Always the Courtesan (Never the Bride Book 3)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  “The girl,” Mercia roared, pulling him forward and slamming him into the wall again. “Where is the girl?”

  Josiah’s fingers scrabbled at Mercia’s, desperate for release, but none came.

  “A brothel house,” he managed to gasp as spots popped into his vision. “Out of town—the London road. Ten miles away, all alone on the left. You—you cannot miss it.”

  Josiah was not sure whether Mercia would release him or hold him here in perpetual strangulation. Mercia narrowed his eyes fiercely, and Josiah tried to take another breath but couldn’t.

  And then it was all over. Josiah dropped to the floor, clutching at his throat and trying desperately not to panic as air rushed back into his lungs.

  “Wh-what,” he tried, and had to cough before looking up and seeing Mercia demanding his greatcoat from a stunned footman. “What was all that about?”

  Mercia glared, all friendship, all understanding gone. “That’s my sister, you bastard. My sister, you remember, the one that went missing—who was taken against her will? And you’ve been…you have…you bastard.”

  The footman proffered his greatcoat, and Mercia snatched it up, storming out of the silent card table room, leaving Josiah in complete shock, lying on the floor and massaging his throat.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Honora kept her eyes focused on the magazine she had borrowed in the hope that the racket going on downstairs would soon quieten.

  Of course, it would all start up just as she was finished for the night and was desperate to relax. She had barely slept since her last argument with Josiah, and any time she managed to sleep, she dreamt of him.

  But she did need sleep. She had barely been able to keep her eyes open that afternoon, and it was fortunate Mr. Christie was so involved in his own pleasure and not in any way interested in hers that he did not notice her eyes closing whenever she thought she could get away with it.

  There was a crash downstairs, as though someone had thrown a vase onto the floor. Honora sighed and put the magazine aside. She was not able to relax, let alone sleep with that ruckus going. The voices were getting louder, too, Madam and a gentleman, arguing. Arguing about money, most likely.

  The gentleman’s voice grew louder still, and something twinged in Honora’s memory. She knew that voice—or at least, she thought she did. Her heart skipped a beat. Was it…Josiah?

  She sat up hastily, pulling the blanket with her, listening. Madam sounded furious. It was a few minutes before she paused for breath, allowing the gentleman to continue.

  No, it was not Josiah. Honora slumped in disappointment, but it was a voice she recognized. Perhaps a gentleman she had seen before?

  She tried to think back on some of her recent gentlemen, but none matched the clear, deep tones of the stranger. She hoped it was not someone requesting her; she was too tired to pretend she was enjoying herself for a fifth time today.

  There was nothing to do but ignore the noise and try to get some sleep.

  After another five minutes, her curiosity overcame her desire for rest. Getting out of bed and pulling her shawl around her shoulders, she padded quietly to her door and opened it. The voices grew fierce and demanding.

  There were doors open all along the corridor.

  “What do you think is going on?” Mabel whispered from her doorway.

  Ellen was standing with her. “I think government inspector,” she hissed. “Looking for a bigger bribe than last year.”

  Honora shook her head. “Surely not. Last year he took ten guineas.”

  “And you don’t know who it is?” asked Mabel.

  Honora shook her head.

  Mabel looked disappointed and glanced along the corridor at all the other open doors, before lowering her voice and murmuring, “I thought it might be your Mr. Josiah.”

  Both of her friends looked concerned for her, and Honora tried valiantly to smile. “It is not him. I would know his voice anywhere. But then, I do know this voice. Perhaps a gentleman from a few years ago.”

  She glanced down the stairs and saw a pair of leather boots striding by, pacing. They were fine boots. Definitely a gentleman then, and a rich one, too.

  “Do you think we will find out when,” Ellen began before breaking off. There were footsteps on the stairs.

  Before any of them were able to retreat inside and close their doors, a gentleman appeared.

  She stared in horror at the apparition before her.

  It was him. William. It was finally him. Her brother had found her.

  “William,” she breathed.

  Mabel and Ellen looked at each other. “William?”

  After all these years, after the waiting and hoping, wondering whether they were still looking, still cared. After months of hoping he did find her and then years of hoping he did not, knowing the shame would be too much for him to bear, knowing it would destroy him and their family—and Prudence, what about Prudence? Her honor, her reputation would be gone, and she would never find a good match!

  It was such a shock to see him, standing in his greatcoat and waistcoat, hair ruffled, cheeks pink from the night air, that Honora could barely comprehend it. She could barely decide whether she wanted him here or not!

  If he was here, then he had found her. God knows how, but he had managed it. William had found her, and that meant he could rescue her from this terrible place. She would never need to sell her body again.

  But if he was here, then—then he knew what had happened to her. What she was. Honora thought she would crumple onto the floor with the shame of it all. How could she ever go back to being Lady Honora Lennox when she had been the courtesan Hannah for so long?

  All these thoughts and a thousand others rushed through her mind in an instant, and then William looked up and saw her. His face contorted with fury as she had never seen it before.

  Honora instinctively stepped back into her room, closed the door, and darted to the bed.

  She was wearing her oldest nightgown—her oldest of two. It was far too revealing for a brother to see! The very thought of William seeing the way she lived frightened her, shamed her. It was hard to remember her old room at Mulyrett Manor, but it was certainly nothing like this hovel.

  There must be something she could put on, some garment she would not be ashamed to wear. But as Honora hastily threw aside gown after gown, she realized quickly all her clothes were designed for one purpose, to entice.

  She had entered this place in the gown she was wearing on that fateful night. Everything else had been begged, borrowed, or given to her by Madam. They were not designed to be dignified. They were not intended to be seen by brothers.

  Her bedchamber door crashed open, and William stormed in, thunder in his brow. She had never seen him in such a rage. What would he do to her, now he knew what she had become?

  But as he stood there, shaking with fury, Honora looked more closely—and saw tears in his eyes.

  “Honora,” he whispered.

  She stood there frozen, a shawl in one hand and a gown in the other, unable to decipher her feelings. Was she horrified he was here, seeing her like this? Was she delighted to see him again? Was she relieved to be found, to be spoken to like a cherished sister? Was she to be finally taken away from this place?

  She tried to force her tongue to speak, but she had brought such dishonor to the family. How could she ever recover from this? She would never be able to go out into public again. Society would shun her.

  She would disappear somewhere, a small cottage where she could be alone.

  Why did he not speak?

  “William,” she managed.

  His name broke the tension. William rushed toward her, pulling her into a crushing bear hug that Honora welcomed, losing herself in his embrace. His scent brought back all the memories she had forced down, the hayloft where they had played as children, racing around the place under their mother’s feet who had smiled at them like the most precious things in the world, Pru holding her mother’s hand, afra
id of her rambunctious elder siblings.

  He was shaking. “God, it has taken so long—I am so sorry, Nora, so sorry it has taken me this long to find you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she allowed them to fall. He had been the brother to mop her tears, bind her wounds, and sneak her into adventures with John when they had been children.

  Her big brother had finally found her, as she always knew he would.

  How long they stood there, arms clasped around each other, Honora did not know. Finally, the strong arms keeping her safe let go.

  William was smiling wryly, tears dripping from his chin. “I have not cried since my wedding day.”

  “W-Wedding day?”

  “We have much to catch up on,” he said brusquely, brushing away his tears. “But first things first. We are leaving.”

  “You will do no such thing!” Madam crashed into the bedchamber and hurled the words at him, cigar dropping ash across the floor. “Damnit, man, I told you downstairs!”

  “Pack your things, Honora,” said William calmly. “Anything you wish to take with you, at any rate.”

  “Oh, Honora, is it?” Madam sneered. “We always thought Hannah was a bit too common for my lady here—and I tell you again, sir, you are not taking my best girl away.”

  William smiled at Honora. “Quick as you like.”

  Honora stood there, frozen between the two of them. She had come to fear Madam for the cruelty in her heart and her vicious fist. Would she truly be allowed to leave if Madam was so set against it? What could William do?

  “I am making a fortune from that fool,” spat Madam, her face blotchy, “and I will fight you if it comes to it.”

  Honora’s gaze snapped to William, but he did not seem concerned at all. If anything, he looked amused.

  “My God, would you really? Now there’s a sight to see. You must be careful, Madam, or you will induce me to fight you,” said William smoothly. “I am the Duke of Mercia, and I say Honora is leaving.”

  That was not what Madam had expected. Her small eyes darted between Honora, standing silently with the shawl and gown still in her hands, and William, now looking around the room distastefully.

  “Well now,” she said carefully. “If it is like that, I am sure we can work out a fair price for the girl.”

  It was this calculating look that forced heat through Honora’s veins. “I have brought in enough money for you over the years to buy my freedom ten times—”

  She realized who else was standing in the room and clapped her hands over her mouth. Did she really say that—did she essentially say, in front of her brother, that she had bedded so many men over the years that she had slept her way to freedom?

  Her cheeks burned, and her legs threatened to buckle. What must he think of her?

  William took a deep breath and gave her a brittle smile. “Get together anything you want to take with you. We are leaving, come hell or high water, in five minutes.”

  Without saying another word to her, he crossed the room and grabbed Madam’s arm, dragging her out into the corridor. The two of them began whispering, with short phrases rising above the hubbub.

  “Not a guinea under—”

  “You are fortunate I do not—”

  “’Tis a very reasonable offer.”

  Honora stood, unable to comprehend what was happening. One thought rose to the surface of her mind. How did William find her?

  This was quickly followed by more painful thoughts. Had Josiah known her? Were his words a warning? Did he betray her—did he attempt to blackmail William? He had said they were friends, of course, but what did that prove? How could she trust anything he had said, now it was impossible she would ever see him again?

  William’s voice shot through the open doorway. “Everything you want to take with you, now, Honora.”

  She looked around the room. She could not try to unravel the fear, love, and passion in her heart. She needed to organize herself—but the sparse room held nothing of affection. Everything had been given to her grudgingly or had been purchased with coin gained from bedding strangers. Why would she want to take a single thing from her time here into her new life?

  Two figures darted around Madam and William, still arguing in the corridor, and crept into her room.

  “What the blazing hell is going on?” Ellen hissed, pulling the shawl and gown from her hands.

  Honora smiled for the first time since she had seen William, and tears which had ceased started flowing again.

  “Oh, child, do not cry! Is he buying you? Is he going to take you away and hurt you?” Mabel’s face was fierce as she pulled Honora to sit on the bed.

  “I-I am leaving,” Honora managed.

  Mabel frowned. “I thought so. I thought he had his eye on you. I haven’t seen him before—do you know him? Is he kind?”

  Honora laughed through her tears. It was ridiculous, this idea of buying and selling. How had this become normal for her?

  “I do know him,” she said. “He…he’s my brother. He has found me, and he’s taking me away.”

  The three women turned to look at William, still bargaining with Madam in the hallway.

  “You disgust me,” he was saying fiercely, “and that is my offer, Madam, and I advise you to take it if you have any…”

  Mabel and Ellen turned back to look at Honora.

  Ellen smiled. “I am happy for you, truly I am. If anyone deserves to find their happiness away from this place, it is you. You taught me to read, Honora, and I will never forget that. But how can he afford it?”

  This had been the question Honora hoped to avoid. She had shared her true name with Mabel and Ellen, but every other part of herself was a secret. But if this was not the time, when was? She would be gone within minutes, and they deserved to know the truth. She would not have survived long in this place without them.

  Honora smiled awkwardly. “He can afford it because…I am the Lady Honora Lennox. He is my brother, the Duke of Mercia.”

  Mabel’s jaw dropped open, and Ellen muttered a curse word even Andrews would have been shocked to hear.

  Honora laughed through her tears. “Now you see why I needed such care when I first arrived here!”

  “Saints alive,” breathed Ellen. “No wonder you were so terrified when you first got here—but do you mean to tell me when you arrived, you had never—”

  “My daughter,” interrupted Mabel, still holding Honora’s hand and tightening her grip as she spoke urgently. “Can you find my daughter when you are free? Make sure she is safe, make sure they are looking after her?”

  Honora saw the concern and fear of a mother for her child. All Mabel cared about was the life that was out there somewhere, a glowing soul in the midst of millions, the only person she would give her own life for.

  Ellen put her arm around Mabel, who was now crying as she repeated, “Please, Honora. Please find her.”

  Honora smiled at the two friends she had come to know better than her own sister over the last three years. Of everything she had experienced in this place, they were definitely the two things she wanted to take with her.

  “Right.” William strode back into the room and stopped beside Mabel and Ellen, who dropped into hasty and awkward curtseys.

  “Ready?” He said gruffly. “Do you have everything?”

  Honora took a deep breath. “Yes. I am taking Mabel and Ellen with me.”

  “What?” William’s voice was full of disbelief, and his word was echoed by both of her friends.

  Honora smiled, her tears gone. “You asked me what I wanted to take, and I am not leaving here without them.”

  “Be serious, Nora, you know what I meant,” said William with a smile. “You cannot expect me to—”

  “You recall how stubborn I was when we last saw each other,” interrupted Honora fiercely. It hurt to remind him of their last encounter, but it was necessary. He needed to understand how seriously she meant this. “And I have grown more tenacious since.”

&nb
sp; William opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again. His gaze took in the room.

  He sighed. “I can only imagine. Nora, I will need a further five minutes.”

  Turning from the three women, he left the room and called out, “Madam? A word.”

  Honora smiled nervously. “If—if that is what you want.”

  Mabel burst into tears as Ellen said shakily, “Do you think we want to stay here? How long do we have to pack?”

  “However long it takes William to barter for you,” Honora said with a steeliness in her voice she did not feel. “Less than five minutes, I would say. Hurry.”

  Without another word, they both quitted the room.

  Honora sighed and tried to steady her shaking hands. It was unbelievable. Perhaps she was in a dream, and at any moment, she would wake up to find herself sobbing, desperate for it to be real. It had happened before. But this felt more real than any dream had.

  There was one thing, now she thought about it, she would take with her. Creeping over to the door, she forced open a panel and took out the small leather bag she had hidden in there.

  Fifty-four shillings. Almost three whole pounds, the sum of the coins she had managed to save since she had arrived here. Honora sighed. Each one represented a man she had pleasured, the coins saved because she had deprived herself of candles, food, or entertainment.

  At one time in her life, a few pounds would have been nothing. It would have been loose change after buying something with a five-pound note, and she would not have given the pennies a second thought.

  It was all she had to show for her time here. That, and a broken heart.

  “We are leaving!” William’s booming voice echoed, and Honora jumped.

  This was it, then. The last time she would look around this room. The last time she would ever have to see it.

  “Now!”

  Honora rushed into the corridor and collided with Mabel and Ellen. Each had a bundle in their arms, and faces started to appear along the corridor.

  “Are they leaving?”

  “Where are they going?”

  “Is it all three of them?”