Always the Courtesan (Never the Bride Book 3)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  Honora relaxed. He was not going to force her to speak? He truly was unlike any other.

  “I am the youngest,” she said softly, astonished at her bravery for saying something true.

  “Ah, so you have had the opposite experience of me, I trust,” he said with a laugh. “It has only ever been Harry and me, but as the eldest, I have a fair few more expectations placed on me by the family.”

  Honora watched him curiously. He could not be nobility—a nobleman would have a mistress, not visit a brothel. So, potentially a shopkeeper or tradesman with the responsibility of carrying on the family business? No, more likely a lawyer. He did not work with his hands, she knew that, could tell from the softness of them. He was certainly not lacking any wealth, not if this carriage was any witness to his coffers.

  “Since my father died, I have been the man of the house,” Mr. Josiah mused as the horses took another turn along some woodland. “I cannot help but wonder if Harry had been the elder, how things would have been different.”

  Honora swallowed. There were some gentlemen that liked to visit Madam’s establishment and talk about their sorrows rather than—

  “What are you thinking?” Mr. Josiah’s voice, not harsh but curious, cut into her thoughts. “You are so silent, Miss Hannah, but you can speak those thoughts to me. I will not hurt you.”

  No, you would not, Honora thought. But can I trust you?

  “I was thinking,” she said carefully as the carriage bumped over a few loose stones, “that there are few gentlemen eager to relinquish their position as the eldest. They do not even think about it. They appear, from what I can see, to relish the position.”

  He laughed, and Honora’s body relaxed, so her arm touched his. “That is true, by God, and I think Harry would have to agree with you there. But then, there is little pressure on the younger to sire the next generation.”

  Honora smiled. “And there is no expectation on women?”

  He glanced at her again. “To be sure, you are right there. Most of my friends are getting wed, some happily, some unhappily, but ’tis all to provide the…the family name with an heir. But I…”

  Ah, here it is, thought Honora, settling into her seat comfortably. The crux of the matter. He has not found a suitable bride, and so he comes here. Well, he is hardly going to find one in Madam’s place.

  “When did courting become so complicated?” Mr. Josiah’s sigh was heartfelt, and her heart softened. His eyes focused forward as he continued, “I say without pride, Miss Hannah, that I have had a fair few chances to court young ladies, but with all the complicated misunderstandings and fallings out, the anger and confusion, and game playing…”

  His voice trailed off, and she, without thought, placed her hand on his. “Life is not intended to be simple,” she said softly. “It is often the most confusing just before everything falls into place.”

  His hand was warm and strong. She felt his muscles as he pulled on the reins to slow the horses to a trot. A shiver passed through her body.

  “I came to Madam because I decided to avoid emotional entanglement.” His voice was low, but she could make out every word. “I was lonely, Miss Hannah, though it pains me to admit it. I wanted comfort. I wanted company.”

  His dark eyes, usually so calm, were fierce, filled with an intensity that made her gasp. He wanted her, and he did not know how to ask for it, and he respected her too much to do anything without her permission.

  The power to do something about it was hers. “And,” she breathed, her hand still on his, “have you found a solution?”

  He smiled wryly and shifted his hand so he clasped hers. “I thought I had, but now I am not sure. I know what I want, certainly. But I think I want it too much.”

  An emotion Honora had never felt poured through her veins. If she did not know any better, she would call it…affection?

  Liking was too staid, and love was too much, but affection—that rush of good feeling, of connection, of wanting to touch and be touched. Yes, it was affection, and for Mr. Josiah, a gentleman who was more open and honest than any other she had met.

  She could not allow him to think of her like that. It was simply not possible.

  “As the youngest of four, the responsibility of continuing on the line was never mine,” she managed to say in a calm voice.

  He chuckled. “That must have been a wonderful way to grow up! Brothers or sisters?”

  Honora marveled at the way the sunlight caught in his eyes. “Two elder brothers who care too much, which was rather a restriction!”

  “And a sister, too, then?”

  “Yes, Prudence,” she said without thinking.

  By God, she had used Prudence’s name—her real name! So caught in this moment of freedom with a handsome gentleman, she had forgotten one of the first things she had sworn to herself when she had been brought here. No details about her previous life, so Prudence and her brothers would be protected. They never needed to know what had happened to her, and now Mr. Josiah—

  But he had not noticed the blunder. “And are any of them married?”

  The concern radiating in her heart turned to panic. “I do not know—probably. I was…I had to leave them when I was young, and my brother had just been made… I do not know. How much more time do we have before we must return?”

  Mr. Josiah caught her gaze, and she wilted beneath it. “I do not wish to disobey orders,” she said, freeing her hand from his and dropping her gaze to her lap.

  The barouche turned a corner, and Honora was surprised and disappointed to see Madam’s house was but a few hundred yards ahead of them.

  “Miss Hannah,” he said quietly, “I have no wish to force you to tell me anything, but one day I would like to hear your story. And your name.”

  The carriage was slowing, and Honora allowed herself a smile. “I know, Mr. Josiah. Perhaps…”

  But she could not bring herself to say it, and what would ‘it’ even be?

  Perhaps you can take me away from here forever? Perhaps you can marry me, and we can lie and pretend you met me abroad? Perhaps I want to make love to you as much as you want me, but neither of us knows how to ask. We just take and give as is our position in life?

  The carriage stopped where Madam stood, disapproval across her brow.

  Mr. Josiah reached for her hand, but Honora was too quick for him, dropping onto the path and smiling.

  “Thank you, Mr. Josiah, for your company,” she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the man who had already brought her more happiness than she had known since she had arrived here. “And I hope one day to tell you my story and my name. Once you have earned it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Rain poured down his hat, dripped down his collar, and collected into his boots as Josiah strode across the road and toward the porch.

  “God’s teeth, stop raining!” he muttered darkly, shaking under the dim lantern.

  Banging on the door, he pulled his greatcoat around himself and shivered. These autumn evenings could be freezing, but it was not more than a minute before the heavy oak door was opened, and Andrews glared out into the gloom.

  “Yes?” he said aggressively, but a toothy smile emerged when the light from his candle fell on Josiah’s face. “Ah, ’tis you, Mr. Josiah. We were expecting you, come in out of the rain.”

  Josiah nodded as he pushed his way past Andrews into the dark hallway. It was going to happen eventually, of course. As with all servants, there would come a time when Josiah was considered an important guest, not a nuisance.

  To earn Andrews’s respect, all it took was coming here twice a week, every week, for two months.

  “Ah, Mr. Josiah, so nice to see you again.” Madam curtseyed before him. “Have you come for your usual, my good sir?”

  He felt his stomach clench, but he forced down the feeling of nausea. The way she talked about Hannah, it was obscene—his usual, as though he was ordering a meal! That was exactly how they were treated, he reminded himself, trying
not to notice the peeling wallpaper and the mold creeping across the ceiling. This was hardly the place a respectable woman wanted to end up.

  It was only by averting his gaze each time he visited that he managed to return at all. Force down the questions, ignore his concerns. Why was he such a hypocrite?

  “Yes,” he managed to say in a strong voice, belying the confusion tearing inside him. “Yes, Miss Hannah, please, Madam.”

  She did not show him the way, but she did not need to.

  Madam pointed to the stairs. “Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Josiah.”

  He nodded and turned toward the stairs where Hannah waited for him.

  A twinge of desire flowed through his body, but it was equally ignored. After so many weeks, he could still not touch her, desperate though he was to try, and it was foolish to pretend he did not want to take her in his arms and—

  “Are you quite well, Mr. Josiah?”

  Madam’s voice cut into his thoughts, where he had taken off all Hannah’s clothes and was about to kiss her lips. She was staring with concern, and he smiled quickly to cover his confusion.

  “Why do you not accompany me, Madam—after all, you are still a fine specimen of womanhood.”

  Every inch of Josiah cringed as he spoke those words, but they were the best distraction he could think of, and he saw instantly, they had worked. He had inherited the Stanhope charm, the same charm Harry had in spades—and it never failed.

  Madam simpered. “Why, Mr. Josiah, you are unfortunate I do not play the game anymore, or I should gladly welcome you into my private chambers! As it is, I will accompany you upstairs and check on Miss Hannah.”

  The woman came closer, and Josiah offered her his arm as any gentleman would. Her cheeks pinked with pleasure as she took it, and they walked up the stairs together.

  Josiah could see Hannah’s door long before he reached it, slightly ajar, a voice flowed out of it.

  “—what does he want, though? Soon enough, he’ll get bored and will go to someone else. It always happens, even with—”

  Madam flung open the door, and there was a muffled gasp of shock.

  “Do you mind, Ellen, Mabel,” she said icily. “Miss Hannah here has a visitor, and you should be making yourself ready for our next guest.”

  Josiah’s view of the room was blocked by the behemoth of Madam, and so he did not clearly see the faces of the two women who scuttled out of Hannah’s room.

  Madam turned to him with a smile. “Lord me, Mr. Josiah, I do apologize. I completely forgot to ask you whether you would have liked a few extra…companions with you and Hannah. Would you like me to call them back for you?”

  Josiah could not help but laugh. “Not in the slightest, Madam. I am here to see Hannah. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  Stepping neatly inside the room, he shut the door firmly in Madam’s face and turned to lean against the wall.

  “Hello,” he said softly.

  Hannah was sitting on the bed, a nervous grin on her lips. Something painful skipped in Josiah’s chest, and his heart thumped wildly. There was the little scar under her chin, like a welcoming secret they shared, just the two of them.

  Damn. He had been captivated at the first moment by this beauty.

  He would be a liar if he said he did not feel something. He left this room hard as a flint every time, but it was more than that—more than the physical desire. The two months had been like taming a wild beast. Somehow that was more pleasurable, learning her likes and dislikes, hearing her laugh, discussing topics safe and non-personal but which still demonstrated her flair for conversation and for life—far more gratifying than sinking himself into her.

  After all these months, he still had not managed to do the latter.

  “How are you, Mr. Josiah?” Her voice was calming.

  Josiah wanted to melt in a puddle on the floor for the love of her. And it was love or something like it, and there was no point denying it to himself. He could convince himself he did not care for her when away from her, but when he was here, it was completely impossible.

  And he could not touch her. He had never had a problem in that department before, and it was not for lack of wanting to. But it would be sordid now, dirty. Like he had bought her. Like she had a price—and no one could afford Miss Hannah.

  Josiah swallowed. This was no time to lose himself in pathetic thoughts. Now was the time to speak, and perhaps, to touch. If it was right. If she wanted it.

  “Very well, thank you,” he managed to say in a strangled voice, leaving the wall and walking over to sit beside her on the bed. “And yourself?”

  “Very well,” she echoed, her smile moving from warm to teasing. “And I hope you have not forgotten our place in your dramatic life story?”

  Josiah grinned. “I still do not see the attraction, Hannah. I am hardly a paragon of virtue or a dastardly pirate. Why on earth would you want to hear about my life?”

  What he could not say was how flattering he found it. Every woman who had ever simpered at him before had wanted to talk about herself—and the irony was, of course, that he had never been so eager to hear about a woman’s life than Hannah’s.

  “Because you have lived an exciting one, though it may not appear so to you,” she said, shifting to sit crossed legged opposite him. “You forget that as a gentleman, there are many things you have done, which I simply have not. Like university, and you promised me last week, you would tell me the story of the fight you found yourself in.”

  Josiah laughed and tried not to think about how close her hands were to his. “Fight? You flatter me, Hannah, it was barely a brawl and not a suitable topic for young ladies to hear about!”

  She smiled, the light from the candle sparkling in her blue eyes. “I want to hear it.”

  “But it was not my fault!”

  “Why am I not surprised? But see, Josiah,” and his heart squirmed hearing his name spoken by her, “let me hear the tale, and then I shall be the judge of whether you were to blame.”

  Hannah was smiling, and he almost lost control and leaned over to kiss her—but he restrained himself with difficulty.

  He was going to woo Hannah, court her, not just bed her. That meant time. That meant not rushing her into a position she felt uncomfortable in.

  But he had months and the tantalizing closeness of her in the carriage, not that Madam had agreed to a further outing. Perhaps today would be the day?

  “’Tis so boring, really, I feel quite ashamed to tell you,” he said, “but here it is. There was a simple misunderstanding with a gentleman, a man who shall remain anonymous in my tale but let us call him Lord Dryron—”

  Hannah leaned closer to him. Making her laugh was the best thing in the world.

  “—and when my horse won the race, the gentleman in question would not pay up. I was within my right to fight him, of course, as penalty for not paying the fine, but I chose not to.”

  Josiah smiled at the disappointed look on her face.

  “You chose not to?” she repeated. “I thought you said you had got into a fight.”

  “I did. Just because I decided not to fight, did not mean Lord By—I mean, Lord Dryron, agreed with me. He punched me on the nose, and it bled quite horribly, I remember.”

  Hannah laughed again, and he grinned in turn, delighted to see her so diverted.

  She shifted, and the light caught the curve of her breast. Josiah swallowed. “But of course, you have probably seen your fair share of fights in your time,” he said nonchalantly, secretly desperate for any details of her life—but she was intelligent and knew his game.

  “Oh, yes, we can hardly go five minutes without a fight here,” she said. “Between the gentlemen, between the girls. It never stops.”

  “No, I meant before you came here.”

  He knew it was a mistake the moment he spoke. Hannah’s smile disappeared, and her eyes went cold. Without saying a word, she moved off the bed to walk around the room, eventually standing near the door, looking
at it rather than him.

  He sighed. “All I want to do is get to know you. The real you.”

  There was silence before she responded. “I know, but you cannot. Get to know Hannah. She is lovely.”

  Without thinking, he rose from the bed and walked toward her, stopping just behind her. “She is,” he said softly, “but I am not getting the whole story. That’s the one I want. All about Hannah…and all about you.”

  She did not move, and Josiah could not stop himself. Reaching out, he stroked the soft skin of her arm and almost moaned aloud. God, she was so delicate.

  “I do not want to hurt you.”

  She moved away as though he had whipped her. “Then do not.”

  His heart was thundering, and it was all he could do not to cry out. “God’s teeth, Hannah, you may have pity for me!”

  “For you?” Her voice was cold.

  “Yes—can you honestly be surprised I wish to know more about you? At times, you speak like a gentlewoman, but you are here, and I do not understand anything about you,” he said desperately. Why did he feel like he was laying all his cards on the table? “There is something about you, some secret you are not telling me!”

  “And why would I? Are you foolish enough to believe I am the only one involved in my story? Do you think a tragic tale must be told, and to you? What arrogance you have, Mr. Josiah, to think I should reveal all about me when I know little about you!”

  That stung. “I have told you all about—”

  “Oh, fights in university and catching fish in ponds,” Hannah said dismissively. “What is your name? Where do you live? Is there a wife out there somewhere, wondering where you are, lonely and upset that you care not for her?”

  Both were scared then, both had questions—but neither were willing to reveal the truth. Neither would be vulnerable. Neither would be the first.

  “If you have no more to say to me, you may go,” she said coldly.

  She could have stabbed him with a knife and twisted it in his gut.

  “Well, why do I not tell you something about me?” he offered.