How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance

by Madeline Martin

‘Do you truly love her?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Or is this insistent need to be with her derived from guilt?’

  ‘It’s love,’ he answered without hesitation.

  His mother stopped just before they began climbing the stairs. ‘It is not me who requires the answer, Evander. I simply want you to know for certain. Here.’ She lightly settled her hand over his heart. ‘If you love her—truly love her—I suggest you never stop trying to win her affection. For if anything can heal deep wounds, it’s love.’

  A soft smile touched her lips, a new expression he’d seen her implement since his return.

  Evander led his mother up the stairs, which she took one careful step at a time. She was the second person to warn him about Lottie that night. But Evander knew the extent of the love that existed between him and Lottie. They didn’t know how deep his determination that she should be his wife ran. They didn’t appreciate how far he was willing to go.

  That he would stop at nothing to win Lottie back.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following morning Evander made his way to Lottie’s townhouse once more. This time her butler appeared at the door and showed him in.

  She was waiting for him in the drawing room, wearing a white muslin gown with dark blue ribbon woven through the lace at her neckline, hem and high waistline. A similar ribbon adorned her neck, with a small cameo hanging from its centre, just under the sensual hollow of her throat.

  The effect of these small notes of blue and how they made her eyes appear all the more brilliant was stunning. She was stunning.

  But then she always had been.

  Her hair was bound up in coils, with a single large curl that rolled over her right shoulder. Evander was struck suddenly by the urge to brush aside that curl and run his lips over the smoothness of her graceful neck, not stopping until he had kissed that delectable hollow and even lower still.

  In that moment he was entirely certain that his resolve to win her back had nothing to do with the weight of his guilt at having left her for so many years. Though he did indeed feel guilty. For as he looked at her now, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that his love for her superseded anything that could be tossed their way. Prejudice, vitriol, being cast out from society. None of it mattered more to him than this woman.

  Now he need only prove to her that he would not hurt her as he had before.

  ‘Good morning, Evander.’ Lottie’s attempt at a smile was not entirely successful. ‘Forgive me for leaving your ball without bidding you farewell. I’m afraid I felt rather ill and didn’t wish to ruin your enjoyment.’

  He settled on the settee beside her. She smelled of a sweet perfume, something floral with a musk to it that he found appealing. Again, the urge to nuzzle her neck teased at him, to brush his lips over the warmth of her skin and breathe in that wonderful scent.

  Her gaze slid towards the teapot. ‘Would you like some tea?’

  ‘I want to speak with you.’

  He reached out tentatively and took her hand in his. She didn’t pull away from his touch, and for the first time in six years her smooth skin lay against his.

  As if realising the poignancy of it, she glanced at where their fingers were locked together before returning her attention to him once more.

  He had meant to say he understood why she had been upset, that he didn’t care and she need not allow it to trouble her. But now that he was in such proximity to her, cradling her slender hand in his, those were not the words that came from his mouth.

  ‘I’m grateful for the time you were there,’ he replied. ‘And I do regret my inability to spend more time with you. I’m afraid there were more guests than I had anticipated when I extended the invitation to you.’

  She looked down again to watch their linked hands and said nothing.

  ‘Seeing you there was a dream,’ he continued. ‘Holding you so close to me, dancing with you, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. God, you looked so beautiful.’

  A flush of colour washed over her cheeks.

  ‘I wish I could have spent the entire night with only you.’

  He reached up, tentative, expecting her to pull away. When she did not, he ran the back of his forefinger down her petal-soft cheek. Her lashes fluttered closed on the look of someone savouring a caress.

  ‘It can’t work,’ she whispered.

  ‘It can.’ He leaned closer to her.

  Her lips were red and full. Sensual. His fingertips gently lifted her chin, angling her face towards his. The beat of his heart slammed in his chest like a drum. He lowered his mouth to hers and their lips met in a tender brush. Her lips were smoother than he remembered, sweeter. Sheer heaven.

  She lifted her hands to his face, but rather than kiss him, she rested her forehead against his. ‘I can’t.’

  When she drew back there were tears shining in her blue eyes, making them all the more brilliant. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She accepted it with both hands and kept it crumpled between her palms.

  ‘Because of what others say?’ he asked.

  She pinned on a false smile. ‘Are you sure you don’t want tea?’

  ‘I don’t want tea.’ He kept his gaze locked on her. ‘I want you.’

  ‘The world you want me in will never accept me.’ She turned away from him.

  ‘You overheard those women being malicious towards you?’ he said.

  She bowed her head slightly forward and exhaled slowly.

  ‘I don’t care about them, Lottie.’ He carefully drew her attention back to him with his fingertips. ‘I don’t give a fig about anyone’s opinion. I only care that I love you.’

  ‘And what of your family? Your friends? They too will be cast aside because of who I am. What I’ve done.’ She shook her head and the curl tumbled across the shoulder of her gown.

  ‘None of them care.’ He reached for her hand once more, and she did not pull it away. ‘You shouldn’t either.’

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘Do you know what will improve your spirits?’ he asked.

  She glanced up at him, her expression wary.

  ‘A ride through Hyde Park.’

  Her brows rose and she pulled her hand away.

  ‘At the fashionable hour.’ He grinned. ‘With me.’

  ‘I don’t think that will make things better,’ she said quietly.

  ‘It will be the perfect opportunity for us to see one another again.’ He softened his voice. ‘And I do so enjoy seeing you, getting to know you again.’

  She twisted her fingers against one another, the gesture one from their days in Oxfordshire. Clearly it was still a habit.

  ‘Evander, I—’

  He put up his hand to stop the rejection before it could be spoken. ‘Please at least consider it. I’ll have a carriage sent tomorrow. If you should find the idea agreeable, the carriage will bring you to me. Should you not, I will enter the park alone on horseback.’

  Breath held, he waited for her response. It had been so good the night before to see her, to hear her laugh, and not only to learn who she had become, but to allow her to see who he had become. Hopefully one day she would deem him worthy of her trust once more. He only needed time. With her.

  If she would grant it.

  At last, she nodded. ‘I will consider it.’

  It was as close to a yes as he might get. Now he only needed to wait to see if she showed. And he hoped to God she would.

  * * *

  No sooner had darkness fallen than Sarah entered Lottie’s room to inform her that her newest student had arrived. Lottie tugged off the dark fitted smock she wore, that protected her gown from being spattered by paint.

  The watercolour was almost done. Lottie stepped back, mindful to avoid Silky, who often settled just behind her heels, and regarded the painting. It was a small cottage s
et in a field, with dots of trees in the distance and a small garden at the front.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Sarah said. ‘But you always paint that cottage. Shouldn’t you try something different?’

  Lottie stared at the small house and a hollow ache rang in her chest. ‘It’s where I was happiest.’

  She took a strip of linen, washed the paint from her fingers, and stroked a hand over Silky before making her way down the stairs to where her new student awaited her first lesson.

  As soon as Lottie entered the drawing room and spied the pretty blonde, she recognised her. It was Lady Alice, a young woman who had once been the most sought-after lady of the ton and had disappeared suddenly after a terrible scandal involving her then betrothed.

  ‘Lady Alice.’ Lottie smiled at her. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you once more in London.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lady Alice replied, with a flicker of a smile in return. ‘I confess my mother bade me return. I did not wish to.’ She shifted her focus towards the Brussels weave carpet. ‘People can be cruel.’

  ‘I understand that well,’ Lottie said, with more bitterness than intended.

  Her new pupil lifted her head and regarded her with renewed appreciation. ‘I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to find a new suitor after what Lord Ledsey did.’

  Lottie indicated the settee.

  It was fascinating, how certain personalities required different approaches—something she had learned in her days as a courtesan that served her well now, as an instructor. With Lady Alice, Lottie knew, things would need to be handled gently. After all, it was not every lady who had to overcome the scandal of having had a betrothed who had attempted murder.

  ‘Do you want to take instruction with me?’ Lottie asked, as she did all her students. It was important to understand their intention in being there. Pupils who were forced into her tutelage weren’t inclined to succeed.

  ‘I do.’ Lady Alice smoothed her pink silk dress in an anxious fashion Lottie herself was familiar with. ‘But not because of my mother. Though she does agree with these lessons,’ she added quickly. ‘She hopes I’ll find another suitor.’ Her smile was brittle. ‘I believe she has pinned hopes upon me I may not be able to fulfil.’

  Lottie remained silent while she spoke, allowing Lady Alice to fill the space with her thoughts.

  ‘Eleanor, the Duchess of Somersville, is the one who suggested I come.’ Alice pursed her lips. ‘You see, I feel rather outside of myself, and have for some time. I don’t know how to find who I used to be, and Her Grace said you might help guide the way.’

  Ah, now it was making sense. There had been some hurt in her life, which left her bereft. That was something Lottie understood far too well.

  ‘Since Lord Ledsey?’ she asked, referencing the young woman’s former betrothed.

  ‘Since...before,’ Lady Alice replied slowly.

  Lottie lifted an eyebrow in silent query and Lady Alice’s lovely face took on a pained expression.

  ‘I was in love with a baron’s son—George.’ She smiled wistfully as she said his name. ‘He was a fourth son, and determined to pave his own way in this world. That is how he came to be a soldier. His mother received a letter stating he was missing after a battle.’ She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘My mother let me grieve for a year, as long as any widow, even though we’d never wed. She thought herself generous for the consideration and then we came to London.’

  ‘And Lord Ledsey was an earl,’ Lottie supplied.

  ‘Precisely.’ Lady Alice toyed with a small rosette on her gown. ‘I played the part of dutiful daughter and tried to be happy. But I simply...wasn’t. Not without my George. I never have been and I’m not sure I ever can be.’

  Her admission struck a deep chord in Lottie’s chest. How often had she wondered that same thing about herself? If she could ever be truly happy again?

  Lady Alice’s eyes filled with tears and Lottie produced a handkerchief from her pocket. Experience had taught her never to begin a lesson without several handy.

  The young woman accepted it gratefully and wiped at her eyes. ‘Mother allowed me to return to the country after Lord Ledsey, to recuperate from my melancholy. Except it has not improved.’

  Indeed, the poor young woman did appear rather miserable.

  Lottie sat on the settee beside her and put a gentle hand to Lady Alice’s shoulder. ‘We’ll see what we can do to make you feel better. Whether it be with a suitor, or even on your own.’

  Alice gave her a sad smile. ‘I’m not hopeful, I confess.’ The handkerchief in her hands drew her focus. ‘Do you ever think that perhaps it isn’t a place or a status that makes you happy, but a person?’

  Lottie sat back at that revelation. ‘I’d never considered it.’

  ‘I don’t think I can be happy—truly happy—without my George,’ Lady Alice said. ‘No matter how much I pretend otherwise.’

  The young woman’s words clung to Lottie for the rest of the evening and into the next day, like a burr lodged in her mind. Perhaps it was for that reason that when Evander’s carriage came at half-past four she was dressed in a gown she’d recently had sewn by her modiste and promptly climbed into the carriage to meet him at Hyde Park.

  As an adult, she’d had two happy times in her tumultuous life. One could never be reclaimed. And the other was with Evander. Perhaps there was hope for her yet?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evander hadn’t expected Lottie to come to the ball for his birthday, and was even less inclined to believe she’d show at Hyde Park. At least at the celebration she’d expected some control over the guest list, however wildly off-course it had veered. But at Hyde Park, everyone who was anyone appeared. Meaning she would be seen by the collective ton. While she was still licking her wounds over their spiteful gossip.

  However, just because he did not expect her, did not mean he didn’t continue to watch the entrance to the park, in the hopes of seeing his carriage arrive. His horse remained stoic beneath him as he waited by a tree, amid the flecks of sunlight that streamed through the leaves overhead.

  A parade of carriages entered the path and rolled past, their occupants well-dressed and gazing out through the windows to observe the other attendees. And, of course, to be seen.

  Evander was very nearly ready to give up when he caught sight of his own carriage with a single occupant inside.

  Lottie.

  He nudged his horse to trot towards the carriage, where he disembarked and handed the reins to his footman, who would tie the steed to the rear of the carriage so he could join Lottie inside.

  She smiled as he took the seat opposite her. The cabin smelled of her sweetly floral, sensual perfume, and he found himself hoping the scent might linger within, so that every time he took his carriage somewhere he would be enveloped in her perfume.

  ‘This time I truly did not think you’d come,’ he admitted.

  ‘Then I mustn’t make this a habit, lest you expect me regularly.’ She spoke as she looked out of the window, overly casual—except for the flirtatious wink she tossed in his direction.

  ‘If only I were so lucky.’ He put a hand to his heart and she laughed.

  ‘I came because... Well, because while the vipers are out there—’ she nodded towards the window ‘—I knew I would be in here. With you.’

  Trust. It was a crumb, a mere sample of it, to whet his appetite for more, but by God it was a start.

  A grin tugged at his lips, enjoying her play as he parried, ‘And you wanted to be with me?’

  ‘Should I even answer that?’ she asked, as a smile teased at her lush mouth.

  ‘You don’t really need to.’ He gave a small shrug, feigning a lack of care. ‘I already know.’

  ‘Do you?’

  She was so beautiful staring at him, pouting with mock indignation, her skin creamy in the golden sunli
ght. He wanted to kiss her again, as he’d done the day before. Except this time he didn’t want to stop.

  Bit by bit, piece by piece, he was learning more about her—not through what she said or shared, but by her reaction. At present, he found himself longing to know if she still made those little humming sounds of pleasure as their kisses deepened.

  An image of her being kissed by another man flashed in his mind, sharp as a dagger. Evander jerked his attention to the path, where a couple strode together, concentrating his gaze on their attire, which bordered on matching in similar pale shades of green. It was a better detail to fix his thoughts upon than where they were leading.

  ‘Pray tell what do you mean?’ asked Lottie flirtatiously.

  Damn. What had they been speaking about?

  Whatever it was had made him think of kissing her, and then wonder how she had reacted when other men had kissed her.

  Had she loved any of those men?

  He shook his head to clear those thoughts. After all, she wouldn’t have had to do any of it if he’d remained in England. Or, better yet, remained in contact with her, had been there to help her. Returned when he was supposed to.

  But he had abandoned her. And she’d had to forge her own way in life. As a woman, she’d done that the only way she could. And it was no one’s fault but his own.

  ‘Forgive me, I was wool-gathering,’ he admitted. ‘What do I mean about what?’

  ‘Why do you think I wanted to be with you this afternoon?’ She leaned forward and slowly lifted her eyes to meet his in such a way it struck him dead in the centre of the chest. The look was sensual. Confident.

  Practised.

  Damn it.

  ‘I’ve always known you enjoyed my company,’ he said. His tone was light and playful. Not at all indicative of the heaviness bearing down on him.

  ‘Do you think you make me happy?’ she asked.

  It was a teasing question, but one that he considered more deeply than the query warranted in light of his turbulent mood. ‘I think I did at one time.’

  The silence that settled between them seemed to grow thick, the smoothness of their conversation congealing with his honesty.