“I am ready!”
He whirled to find the Countess of Hastings entering the room, a jaunty hat perched on her head and her walking dress covered with a light spencer. She held similar effects for Calliope, who stood at the sight of her sister with one hand pressed to her belly.
“So are we,” she replied, her words coming out breathless and strained.
She darted a glance at Nick from the corner of her eye, but seemed determined not to stare. Was it just him, or did she look guilty, as if they’d nearly been caught doing something they shouldn’t? He might have scoffed at such a notion in the past, but that was before he’d gone hard at nothing more than the feel of the back of her arm and the wanderings of his imaginative mind.
Chapter 5
“It would seem the spinsters are having their day! I’ve noticed several of them receiving marked attention from eligible gentleman this week. Well done, ladies! Of course, the most notable of these is The Hon. Miss C, daughter of the notorious nabob Viscount B. Two well-known gentlemen seem to be in competition for her hand. This writer advises you all to place your bets now, as to which of them will eventually make an offer of marriage.”
The London Gossip, September 1, 1819
“I’m afraid I have nothing to report that the other physicians haven’t already determined. Mr. Burke’s condition is incurable.”
Despite having already received this news from his uncle, Nick felt the force of that declaration like a battering ram, the finality of the doctor’s words echoing in his mind.
Wizened Dr. Mosley gave him a mournful look and clapped one hand on Nick’s shoulder. “It is difficult to hear, I am sure. But, I suggest you and your family make the most of the time you have left with him.”
Nick avoided the man’s pitying stare. “Of course. Thank you, Doctor.”
Once the doctor had gone, Nick hovered outside his uncle’s bedchamber. The door hung ajar, and through the crack he spied Paul, seated on the bed. Guilt at having put his uncle through yet another examination overwhelmed Nick as he went inside. But, he hadn’t been willing to simply accept that Paul was dying. It hadn’t seemed right, fair, or possible. If there had been even the slightest chance … well, it didn’t matter now, as Nick had just been informed that there was no chance. None at all.
Paul glanced up at him as he leaned against the closed door, his expression as pitying as that of the physician. “Are you all right, Nicky?”
Nick released a sound that was a sigh and a rough bark of laughter at once. “Am I all right? I’m not the one dying of an incurable illness.”
His uncle flashed a rueful smile while buttoning his open shirt. “Yes, but I’ve had ample time to digest it. This is all new to you. I understand your need to make sense of this any way you can. Dr. Mosley has been the trusted physician for this family for years. If it makes you feel better to hear the truth from him—”
“Nothing about any of this makes me feel better,” Nick blurted, pushing from the door and approaching the bed. “I don’t want to consider a world in which you do not exist.”
“Surely you didn’t think I would live forever?”
“Yes. No … of course not. But I thought there would be more time for me to …”
Nick shut his mouth around the rest of the words. He couldn’t admit aloud that while he’d never regretted his choices in life, he now found himself wishing he’d done something to show his uncle that his efforts hadn’t been wasted. That the years he’d spent believing in Nick, trying to make him feel equal to his brothers, had not all been for naught. What had he to show for such guidance on top of a gentleman’s education? Nothing more than a scandalous reputation and a gambling habit that had nearly bankrupted him.
“There is still time. Enough for me to prepare you to inherit.”
Nick shook his head. “No.”
“Nicky—”
“No!” he exclaimed, hands clenching so tight his fingernails bit into his palms. “I will not sit here and sift through your belongings as if you are already dead, nor will I be made to feel as if I have something to gain from your death. I understand you’re leaving everything to me, and perhaps someday I will be grateful for it. But just now … you cannot ask me to delight in the fact that my good fortune will be the result of your demise. Please don’t ask me to do that.”
Paul sighed, his mouth a grim line as he studied Nick with probing eyes. After a moment, he nodded his understanding, though Nick could see he wanted to argue.
“Very well,” Paul said with a smile. “What do you say we find ourselves some entertainment for the evening? I grow bored lying around this house all day.”
“Lying around is exactly what you should be doing.”
“Nonsense! I’m not dead yet. Come now … what do you say we venture to Sadler’s Wells?”
Nick raised his eyebrows, though he shouldn’t be surprised his uncle would make such a suggestion. Paul had been the one to introduce him to the aquatic theater, where an under-stage water tank made spectacular naval reenactments possible. The theater was known for its rowdy audience as much as the exciting productions complete with ships in full sail and fireworks.
“Why not?” he replied with a shrug. “I have no plans for the evening and haven’t been to Sadler’s in years.”
Despite his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes, Paul looked like an irrepressible boy just then, eyes twinkling as he flashed the famous Burke grin. That smile had earned him quite a reputation among women in his youth, and Nick had inherited the trait. It had certainly served him well over the years.
A fat lot of good that did you last night.
Annoyance overwhelmed him as he recalled his second botched attempt at curing the fever in his blood caused by Calliope Barrington. He’d stumbled out of one of his favorite gambling hells several pounds poorer with a whore hanging all over him, her glistening eyes raking over his form along with her busy hands. He’d been drunk enough to be unsteady on his feet, but not so much that his cockstand had lost any of its urgency. He’d been walking about in a state of agitation all week, and had attempted this same thing the night after his walk with Calliope and the Earl and Countess of Hastings. It had ended much the way last evening’s encounter had … with him grunting in frustration as his erection died a swift death, something within him recognizing that what he wanted wasn’t a whore in a tatty dress with rouged lips.
But, he couldn’t have what he wanted. Or, rather, he shouldn’t help himself to what he wanted. He wasn’t being paid to seduce the woman, but rather to throw her into the arms of another man. A man who would marry her and take that beautiful goddess of a woman to bed every night and do all the things Nick fantasized about.
A knock on the door disrupted his thoughts—and thank God for that, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to pull himself away from his lurid imaginings. If he wasn’t careful, he would die this way, his mind crumbling under the strain and his balls exploding from lack of release. He couldn’t remember going so long without a willing woman since his years at university.
He found a footman in the corridor, who informed him that he had callers awaiting him.
“Go, see to your visitors,” Paul urged with a wave. “If I am to enjoy our night out I suppose I ought to have some of that rest the physician is always pestering me about.”
“A capital idea,” Nick replied. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Nick made his way downstairs, certain he already knew who had come here looking for him. Only a handful of people would venture to his father’s house rather than wait for him to return to his flat.
Sure enough, when he entered the drawing room, it was to find Benedict and David Graham awaiting him. His two fellow courtesans stood at the sight of him. They couldn’t be more different in both appearance and personality—David with his dark, Mediterranean looks and indolent smile, Benedict with his bulky frame, bright blond hair, and severe features. David looked as if he thought his entire existence n
othing more than an amusing lark, while Benedict frequently looked as if he hated the world and everyone in it.
“I hope we aren’t interrupting anything,” Benedict said, eying Nick with his usual perceptiveness. “Thorpe indicated he was preparing to join you here, and had no idea when you’d return home.”
Nick did his best to present an outward appearance of stoicism. “I’ll be spending more time here than usual until … well, I’m not sure how long. Uncle Paul is visiting.”
David’s blue eyes brightened, and he grinned. “Oh, capital! I haven’t seen him in ages! How long will he be in town?”
“I have no idea. He’s … ill. Very ill.”
David’s smile disappeared, and a rare grave expression settled over his ridiculously pretty features.
“I’m so sorry, Nick,” Benedict said, concern breaking through his hardened features.
Nick rolled his shoulders as if shrugging off something of no consequence, even though he felt as if his entire world was being upended. “There is nothing I can do but enjoy what time we have left. I’m taking him to Sadler’s Wells tonight.”
“Then we won’t take up too much of your time,” Benedict replied. “I simply wanted to ensure all is going well with Miss Barrington. You know I like to check in on new contracts sooner than this, but there was a bit of a … problem with another arrangement that needed sorting out.”
David snorted and rolled his eyes. “Problem. That’s an understatement. What Lady Bowery has is far more than a problem.”
“David,” Benedict snapped. “Let it go.””
Nick frowned, glancing between his two friends in bemusement. “What happened?”
“Aubrey’s newest keeper doesn’t know what she wants, that’s what happened,” David replied. “Tried him out for a week, ended the contract, met with me and decided I wasn’t good enough either.”
“In her defense, she’s gone back to Aubrey, for good this time,” Benedict said with a glare in David’s direction. “Which means it’s no longer any of your affair. I’ll find you another keeper. But we aren’t here to talk about you, difficult as that might be for you to imagine. Nick, how are things with Miss Barrington?”
Yet again, his mind was drawn in a direction he would rather avoid. He spent his solitary hours actively not thinking of her, and now Benedict was breaking his resolve.
“We are getting on well enough. I made certain we were seen walking in the park together last week, and I attended a dinner party a few nights ago where I was able to finesse the seating arrangements to my liking. Lewes wasn’t there, but word will reach him that I spent the entire evening dancing attention on Miss Barrington.”
“Gad, Nick,” David murmured. “Never thought you of all people would find yourself playing the affectionate suitor. It’s a wonder you haven’t gone mad by now.”
“You have no idea,” Nick grumbled, though he’d never admit it wasn’t the role he played that had him all in a tangle.
It was the woman who had hired him, damn her, with her soft skin and large eyes and irresistible lips.
“Nick is more than up to the task of seeing this through and finding satisfaction elsewhere,” Benedict declared as he reached into his breast pocket. “Speaking of which …”
He presented Nick with a bank draft, one with a larger number than any he’d received in a long time.
“That is only half of Miss Barrington’s initial payment,” Benedict added. “As agreed, I’ll keep the other half out of your reach for the time being.”
Nick’s mouth turned down at the evidence of how badly Calliope wanted Lewes. That reminder soured his stomach and made the bank draft in his hand feel like a hot coal. Swallowing past the bitter taste in his mouth, he tucked it into his own pocket.
“Thank you. While you are on the hunt for a new keeper for David, you may as well seek out one for me, as well. I anticipate Lewes will come up to scratch sooner rather than later. This should not take long.”
“I’d think you would hope for it to go on as long as possible,” David said. “If that bank draft is only half what the lady is paying, I’d be content to draw the matter out until Christmas.”
It was exactly what he ought to do, what he might have done if the lady in question were anyone other than Calliope.
Determined to change the subject and distract himself until the next time he was forced to come face to face with her, Nick cleared his throat.
“Have the two of you any plans for the rest of the afternoon? Uncle Paul is resting, and I have nothing to do at present.”
“We were actually on our way to Tattersall’s,” Benedict replied. “You’re welcome to come along.”
Nick jumped at the chance to be in company with anyone who was not his uncle or the current object of his lust. He was due for another outing with Calliope tomorrow afternoon, so he would spend every waking moment until then trying to pull himself together.
It would seem his very sanity depended on it.
What on Earth was I thinking?
The question echoed through Calliope’s mind as she shared a carriage with her sister, the man who was pretending to court her, and the one she wanted to marry. The air inside the vehicle seemed stifled, making her feel as if she might faint. Which was ridiculous. She was the twenty-two-year-old daughter of Viscount Barrington—known for her stoicism as well as her practicality. She was an heiress and the patroness of a foundling home .. not some wide-eyed chit fresh out of the schoolroom. She did not swoon.
However, just now she felt wretchedly unsteady, and it had nothing to do with the rock and sway of the carriage carrying them across town.
How had she ended up in this situation? Oh yes, it had all occurred quite by chance, though she felt certain whatever deities were in charge of her destiny were having a bit of fun with her circumstances.
The day had begun as expected. After receiving a round of morning callers, Calliope had changed her clothes for an afternoon walking the corridors of London Home for Foundling Children along with Diana, who was also a patroness of the orphanage that thrived on the charity of others. She looked forward to her monthly visit, despite knowing she would have to endure the company of her courtesan today. When she had asked why it was necessary for him to accompany her, he’d insisted that it could only aid their cause.
“A man who shows interest in the endeavors of the woman he is courting sets himself apart. Besides, ladies who sit on charitable boards can be counted upon to gossip. If I am seen escorting you to the foundling home, who do you suppose will hear about it in short order?”
“Mr. Lewes,” she had replied, grudgingly admitting to herself that he was right. It was one thing for them to be seen dancing or sitting together at a dinner party, and quite another for it to appear as if he’d become enamored enough with her to take an interest in her charitable efforts.
She had agreed to the outing, hoping he would not prove too much a distraction. That had been a gross miscalculation, because Dominick Burke was nothing if not distracting.
Why had she allowed him to touch her, and why could she not stop reliving the moment in her mind? It had been nothing more than the stroke of his finger down the back of her arm, and it had occurred one week ago. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
Only … every night since it had happened, her mind took her back to that drawing room and the instant his bare hand had made contact with her skin.
That seemingly innocent touch on the arm had created the oddest reaction in her—one that had led to other thoughts. While she’d lain abed, she had closed her eyes and imagined him doing it again, only this time he would lean in to kiss her.
She’d experienced few kisses in her life, but had enough frame of reference to imagine how it might be with Nick. He wouldn’t be gentle, but neither would he assault her mouth. He had mentioned licking before, when saying those horrid things about taking her to bed. Only, after the way he’d touched her, the way his eyes had come alive with green tongues
of fire, they didn’t seem so horrid. She imagined his wicked tongue stroking against her mouth, tracing the seam, outlining the contours of her lips.
Those imaginings only produced more of the baffling symptoms she only seemed to experience when he was near. Her belly fluttered, her throat tightened, and her heart hammered wildly against her sternum.
It was utter madness. She shouldn’t be thinking of Dominick this way.
Still, she carried on, doing her best to appear for all the world like a woman being courted by one of London’s most notorious scoundrels.
It didn’t help matters that he arrived for their outing looking as handsome as ever, sporting a fresh haircut and attire that flaunted the long, lean lines of his physique to their advantage. She shouldn’t notice how his shoulders stretched the seams of his coat. It wasn’t seemly for her fingers to itch at the sight of his artfully tousled hair, as if she longed to run her fingers through those sable locks.
She didn’t.
Calliope Barrington, you will get through this afternoon with dignity, and you will put these inappropriate thoughts out of your mind!
“May I ask what the purpose of our visit to the home is, and how long you expect us to be there?” Nick had asked as they’d waited for Hastings to join them.
Diana seemed impatient for her husband’s presence, annoyed with him for not finishing a meeting with one of his estate managers in a timely fashion. She’d stood near the window, arms crossed over her chest, paying them no attention whatsoever.
“We patronesses visit the home once a month to ensure all is running smoothly,” she had replied, trying to keep her tone light. “At that time, we tour the facility and take note of anything that might require our attention—repairs and supplies and the like. We meet with the manager of the home, as well as the tutor who is responsible for schooling the children, to inquire if there is anything we might do to aid them in their efforts. Then, we spend time visiting with the orphans.”
Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Page 11