And that only made him think of what a couple needed to do in order to procreate, which made the itchy, burning sensation of envy all the worse. He felt like he would burst out of his skin at the thought of Lewes taking Calliope to bed—a privilege that could never be Nick’s.
“They look lovely together, do they not?”
Nick blinked and found Diana at his side, bouncing a sleeping newborn.
“Yes,” he forced himself to admit, though the word tasted rancid on his lips. They were well matched, Lewes’s golden coloring a sharp but pleasant contrast to Calliope’s dark beauty.
“Of course, nothing is guaranteed. Lewes has been slow to declare himself. Who knows? Perhaps another admirer will make himself known and provide a bit of real competition.”
Nick scowled, already annoyed at the thought of another man vying for Calliope’s attention. He was having a difficult enough time keeping his violent impulses in check when Lewes was near.
Diana’s smile became sly, her eyes glittering with girlish mischief. “Oh yes. I can see it happening, even now.”
He was startled to realize that she was referring to him. Which was ridiculous. He had been hired to help her catch the other man, and Diana herself had been behind the idea. What a ridiculous thing for her to suggest! He absolutely couldn’t pursue Calliope, no matter how difficult it was to keep his eyes or his hands off her. It was out of the question.
“I’m so sorry to have to leave you now, little one,” Calliope cooed to her baby before setting him back on the rug in a scattered circling of toys. “But I must look in on the other children. I will see you again soon, sweeting.”
She patted the top of the child’s head, prompting the other ladies to return their babies and prepare to move on. Several longing looks were cast back into the nursery, but they eventually made their way back downstairs only to find that the large, airy room where the children spent their downtime was now overrun. Having just finished their luncheon, they’d apparently been allowed a reprieve before they must return to their studies.
Nick could only stand and take it all in. Mismatched chairs were arranged near a hearth flanked by large bookcases. Some of the older children sat there to read, one with what looked like a younger sibling perched on his knee as he related his story aloud. Tin soldiers were engaged in a mock battle in the hands of little boys in one corner, while dolls were rocked and coddled by girls in the other. Balls flew back and forth, skipping ropes whipped through the air, and spinning tops skittered across the floorboards. The din was nearly deafening, an amalgamation of laughter, shouts, and indistinguishable words.
Their company dispersed, Lewes sticking close to Calliope as she skirted the perimeter of the room, she with her notes and pencil at the ready. The other patronesses spread throughout the room, greeting various children and patiently listening to childish stories of inconsequential nonsense.
Nick found an empty chair in the corner and went to claim it, needing a moment away from everyone else to compose himself. His surprising possessiveness over a lady who didn’t even like him had caught him off guard. It wasn’t like him to pine after a woman. If one didn’t want him, there were others who would willingly have him. Why concern himself with one who spurned him, when he could avail himself to all the rest?
Sleep and a good, hard fuck—that was what he needed. He’d achieve both tonight if it killed him, but for now he would make it through what was left of the afternoon without snapping Lewes’s neck.
When he reached the chair, he found a child huddled behind it, head buried against his knees.
“What’s this?” he murmured, pulling the chair out and crouching to get a closer look at the boy. “What are you doing hiding back here?”
A blue eye peered at Nick from beneath a tumble of sandy-brown hair, a fat tear slipping from one corner. The lad couldn’t be older than six, his rail-thin figure telling Nick he hadn’t had a good meal in his life prior to arriving at the home.
“I-I didn’t w-want them to see,” the boy managed between soft sobs. “They only t-tease me worse when I c-cry.”
He followed the boy’s gaze to the group of lads tossing a ball about between them. They might be the same age, or a bit older, but were clearly better fed and stronger than the little urchin cowering in the corner. Pity for the lad overwhelmed him, as he clearly recognized the signs of one who did not quite belong. Whether because he was new to the home, or because he wasn’t as tough as the others, he was alone, lonely, and afraid.
“No one will laugh at you with me here. I’ve decided we are friends, you and I. My name is Dominick, but you may call me Nick. What is your name?”
“Thomas.”
“That’s a good, strong name. Stand up, Tom.”
Nick rose and gave the lad space to come to his feet. While well dressed in clean clothes, the garments hung from his slender frame, calling attention to the protrusion of his shoulders. It would take months of hearty meals to put some fat on the boy’s bones.
Reaching into his breast pocket, he retrieved his deck of cards and held them up. “Do you know how to play vingt et un?”
Thomas wrinkled his nose and shook his head. His eyes widened as Nick flicked the cards from one hand to the other with a soft snap and rustle, then began to shuffle.
“No, m’lord.”
“Not m’lord,” Nick chided. “Nick, remember? And, I’ll teach you. Sit here.”
They went to the floor together, cross-legged and facing one another. Nick laid the deck between them, then reached back into his coat.
“Vingt et un is a gentleman’s game, one that requires mostly luck, but also a bit of skill. Do you know how to do sums?”
“Yes,” Thomas replied, eyes going wide as Nick produced a small pouch along with a handkerchief.
He opened the pouch to show the boy what was inside, before spreading the handkerchief and dumping five of the sweets inside onto the linen.
“Now, typically gentleman will bet money on this game, but today we will play for sweets.”
Longing blue eyes fixed on the caramels and peppermints Nick had revealed. Inside the pouch were more of them, plus lemon drops, chocolate truffles, and sugar plums.
“Let’s see how many sweets you can win, shall we?”
Nick dealt the lad his first card, then began to explain the rudiments of the game. The noise of the room faded away as he and Thomas became engrossed by the game. By the time the first five sweets had been bet—with the lad winning two for himself and losing three to Nick, two other children had wandered over. They seemed more interested in the sweets than the game, but Nick simply instructed them to sit and then dealt them in. Thomas’s tears seemed forgotten as the game progressed, and a group of others crowded around to watch.
Before he knew it, an hour had passed, and he’d nearly depleted his pouch of sweets. Thomas had taken over as dealer, commanding the attention of even the boys who had teased him—each of them wanting a turn at the game and the cluster of sweetmeats sitting on Nick’s handkerchief.
Nibbling a sugarplum, he glanced up to find that several members of the committee had gathered on the edge of the group of children, curious as to what had captured their attention. Among them was Calliope, who seemed surprised at what she was witnessing, her curious gaze wandering from the children and the cards spread out on the floor, then settling on Nick.
He couldn’t read her expression, so he wondered if it was disapproval he saw in those dark eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might not be a good idea to introduce children to gambling, but had thought it innocent enough. Hopefully, she wouldn’t come to him later with word that Thomas had begun a secret gaming club in his dormitory. A smirk made his lips twitch at the amusing thought, and he supposed it was all well and good if it helped the lad get along better with the other boys.
Deciding the children no longer needed his assistance with the game, he wandered away from them, but was frustrated to find that Lewes had once again commanded Cal
liope’s attention. The two had moved toward a window for what looked to be quite an intimate conversation. His gaze was so intently fixed on her that Nick was seized with the desire to pluck the man’s eyes out.
It seemed his services might not be needed for much longer—a prospect that settled a block of ice in his chest for reasons he did not understand.
Calliope tore her gaze away from Dominick’s retreating back with a sigh. It annoyed her to no end that he commanded so much of her attention, when the man she ought to give her all to stood right before her.
This time, Dominick had proved a distraction for reasons entirely different than the previous offenses. It was bad enough that he always loomed nearby looking so devilishly handsome, as decadent and sinful as the sweets he’d carried in his pocket. Did he have to add insult to injury by proving to be a natural when handling children? They’d flocked to him as if they couldn’t help themselves—as if, just like any red-blooded woman in any ballroom, they were drawn by his charm and exuberant grin. He’d been patient, tilting his head to listen to this child or that one, while simultaneously dealing cards and handing out sweets. Her heart had done a little flip in her chest at the realization that he’d brought them along for this express purpose. While coming into the London Home, he had gone out of his way to show kindness to the foundlings, treating them as if they were in no way beneath him. The orphans would remember him for his cards and sweets far more readily than they would the patronesses for the donations of their funds.
Giving her head a little shake, she turned back to the man who had steered her toward a window on the far side of the room, intent on having a word with her. He had been following Dominick’s progress across the room with pursed lips, and now turned back to her with a probing stare.
“I think, perhaps, I gave you the wrong impression earlier,” he said with an apologetic grimace.
“How so?”
He inclined his head toward Diana, who stood near the doors bidding a few of the lady patronesses a good day. They’d made their rounds and were now content to depart having done their duty by the home.
“My surprise that your sister would continue her active patronage after marrying Hastings must have come across as disapproval.”
Calliope bit her lip, reluctant to make him feel guiltier than he clearly already did.
“I will admit, I was taken aback by it, but should not have been. I suppose most men expect ladies to put aside their maidenly pursuits once they have wed. While charity is certainly encouraged, we’ve lost a few patronesses over the years—those who choose not to take so active a role following their weddings. But, as you can see, we have quite a few married patronesses, many of whom have convinced their husbands of the importance of our cause.”
“And I admire them for it,” Mr. Lewes said quickly. “I admire you, as well. Surely you must know that. Watching you work today was quite inspiring. It is clear that you are very passionate about your efforts.”
“Very much so. Doesn’t it bother you that an empire as powerful and wealthy as Britain does such a poor job of caring for the unfortunate? Here we stand, just beyond Westminster Palace, surrounded by children abandoned by parents who are slaves to poverty, gin, or other vices. Those of us who can do something to alleviate their suffering have a duty to do so.”
Mr. Lewes smiled at her, and her heart stuttered in its rhythm. He had smiled at her often, but never the way he was doing now. The motion of lips and flash of teeth held an endearing quality, genuine and sweet.
“You astound me, in the best of ways.”
Her face grew warm. “Thank you, Mr. Lewes.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Come now … I think it is time you called me Martin. At least, when no one else can overhear. We are more than just mere acquaintances by now, surely.”
Calliope fought to contain her smile, which threatened to stretch in the widest, most un-ladylike fashion at his words. Wasn’t this what she had been hoping for? For them to move past the awkward, stifling stage of new courtship and into something that would end with the promise of forever.
“Of course, if you think it improper—”
“No!” she cut in. “Of course not. I agree … we’ve known one another long enough, I think … Martin.”
Saying his name sent a little thrill through her, even as a memory niggled at the back of her mind—the reminder that she’d spoken Dominick’s name aloud first. She pushed that thought aside, refusing to allow it to take root and ruin this moment.
“And you should call me Calliope.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. The contact was softened by the separation of her glove from his mouth, but she absorbed what sensation she could. She would not compare this touch with the one she’d experienced last week. The two were hardly comparable, and besides, Martin was her future; she was certain of it. Dominick was a temporary means to an end, one that would disappear altogether once she and Martin were wed.
“I do not know where Mr. Burke has wandered off to, so I suppose it falls to me to retrieve the carriage.”
Calliope craned her neck and glanced about the room but found no sign of Dominick anywhere. “Oh, I wonder where he’s gone? I’d better go find him.”
Martin did not look pleased by that, but since Diana was nowhere in sight, he merely nodded and turned to leave. Calliope wasn’t too happy with the task either. After making such progress with her suitor, she was reluctant to come face to face with her courtesan again. However, her goal was not yet achieved. Dominick was still needed, which meant she had no choice but to push her bizarre and unwanted thoughts of him aside and carry on.
The noise of the chattering children faded to a dull hum as she went down the corridor, peering through open doors for any sign of her missing escort. When she reached the end of the wing, an open door leading outside caught her eye, and she peered through to find what she’d been looking for.
Dominick sat on a stone bench in the garden, surrounded by the efforts of the home’s young ladies. An array of flowers bloomed throughout the space, while a few bare patches of soil here and there waited to spring forth new life. He was alone in the small space, the stone wall sheltering it from the outside world, even muffling a bit of the noise emanating from the city beyond.
“Have you grown bored waiting?” she asked, stepping out into the courtyard. “You’ll be happy to know that Martin has gone to fetch the carriage.”
He stiffened at the sound of her voice. He’d been doing something with his hands, but ceased as he turned to face her, throwing one leg over the bench to straddle it.
One dark eyebrow arched upward. “Martin?”
She stepped farther into the garden and shrugged. “He invited me to call him by his Christian name. It is a welcome and surprising development, but one I had been hoping for.”
“Of course,” he replied, his words tinged with sarcasm. “I’ll expect my invitation to the wedding any day now.”
Calliope frowned, uncertain why he should sound so bitter. “It is what we are aiming for, isn’t it? I should think you would be glad to have done with this arrangement so you can move to someone who …”
She lowered her eyes, her neck and face flaming at the thought of what her unspoken words conjured in her mind.
“Someone who will let me into her bed?”
It shouldn’t have shocked her for him to force the thought she’d stifled into the air between them. He was not a man to mince words, and he had proven that every chance he got. Still, it exasperated her that he continued to do it knowing how it bothered her.
“It is interesting,” he murmured, glancing down at his hands. The thing he’d been fiddling with turned out to be a coin, which he now flipped end over end across his knuckles—back and forth, back and forth. “The fact that I am contracted and beholden to you shouldn’t stop me from pursuing any woman I want.”
Calliope frowned. “It doesn’t. You are free to do what you like, though I’d hope you w
ould be discreet until our time has run its course.”
He huffed a little laugh of disbelief. “While I thank you for being so magnanimous, there is only one problem, goddess. Though I have tried, I haven’t been able to manage a bit of interest in the women available to me. It’s the damnedest thing.”
She had no notion how to respond to him. Had he been so free with his attentions in the past that any woman would do? Or had being a courtesan accustomed him to expect the favors of the woman funding his lifestyle? Calliope was so ignorant to such matters, a fact that never ceased to frustrate her. It made the man difficult to understand.
“Perhaps it is a good thing your courtship with Lewes seems to be progressing so rapidly now. The longer I am in your company, the harder I find it to think of anything else except …”
Calliope’s hands shook, and she clenched them together in an effort to still them. Something within her reacted strangely to his words. Part of her retreated, having an inkling what he might say and knowing it was wrong of her to want to hear it. Another part of her leaned into the inevitability of those words with bated breath, a tiny shiver going through her with the anticipation of it. Because, perhaps she wasn’t the only one who had been affected by that moment in the drawing room. If he’d felt it too, then she wasn’t seeing something where there was nothing, imagining things that weren’t there.
Her mind told her she should steer clear of this conversation and where it might lead. But, she was having a difficult time heeding to logic just now. She’d been stalwart and pragmatic for so long, ignoring the part of her that craved something more.
And so, she asked the question she knew would damn her.
“Except what?”
He flipped the coin into his palm and closed his fingers around it, his eyes swiveling toward her. There wasn’t a trace of humor on his face as he held her gaze and rose to his feet.
Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Page 13