Régine wracked her brain, trying to remember if the Duke of Sefton had ever been to Paris to sample the ladies, but she couldn’t. “You’re not a courtesan. You’re young and innocent, with an unblemished reputation. And the duke would be marrying you, not your brother. I should think that if this duke truly loved you, he wouldn’t care if his future brother-in-law kept a harem.”
Kate dabbed at her eyes. “But don’t you see? He’s a duke, and held to higher standards. Even though he loves me, his family might not want him to marry me if there’s a scandal. His mother is a fearsome termagant who counts the Queen as a close friend, and Her Majesty takes a very dim view of licentious behavior. I can’t risk it. My family must be above reproach.”
“Does Darius know you’re here?”
She shook her head. “No one knows, not even Papa. He thinks I’m in Essex, visiting a friend.”
“Perhaps you should wait here for Darius or go to his hotel and discuss your concerns with him.”
Kate’s eyes widened in panic, and she looked about to slide to the floor in a ladylike swoon. “No! He must not know I’ve come to see you. He’d only dismiss my concerns as foolish. I came to Paris incognito, to throw myself on your mercy and beg you to give up my brother.” She dabbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “Let me have my chance at happiness. Please.”
Régine felt a cold lump of dread settle in the pit of her stomach. “You’re asking quite a lot of me. Darius and I enjoy each other’s company and find we’re well suited. I don’t want to give him up.”
“But you don’t love him and want to marry him, like I do Sefton. And you know you’ll eventually grow tired of him anyway and find another protector. All I’m asking you to do is hasten the inevitable.” Her lower lip trembled. “You’ve had many men, Miss Willett. You’re so beautiful, you can find another. But I’ll never find another Sefton.”
“Oh, I doubt that. You’re beautiful and could easily find another man who would love you for yourself, not penalize you for your brother’s behavior.”
“But I don’t want anyone else.”
Régine drained her glass, her irritation rising at the young lady’s presumption. “Did you know that your father seduced me when I was the age you are now?”
Kate stared at her lap and nodded.
“And your mother threw me out into the street without a reference?”
She looked up, her eyes filled with remorse. “I know, and I am so, so sorry. We Grangers have a lot to answer for.”
“Yes, you do. Your parents robbed me of my respectability and are partially to blame for my embarking on this life of sin and vice that you now condemn me for.” She rose. “So how can you dare sit there and expect me to give up Darius?”
“No matter how we’ve wronged you, deep inside, you’re still Miss Willett, the governess who cared so much for Emma and me, and I know you want me to be happy.”
She raised one mocking brow. “Do I now?”
“I realize I have no right to ask you to make such a sacrifice, and I wouldn’t blame you for telling me to go to—to the devil. But I’m so desperate.” Her voice trembled, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “And—and I always remember you as being so kind, with a good heart. So I’m appealing to your generous, forgiving nature.” She rose and stepped forward to place an earnest hand on Régine’s arm. “Please set my brother free. Please.”
Régine purposely dislodged Kate’s arm when she rose. “I think you should return to London.”
Kate’s expression brightened with hope. “You’ll agree to give him up, then?”
Régine crossed her arms to keep from shaking in anger. “I’m not agreeing to anything.”
Desperation replaced hope. “Please,” Kate said quietly. “I’m begging you.”
Régine fought to keep her temper in check. “I’d like you to take your chaperone and leave.”
Kate’s face fell, and she looked as miserable as a puppy scolded for chewing on a favorite slipper. “You’re not going to agree to give him up, are you?”
Régine took a deep breath of frustration and exhaled audibly. “I don’t know. Such a sacrifice demands a great deal of thought and consideration.”
Hope returned to Kate’s eyes. “When—when will I know your decision?”
She smiled coldly. “Oh, you’ll know, Kate. One way or the other, you’ll know.”
Chapter Eighteen
Régine stood at the drawing room window and watched Kate’s cab drive away.
She clutched Odile’s rosary beads tightly in her fist, letting the sharp pain displace her anger and resentment.
She fervently wished Kate had stayed in London, living her life of oblivious privilege.
Why should she be expected to give up Darius so his sister could have the man she wanted?
Well, at least Kate hadn’t urged her to give up Darius for his own good, so he could live his life according to the grand Granger family plan.
Molly bustled in.
“How was your tea with Kate’s chaperone?” Régine asked.
Molly rolled her eyes. “That woman is so full of herself that I just had to take her down a peg or two. And how was your visit with her ladyship?”
Régine suddenly felt sick to her stomach. “She wants me to give up Darius.”
Molly’s eyes widened, and she sank onto the settee. “She what?”
Régine told her about Kate’s demands.
“Seems like her ladyship thinks what she wants is more important than what anyone else wants, miss.” Molly sniffed indignantly. “Just like her father, if you ask me.”
Régine smiled wanly. “A lady’s desires are always much more important than those of a fallen woman.”
Molly rose. “She had no right to ask you, miss.”
“Oh, in her eyes, she has every right.”
“What are you going to do?”
Régine rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know.”
“You and his lordship are so happy, I can’t remember your being happier, except with Mr. Todd.”
The young, besotted American copper king who’d given her the diamond earrings. “And I gave him up for his family and his honor, didn’t I?”
“It was your idea, if I remember correctly. But his lordship is different.”
“How?”
“Whether you admit it to yourself or not, you love him. If you didn’t, you could leave him without a qualm, like you did Mr. Todd.” Molly studied her intently. “I hope you don’t make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” And she left, closing the drawing room door behind her.
Régine walked over to the windows and stared out at nothing in particular. In Todd’s case, no distraught parent or potential fiancée had appeared on her doorstep to plead their case. Régine had decided on her own that she and her American lad would never have a future together and the kindest thing she could do was to send him home.
She fingered the rosary beads. Why was she resisting sending Darius away as well? He and Todd were from similar backgrounds, both scions of fine, wealthy, privileged families with high expectations for their offspring.
Yet when Kate had asked her to make yet another sacrifice, she balked.
She walked over to the Toulouse-Lautrec portrait of Odile.
“The answer is simple,” her friend’s voice streamed through her mind like a song. “Against your better judgment and my teachings, chérie, you’ve fallen in love with Clarridge.”
The rosary slid from Régine’s fingers and fell to the carpet.
“Impossible,” she whispered. “I never fall in love.”
Odile’s spirit laughed. “Ah, but you have, and it’s so delightful to witness.”
If she didn’t love Darius, she’d have been able to cast him off like an unfashionable old coat, as she had so many men. But the thought of losing him forever, of never seeing that beautiful, intelligent face, never hearing that deep, dark voice when he spoke her name, never enjoying his passionate, inventive lovemaking ever again slic
ed her heart in two like a sword.
The realization that she had finally fallen in love slammed into her with the force of a locomotive. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock and dismay.
She loved him as she’d never loved any man, with her whole body, heart and soul.
Another stunning revelation hit her. Was this how Kate felt about her duke?
Régine staggered over to the settee and collapsed. She placed her cold hands against her cheeks.
Did she have any right to ruin the girl’s chance to be with the man she loved?
Did Kate have any right to ruin her chance to be with the man she loved?
Perhaps she should tell Darius of his sister’s visit and let him decide. Would he give her up so easily? As much as Darius might deny any similarity to his sire, he and his father shared the same passion for getting what they wanted. She didn’t think he’d agree to make such a sacrifice. Or would he put Kate’s happiness ahead of his own and the woman he’d been obsessed with for years?
But Kate had asked her not to tell Darius about her visit, or her demands.
She sat in the thick of her dilemma, staring at Odile’s portrait. When an hour had passed, she made a decision. She went upstairs to her sitting room, sat down at her desk and wrote two letters, one to a former lover who still held her in high regard, and the other to Darius, who would not when this day was over.
She took the jeweled crown he had bought her and put on the exquisite headdress one last time. She stared at her reflection in the cheval glass, burning it into her memory as a symbol of her ultimate happiness. Then she removed the crown, put it in its presentation box and went downstairs with a heavy heart to give Molly her orders.
Darius had just finished dressing to go to Régine’s when he heard a knock on his door. He found a messenger standing there with a package and a letter. He tipped the man and walked back into his room, frankly puzzled.
Who would be sending him a package?
He set it on a table and tore open the letter.
He read:
Dear Darius,
I’ll always treasure our brief time together, but it must come to an end, as I’ve met someone else. I’m returning your generous gift, since I will no longer have need of it.
Régine
His heart stopped.
He couldn’t breathe.
The blood turned to ice in his veins.
He blinked several times, fearing his eyes had failed him, and his hand was shaking badly. He reread it slowly, feeling the weight and import of each cold, heartless word.
This was some kind of cruel joke.
The minute he ripped the paper from the box, he knew what it was, and his heart shattered.
She had returned his Byzantine crown, a signal that she no longer wanted him.
He’d never dreamed he would join the ranks of her discarded lovers. Never.
He closed his eyes and took several deep, agonizing breaths. When he opened them, the letter and the crown would be gone, and nothing would’ve changed. He would go to her house and she would welcome him with a warm, loving smile that was for him alone.
All would be right in his world.
But when he opened his eyes, the letter and the crown were still there in all their damning glory.
Still, he couldn’t accept her dismissal. He wanted to face her, to hear her say their liaison was over and that he meant nothing to her.
Suddenly, he knew exactly how Luc Valendry had felt when she’d thrown him over.
The bitter irony was not lost on him as he grabbed the box and his hat and dashed out the door like a man possessed by Satan himself.
Darius didn’t need the faithful Molly to stand in his way, so he opened Régine’s front door without knocking and entered the foyer with the stealth of a thief.
The first thing he noticed was that the foyer was empty; the second was that Undine was gone from her usual spot on the hall table.
Régine was making him disappear from her life. He set down the crown where the bronze sea siren had stood so she would have something to remember him by.
He listened. He heard her unmistakable laugh coming from behind closed drawing room doors, followed by a man’s deep voice.
He flung open those doors with such force they hit the walls with a satisfying crash. What he saw felt like a dagger sliding between his ribs.
Régine was sitting on the settee, locked in another man’s arms. She started, a look of guilt and fear on her beautiful face.
“Darius.” She disengaged herself and rose. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear our liaison is over.”
He glared at his replacement, a boyishly handsome, blond Adonis. “Who are you?”
The man rose, hazel eyes bright with hostility. “Hugo Villemessant. And you are…?”
Darius ignored his request for an introduction and turned his attention on Régine. “I’d like to speak to you. Alone. Now.”
The Frenchman placed his hand on Régine’s arm. “Say the word, my love, and I’ll throw out this English boor.”
“No,” she said. “I detest fighting. Leave us, Hugo, and return to take me to dinner.”
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “As you wish, my lovely lady.”
Hugo glared at Darius one last time before closing the doors and leaving them alone.
“Why are you doing this?” Darius demanded.
“As you can see, I found a new protector.”
“I thought you were happy with me.”
“I was, until I met Villemessant.” She smiled like a woman in love. “He quite swept me off my feet.”
Darius balled his hands into fists. “Have you slept with him yet?”
“Not that it’s your concern, but yes.”
Devastated, he sank into the chair and cradled his head in his hands, a man defeated. “How could you betray me with another? I love you, Régine.”
She laughed, a harsh, pitiless sound that felt like talons raking his skin. “Love? I am a courtesan. Didn’t I once tell you that I never fall in love? I sell my body for money, and the more money a man gives me, the happier I am.”
He looked over at her. “I can’t understand why you’re doing this to me—to us. The cold, calculating woman who’s standing before me now is not the same woman who made such passionate love to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Most of my lovers experience disbelief when I send them away. But broken hearts mend. Eventually.”
He jumped to his feet and walked up to her. Suspecting his intentions, she raised her arms, so when he drew her into his arms, they served as a barrier. When he tried to kiss her, she turned her head so his lips hit her cheek.
“Would you force me?” she asked softly. “Even your father never tried to take me against my will.”
Her brutal words were like a splash of cold water on his stiffening cock, and he released her, stepping back. “There was a time not so long ago when you sought my attentions.”
She walked over to the window and gazed out into the street. “A kiss won’t make me change my mind. Accept my decision with good grace and return to England where you belong.”
“Régine—”
“Please leave. There is nothing more that you can say to make me change my mind. Our liaison is over. Have enough pride to accept it.”
He stared at her, willing her to turn around and fling herself into his arms and tell him that this was all a horrible mistake.
She didn’t.
She kept her rigid back to him.
He took a deep breath and summoned generations of Granger pride and dignity. He would not fall on his knees and beg. He refused to grovel. If she truly didn’t want him, there was nothing he could do except leave.
“Goodbye, Régine.” My love.
“Goodbye, Darius.”
His last sight of Régine was of her profile as she stared straight ahead.
Régine listened to Darius’s quick footsteps taking
him out of her life forever, and she felt like dying.
Stop him. It’s not too late.
The front door opened and closed. A second later he appeared outside, striding toward his waiting cab, now seeming eager to get away from her.
She waited for him to turn so she would get one final look at him, a picture that she would burn into her brain to last a lifetime. But he didn’t. He got into the cab and drove away. Too late.
She was alone.
Tremors of shock wracked her body, and she crossed her arms to keep from shattering into a million little pieces.
She staggered across the room on wobbly knees, grasping the backs of chairs for support, and poured herself a glass full of brandy with a hand so unsteady some liquid splashed onto the table.
Dear God, what have I done?
She closed her eyes and drank deeply, hoping the searing fire of alcohol would burn away her pain and warm her cold, bereft body. She choked and coughed, making her eyes water. Or were they tears of sorrow and loss?
How am I going to live without him?
She had to lie down before her knees gave way and she collapsed. She headed for the door, intending to go upstairs, when she entered the foyer and glanced at the table.
There stood the box containing the Byzantine crown.
Grief exploded and tore her apart like an anarchist’s bomb. Deep, shuddering sobs wracked her body. Tears blinded her, and she grabbed the banister for support and eased herself down so she could sit on the steps. She buried her face in her hands, crying so hard she could barely catch her breath.
Later, when she ran out of tears, her sobs became dry wheezes that dwindled away into the piteous mewling of a wounded animal. Soon even they stopped, and an eerie stillness filled the foyer.
Régine pulled herself to her feet and went upstairs to lie in her cold, empty bed, with only Darius’s scent on the sheets and pillow to comfort her.
Ivy couldn’t believe her ears. She had stopped at the corner apothecary to buy her favorite gardenia-scented soap when she overheard the clerk behind the counter tell another customer that the Queen of Fire had sent her earl packing.
How did she know? Well, her brother-in-law’s nephew worked at Le Figaro, and he overheard Mademoiselle Laflamme’s confidante Anatole Beaucaire tell another reporter the astonishing news.
The Courtesan's Bed Page 18
