How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance

by Madeline Martin

  She flushed in that way he loved, showing that genuinely humble nature of hers.

  It was perhaps that humility that kept Lottie from noticing how people stared at her as they walked to the confectioner’s shop on the main street.

  All at once, she drew up short with a soft gasp. ‘Mrs Williams?’

  A woman with her grey hair in a simple chignon turned around. ‘Lottie? Is that you, child?’ Her gaze went down Lottie’s gown and back up before settling on Evander. ‘Goodness, but you’ve grown into such a fine lady. Your father would be enormously proud of you, God rest his soul.’

  Lottie slipped from Evander’s hold and embraced the other woman. ‘Thank you, Mrs Williams. Allow me to introduce my husband Evander Murray, the Earl of Westix.’

  ‘Lord Westix?’ Mrs Williams brows shot up. ‘The Earl who bought Huntly Manor some time back for...?’ She covered her mouth with her hands. ‘For the woman he loved. That was you, my girl?’

  There was that lovely flush on Lottie’s cheeks again.

  ‘Indeed, it was,’ Evander said, stepping forward.

  ‘Evander,’ Lottie said, ‘this is Mrs Williams—the owner of Notions, the haberdashery.’

  Mrs Williams curtseyed, and Evander inclined his head respectfully to her. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said.

  ‘The pleasure is mine, my lord.’ Mrs Williams’s chest swelled with pride. ‘Our Lottie—a countess!’

  Lottie beamed at the older woman. And it was that look on his wife’s face that made Evander so glad he’d convinced her to come to Huntly Manor with such haste. In London, there were too many members of the ton eager to throw their scorn at her feet. Here, she had only ever been loved.

  Mrs Williams waved over several friends, of all whom greeted Lottie with the same enthusiasm. These people were the ones with whom Lottie had been acquainted before being faced with the choices she’d been forced to make. These people knew her in her truest form—for her kind nature and for how she always thought of others before herself.

  It was his hope that the affection she felt here would bolster her courage for when they returned to London, as they would eventually have to do. He wanted her to keep it in her heart that she was loved, that she was as pure and wonderful a person as there could be.

  Once they had met nearly all of Mrs Williams friends—at least the ones she could pull aside with a wave of her hand, which proved to be a good number—Lottie and Evander continued on their way and placed an extravagant order at the confectioner’s.

  They returned to Huntly Manor. Upon their return to their new home they found the staff settled, albeit flush-faced and breathless, and the entire manor available to explore.

  ‘Would you like to see your new home?’ Evander asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, please.’ She gave a bashful smile. ‘I loved to come here and look at this manor when I was a girl, imagining what a grand place it would be to live.’

  ‘Now it’s yours to make entirely your own.’ Evander offered his arm to Lottie.

  ‘Our own.’

  She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, but it did not remain there long. As they went room by room she ran about with unfettered delight, exclaiming at the painted ceilings, the plaster ornamentation surrounding the chandeliers, at each carved mantle and gilded sconce.

  Evander had stayed at the country estate when he’d first met Lottie, borrowed from his university chum. At the time he had not appreciated its finery, seeing it as simply another aristocratic residence—a place to lay his head at night.

  He experienced it now through Lottie’s eyes, and respected the grandness of the home. It made him all the more grateful for these weeks they had set aside to enjoy a quiet life in the country, without the meanness of the ton and the cruelty that Lottie would face when they eventually made their return.

  All the money in London wouldn’t protect Lottie from that harshness, but in this lovely place she would at least be shielded from the vitriol.

  If only for a while.

  * * *

  Two weeks passed swiftly. In that time Lottie had the opportunity to see nearly everyone she remembered and visit all her favourite spots—with the exception of her former house, as the vicar who lived there now was in Yorkshire, seeing to his ill father.

  Even with him out of residence, Lottie could not bring herself to go to the vicarage that had been her home for so many years.

  Every day she walked with Evander on that small path between Huntly Manor and the old cottage, and every day they stopped at the corner where he’d met her so many years ago. And every day, he asked if she wished to go further, towards the vicarage.

  She never once hesitated as she shook her head.

  Their time in the country was precious. There were no fears of running into women like Lady Cotsworth or Lady Norrick, who would greet her with kind smiles and then hurl insults at her back.

  Going to the cottage where she had lived with Lily had been difficult. There was a place inside her that was still raw with the effects of that emotional day. As such, that same place inside her harboured a fear that seeing the vicarage might hurt just as badly.

  On the last day of their stay at Huntly Manor, however, Lottie hesitated before declining to go further than the corner.

  ‘I’ll be with you,’ Evander said encouragingly.

  Lottie looked at him as she vacillated over her decision. Being in the country had been as good for Evander as it had been for her. The lines on his brow had been smoothed away and there was a lightness in him that made his smiles ready and left his eyes sparkling. He looked as happy as she felt.

  Did she truly want to put an end to their happy time together by seeing the old vicarage again?

  And yet once they were in London they might not be able to return to Binsey for a while. What if something happened in the meantime? Buildings burned down all the time. Or they were damaged by something falling on them in a storm. Or...

  She was being ridiculous.

  She nodded and clasped his hand more tightly in hers. ‘Let us go. Together.’

  He smiled and allowed her to lead him around the corner and down the path that ended at the vicarage.

  The whitewashed walls soon became visible through the slender tree trunks and Lottie’s pulse quickened.

  Evander followed her down the path, stopping short alongside her as the house came into view. It looked exactly the same, with a small white fence framing the garden, the whitewashed walls clean and stark against the sun. The sweet scent of the thatched roof was carried towards them on a light breeze that caused the flowers under the windowsill to rustle against one another.

  It was so familiar that she half expected her father to walk out at any moment.

  No sooner had the thought entered her mind than the front door swung open and a man strode out into the sunshine. The breath she’d locked in her chest whooshed out as she realised it was not her father.

  This man was around the same age her father had been when he died, but was much shorter, with fair hair. Clearly he was the new vicar having returned from Yorkshire. He gave them a broad smile.

  ‘Good morning,’ he called in a jovial voice. ‘I trust the day finds you both well.’

  ‘It does, thank you,’ Lottie replied, slightly breathless.

  Evander glanced down at her, his worry evident, but she gave him a reassuring smile. There was comfort in knowing that the old vicarage was still standing and in good condition, its garden tended and the home well-loved. The way it was meant to be. The way her father would have wanted it to remain.

  The vicar who had replaced her father, Reverend Richards, approached them, his expression open and friendly. ‘Is there something I might help you with?’

  ‘I...’ Lottie flushed.

  ‘My wife used to live here,’ Evander said. ‘Formerly Miss Charlotte Ross
ington. Now Lady Westix.’

  The vicar’s smile widened, if such a thing were possible. ‘I thought you seemed familiar. I hope you weren’t in need of anything in my absence.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Lottie shook her head. ‘I hope your father is much improved.’

  Reverend Richards nodded and his thick hair fell into his eyes. He absently brushed it away. ‘He is, thanks be to God. I appreciate your concern.’

  ‘I simply wanted to come and see the house.’ Lottie’s cheeks warmed. ‘It’s been six years since my father passed.’

  ‘God rest his soul.’ The vicar’s expression eased into one of sincere sympathy. ‘I’ve heard he was a good man.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lottie smiled softly to herself as she recalled those sweet, wonderful memories of her father. ‘He truly was.’

  Suddenly Reverend Richards straightened. ‘I found a box belonging to your father last year, when I was going through the attic. It was nestled so far at the back I’d missed it in the many times I’d been up there before.’ He hesitated. ‘Actually, would you like to come in for some tea?’

  The idea of going inside, of seeing the same furnishings in her old home belonging to someone else, made her freeze. It was too much, too soon.

  Lottie shook her head. ‘Another time, perhaps. We are departing for London shortly, but thank you for the offer.’

  ‘I’ll retrieve it for you.’

  Reverend Richards quickly turned and disappeared inside the house, emerging moments later with a medium-sized plain wooden box.

  ‘It must have fallen for it to have been so out of sight. I tried to find you, but the forwarding address you’d left at Huntly Manor no longer seemed to have occupants. I was unsure where to find you after...’

  ‘Thank you for having gone through the effort,’ Lottie said, reaching for the box.

  Before she could put her hands on it, Evander took it with a wink. ‘I’ll carry it.’

  She nodded her appreciation to Evander and thanked the vicar once more. Her gaze remained fixed on the box as they departed.

  ‘Is it heavy?’ she asked, after a long moment of burning curiosity.

  Evander shook his head. ‘Not terribly.’ They rounded that familiar corner. ‘Do you want to stop and open it?’

  She laughed. ‘Am I so obvious?’

  ‘I know that if I received a mysterious box, I would want to know its contents.’ He raised his brows.

  ‘Mysterious box, indeed.’ She laughed again. ‘It simply fell behind some others. As Reverend Richards said.’

  Evander held the box out and Lottie lifted off the lid. ‘Just a peek,’ she conceded.

  A quick poke about revealed an old christening gown that had gone yellow with age—most likely hers—a wooden rattle and lock of dark hair tied with pink ribbon. She did not recall them from her youth, but it was just the sort of thing her mother would have kept.

  Evander peered into the depths. ‘There’s another box at the bottom.’

  Lottie moved aside the full skirt of the christening gown and discovered there was indeed a smaller box. Something heavy and solid shifted about inside, and it was tied with a bit of twine and labelled with a familiar name.

  The Duke of Somersville

  Lottie frowned. ‘This is odd. It’s for the Duke of Somersville. Not Charles, obviously. His father must have been Duke when this box was placed with these other items. Though it must have been done so by mistake.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Evander asked.

  ‘Father was meticulous.’ Lottie smiled at the memory. ‘All these items were placed together. He would never have combined them. Perhaps this was one that had belonged to my mother.’ She put down the box, careful not to disturb whatever it contained, and replaced the lid. ‘We’ll give it to Charles when we return to London. It may hold something of value for him.’

  ‘Aren’t you the least bit curious?’ Evander asked as they walked on.

  ‘About the box for the Duke of Somersville?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lottie slid him a glance. ‘From what I recall, the old Duke’s adventure club had enough backbiting between its members that I scarcely want to see what is involved with this.’

  Evander gave a laugh, knowing of his own woes with his father and Charles’s from the damn club. ‘That is an excellent point, my love.’

  She put the twine-bound parcel from her mind as they continued on the path. Her steps slowed as Huntly Manor came into view. Their time there had been like something out of a fantasy tale. There had been no gossips to disparage her, no associates to cast their disdain at Evander for having married her. For the first time since the cottage, she had truly been happy.

  She didn’t want it to end.

  ‘We don’t have to return,’ Evander said.

  Lottie hadn’t realised she’d stopped walking until he spoke. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

  ‘We aren’t so terribly far from London.’ He looked at the estate with the same wistful joy that warmed her heart when she regarded their home. ‘If I was needed for an important vote in Parliament I could be there within five hours. All other matters could be handled through the post.’

  Lottie’s heart raced at his words. ‘What are you saying?’

  He turned to her, the box still in his hands. ‘I’m saying I should be amenable to remaining at Huntly if you are, my love.’

  ‘Are you in earnest?’ she asked, breathless with the excitement of what he said.

  ‘I’ve never cared for London.’ He smirked. ‘Too many gossips, too many people who believe themselves better than others. I was only ever there for you.’

  ‘Truly?’ she asked, unable to believe her ears.

  He laughed. ‘Truly.’ He bent to set the box down and pulled her into his arms. ‘Let us retire from London and enjoy our life here.’

  She nestled into his embrace, revelling in his strength and his familiar scent, beyond grateful for this husband who understood her so well.

  ‘Yes.’ She tilted her head back to gaze at her husband. ‘Nothing would make me happier.’

  A grin lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘I know.’ He indicated their carriage in the distance, which was being packed for their departure. ‘You stay here. I’ll return to London to secure arrangements to have the remainder of our effects brought to Huntly and inform my mother of our decision.’

  ‘I do hope she’ll join us,’ Lottie said. ‘Do you think she will be terribly distraught?’

  ‘Most certainly not,’ Evander replied, with enough confidence that it set Lottie’s mind at ease. ‘She always enjoyed our summer estate. Binsey will charm her.’

  ‘I’d like to return with you,’ Lottie said, realising she had business to tend to in London before their long departure to Huntly. There were good friends to bid farewell to, for a while, and of course the little box for Charles to be delivered.

  * * *

  Upon their return to London, she made her way to Somersville Place to meet Charles. Whatever curiosity Evander harboured about the box’s contents would be soon satisfied, and soon she and Evander would be back at Huntly with his mother and a whole life ahead of them.

  Lottie sat in the quiet drawing room of Somersville Place, the small box for the Duke set on the table before her. Whatever it was, the label must have been written some time ago, as the box’s wood had darkened with age and the ink had faded to a pale brown resembling weak tea.

  Eleanor and Charles entered, and Lottie got to her feet to embrace her dear friends.

  ‘I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon after your arrival back into London,’ Eleanor said. ‘But I’m glad for it. I imagine you had a lovely time—you are simply glowing with good health.’

  ‘Did you enjoy Huntly Manor?’ Charles asked. ‘It’s said to have some of the best hunting in the area.’

/>   ‘You know I don’t hunt,’ Lottie chided him. ‘But the pathways surrounding it are truly beautiful and it was wonderful to be back in Binsey once more. Indeed, we will be staying there indefinitely after this brief trip in London.’

  ‘Oh, Lottie, that’s wonderful news,’ Eleanor said with a smile. ‘I’m pleased to see my brother has not only won back your heart, but clearly knows how to keep it.’

  ‘I only returned to bid farewell to my friends before our departure.’ Lottie reached for the small box. ‘And to give you something. The current vicar discovered something he said belonged to my father. There were some old items of mine, from when I was a baby. And this.’ She handed it to Charles.

  He quirked a brow as he accepted it. ‘This was for my father?’

  Lottie nodded. ‘I presume so.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s another adventure,’ Eleanor said, with more enthusiasm than Lottie had exhibited at the idea. But then, Eleanor now held an affinity for adventure—a newly discovered passion she and Charles enjoyed indulging together with their exotic travels.

  Charles did not complain as his wife peered over his shoulder while he pulled the twine free, lifted the top and drew out several papers. ‘It appears to be a letter, though not in my father’s hand.’

  His gaze skimmed over it, along with Eleanor’s. Suddenly she sucked in a breath and looked at Lottie.

  A knot tied itself in Lottie’s stomach. ‘What is it?’ she asked warily, uncertain if she should want to know.

  ‘Did you read this, Lottie?’ Charles reached for something else in the box and withdrew what appeared to be a small Book of Common Prayer.

  ‘No, of course not. Why ever would I do such a thing?’

  ‘Because while this is written to my father,’ he answered slowly as he opened the book and scanned the first several pages. ‘It also concerns you.’

  ‘Me?’

  Charles lifted his head from the book and stared at her incredulously. ‘Lottie, you’re my sister.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  While Lottie was visiting with Charles, Evander went through the stack of correspondence on his desk. Most were reports from his steward, as well as several accounts to be reconciled. At the bottom, however, was a missive from the Captain of a ship travelling to the Far East in three days’ time, agreeing to Evander’s offer to become an investor.