His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3)

by Michelle McMaster

  He glanced at her, and even in that quick look, Serena saw that he was impressed with her reply. “There’s only one way to find out. If you’re as brave as I think you are, you will accept my offer, so we can, at long last, finish what we started.”

  “It’s not that simple, Darius,” she replied. “There is much for me to consider. The Duke of Balfour has made a generous offer as well. I must give both careful consideration.”

  His expression darkened, and he said, “The duke is no match for you, Serena. And to be honest, the thought of him touching you makes me want to rip his throat out.”

  Serena felt a thrill shimmy up her spine at Darius’s admission. He was jealous. Which was exactly what she wanted—an eye for an eye.

  “Well then, if you can’t stomach the thought of another man’s hands on me, I suggest you endeavor not to think about it,” she replied, curtly. “Because it is definitely a possibility. And if you want me as badly as you claim, then you’ll have to do something about it, because the duke has made me an offer I cannot refuse. I’d be a fool to turn him down. So, if you truly want to woo me, use your wealth, for romance will no longer work with me, my lord. Especially with you.”

  The phaeton pulled back toward the crowd that still lingered about Lady Devlyn’s landau, and came to a stop. An unnamed gentleman seemed only too pleased to assist Serena out of the vehicle.

  Before Darius could say anything more, she turned and headed into the throng. Her admirers cleared a path for her and she walked down it with her chin held high and her eyes looking straight ahead. And though she didn’t turn back to look at Darius, she felt the heat of his stare boring into her back as she walked away from him.

  Serena approached the landau, and Major Price made ready to hop down.

  “Miss Ransom has returned,” he said gallantly as he strode toward her. “I daresay your name is well-earned, my lady, as you hold each and every man here ransom with the power of your beauty. As do all of you ladies.” He kissed Serena’s hand before helping her up into the carriage to rejoin her friends.

  “Did you enjoy your ride with Lord Kane?” Lady Devlyn asked as Serena settled in across from her.

  “It was refreshing,” she replied. “If one considers riding about with someone you despise ‘refreshing.’”

  Just then, the Duke of Balfour came up beside them, sitting astride a magnificent white stallion. “Good day, ladies,” he said, charmingly. Then his gaze went to Darius, and he looked perturbed. “I hope Lord Kane was cautious as he drove you about, Miss Ransom. I have seen him race that phaeton before, and I cannot say I care for his driving.”

  “I assure you, Lord Kane was quite careful with me, Your Grace,” Serena replied. “As you can see, the crush of traffic in the Park would prevent anyone from driving too fast.”

  “Good thing,” the duke muttered.

  “Have no fear, Your Grace,” Darius called out, “when Miss Ransom is in my care, she is in very good hands.”

  Darius locked eyes with her then, and Serena wanted to look away from the fire that blazed there. But she couldn’t. The man still had power over her, even from a distance.

  The duke bristled at Darius’s innuendo as Darius gave her one last look before turning his team away in the other direction. He steered the sleek phaeton back into the traffic of Rotten Row, and disappeared from sight.

  Serena wondered if Darius would take up the challenge she had laid out before him. Would he woo her with his wealth? If so, how far would he go to try and convince her that she should become his courtesan instead of the duke’s?

  Serena’s skin shivered as she grudgingly admitted to herself that she looked forward to finding out.

  * * *

  Darius and Havelock sat in two plush wing chairs at White’s, enjoying a brandy and discussing the ladies of the Courtesan Club. One in particular.

  In fact, they weren’t the only patrons of the exclusive club who chose the ladies as a topic of conversation. Since yesterday’s outing in Hyde Park, the Courtesan Club’s popularity was greater than ever.

  “You’ll be a lucky man, Kane, if you win Miss Ransom,” Lord Farnsworth said. “I daresay she could make a dead man’s pulse race, eh, what?”

  “I’ve got a hundred on you, to beat out the duke. Don’t disappoint me,” said the Marquess of Selby.

  “Sorry, old man, but I’m betting on Balfour,” said Viscount St. Albans.

  “So, how are you going to do it, Dare?” Havelock asked, after the comments died down. “Have you come up with a plan?

  Darius took another sip of the brandy, enjoying the burning sensation as it seared a path down his throat. “She thinks I am going to woo her with baubles and wealth—and in fact, that’s what she requested—but I have another strategy in mind. She doesn’t know what she’s in for.”

  “Well, I imagine she has some idea, after your historic tête-à-tête at the Telford Ball,” Havelock reminded him.

  “That was simply a taste of the feast that might be enjoyed between us,” Darius said. “I can do better. And I can certainly do better than Balfour in that area.”

  Thankfully, though the duke was also a member of White’s, he was not in attendance that evening. Rumor had it that among members, there were two distinct camps, one supporting Darius and one for the duke. Not surprisingly, the duke’s was filled mostly with his cronies from the war, who were used to following Balfour around like puppies. The fact that the man was a close friend to the King didn’t hurt either.

  “A pity Miss Ransom couldn’t offer herself in the Marriage Mart,” Havelock said. “I am sure she would have done quite well for herself until you pissed on her chances.”

  Darius gave his friend a scathing look. “It was complicated,” Darius replied, flatly.

  “Yes, well, I’ve told you my theory,” Havelock continued, “that you deliberately ruined any chance of her marrying because you couldn’t have her for yourself.”

  Darius stared at his snifter of brandy. “Perhaps I did.”

  “Is this your way of making amends, I wonder?” Havelock asked. “Offering the money you gained from a fortuitous but tragic marriage to the woman you betrayed so callously?”

  Havelock had a way of seeing straight to the heart of things. It was a trait that Darius both loved and hated about his friend.

  “You cannot marry Miss Ransom now—no one can,” Havelock said. “Even the very man whose uncontrollable desire ruined her reputation cannot take her as his wife. What a paradox.”

  “I told you, I am in no hurry to marry again,” Darius said.

  “But if Serena was your wife, she would be yours forever,” Havelock pointed out. “If she becomes your courtesan she will never really be your woman, but her own, I suppose.”

  “Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing,” Darius replied. “She deserves to enjoy her freedom.”

  “You’re saying that having a courtesan who can leave you whenever she wants is preferable to having a wife who never can?”

  Darius stared at the crackling flames in the fireplace. “I had a wife once. And she did leave me. Remember that. Henrietta left me of her own free will, and she took my devil’s soul with her.” He drained the glass and sat forward to flag down the footman. “More brandy, Rivers, if you please.”

  “Dare, you know that was an accident,” Havelock said quietly. “Henrietta died from a fall.”

  “Did she fall, or did she jump?” Darius demanded. “What was she doing hanging out of a third story window?”

  “Don’t do this,” his friend pleaded.

  But Darius would not be dissuaded. “I went up there to investigate it myself. Henrietta was not a tall woman. I can’t see how she fell out of a window at the height it was.”

  Havelock sat forward as Rivers delivered another decanter of brandy, but waited until the man was out of earshot. “What are you saying, Dare—that Henrietta killed herself?” he whispered incredulously.

  “No. That I killed her.”

  �
�Are you mad?” Havelock said, his brow furrowed with concern. “Dare, you’re talking nonsense.”

  Darius slammed his palm onto the table. “Come on, Hav, you know the truth as well as I do. Henrietta threw herself out of that window because of me. Because I didn’t love her. That’s what made her crazy.”

  Darius had spent many sleepless nights contemplating exactly what had happened the night Henrietta died. The seasoned soldier in him had to go with his gut feeling. And his gut told him that his suspicions, however dark and disturbing, were true.

  Havelock shook his head. “You’re wrong. It’s just the brandy talking—mixed with guilt.”

  Darius held his friend’s gaze. “You don’t understand, Hav. You’ve never had a wife. Maybe when you do, you’ll understand then—how difficult it can be when a woman becomes…unhappy. That is why I would never want Serena as my wife. I could never doom her to that fate.” He raised his brandy glass to his lips and regarded Havelock over the rim. “Freedom is much better.”

  “Alright, so you’re in no hurry to find the next Countess of Kane,” Havelock observed. “But you do want Serena as your courtesan. She’s already advised you to woo her with wealth, which shouldn’t a problem. You’re one of the richest men in England. Is that your plan?”

  Darius sipped his brandy again. “Of course not.”

  “Did your brain get injured during the war?” Havelock asked in exasperation. “Did a cannonball land upon it? Or is there some other reason why you are unable to understand or follow simple directions? Why, oh why can you never play by the rules?”

  “Playing by the rules isn’t what got us out of the Peninsula in one piece, Havelock,” Darius reminded him. “I didn’t hold with it then, and I don’t hold with it, now. Rules are for children and sheep. I am neither. You know more than anyone that I am not averse to fighting dirty, if the situation calls for it. And this situation must undoubtedly does.”

  Havelock raised his glass in mock salute. “You must follow your conscience, I suppose. What little of it there is left. Be warned though, if you win by these uncouth methods, you might end up losing that which you want most to possess.”

  Darius stared at the dancing flames in the nearby hearth, and contemplated his friend’s words. Though he hated to admit it, Hav was right. If he did what he was planning to do, Serena might well hate him even more than she did now. And yet, it was a risk he was willing to take, in order to have her in his bed.

  Seeing her again after their time apart only heightened the effect she had on Darius. The sweet, rosebud mouth that begged to be kissed…the thick auburn tresses that he ached to caress…the luminous ivory skin, the bewitching green eyes. Her delectable beauty tormented his thoughts and inflamed his desires. Serena Ransom was like a potent drug to his senses. And the more he had, the more he wanted.

  He needed to be the one to bury himself inside her warm, lithe body and show her the true meaning of pleasure. He needed to feed the heat of his passions with her own, needed to wash away the sins of his soul with her unparalleled splendor.

  He simply had to be the one.

  And he would not stop, he would not rest, he would not give up—until she was his.

  * * *

  “Well, well, Serena—you are all over the papers,” Lady Devlyn said happily as they sat about her dressing room, perusing the latest shipment of fabrics newly arrived from Paris. “Bliss and Felicity, too. The Courtesan Club is an unbridled success.”

  Serena smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it. She wasn’t even a full-fledged courtesan yet, and already the pressure was getting to her. The flowers, the constant invitations from admirers to attend the opera, or a ball, or a musicale, or garden party, or some such. She had lost count of how many events she had to consider this week alone.

  Always astutely aware, Lady D asked, “What is it, Serena? You look troubled.”

  Serena swallowed. She didn’t want to sound unappreciative for all that Lady Devlyn had done for her, Bliss and Felicity. “It’s nothing.”

  Lady D gave Serena a look that intimated she knew quite well that it was something indeed.

  The silence in the opulent dressing room would crush them flat in an instant.

  But Lady Devlyn was a patient woman. Instead of quizzing Serena or the other girls, she merely held out a length of fiery red silk and studied it calmly as it shimmered in the afternoon light.

  “It’s just…,” Serena began.

  Lady D gave her a fleeting look, then turned her attention to a fan made entirely of lush crimson feathers.

  Bliss sat forward, taking her attention away from a lovely expanse of lemon satin. “Yes, Serena, dear? Do tell us.”

  “It’s Lord Kane, isn’t it?” Felicity smiled, beating her friend to the punch.

  Serena tried to think of something to say, but her tongue became tied.

  Felicity toyed with a length of pink ribbon, saying, “I’m afraid I don’t see the problem, Serena. The man is attractive beyond all, and he’s sickeningly rich. I realize you have no love for Lord Kane, but as Lady D has taught us, there are many things to consider when attaching oneself to a protector.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m hesitating,” Serena said.

  “Really, why?” Bliss asked.

  “Because….”

  “Yes?” Lady D prompted.

  “Because…,” Serena tried again.

  “Go on,” Bliss encouraged.

  Serena took a steadying breath. “Lord Kane is entirely unsuitable. And he is the last man on earth I would ever trust to protect me.”

  Or to protect her heart.

  “How so?” Felicity inquired.

  “For starters, he is much too sure of himself,” Serena replied.

  “That has nothing to do with the style in which he can afford to keep you,” Lady Devlyn pointed out.

  “He is arrogant,” Serena asserted.

  This elicited chuckles from her friends, especially Lady Devlyn, who replied, “Most men are, dear.”

  “He—he—”

  “Broke your heart quite badly, and you are still not over it?” Lady D asked pointedly.

  Felicity and Bliss quietly studied the fabric in their hands as they waited for Serena to reply.

  Serena tried to calm her racing heart, still shocked at Lady D’s blunt words. “I am most definitely over Lord Kane. I have kicked a cartload of dirt on the grave of our dalliance.”

  “It pains me to say it,” Lady D observed, “but I am not entirely sure that is true. Even so, a broken heart should not affect your decision-making about your future, not when fortunes are at stake. The man has already offered you a priceless emerald and diamond necklace—which you threw back in his face—and I’m sure there’s more where that came from. You told him to woo you with wealth, which I believe was well-played. Let us see what he comes up with; the duke as well. Now that you have them competing against each other, it will most definitely get interesting. You are a woman men should have to compete for, Serena. Each of you are. You’ll see. Now ladies, if you would recite Courtesan Rule Number Three for me?”

  Her protégées said in unison, “A man values the pleasure of a woman’s company based on how hard he has to work to win it.”

  Lady Devlyn smiled. “Correct. And Courtesan Rule Number Sixteen?”

  “To keep a man breathless, make him jump through hoops.”

  “Right again,” she said. “And finally, Courtesan Rule Number Eighteen?”

  “To keep a man coming back, send him away.”

  Lady Devlyn gave a dazzling smile. “Oh, I am so proud of you ladies. You do remember my lessons. Serena has definitely been putting Rule Number Eighteen into practice. And Lord Kane will keep coming back. So will the Duke of Balfour. You must simply decide to whom you will attach yourself. The duke is powerful, rich and well-connected. Lord Kane is even richer, and seems to possess an animal attraction that many women find intoxicating, to say the least. After all, Serena, you yourself were one of them. P
erhaps you might enjoy that side of it.”

  Serena looked away, angrily trying to banish the memories of Darius’s hands and mouth on her body as he’d seduced her that night in the garden. Somehow those kisses had branded her as surely as hot iron. Though no one could see it, she wore his mark. And damned if she knew how to get rid of it.

  Lady Devlyn folded her hands in her lap and regarded her protégées with an enigmatic smile. “And now, I have an announcement to make.”

  The ladies exchanged curious looks. Lady Devlyn’s surprises were usually quite thrilling.

  “The Courtesan Club has received an invitation to attend a most singular event,” Lady D said. “Speak of the devil—the Earl of Kane is throwing an exclusive masked ball at his residence in Grosvenor Square. Everyone who is anyone will be there. Lord Kane promises a memorable evening of wicked entertainments, music and plenty of champagne.”

  Felicity and Bliss exchanged confident looks, while Serena found herself frowning.

  She didn’t want to go to Darius’s ball. It would be like walking through the gates of Hell and expecting to remain untouched by the flames. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t very well refuse, for that would indicate that Darius still possessed the power to hurt her. And even Serena refused to believe that.

  She sighed, dispiritedly. She didn’t have a very good track record of resisting Darius in the atmosphere of a ball. And a masked one would lend itself to even more wicked delights. Darius would be completely in his element. Something told her he understood that and had planned this next move in their battle of wills accordingly.

  Lady D smiled. “We have just received a new shipment of fabric sent from Paris. Come ladies, you must each chose something for your new gowns. The modiste and her staff will be arriving any minute to commence the fittings. Bliss, the royal blue satin will look stunning on you. Felicity, which do you choose?”

  Felicity touched a length of rich plum silk. “I’ve had my eye on this.”