How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance

by Madeline Martin

  Lottie could still hear the whistling of Lily’s breath as she struggled to breathe after playing too hard one afternoon.

  ‘She needed a physician, but my meagre pay was not enough to cover a doctor’s fee. The midwife I asked to look at her said a bit of honey would help, but the wheezing only seemed to get worse. I needed funds and there was nowhere to get them. Aside from the men who offered them to me. One in particular was persistent.’ Emotion tingled at her swollen eyes and drew a familiar knot in her throat. She paused a moment before whispering, ‘I had no choice.’

  Her eyes wandered unbidden her hand, locating the back of her ring finger where the small diamond chip had once sat. ‘I took off my ring before I went to him. I couldn’t—’ Her voice broke.

  ‘My mother...?’ Evander asked.

  Lottie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I considered it, but I had no proof you were truly my fiancé. Imagine it—a country woman knocking on her door, dressed in a simple day dress that had been darned so many times over I could have made a pattern from the stitchwork. I wasn’t your wife. I was just a pauper claiming my babe was yours. I wasn’t even sure if I’d been mentioned...’

  A quick glance at Evander revealed him to be regarding the floor, his mouth pressed in a flat line.

  It was as she’d thought, then. His father’s funeral had doubtless consumed his time in London and she hadn’t been mentioned. As a vicar’s daughter she was educated in all societal matters, and knew she would never be accepted into Westix House to plead her case.

  ‘Once I had the funds,’ Lottie continued, ‘I paid a physician to go to the cottage and see Lily. He said she had a weakness in her lungs and I was to rub a paste on her chest at night.’

  Sometimes Lottie still woke in the middle of the night, imagining that awful odour of mint and camphor permeating the air. On those particular instances she found herself straining to listen in the darkness for the soft, even wheezing of Lily’s breathing as she slept. A sound so familiar for so long. One that Lottie would never hear again.

  ‘Did the paste help?’ Evander asked.

  Lottie startled, having lost herself in her thoughts. ‘No. I tried another physician, who recommended mercury, but every time I managed to force her to drink it she became ill.’ The burden of the past pressed at Lottie, crushing her. ‘Evander, I felt so helpless. I spent none of the money I earned aside from what was necessary. The rest I saved in the hope she would soon recover and I would be able to stop being a...a courtesan. That we could be together in that cottage again, just the two of us, and some day...’

  Though her words died in her throat, she slowly glanced at Evander. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed.

  A swallow revealed Lottie’s throat had gone dry as parchment once more. She took a sip of tea. It had gone cold in the time she’d been speaking, but it was still wet and steeled her for what came next.

  ‘Lily continued to live with her ailment for the next two years. Springtime was often the worst, especially when she played too vigorously and her breathing suffered. And oftentimes during the winter, when it was cold. But she grew into such a sweet girl. She sang these little songs to herself, and twirled in the sunshine as she plucked flowers from the garden. As though the world she lived in wasn’t a place where breathing hurt her, but it was all magic instead. She was magic.’

  Lottie stared into the cup clasped between her fingers. ‘One day while I was in London I received an urgent post that she was poorly. I went as soon as I could, with her most recent physician in tow. When we arrived she could only lie on her bed, gasping for air. She looked at me as if I could help.’ Emotion clogged her throat. ‘There was nothing I could do. Even the physician was at a loss. He returned to London, to meet with some colleagues, but he didn’t return in time. And even if he had there was nothing he could have done.’

  ‘No,’ Evander whispered.

  A tear splashed on the back of Lottie’s hand as all the memories she’d pushed away for so long came rushing back to her. That awful moment when she had lost her little girl for ever, the empty days following that had blurred together in a torrent of pain.

  ‘I returned to London because I could not bear to remain there without her,’ Lottie said. ‘My third protector and I had parted ways by then, and I used the funds I had saved to support myself for a spell. Thankfully, before I needed to secure another protector, your mother approached me to instruct Eleanor. I was grateful for the distraction, and for the opportunity to find employment of a different means.’

  Evander ran a hand through his hair. His head was tucked down. When he looked up, his cheeks were wet with tears, his eyes filled with true understanding of the loss she had endured all these years.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Evander had never fully realised the extent of his selfishness until that moment. It wasn’t just that she had to become an opera dancer to put food on the table for herself and then could not find a respectable husband. The truth was so, so much worse.

  She had been trying to save their daughter’s life.

  He had been amassing a fortune while Lottie had simply needed enough to cover a doctor’s fees. More than that, she had needed him.

  Lily.

  His daughter.

  God.

  He had left her with child. To fend for herself.

  He wanted to say something, but his throat ached with grief. Tears blurred his vision and he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was the worst kind of monster for what he had done. No wonder she could not forgive him.

  He would never be able to forgive himself.

  ‘She sounds like the most amazing child,’ he said softly. It seemed surreal, the idea of having had a little girl, of having never had the opportunity to meet her. To love her.

  ‘She was.’ Lottie gave a sad smile.

  He would never have the chance to know their daughter the way Lottie had. And it was his fault.

  Realisation dawned on Evander. ‘When you saw me at Comlongon it was nearly the one-year mark of when she...’

  Lottie nodded.

  He held out his hands, palms up, helpless. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because I was so lost in my own grief,’ she said. ‘Because I couldn’t bring myself to actually say the words aloud. And because I was angry. That’s why I slapped you. Seeing you standing there amid your towering fortune when I had struggled, had been forced to endure such pain on my own.’

  Regret crushed in on him. ‘It was my fault that she—’ The thick ache in his throat cut off his words.

  ‘No, Evander. Even if you had been with us, you couldn’t have helped her live.’ Lottie stared at the painting of the cottage and slowly closed her eyes. ‘Nothing would have helped.’

  ‘But I could have been there for you.’ He pushed off the small stool and came to her, longing with a powerful poignancy to reach for her. ‘You wouldn’t have had to endure it on your own.’

  ‘Sarah was with me after...’ Lottie opened her eyes and looked up at him. ‘She’s been with me since the opera house.’

  Evander nodded, stepping back. His mind was still spinning at what she had confessed, and what had originally felt surreal now sank in with horrifying clarity.

  Emotions lashed at him—a soul-deep sorrow at losing the daughter he would never know and an ugly, bitter rage with himself.

  Lottie had begged him all those years ago not to leave. Wealth had never mattered to her—not as it had to him. And while he had been dreaming of grand manors with gilded place-settings, and fine jewels sparkling at her throat, she had been living in hell, doing whatever it took to get by.

  ‘It should have been me,’ Evander said through gritted teeth. ‘I should have been the one who was with you.’

  She looked away.

  ‘Say it, Lottie,’ he demanded.

  ‘There’s already been enough
hurt, Evander.’ She kept her gaze averted. ‘Now you understand why it is so hard for me to open my heart. I fear there is little left of it after our Lily died.’

  He strode around her to face her. ‘Rage at me the way I should be raged at. Let out the hurt you’ve kept so neatly tucked behind a facade for so long.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Her face crumpled as she began to sob.

  ‘You must.’ Evander cried out, in a mix of anger and pain, unable to bear what he had forced her to endure. He wanted her to yell at him, to throw every hard-edged thought he had earned at him. ‘Hurt me the way I hurt you—the way I deserve.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said vehemently. ‘I can’t because I love you.’

  He choked in a breath at those words he had no right to hear.

  ‘I can’t say those things to you because I cannot bear to cause you pain.’

  She reached out with a trembling hand and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cold. It made him want to press them between his palms to warm them.

  ‘I’ve caused you so much agony.’ His voice had gone hoarse with anguish.

  ‘You have.’ She gazed up at him through red-rimmed eyes. ‘And now you see why it’s so difficult. Our love was simple once. Our love now...’ she exhaled slowly ‘...is entirely too complicated. Who I am and what I’ve done. Why I had to do it. My shattered heart. It all stands between us.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ He reached for her, and when she did not pull away he drew her towards him, wrapping his arms around her. ‘By God, I’m so sorry.’

  She curled into him and her shoulders began to tremble with the force of her weeping. ‘I miss her every day,’ she said between gasps.

  Evander bent his head towards Lottie’s and let his tears flow with hers. His tears were for the child he would never know, while hers were for the memories she would always cherish.

  They remained like that, unmoving from one another’s embrace, long after their anguish had quieted. There was a silent comfort in the shared warmth of their bodies, in the steady rise and fall of each other’s breathing.

  Her head lay on his chest and he couldn’t resist the urge to press a tender kiss to her hair. She looked up at him, her expression calm, almost languid.

  In that moment he wanted to be closer, needed to be as near her as possible to ease the intense ache of grief within them both. He lowered his face as she lifted hers and their lips met somewhere in between.

  That kiss was like coming home. It was comfort and love in its truest form. And it made him crave more.

  He caught the back of her head in his palm and deepened the kiss. She moaned, making the same little noise in the back of her throat that he remembered. Lust slammed into him at the familiar sound. All the nights of missing her, of yearning for her, now combined with the desire to comfort and be comforted. His hands moved over her face, her neck, her shoulders and back, her waist.

  He couldn’t touch enough of her, insistent on having all of her at once, and her reaction matched his. The roaming of her hands was just as restless and eager. Her kisses became frenzied, rushed, with the extent of their need.

  Lottie’s fingernails raked through his short hair, lightly grazing his scalp and sending tingles of pleasure racing down his spine. He groaned at the sensation and tightened his grip on her so their hips met one another.

  They weren’t young and innocent any more. Neither one of them hesitated as the intensity of their lust flared beyond their control.

  Regardless of what happened going forward, they had each other in that moment. For comfort. For lust. For the love that once was.

  And for the hope it could some day be once more.

  * * *

  How Lottie had dreamt of this moment. Evander’s body strong against her own, a rock of support she had been too stubborn to admit needing for a long time.

  Part of her wanted to collapse against him and borrow his fortitude. A greater part, however, was starved for affection, too long put off from emotion and feeling to be denied.

  That greater part was the one she gave in to now. She touched him everywhere, with a rapacious longing to confirm this was truly happening, that he was before her, in her room, his mouth tender and yet insistent as he kissed her with a matching hunger.

  ‘I love you, Lottie,’ he said against her mouth, the declaration vehement.

  She pressed her lips to his to silence him. She couldn’t bear to hear it. Not when they still could never be.

  He didn’t care what people thought of her now when he wanted her so desperately. But once he had her and the flames of lust were doused, he might think differently. The way everyone else did.

  She kissed him harder, in an effort to scorch those thoughts from her mind. But still they lingered, bitter, simmering with her residual anger at Evander for having left her.

  No, she did not want to cause him pain for what he’d done, but it didn’t mean she still did not feel the sting of it. Perhaps she always would. And perhaps that would be the downfall for any chance of their shared happiness.

  His hands cupped her breasts, his fingers finding her nipples. She cried out, and her thoughts finally went blank.

  Quickly, before anything could resurface in the dark expanse of her mind, she worked at the buttons on his jacket. They slid free easily and she shoved the garment from his shoulders.

  He retaliated in the most delicious way, by popping free the small buttons at the back of her gown. Their mouths remained locked with one another as they tore at each other’s clothing. The shoulders of her gown loosened and it was dragged down her body to pool at her feet.

  Her fingers navigated blindly, unravelling his cravat and impatiently casting it to the floor. Next she pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers, even as he undid the small bow under her bosom, holding her chemise closed.

  With a growl, he bent and kissed the area just over her breasts, delicately flicking his tongue along the low neckline. Lottie gasped with pleasure and tugged his shirt over his head. His lips shifted from her skin for only a brief moment, to allow the muslin to pass over his face, before he resumed kissing her.

  His powerful back rippled with muscles that shifted and flexed as he wrapped one arm around her to draw her closer to him and his free hand loosened the ribbon on her petticoat at her waist. It quickly joined her gown on the floor. Her stays came next, leaving only her shift, which she divested herself of.

  In the six years since they had last been intimate, her body had changed. She’d become softer after her pregnancy, her curves more ample, and delicate silver lines traced over her lower stomach.

  Before self-consciousness could whisper its poison into her mind, Evander stepped back and regarded her as though she were a work of art. He issued a low curse under his breath.

  ‘My God, you are beautiful, Lottie.’ He wrapped his arms around her and his hands glided over her skin. ‘Even lovelier than I remember.’

  She pushed up on her toes and kissed him. Their bodies stretched against one another, her nakedness against his bare chest, where the sprinkling of auburn hair rasped against her nipples. Being this close to him, being held, being cared for by someone who truly loved her, brought a peace to her she hadn’t known since before Lily’s death.

  Lottie’s body burned for him—not only for his closeness and his intimacy, but to have him possess her totally and completely. She reached for the fall of his trousers and a muscle worked in his jaw.

  The last time they’d been together had been too fast, and she had been too innocent. She hadn’t looked at him. Now she was a different woman, and as the placket of his trousers fell open her gaze slid down his body to where his arousal jutted from a thatch of copper hair.

  She moaned as she reached for him, stroking the thickness of his arousal, revelling in the silky heat of his skin. Her fingers curled around him and glided from base to
head. Evander groaned and closed his eyes. He was so hard, like steel. For her.

  ‘I want you,’ she whispered.

  He opened her eyes and reached for her, lifting her into his arms before carrying her to the large bed. Gently, he laid her on the mattress and covered her with his body. He fitted over her perfectly, his weight comfortable, the press of his arousal against her stomach almost more than she could bear.

  His gaze locked on hers. He was saying with his eyes what she couldn’t bear him to say aloud.

  I love you.

  He ran his hand down her cheek, her neck, to her breasts, where he swept his fingertips over her nipples and then further past her navel.

  Her breath came faster as his touch found the aching spot between her thighs. Pleasure shot through her and she cried out.

  Most men would take her then and there. But not Evander. He eased a finger inside her while his thumb worked over the sensitive bud at the top of her sex. She gasped in delight, moving her hips in time with his ministrations, until release caught her in the most delicious grip.

  Her hands fisted in the bedsheets beneath her, as though somehow they might keep her grounded even though she felt as if she was floating away.

  Evander removed his hand and shifted over the top of her, the tip of his arousal nudging against her. She nodded, eager for them to be completely together, united in their desperation for comfort, in the love they’d once shared. Regardless of what happened afterwards, she needed this. In this moment, she needed him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Never had Evander wanted something more than he wanted Lottie at that moment. It wasn’t simply a physical desire, it went far deeper. Powerfully poignant.

  He watched her as he pushed inside her, noting how her lashes lowered with pleasure, her soft exhale. Her core gripped him as he shifted back and thrust into her once more. A groan tore from his throat and he pushed the fist supporting his weight into the mattress, in an effort to rein in his control.