognized the fear in her eyes and knew she was wondering if he would expose her. He’d sworn he would after the incident at the Theatre Royal. He should. He wanted to. That would remove her from his life once and for all. And, had it been any other man than Lewis Munro leering at the cut of Miss Lovejoy’s gown, he might do just that. It would rid him of the unsettling, conflicting emotions she awoke in him. Ah, but then how could he make her pay for reawakening those torturous ghosts?

  “Good evening, my dear Lizette,” he purred. “Sorry I’m late.”

  She blinked. “I—”

  Munro groaned. “Say you haven’t made arrangements with Miss Deauville already, Morgan. That wouldn’t be fair. The rest of us haven’t had a chance at her yet.”

  Geoff turned a cold eye on him. “Life is often unfair, Munro. Miss Deauville and I have reached an understanding. Have we not, my dear?”

  His question pulled Miss Lovejoy from her trance. “M-mais oui. C’est vrai. We are…understood.”

  He took her arm with every appearance of civility. “Come, my dear. Shall we find some privacy? I believe it is time for a little tête à tête.”

  She looked as if she would protest, but his firm grip on her arm persuaded her differently. To the sound of theatrical moans on the part of her erstwhile swains, and a covetous glance from Munro, Geoff led her to a private corner and sat beside her on the banquette. He kept hold of her hand, suspecting she might bolt if he released her.

  “Well, Miss Deauville, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I did not know you would be here tonight.”

  “That would be the reason you told your lie. What I want to know is why you are here at all.”

  “To do what I planned to do. I am winning the confidence of the demimonde so that they will trust me enough to tell me their secrets. Specifically, who would wish to harm my…Nell Brookes.” Dianthe tugged at her hand, trying to free it from his grasp.

  “Tut-tut, my dear. People are watching. You wouldn’t want it to appear that we’ve had a spat, would you? One of those eager young gentlemen over there would be all too happy to take you off my hands. Especially Munro. He’d relish the opportunity to break you in.”

  She stopped struggling and gave him a sober look. Thank heavens she was considering the consequences of her masquerade, Geoff thought. With a little luck, he might yet get her untangled from this charade. He lowered his voice. “Look around you, Lizette. What sort of place do you think this is? Why do you suppose these women are here? And what do you think would happen to your re
putation and future prospects if these men knew who you really are?”

  She glanced around and her eyes widened as she took in the murals behind them. What at first glance had appeared to be mere country landscapes now revealed satyrs chasing nude women among the trees and rocks. Some had caught their prey and were pictured in various poses of copulation. More were ravishing unwilling women, while their fellows carried still others off to unknown destinations. The subject was explicit and decidedly unpleasant and vulgar to any gently reared woman.

  A maidenly blush suffused her cheeks and her gaze swept to the center of the room, where one of the courtesans sported a gown cut so low that the deep rose areolas of her breasts peeked above the fabric. The young buck talking to her ran his finger along her neckline and she giggled and licked her lips. In response, he fondled her openly while she trailed her fan from his chest to his crotch.

  Miss Lovejoy bit her lower lip and turned back to Geoff. There was nowhere left for her to look but in his eyes. “Be certain you want to be a part of this, Lizette,” he whispered, “because, if you do, a dozen men here would be happy to accommodate you. Including me. I usually avoid virgins like the plague, but I’d be willing to make an exception in your case.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile “I thought you avoided getting involved, my lord.”

  “Involved? I was willing to give you shelter. Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not think I agreed to allow you to use me and my name to further your scheme. You are the one who stepped over that line.”

  She frowned and thought about that for a moment. “I just assumed you would not care.”

  How could she drive him insane with so little effort? How had she found his weak spots so easily? His temper snapped and he unleashed it in a flood of sarcasm. “Why did you think I would not care? Did you consider me so lacking in pride or social consequence that I would leap at the chance to associate myself with the new whore in town? Or that my reputation is so sullied that it could not be damaged further by anything you could do?”

  Her cheeks reddened and he knew she was about to lie. “That thought never occurred to me. I simply thought…well, I did not think of the consequences to you. The doorman stopped me, and to gain entry I had to tell him I was meeting someone. Your name was the first that came to mind. I did not think you would be here tonight. If I have offended you, I apologize.”

  He narrowed his eyes, not believing a single word. “In the future I will require previous notice if you want to use my name. I do not like being surprised with a mistress.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Was she being serious or facetious? With Miss Lovejoy, it was difficult to tell the difference. The upshot was that now his plan to take a mistress of his own choosing in order to dull the fine edge of desire Miss Lovejoy had honed in him was no longer possible. What was he to do with that pent-up energy now?

  She sighed and shrugged, quite unaware of the turn his musings had taken. “How would you like me to undo this? We could say we had a falling out. Or that I did not…suit. Or that—”

  “Not suit?” he asked softly. He leaned down and met her lips with his. She gasped at this public display and started to pull away, but he held her steady and warned her, “Coyness is not a part of the demimondaine’s makeup, my dear. Hold still. We have yet to determine whether you ‘suit’ or not.”

  Her eyes darkened, whether in fear, anger or desire, he couldn’t tell. But she held her ground when he deepened the kiss, and her eyelashes fluttered, then settled in perfect crescents against her flushed cheeks. He could feel the tension drain from her shoulders and he’d have sworn she had forgotten where they were.

  Memories, sweet and innocent, flooded him, dragging him back to his first kisses with Constance Bennington. Languid, honeyed, deeply arousing, they’d been filled with hope and promise for the future. She’d been the first woman he’d loved. He should feel guilty for shaming Miss Lovejoy so, but his own hunger, aye, his need to punish himself, drove all other thoughts from his mind. Until she laid one delicate hand against his cheek.

  He broke contact, noting her bemused expression. “No, I think we suit quite well, Lizette. You won’t be rid of me so easily.”

  “But—”

  He shook his head to silence her protest. “I am afraid the fat is in the fire,” he told her in a low voice. “You have locked us both into your little lie, like it or not. If you do not continue posing as my mistress, you will be pressed to make another choice. Which of these men would you choose, Lizette?”

  Trapped, she glanced around the room.

  “Come now, my little would-be courtesan. Are there none that you can picture yourself naked beneath? At the disposal of? Doing unspeakable things for? I think you should aim high, my dear. Virgins are a rarity.” He nodded toward a balding gentleman with bushy gray eyebrows. “Lord Peebles would be able to pay the price. Of course, after the initial novelty wears thin, you would become a liability until you’d learned some tricks. How quickly do you learn, Lizette? I’d stay away from my brother-in-law, though. I’ve heard Munro has a mean streak.”

  The hunted look in her eyes should have made him relent, but he wanted to punish her. Like it or not, she had landed herself in the middle of his investigation. He couldn’t tell her what he was up to and, God knows, he couldn’t stop her from her course. Munro’s interest in her added to the mix, and that was more deeply disturbing than Geoff would have thought. Indeed, it chilled his blood. Before he’d let Munro—who’d killed his sister and gotten away with it—have Miss Lovejoy, he’d take her himself. Yes, his only choice now was to keep as close an eye on her as possible.

  And use whatever information she uncovered.

  Taking a deep breath, he stood and held his hand out to her. “Well, Lizette, I think you’ve done enough damage for one night. Shall we go home?”

  “But I haven’t—”

  “Of course you haven’t gotten answers. Did you think you would simply arrive on the scene and the others would begin spilling information? It will take more than one evening to get past their reserve.”

  She pressed her lips together and he smiled. She was trying to control her temper. It was a start.

  “Did you leave your wrap downstairs?”

  “I do not have a wrap. Or a fan. I seem to have left them at the theater.”

  Ah, yes. He’d forgotten all about that. He looked her up and down. “My mistresses do not dress so shabbily. You reflect poorly on me, Lizette. We shall have to remedy that.”

  Unable to sleep, Dianthe stared at the flickering candle beside her bed. Her thoughts were in a jumble and her emotions held her on the verge of tears. What was wrong with her?

  Geoffrey Morgan, of course. On the other side of the wall, a garbled epithet carried to her, and the clink of a bottle against a glass. The soft slide of his window opening was followed by the creak of his bed. She pictured him throwing his covers back to the warm summer night and lying prone on the down mattress. Her heartbeat skipped.

  Why had fate played such a cruel jest on her—to place her in the hands and at the mercy of a known rake and reprobate? A man she’d once vowed to dislike for the rest of her life?

  She fluffed her pillow and turned over. The cool linen soothed her heated cheek and reminded her of Geoffrey Morgan’s palm cupping her face as he kissed her at Thackery’s. A kiss so sweet, so consuming, that the room had narrowed to only them. A touch so scorching that she’d have surrendered whatever he asked. There was magic in those kisses, and she did not know how to deal with the emotions they evoked.

  Who was this man who exerted such power over her? What manner of man was he? As near as she could tell, he was abrupt and stern and vaguely threatening. She disliked being so dependent upon his goodwill, yet she prayed his debt to her cousin would prevent him from turning her out. She needed him more desperately than she wanted him to know. And could he be truly wicked if he had never used his position to abuse her?

  Fear had stalked her every
footstep since that night in Vauxhall Gardens. Each man she met as Lizette Deauville could be Nell’s killer—a man who would kill her if he found out who she was. Every sound in the dark could be a return of the intruder who’d choked her in the library on Curzon Street. And every moment she breathed, she remembered vividly holding her cousin as her life slipped away. Since that very moment, the only time she’d felt safe was with Geoffrey Morgan. But how could that be when everything she knew of the man urged her to run?

  She had caught glimpses, mere hints, of depths, vulnerabilities, loss and hidden pain beneath his dark demeanor. She’d learned that he’d endured tragedy, though he never spoke of it. He’d loved Constance Bennington, and lost her, and the look in his eyes when he’d gazed up at his sister’s portrait yesterday had been anything but remote and cold.

  Heavens! Dianthe sat bolt upright in bed. Had she completely misjudged the man? Had his brusqueness been a sham? A device to protect himself from further pain? If so, then it was no wonder he resented her intrusion in his life. The best she could do, then, was to give him no more trouble. Yes. She’d be the model of civility and, lacking provocation, he would cease troubling her.

  Geoff stood in the shadows outside the ballroom early the next afternoon and watched Miss Lovejoy at her fencing lesson. She was learning quickly. She had excellent form and a natural athleticism that would advance her quickly. But it was her figure, straining against the snug buckskin breeches and the loose shirt that draped her shoulders and arms that drew most of his attention. He had a fine imagination, and was pleased that every curve he’d longed to see was visible now. Even the firm little buds of her nipples pressing against the fluid cloth of her shirt were evident. The unwilling response of his body gave testament to the fact that he found her completely irresistible. Merely a physical response, he told himself.