Always the Courtesan (Never the Bride Book 3)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  Her voice trailed off. Heavy footsteps were coming up the stairs, thumping on the floorboards.

  There was a knock but not on Mabel’s door. It sounded like someone was knocking on the door opposite–Honora’s.

  Honora stood slowly as Mabel and Ellen turned to look at her. It was all she could do to remain calm, and in a few steps, she reached the door and opened it.

  Standing before her was Josiah.

  Chapter Nine

  Josiah smiled with relief. It had been an absolute age since he had seen that chestnut hair and gazed into those blue eyes, and every second away from Hannah had been torture. He had been forced to spend an hour with Madam arguing, finally agreed to hand over a signed affidavit, had then thumped up the stairs in haste, and knocked on her door eager to see her.

  But she had not been there. Instead, a door had opened behind him, and there she had appeared—and she did not look happy to see him. Her eyes were frosty, with no smile creasing her lips, and instead of speaking, she stood and glared. As he froze in turn, unsure how to approach such a reception, she crossed her arms.

  “Hello,” he said weakly. God’s teeth, why was he a fierce and powerful man outside of this place and as weak as a kitten as soon as he stepped across the threshold?

  The glare became a frown. Still, she did not speak, and Josiah’s smile faded. Hannah strode across the corridor, opened her door, and promptly closed it behind her.

  He leaned against the wall. What on earth had he done to upset her? What could he have done—he had not been here long enough to say or do anything!

  A giggle sounded. Two women were staring with no shame from the room where Hannah had emerged.

  He flushed. Was her response not enough? No, his punishment for whatever he had done must be worse. He had to be mocked.

  One of them laughed again and was nudged by her companion.

  Josiah sighed. “Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

  The giggling woman frowned, as though he had asked a strange and impossible question. “Who is Hannah?”

  Her companion nudged her again with a glare and then beamed at Josiah. “’Tis quite all right, sir, we are comfortable here. You just continue on with your business.”

  But she had not been able to distract him sufficiently. With a frown, he said slowly, “You…you know Hannah’s real name.”

  The two women looked at each other. They were both older than Hannah, one by quite a few years. They were beautiful, in their way, but most of it was the harsh color on their cheeks and lips. The giggling woman frowned and closed the door.

  The temptation to knock and ask, nay, demand to be told her real name rose inside him. He had actually taken a step toward the door before he got a grip on himself.

  He had come here to see Hannah, and he would not leave without doing so. She was upset with him, and it pained him that he could have caused her such sadness—or such anger. The need to see her was greater than his need to know her true name. That would come in time.

  Instead, he hammered on Hannah’s door.

  “Hannah? Open the door!”

  “Go away.”

  The voice was quiet and full of emotion. He could barely hear it through his thunderous knocking. He paused, placed an ear against the door, and heard nothing.

  “Hannah, I have just returned from a long week in the country with some of my friends,” he said quietly, but he was sure she could hear him. “I had completely forgotten I was engaged for it, and there was no way I could get out of it. It was Harry’s birthday celebration, and I promised… I spent every moment of it wishing I were with you and hating the fact I was away from you. I sent a letter. Did you not receive it? And then I came straight here. I haven’t even been home.”

  He waited. Silence. His head hung in disappointment. To think he had come all this way with such a clever plan in his heart, then argue with Madam for near on an hour, to be greeted like this.

  “Please,” he said softly.

  There was the sound of footsteps, and the door opened slowly. She stood in the gap, only half of her visible, eyes fierce. There were rings around them, as though she had struggled to sleep last night, and her hair was pinned simply, little effort or care taken.

  “Is that true?” she spoke quietly, eyes not leaving his.

  Josiah nodded. “Every word.”

  She tilted her head. “And…you have not been enjoying your time, far away, without me?”

  It was the first time she had revealed her emotions to him, and it was truly a revelation. He could hardly believe it.

  She cared for him and had missed him. Perhaps she was concerned he had found joy with another.

  She missed him.

  Love swelled in his heart as a smile rose on his face. “Did you miss me, Hannah?”

  Her cheeks flushed instantly. “No.” She finally dropped her gaze, flustered. “A little. Why don’t you come in?”

  Josiah wanted to. He wanted to push it open and close it behind him, shutting out the world. He wanted to follow her to the bed and ravish her, give her pleasure she had never known. But he would not. That was not part of the plan.

  “No,” he said flatly. “I will not come in.”

  Her glare reappeared. “Why in God’s name did you come here, then, if just to tease me?”

  Despite her anger, Josiah smiled. She was going to be so happy when she understood. It was impossible not to be pleased with himself, and arrogance seeped into his face and caused her glare to deepen.

  “I cannot come in because we are losing the light,” he said, grinning. “We will miss out on time.”

  Hannah stood in the doorway, unable to decide whether to fling herself into his arms or slam the door in his face. “If you do not start to make sense, Mister Josiah, I will close this door on you again, and you will not like it!”

  Her misplaced anger, her desperation to try and show her indifference, was music to his ears. This conversation had made him feel more alive than the last ten days with Devonshire, Acton, Harry, and all the others. No one made him feel like Hannah did.

  He beamed. “I have paid off Madam for your time. Time outside of here, so time is of the essence. Actually, I think she started timing when I came up here, so the quicker we leave, the more we will have.”

  All concern and anger disappeared from Hannah’s face, and something painful thunked in Josiah’s stomach.

  Oh, God, he was in love with her. He had not even bothered to fight it because he’d known, somehow, that this was going to happen. Had wanted it to happen. Knew he was going to fall for the next woman who smiled like she did, laughed with him like she did—and he had come here to try and escape the entanglement an earl certainly did not need.

  But she was more than he had expected. Stronger, more beautiful, more vibrant. She outshone the stars. There were no games here, no manipulation, just secrets he wanted to peel back slowly, like her clothes.

  He was standing there with his mouth open.

  “Leave?” she whispered. “Like last time—a ride in your carriage?”

  He nodded. “A little different, but essentially the same. Now, get ready.”

  “I am ready—I am ready to leave.” She reached for a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  It was this which he had waited for, ever since the idea had struck him during that late-night poker game when Harry had taken them all to the cleaners. He relished the reveal of the surprise.

  “Hannah, you are going to need much more than a shawl,” he said with a slow grin, “for the next three days.”

  Incomprehension covered Hannah’s face, and her eyes widened. “Three days?”

  Josiah nodded. He did not wish to break this precious moment with speech.

  “You…you have paid for three days. Three whole days? Three days of my company,” she repeated, looking at him carefully as though able to sense a lie in his eyes. “Madam has agreed to it? Outside of here?”

  Josiah nodded once more.


  Without any warning, she flung herself into his arms. She was warm and soft, and his. No matter how they had met, she would be his forever.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear, tightening her grip around him. “Thank you, Josiah. Thank you.”

  So unexpected was the embrace, he did not know what to do with himself. His whole body twitched at the feel of her, the closeness, but his instinct to protect her was so strong, he wanted to fold her up safe in his arms and never let her go. They could spend the rest of their lives like this.

  He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

  How long did they stand there, entwined together? Josiah was not conscious of time passing, breathing in the scent of her, his whole body wanting to experience this without the stuffiness of clothes between them.

  But eventually, someone walked by. Hannah started, and Josiah released her. Her cheeks were pink, but there was a smile on her face, and he courteously ignored the wetness on her cheeks.

  “I will require five…maybe ten minutes,” she said and disappeared.

  He snorted. He did not know much about women—his past contained plenty of evidence of that—but he knew when a woman said something would take five minutes, particularly if it related to her appearance, it would take at least double that.

  To his genuine astonishment, it was nearer four minutes by his pocket watch. Hannah appeared holding a small carpetbag with a pelisse around her shoulders that was frayed, darned, and had seen better days.

  He raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “It does not take long to retrieve sufficient belongings for three days. I do not own much in the world anyway. Not anymore. You should have seen how long it took me to pack when…”

  Josiah opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, but she had already slipped past him, shut the door to her bedchamber, and started down the stairs. He smiled. She was probably just as eager to leave this place and have some time to themselves, if not more so. His questions about her strange remark could wait.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, she was standing uncomfortably by the front door opposite Andrews.

  He hesitated. Madam had been most definite that Hannah was to be brought back here, and giving his word had not been enough. He had been forced to sign an affidavit, or as Madam called it, ‘an affidavid,’ stating his intentions to bring her back.

  “Do not forget,” Madam had shot at him, “that I know the magistrate in these parts—know him, if you catch my drift. If you and Hannah do not return in three days, sir, then I will be forced to show this paper to my friend. I would hate to see you clapped in irons for breach of contract.”

  Josiah had nodded and agreed, anything to take her with him. He wanted her, wanted to experience her outside of the four walls of her bedchamber. Would Madam really go to a magistrate?

  Andrews opened the door, and Josiah was brought back to the present with a jolt. The air was crisp and clear, the end of a bright day with few clouds as the sun moved toward the west.

  She smiled excitedly. “Where are we going?”

  “A small lodge house,” Josiah took her carpetbag and stowed it carefully in the carriage. “’Tis not six miles from here, and we will be there within the hour.”

  He had expected more joy, more outpourings of excitement, but Hannah’s face fell as she took his hand to step into the carriage.

  Josiah walked around and pulled himself up, settling into his seat and picking up the reins before saying, “You do not look pleased. I thought you would like it.”

  He had not intended his voice to sound petulant, but as the horses were encouraged into a hasty trot, he heard the tone nonetheless.

  “I do like it,” she said hastily. “It is…I had hoped the next three days would be time together. Just the two of us.”

  He smiled wryly as he brought the horses around a corner. “It is not a lodging house, Hannah, ’tis a lodge house. Part of a large estate, actually, so the lodge house is more what some would call a small manor. I have borrowed it. The entire place will be ours, and ours alone.”

  He glanced away from the road, and was not disappointed. Hannah’s face broke into a wide smile, and he saw the little scar under her chin.

  “A lodge house! Oh, Josiah, that is perfect—we can hide away from the world there, and pretend it is our own!”

  She nestled into him happily, and he grinned. He would not tell her it was his own. It was one of the lodge houses on his estate, hardly used now, and it had not taken Mrs. O’Donnell more than an hour to get ready. It had never been put to better use.

  The carriage ride was so smooth, and Hannah so warm, pressed up against him, that the journey of an hour felt like mere minutes. In his heart of hearts, he wished it had been longer. He wanted to soak up every minute with her by his side, because he did not think Madam would give permission for such an excursion again soon, with or without his ‘affidavid.’

  The lodge house came into view, and Josiah beamed as he helped Hannah from the carriage. “Well?”

  She looked up, the golden stone, the careful pointing work, the windows with mullioned glass, and flowers visible in the fading light. “Very nice.”

  He felt flattened. He had always been rather impressed with Oak Avenue Lodge, and it was the best on his estate—and that meant a great deal. The Chester estate was over six hundred acres, but he knew this corner like the back of his hand. He had heard Lord Byron had modeled his newest lodge on this one.

  Her dismissive tone softened. “I am sorry, Josiah, did you think I would be more impressed?”

  He laughed as he pulled her bag from the carriage. “If I am honest…yes! It is three times the size of Madam’s place.”

  Hannah joined him in laughter as she took his hand and squeezed it. “I mean no disrespect, Josiah, I promise you. ’Tis perfect for what we want, and that is what matters—but it is not a patch on Axwick Lodge at Stonehaven Lacey.”

  With a final squeeze of his hand, she let go and started walking toward the door.

  Josiah’s mouth fell open. Axwick Lodge? Stonehaven Lacey? How on earth did she know what Stonehaven Lacey was, let alone that there was an Axwick Lodge?

  Was there a chance, even the slightest possibility, that Miss Hannah or whatever her real name was…was a lady?

  In a place like that—a place like Madam’s? He was not a connoisseur of brothels, but he knew most girls were servants’ children, children from the wrong side of the sheets, and the roughest ends of villages.

  And here was Miss Hannah, with her regal bearing and her evident disdain for lodges with only six bedrooms. What had she said before?

  Are you foolish enough to believe I am the only one involved in my story?

  Yes, there was a secret there, but she would not give it up easily. If she spoke the truth, and Josiah had no reason to doubt her, at least one other person would suffer if the truth were made known.

  Who was it then? A gentleman, perhaps a titled one, who found himself with a child on the wrong side of the sheets? It was the most likely reason why she could know such things. But even so, she had lived in society, attended the Assembly Rooms in Bath, had perhaps graced Almack’s. It was strange he did not recognize her. But then, all those ladies looked the same.

  A chilly breeze rustled through the trees, and he shivered. Plenty of time to wonder about the mysterious beginnings of Miss Hannah inside.

  She had gone exploring, and he followed the noise, discovering her in the drawing room. Her eyes were closed in bliss as she sunk into the squashiest armchair Josiah had ever seen.

  “Hannah,” he said quietly, standing in the doorway, “how do you know about Axwick Lodge at Stonehaven Lacey?”

  Her blue eyes snapped open, and fear flooded her features before it disappeared as quickly as it had come. If Josiah had not been paying attention, he would not have noticed it.

  She smiled. “I was in service for a family which visited once, long ago. And speaking of service, there does not seem to be much her
e. Will there be food anywhere?”

  Josiah hesitated. That sounded like a lie, but a good one. Who remembered all of one’s servants? He certainly did not. The earldom of Chester had hundreds. Did he know their names? Could he even pick half of them out?

  It was a clever lie. Unless, thought Josiah, unless it was the truth. He would not put it past her, after all, to slip in something true every now and again to make the rest of the lies fit together.

  If he had not been so hungry himself, he would have kept questioning her. As it was…

  “I left instructions for food to be prepared,” he relented. “Let me go and look.”

  Just half an hour later, they sat in armchairs facing each other, pulled up on either side of the roaring fire.

  “Your friend will not mind we have rearranged the room?” she asked nervously, her empty plate on the floor and a glass of wine in her hand.

  Josiah grinned. “I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my friend will not even notice.”

  The sun was setting and sending rays of golden-red light into the room. Josiah had a glass of wine in his hand, too, but it was not the reason for his relaxed state.

  Hannah was. Everything about her called out to him with comfort. He could never have imagined being this relaxed with a woman—any woman, let alone one who cost him coin but was worth every penny.

  Hannah did not look for lies. She did not play games.

  He could be completely himself with her, without constantly thinking about what he was saying or how he appeared. He did not worry about the silence. It was the silence that was the marvel, for society had taught him, and Mr. Portland had beaten it into him, that polite society meant good conversation.

  But not always. With Hannah, he was learning silence—companionable, quiet, gentle silence between two people who could speak but chose not to—could be one of the most incredible things to share.

  She was exactly what he had been looking for. Uncomplicated and the most intricate puzzle he had ever come across. Beautiful and not dependent on her beauty to do all the talking. Witty but not desperate to be impressive.