Portrait of a Lady: The Gentleman Courtesans Book 1

by Victoria Vale

  Come tomorrow morning, she would no longer be a virgin.

  If a single kiss could lead to him half-undressing her and touching her in places no man had ever laid his hands, then how quickly could she expect things to move this evening? There would be no threat of discovery, no need to remain aware that they could be caught at any moment. They would be shut away in private, with nothing but time and opportunity stretching before them. And while the notion of finally being rid of her maidenhead pleased her, it also reminded her of one fundamental truth.

  She had no earthly idea what she was doing.

  Benedict had assured her that experience wasn’t necessary, and Hugh seemed to be in complete control as well as quite knowledgeable. That didn’t stop a surge of worry from overcoming her at not knowing exactly what to expect. Relations between men and women had never been explained to her. Her mother and sisters had been tight-lipped about the mechanics of it, assuring her that she would learn what she needed to know on her wedding night. Her eldest sister, Beatrice, had confided that their mother had sat her down the night before her wedding to attempt to explain intercourse to her. There had been a great deal of stammering and blushing, and Bea had only gathered that the act would be painful and degrading, but that one must do her duty in order to please her husband. Helen had told Evelyn that it hadn’t been unpleasant at all, but rather wonderful, yet had neglected to divulge any useful details.

  With no husband to tutor her and no clear picture of what to do or expect, Evelyn had worked herself into a state of panic. What if Hugh found her boring, or saw her lack of knowledge as infantile? What if he thought bedding her to be quite the most boring thing he’d ever done? He’d never tell her so, as he was being paid to tup her as often as she wished. But even knowing that, Evelyn did not want him to dislike it, nor did she relish simply lying there and waiting for him to tell her what she was to do.

  She hadn’t even known that pleasures such as the feel of a mouth upon her breast, or the touch of a hand between her legs existed. How much more was there for her to learn and experience? Would she like it all as much as the things he’d done to her last night?

  With a frustrated sigh, she threw back the bedclothes and sat up, determined not to give in to such fears. She had pushed her trepidation aside to orchestrate the arrangement, so why shouldn’t she continue in that way? A woman who had hired a courtesan for her own gratification needn’t cower behind ignorance and fear. No, she would spend the day preparing herself, so that by the time Hugh arrived she would know what to expect and perhaps even what she might do to make the experience better for them both.

  Determination drove her to send a servant asking for her breakfast in the morning room, and for her companion to meet her there. Patience would help her, of that Evelyn had no doubt. Her companion had taken a handful of lovers over the years and was not shy about speaking of her experiences. It was Evelyn who often changed the subject whenever Patience spoke on matters that made her face and neck grow hot. Today, she would not avoid the subject any longer. She would draw on the other woman’s experience and listen to every salacious detail, no matter how it made her heart pound, or her hands shake.

  Evelyn hurried through her morning toilette and then rushed down to the morning room, where a tray laden with breakfast awaited her.

  She had just taken her first bite of toast and sip of tea when her companion entered the drawing room, eyes twinkling with excitement as she swiftly closed the door behind her.

  “Good morning,” Evelyn murmured between bites, trying to keep her tone nonchalant. “How was your evening?”

  Patience and Joseph had returned much later than she had, Evelyn having fallen asleep before hearing them enter the house.

  Her companion sank onto the sofa beside her with a wide grin. “Oh, no you don’t! I won’t tell you a thing until you’ve told me how your evening went.”

  Evelyn took her time preparing a cup of tea for Patience, avoiding the other woman’s gaze.

  “Well,” she began while handing the cup off. “It was quite pleasant.”

  Patience glared at her over the rim of her teacup. “Is that it? Only pleasant? Come, Miss, I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to hear every little detail!”

  With a sigh, Evelyn stared off across the room, cheeks growing warm as she thought of Hugh kissing her, touching her, pulling down her gown to expose her breasts.

  “It was...quite wonderful, really,” she said with a little smile. “Hugh was a perfect gentleman.”

  Patience scoffed. “I hope he wasn’t too perfect a gentleman.”

  “What I mean is, he was content to allow me to set the pace of things. He didn’t lay a hand upon me until I asked him to.”

  Reaching for a triangle of toast from her tray, Patience gave her a perfectly wicked grin. “And just where did he put those hands? He had nice ones; I studied them before we parted ways.”

  “I asked him to kiss me,” she confided. “And he did...with quite a bit more finesse than I was expecting. Patience, it was unlike any kiss I’ve ever experienced. He kissed me so well and so thoroughly that I forgot to be nervous. Before I knew it, he had my gown pulled down, and...and his hand…”

  She lowered her gaze as she tripped over the words, flushing to the roots of her hair.

  “He touched me...there.”

  Patience gasped, her cup hitting the saucer with a loud ‘clank.’ “He did not!”

  “He did. It was...sublime.”

  Sliding closer to her on the sofa and lowering her voice, Patience fairly overflowed with excitement. “Did he make you spend?”

  Evelyn remembered the soul-stirring spasms that had gripped her while Hugh had rubbed his hand against her with such skill and accuracy. “Is that what it’s called when you...when it feels like you’ve died for a moment?”

  “There are many words for it,” Patience said with a little wave of her hand. “Spending, coming off, or when one wishes to sound sophisticated, la petite mort.”

  Evelyn frowned, taking up a slice of bacon and nibbling on it while turning those words over in her head. “There’s so much I don’t know about what happens next. I had no idea what to expect last night, and soon found myself in a position I did not anticipate.”

  “But you did like it, didn’t you?”

  “Very much. But the more I think about what I do not know, the more nervous I become. He is coming here this evening for dinner, and to discuss the other details of our arrangement. He’ll kiss me again; I know he will. But then...what if there is more of what happened last night? What if he wants to...to…”

  Patience gave her a puzzled frown. “Don’t you want that to happen? I thought getting rid of your virginity was the reason for this entire thing.”

  “It is, but...oh, Patience, I am so appallingly ignorant about all of this. You know how out of sorts it makes me feel not to know things. It’s as if I have been dropped into the ocean without first being taught to swim.”

  Taking hold of her hand, Patience gave it a little squeeze. “Then we’ll simply have to teach you to swim, won’t we?”

  Evelyn sagged against the back of the sofa with a sigh of relief. Thank God, Patience had understood what she’d needed without her having to actually voice it aloud.

  “I’m so grateful to have you, Patience,” she said, clinging tight to her companion’s hand. “I don’t know how I would get through any of this without you.”

  Patience released her hand and sprang to her feet with a little laugh. “Not to worry. We’ll have you all ready for your paramour in time for dinner. I have some literature for you to read, and one of my books contains some very illuminating illustrations. But first, I’ll begin by telling you all about what Joseph and I got up to at Vauxhall last night. I vow, that man has the stamina of a rampant stallion…”

  Leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand, Evelyn listened intently, hanging onto Patience’s every word.

  * * *

  Hugh stood back fro
m the canvas before him, studying the progress he’d just made on Virtue and Vice with a critical eye. Taking Crosby’s advice to mind, he had decided to use the masquerade for inspiration in continuing the piece. After all, he hadn’t been a spectator at last night’s event. He’d been an active participant and could draw upon the experience in order to inject a personal touch into the scene. He’d painted a Dresden shepherdess frolicking on the arm of a man in the black domino in the background, using a figurine that had adorned the mantlepiece of a drawing room hearth for reference while injecting it with the details he recalled from his short interaction with Evelyn’s companion. The innocence portrayed by her mode of dress offered a perfect juxtaposition against her male escort’s domino and the seething darkness surrounding them. While waiting for that part of the work to dry, he shifted his eyes onto the focal point of the painting—the debutante and her suitor.

  Looking upon her now, Hugh found her lacking in many regards, missing some vital thing that might hold the viewer captive. She was too much the coquette, not nearly pure enough to portray the ‘virtue’ element so crucial to the piece. So, he’d gotten to work transforming her. He’d spent half an hour mixing the correct pigments to create the hair color he desired, something dark enough to obliterate the pale white-blond hue with which he’d begun. It had been quite an effort, finding the right balance of bitumen and brown madder, with just the right balance of ivory black to create the rich sable hue. He’d painted flowing locks cascading down the woman’s back, undulating like water and taking on the gleam of moonlight. Her lips shouldn’t be rouged like some sort of harlot...they ought to be a more neutral shade, but still somehow enticing. He’d spent most of his afternoon working on her, turning her into the sort of woman who stirred something in him. Not an untouchable object to gaze upon from afar, but something warmer and more real.

  Once satisfied with her for the moment, he turned his attention to the background, beginning a section composed of crumbling pillars and trees—a ruin perfect for a pair of lovers to escape to.

  Putting his palette aside, he stood back and took in his progress, deciding he was satisfied enough with it for now. He still had quite a bit of work to do, particularly on the elements of the scenery, but he stood right where he wished to be. He had more than enough time to perfect it.

  Glancing down at the watch he’d left laying amid the clutter of his pigment pots and brushes, he noted the time. He was due at Evelyn’s home in an hour. Taking the time to wash his brushes and organize his pots back inside the paintbox, Hugh allowed himself to anticipate what the evening with Evelyn might hold.

  His thoughts had wandered in her direction more than once today, memories of their moments amongst the ruins springing to mind without provocation. He’d left her townhouse with the scent of her still clinging to him, plagued by a heightened sense of awareness. Even the wind caressing the back of his neck as he’d taken the short walk home had reminded him of the feel of her fingertips, sending a tremor down his spine.

  He had expected a blushing innocent, and while he’d gotten that, there had been so much more. Evelyn had seduced him into quite a state, and she hadn’t even been trying. Their little interlude in the gardens had left him hungry for more, for the rest of what would happen once he got her alone and behind closed doors. It was a new experience for him, actually looking forward to going to his keeper instead of viewing it as a simple obligation to be performed for the sake of his income. Hugh wasn’t certain how to feel about it at present.

  Eagerness drove him across the corridor to his bedchamber, where he made quick work of washing up and putting on evening attire appropriate for the occasion. He took pains with his appearance in a way he was not typically wont to do. First impressions were important, and while this wouldn’t be her first time laying eyes on him, it would be the first time she saw him outside his Hussar’s habit.

  As he wound his cravat into as neat a knot as he could manage, he wondered how she would appear outside her own fancy dress. She’d dress modestly, he presumed, her chignon simple. She hadn’t worn cosmetics to Vauxhall, so he supposed he ought to expect that same fresh, dewy face this evening. He experienced a slight stirring in his breeches as he pictured that face flushed pink, her head thrown back and her lips parted as he’d brought her to climax. By the time the night was through he’d bear witness to that sight again, though with more light by which to better admire her. That thought, along with the hunger he’d been ignoring through the entire afternoon, drove him from the house. He walked with long, swift strides, a suede satchel containing sketching supplies hanging from one hand. He’d brought it along as an afterthought, a bit of amusement should Evelyn ask him what he did when he wasn’t entertaining his lovers.

  Aside from that, he hoped to have the chance to sketch those perfect, slender hands while they were together. He did not have a good enough memory after one encounter to draw them without being able to look at her for reference. If she were willing, Evelyn would make the perfect subject with which he might hone his skills. Besides, it might give them a chance to talk—something he felt would be needed if they were to make any progress this evening.

  Evelyn had been shut tighter than a clamshell and had needed his gentle prodding to unwind a bit. While he suspected this wouldn’t continue to be a problem going forward, he ought to expect her to feel a bit wary following their last encounter, perhaps even embarrassed.

  As he approached her front door, he vowed to do whatever it took to make her comfortable with him, if for no other reason than it would get them into bed that much faster.

  His knock was answered by a footman, one who did not seem the least bit shocked by Hugh’s presence at his mistress’s home. Good. A discreet staff would serve to ensure word of their affair did not make the rounds.

  “Good evening,” the servant said as Hugh entered a small foyer. “Miss Coburn has asked that you join her upstairs for dinner. Right this way.”

  He raised his eyebrows as the footman indicated that Hugh was to follow him upstairs. If his guess proved correct, Evelyn was inviting him into her bedchamber from the onset. A clear signal that she intended to get on with things, if ever there was one.

  “Wait a moment!” called a woman’s voice from upstairs. “She is not ready yet!”

  Hugh recognized the voice as that of Evelyn’s companion, Patience. The footman paused on the step before him, bringing Hugh to a stop as well. The servant turned to face him with a sheepish grin and cleared his throat.

  “Just another moment, sir.”

  Hugh leaned against the banister and shrugged one shoulder.

  He studied his surroundings, taking in the view from halfway up the tulip staircase framing the entrance hall in a perfect spiral. The long-case clock on the landing chimed nine times, while the sound of low voices and shuffling feet came at them from above. His satchel hung limp at his side as he traced the pattern of the rug with his gaze.

  After a moment, Patience called out that her mistress was ready. The footman muttered something that sounded like ‘bloody finally’, before leading Hugh on once again. He was directed to the second door on the right and abandoned in the corridor, both servants rushing back downstairs.

  Hugh ran a hand over his lapels to ensure everything lay as it should before knocking. Evelyn’s muffled voice reached out at him through the door

  He stepped inside with a smile, expecting to be greeted by a demure woman wearing a shy smile and perhaps a modest evening gown. What he found, however, was the opposite of that. His satchel fell to the floor with a thunk, his mouth dropping open so fast it was a wonder his jaw didn’t detach from his face entirely. The woman before him was certainly Evelyn, however, she proved the opposite of the woman he had met last night.

  Standing beside the bed with one hand on her hip and the other braced on a post, she made him forget for a moment that he was the courtesan. She created quite the wanton picture in a brocade dressing gown arranged to conceal and reveal all at once
. It hung off one shoulder, low enough to display the top of her breasts, while remaining belted at the waist. One pale leg peeked out from the folds of the fabric. Her feet were bare, and her hair hung loose down her back in a silken tumble, a few locks resting against the exposed shoulder. His mouth went dry as he raked her from head to toe with his gaze, drinking in the sight of her while trying to reconcile this woman with the one from last night.

  Clearing his throat, he stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind him. “Hello.”

  She seemed to try to smile, but her lips trembled, so she schooled her face back into the placid one she’d been wearing a moment ago.

  “Hello, Hugh,” she murmured, starting toward him with slow, measured steps. “I thought it would be more intimate for us to dine in here.”

  “I see,” he replied as she paused just before him, placing both hands upon his chest. “I wish I’d gotten word of the expected attire. I left my dressing gown at home.”

  Uncertainty appeared in her gaze for a moment before it was gone, and she began loosening his coat buttons. “Let me take your coat. If you are amenable, perhaps we ought to begin now and eat afterward.”

  She couldn’t have shocked him more thoroughly had she slapped his face, leaving him momentarily speechless as she attempted to peel his coat off his shoulders and failed. Her hands shook as she tried pulling it past his elbows and found the tailoring too exact to achieve it without help.

  “Eat...after?” he managed as she circled behind him and began tugging to pull him free of his sleeves. “Evelyn—”

  “How do you want me?”

  Her question stunned him into silence once again, and he could only gape at her as she came around to face him, reaching eagerly for his cravat.