Always the Courtesan (Never the Bride Book 3)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  He had not given it another thought. By God, if only he had. He had been visiting for what—four months? This could have all been so different, he could have rescued her weeks ago.

  Josiah swallowed. “That…that is awful.”

  He felt her shrug. “That is the world I live in. No, that is not fair—I have heard of some brothels which are relaxed, and some women who are true courtesans, owning property where one or two gentlemen come to visit. But at Madam’s, this is what happens.”

  She sounded so calm, so restrained. As though she had cried all the tears out many years ago, and now all that was left was steel.

  He was certain now. He would purchase Hannah as soon as he could get the lodge ready for her. Organizing it would not take long—Murray, his butler, could do most of the work as a man of discretion.

  He slipped his hand from hers and put his arm around her, drawing her close. He could feel her warmth. He would do anything to protect her.

  “It is strange,” he said quietly, hoping to distract her. “People do run away all the time, you read about it in the newspapers. Why, my friend’s little sister even did it a few years ago, and I ask you, if the sister of a duke can do it, why not you?”

  There was a slight stiffness in the way Hannah was leaned against him as she said, “The sister of a duke? Did no one search for her?”

  “They did. They do still. I know the two brothers—William and John—look for her everywhere,” Josiah said, glad to see the conversation moving on to a different topic. “I have seen them pay hundreds of pounds in a month to informants up and down the country, but to no avail.”

  She was silent, and then, “It must be distressing for them, not being able to find their sister.”

  “I know it is,” said Josiah heavily. “I think she does not wish to be found—they have put forth so much time and effort, the only answer is she is actively hiding from them.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps she found a gentleman somewhere, fell in love, but knew her brothers would not approve of him. Mayhap she believed it would be better just to elope, rather than wait for her brothers to deny their permission.” Josiah laughed. “I suppose if more girls did that,” he continued, “fathers and brothers would take a woman’s desire to marry whomsoever they chose more seriously!”

  He had excepted her to laugh with him. But she did not. She was utterly silent.

  He saw a worried expression on her face. “Are you feeling unwell, Hannah?”

  Was that a flinch at the sound of her false name?

  “I am quite well, thank you,” she said stiffly, not looking at him. “I am just not looking forward to having to go back to that pokey old room. No one would choose to run away for that standard of living, I can tell you.”

  Josiah could see the dim lights of Madam’s and pulled gently at the horses to slow them before glancing at her. Was it really despondency over returning to Madam’s, or was there something more? Had he frightened her or saddened her with his tale of Mercia’s sister?

  Something jolted in his stomach. Was it possible that…God’s teeth, was it possible Mercia’s sister—what was her name, Charity?—was in Madam’s brothel, too? Could it be that Hannah knew her, knew her story, and was trying to hide it from him?

  Before he could think how to ask without forcing her to betray a confidence, the carriage came to a stop.

  His heart twisted. It was time to say goodbye, and he would rather do anything else. He would have to watch her go into that godforsaken place, knowing it was more a prison than a home.

  Thankfully, there was still time for a passionate kiss in the carriage before she went in—but Hannah had other ideas. Before he could move, she had jumped down from the carriage.

  “Hannah,” Josiah began. “I—”

  “I hope you have a pleasant evening,” she said. “Goodbye, Mr. Josiah.”

  She turned away without waiting for him to respond.

  “Hannah—Hannah wait!” He scraped his wrist on the carriage in his haste to descend, but he was not quick enough. She slipped through the door before he reached it, and Andrews rose out of the gloom.

  “Thank you, Mr. Josiah, sir,” he said in his deep voice. “Good night, Mr. Josiah.”

  Josiah sagged. Rather piteously, he said into the darkness, “But all I wanted was a goodbye kiss.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Without a clock, it was impossible for Honora to tell how long she had been asleep. Piercing streams of hot sunlight poured through the gaps in her boarded window. The same fluttering panic in her heart from last night was nestled inside her.

  She had struggled to fall asleep, mind whirling with unanswered questions, replaying Josiah’s words, desperately trying to understand what he had said.

  People do run away all the time, you read about it in the newspapers. Why, my friend’s little sister even did it a few years ago, and I ask you, if the sister of a duke can do it, why not you?

  It was a small miracle she had been able to sleep at all.

  Plenty of young girls do not want to be found, but ’tis rare for a lady. Perhaps she found a gentleman somewhere, fell in love, but knew her brothers would not approve of him. Mayhap she believed it would be better just to elope, rather than wait for her brothers to deny their permission.

  She snorted and turned over. Eloping—what a fairytale, how romantic. If she had read it in one of the three-penny novels she borrowed from some of the other girls, she would have cried at the beauty of it all. Two lovers determined to be together. She would have applauded them.

  How she wished to God that was the truth.

  But her life was tragic.

  Feet pattered outside her bedchamber as she smiled sadly. She could never have predicted how she would have found out, but now she knew her brothers were still looking for her. Despite the years which had passed, they had not given up. They still loved her, still wanted to find her.

  She would never allow it. The Duke of Mercia was not going to be shamed by her, not if she could help it. The Lady Honora Lennox was dead. Dead and gone.

  Why else would she choose a name like Hannah? It was the perfect disguise. It was a common name among servants.

  No, William and John would never find her here, and though her heart might say otherwise, she did not want them to.

  She sat up and pulled a shawl around herself for comfort rather than warmth.

  Why did Josiah tell her that story? Was he gently letting her know he knew who she was? Surely if he knew she was Lady Honora Lennox, as a friend to her brother, he would rescue her—or at least tell her brother of her whereabouts!

  Or was he going to blackmail her family? Was money of more interest to him than happiness? Did he intend to start coming here without paying, or tell Madam she had been uncooperative?

  Would he tell everyone, ruin her family forever?

  She leaned back against the wall and tried to fight the nausea. The idea was a nightmare, and she cared for him so much. Love mingled with fear. A deadly concoction.

  Someone opened her bedchamber door without knocking, and she turned a glaring eye to the intruder—but it was Ellen, smiling broadly and wearing her favorite white muslin gown.

  “Everyone says you have been taken ill,” she said cheerfully, shutting the door behind her. “You have been gone for a while, and now in bed? ’Tis nearly noon! Did they take you to a doctor?”

  Honora laughed and patted the bed, inviting her friend to join her. “Have you ever known Madam to take a sick girl to a doctor?”

  Ellen chuckled. “That is exactly what Mabel said. Where did you really go?”

  Despite every effort, her cheeks pinked. “Mr. Josiah. He took me away to a lodge. We were there three days.”

  She laughed again at the look on Ellen’s face—pure astonishment mixed with confusion.

  “So…so did you…?”

  She nodded. “And it was—it was the most incredible experience I have ever had. Ho
nestly, I think it was more like my first time! I shall never forget it. Never.”

  Ellen was watching her with a smile, but there was sadness behind her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I had a gentleman like that, once.”

  Her spirit sank at her friend’s tone. “What happened?”

  Ellen shrugged and looked away, staring at the boarded window. “What always happens. You give yourself to them, they take what they want, they get bored, they move on.”

  “He would not do that,” she blurted. “He is not like—”

  “Not like the gentleman who loved me?” Ellen turned back with incredulity in her eyes. “You did not even know him. How can you possibly compare them? If it comes to that, you barely know your Mr. Josiah!”

  “I know him better than anyone else in the whole world! He cares for me and loves me!”

  But, said a disgruntled voice inside her head, you do not know much about him. What has he actually told you?

  Ellen was watching her. “What is his surname, Honora?” The question was asked gently.

  Honora pulled her shawl tighter around her. “I do not know.”

  “Is he a gentleman?” Ellen asked quietly. “Or does he work for a living?”

  “I do not know,” she admitted. Concern was boiling in her stomach like a bubbling pit of acid. These were basic questions, questions that would be answered by any introduction in society. But she did not know them.

  Ellen was watching her. “Honora, it is exactly how it should be. They do not know anything about us, and we do not know anything about them.”

  “But—”

  “No exceptions,” Ellen interrupted. “Trust me. I have been here far longer than you, and if you are right, and your Mr. Josiah comes to take you away one day—do not pretend you do not wish it. I know how this works. They come here for pleasure, for the physical release, and when they get it, they go. Even your Mr. Josiah.”

  Her words sunk in.

  After giving so much of herself to him, after giving him not only her body but her heart, the thought of not seeing him was painful. Marginally less painful than the thought of being betrayed by him.

  “Talk to me.” Ellen’s voice was soft, but Honora did not want to hear it. She did not want to speak to another human being ever again.

  “I am just tired,” she said. “When was the last time you had the same gentleman for three days?”

  Ellen did not respond.

  “It gets tiring after a while, does it, not? Attempting to be so inventive all the time!”

  A quick glance at her friend told her she was not convincing.

  “He brought you back, good and proper, just as he had agreed with Madam,” Ellen said quietly, “because you are an object he borrowed. He sees us as no different than borrowing a carriage or hiring a superb gun for the season. You are one of my few true friends in this place—and I would not lie to you.”

  Honora tried to hold back the tears. “But he makes me feel so special and—”

  “They all do,” Ellen cut in bluntly. “And we make them feel special in turn. Those are the rules, and after we share our souls with them, that is usually the last time we see them.”

  Honora’s heart, battling to stay afloat in the sea of her emotions, started to sink. It was all too much, returning to this godforsaken place, Josiah teasing her with the knowledge of her true identity, and she had not even said goodbye.

  Now Ellen, a far greater authority on men, was telling her she would not get that chance. It was over. Josiah had got what he wanted, and he was gone.

  “I thought,” she said, “I was the first girl to be allowed out like…like that.”

  Ellen’s bitter laugh returned. “Oh, my darling, not at all. I have been here—’tis either six and a half or seven years and although it is rare, it does happen.”

  Honora tried to take in her words. She was not special. Madam had played this trick before, given the gentleman what he wanted.

  “You are the fourth I have seen,” Ellen was still speaking, “and in every case before that, the same story. The gentleman gets his fill and goes elsewhere.”

  Honora’s shoulders drooped, and she dropped down on the bed.

  Why had she been so foolish as to allow her hopes to rise at all? The hope he would purchase her from Madam, take her away; it all seemed so ridiculous. Few men would even consider it, and then what would she be? Nothing but a bought and paid for thing, a thing for his amusement and his pleasure. Not an equal, not even a person. Less valuable than a horse.

  And he was a friend of her brother’s. Although he had told her this the night before, the consequences of his words had not really sunk in until now. It must have been before William rose to the dukedom; it had been so recent.

  They had met when William was a soldier. Did that mean Josiah was a soldier, too? Her brother was not a shy man, and he would never lie to her when she asked personal questions.

  Some of the soldiers had come back from France wealthy. Some had come back penniless. And there was Josiah, with his friends in high places and money. And even if he could afford her, would he want to?

  She barely knew what to think, but she could not help what she felt.

  It was betrayal, pure and simple. He was not coming back. He was going to abandon her here, knowing what it was like, knowing who she was.

  “Remember the rules,” came Ellen’s voice. “No falling in love with the customers. It never ends well.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  If Josiah had not put out a hand to steady himself and managed to catch the neck of his horse, he would have fallen to the ground as he dismounted.

  “Less haste, more speed,” he muttered, the old saying his grandfather used to spit at him, forcing its way from memory to mouth.

  The trouble was, he was hasty. He was desperate, in fact, to get off this horse, untangle his hands from its mane, and get inside to see Hannah.

  How long had it been—a day? Perhaps less. Every single second was painful, unable to rid her from his mind or forget the way she touched him. He had spent the entire morning sitting in the garden at Oak Avenue Lodge, remembering how she moved closer to him when she felt uncertain, as though he could protect her from the world.

  And he could. A long and rather uncomfortable conversation with Murray had sorted that out. The lodge would become theirs, and Hannah could live in it for the rest of her days. Josiah was certain, as he walked his horse to the small stable Madam offered her guests, that he could get everything arranged within the week.

  Then she could come home. Have a home, far away from this torrid place. She would be his, and he would be hers.

  Just the thought of being able to see her every day, walk down and talk with her, make love to her—it was enough to fizz the blood. Josiah had to shake his shoulders to force the tension out of them; the idea was so intoxicating.

  Perhaps he could even take her with him when he had to visit other properties on the estate.

  Josiah’s smile fell as he walked around the stable and toward the door of the brothel. Perhaps not. That would hardly sit well with any future wife of his.

  The Earl of Chester could never marry a courtesan. The mother of his heirs, a whore? It would never be accepted—he would not only lose his place in society but likely be ousted by the Standish branch of the family. They would have his children—his stomach lurched at the thought of his and Hannah’s children declared illegitimate, and the line of succession reverted to them.

  These wild thoughts did not prevent him from courteously nodding at Andrews as he approached the front door. What did it all matter, anyway, if he loved her and she him? The damned title could go to the Standishes for all he cared. A title couldn’t keep him warm at night.

  “Sorry, Mr. Josiah, sir,” Andrews said gruffly, putting out his hand. “You cannot see Hannah.”

  Josiah’s gaze fell coldly on the hand meant to stop him. Andrews dropped it hastily. You did not grow up as the future earl without learning some of the very be
st stares.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “There has never been a problem before.”

  Andrews opened his mouth and closed it again in uncharacteristic silence. But then Josiah remembered himself—he was at a brothel, not dissimilar to any one of his other clubhouses. There were rules here, customs he needed to follow. If anything, he had been remiss.

  “I do apologize, Andrews,” Josiah said with a magnanimous smile. “I have remembered myself. Here.”

  Without another word, he pulled out a gold sovereign from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to the man with a wink.

  “I can now see Hannah, I assume,” he said without pausing for an answer, then reached for the handle.

  Andrews pocketed the coin with one hand and grabbed Josiah’s outstretched arm with the other. “No, Mr. Josiah. You cannot.”

  Josiah was not accustomed to being manhandled by servants. Wrenching his arm free, he glared at the glowering servant.

  “I see no reason why I should be denied entrance,” he said sharply. “And I would like to see Madam, at once.”

  Josiah had raised his voice, and it had melted many a servant in his time. Andrews was made of stronger stuff, but he did wilt under the heat of Josiah’s gaze.

  “I apologize, sir, but Madam has given me clear instructions. You cannot see her. Although…” He swallowed. “It is probably more accurate to say you cannot see her now, sir.”

  The afternoon sun was pouring onto his back, and he was desperate to see Hannah. She was a few feet away from him, but between them stood this oaf of a man, a thick oak door, and a staircase. Was he really going to allow him to prevent them from being together?

  “There has never been a problem before.”

  Andrews kept his gaze focused to the left of Josiah.

  “If you know what is good for you,” Josiah snapped, “you will get out of my way.”

  Josiah was not a typical fighter. He had never been particularly interested in fencing or boxing at Eton or Cambridge. He had been in fewer than five true fights in his entire life, and all of them had been either misunderstandings or as a reluctant participant.