“Wonderful choice. And you, Serena?”
She studied the exquisite fabrics laid out in the room. She was drawn to a length of ruby red satin.
“That will match nicely with your fiery auburn hair,” Lady Devlyn said, approvingly. “And I shall wear the silver satin, and the Maharajah’s diamond. Bliss will wear the sapphires, and you will look lovely in my amethysts, Felicity. Serena, you may wear my pearl choker.”
Lady Devlyn’s extensive collection of jewels was truly impressive. Some said they rivaled the Royal Jewels themselves. Lady D had received dazzling gifts from emperors, maharajahs, princes and kings. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires and pearls, and stones spanning every color of the rainbow had been used to make pendants, rings, chokers, bracelets, earbobs, and tiaras. The jewelry case itself was set with shimmering jewels. The combined value of such treasures could probably feed the whole country for years, Serena mused.
She thought back to her childhood in the draughty, run-down country house, her belly growling with hunger as she sat at the bare wooden table, watching her father drink away what little money they had left, and she knew she’d made the right decision in becoming a courtesan. She saw her mother’s strained face as she pleaded with her husband to have mercy on them, to buy them some food, instead of wasting it on drink.
Father had answered his baroness with the back of his hand, just as he had done so many times before. And Serena had decided right then and there, as she hid behind a chair, watching her poor mother struggle to get up off the floor one more time—that she would never make such a disastrous mistake with marriage.
Her mother had been beautiful once, before poverty and abuse had taken its toll. Serena had found a miniature of her, tucked away in a drawer. The woman in the picture looked full of life, her eyes bright with promise, her mouth curved into a confident smile. Somehow, that woman had been replaced by a thin, down-trodden woman with dull, wispy hair and hollow, haunted eyes. Serena had wanted to help her, somehow. She’d wanted to restore the face she saw in the miniature to the woman who walked about the house like a ghost. But as a child of twelve, she was just as powerless as her mother.
So Serena would spend her days in the surrounding fields, picking wildflowers for her dear mother, sometimes fashioning them into a necklace to hang over her threadbare bodice, or a crown to grace her head.
One such gift had reduced her mother to tears. Her mother, Lady Ransom, had always tried to be strong for the sake of her daughter. They had been alone in the kitchen, her mother staring at the bare cupboards as if somehow, food would appear there magically if she simply waited long enough. Serena had presented her with a crown of pristine white daisies.
Tears had pricked her mother’s eyes, spilling down her pale cheeks like diamonds. She placed the crown of daisies upon her head, and pulled her daughter onto her lap. Serena could feel the bones of her mother’s hips poking at her through the thin, worn gown. Her mother wiped her tears away, gaining control of her emotions.
Stifling the cough that had troubled her of late, Lady Ransom told her daughter a story—one that Serena would never forget.
It could have been one of Grimm’s fairy tales, yet even as a little girl, Serena knew this was no fable. It was the story of her mother’s life: the young, impressionable beauty, who had married a dashing baron, only to discover the truth when it was too late. Her husband had married her for her dowry, then spent it over the years on gambling and drink. With no money to pay them, the servants had left one by one, leaving Lady Ransom to do everything herself. While his wife and young daughter starved in their crumbling manor house, Lord Ransom played at cards and went deeper and deeper into debt.
Her mother had hugged Serena close, and weaved another tale—this one about the future. In it, the daughter of an evil man grew up and left her poor beginnings for the excitement of London. Now a famous beauty, the girl had her pick of suitors, each richer than the next. One day she would marry the richest man in all of England, and never have to worry about money again.
For that was the most important thing in life, her mother had said—money. To be without it was to be without hope of survival.
After the story, her mother had taken Serena by the hand and gone to the vicarage to beg for their supper.
Serena looked about Lady Devlyn’s luxurious dressing room and knew that her mother would have approved of the choices she had made. Though her mother’s dreams of a spectacular match for her daughter were now dashed—thanks to Darius Manning—becoming courtesan to a rich duke was nearly as good.
In a moment, Mansfield appeared at the door informing them that Madame Dubonnet and her army of seamstresses had arrived.
“Very good, Mansfield. Show them up, if you please,” Lady D commanded. “It is good that you have chosen darker hued fabrics, as they will be more difficult to see in an alcove or dimly lit garden. Isn’t that right, Serena?”
Serena rolled her eyes. She had to think that Lady Devlyn herself had enjoyed her share of pleasures in dimly lit gardens as well.
“I’ve never been to a masked ball,” Bliss said excitedly.
“Nor I,” Felicity echoed, turning her attention to a delicate Chinese fan.
“Nor have I,” Serena said, running her fingers across the ruby red silk which would soon be fashioned into a gown for her. A shudder went through her as she imagined Darius’s hands skimming over it, with her trembling body beneath.
Was she remembering the past or seeing the future?
“A masked ball is quite amusing, I assure you,” Lady D said with a delighted gleam in her eyes. “Lots of champagne, lots of games and amusements, lots of opportunity to make the acquaintance of the opposite sex. And you, Serena, will get to see Lord Kane’s biggest asset—and by that I do not mean the one between his legs, though I am sure it is quite impressive. No, I mean the man’s house.”
“You needn’t worry about that,” Serena assured her with a laugh. “I have absolutely no interest in any of Lord Kane’s assets, impressive or not.”
Lady Devlyn studied Serena for a moment. “Ladies, could I have a word alone with Serena, if you please?”
Bliss and Felicity exited the room, chatting excitedly about the upcoming ball.
Serena turned to face her benefactress, who bade her come near and sit next to her on the sofa. “What is it?”
Lady Devlyn smiled sadly. “My dear, I fear I have failed you.”
Serena couldn’t have been more surprised. “In what way, Lady D?”
“I think I may have pushed you toward your new vocation before you were truly ready to take it on.”
Serena’s brow furrowed in confusion. Had she disappointed Lady Devlyn in some way? The unwelcome thought was almost too much to bear. Lady D had become like a surrogate mother to her since her own mother’s untimely death. In fact, in the past year she had become mother and protector to all the girls.
Lady Devlyn continued, “Becoming a courtesan is no trifling matter. It is a very serious decision indeed. I have provided training for you and the others, trying to impart some of the knowledge I have gained in the position over the past twenty-five years. But perhaps it was not enough.”
“Of course it was,” Serena assured her. “You have given so much to me, as well as to Bliss and Felicity. We are more grateful than you could ever know.”
Lady D replied, “There is no question in my mind about that, Serena. But I fear that even now, you may have missed the most important lesson in becoming a courtesan. And if you have not mastered this skill, I cannot speak for your future success.”
Serena swallowed uncomfortably. What on earth could she have missed? She’d read the Kama Sutra over and over again, she’d studied the ancient arts of love, she’d learned how to converse on almost any topic a man could dream up. “What did I miss, Lady D?” she asked.
“The art of the courtesan boils down to one thing, Serena,” Lady Devlyn said. “It is more than seductive glances, more than how to dress and speak, mo
re than the act of love itself. It is about control—of one’s emotions, of situations, of one’s finances and future. When I see your reaction at attending Lord Kane’s ball, I see that you are not in control of your emotions. And at this stage, you should be.”
Serena couldn’t help but feel the familiar heat of anger flash through her heart whenever she thought of Darius. “But I hate him.”
“Exactly my point,” Lady D said. “You’re letting your emotions dictate to you, and a true courtesan would never do that.”
“But—” Serena protested.
“Yes, I know, Lord Kane ruined your reputation and treated you cruelly,” Lady D continued. “But that is in the past. Now, he is offering you a substantial fortune if you become his courtesan—one that he would not be in possession of if he had not married another. And the only thing stopping your acceptance of his proposition is your emotional response. Do you see how that goes against everything I have taught you?”
Serena turned her face away and stared at a vase of pale pink roses across the room. She didn’t want to have this conversation. The pain of Darius’s betrayal still burned in her breast as if it had happened yesterday. So perhaps Lady D was right in her assertions. Serena was not in control of her emotions, nor her passions.
“What would you have me do, then?” she asked.
Lady Devlyn patted her hand. “I have one last assignment for you.”
Serena turned back to her, not wanting to hear it, but forcing herself to hear Lady Devlyn’s command.
“How likely do you think it is that Lord Kane has orchestrated this masked ball in order to try to seduce you, yet again?” Lady D asked.
Serena felt shivers tingle her skin—of anger, of trepidation, and of wicked desire as she replied, “Quite likely, indeed.”
“Then you should let him.”
“I should what?” Serena asked, shocked.
Lady D explained, “You must take this opportunity to develop emotional control. Let him touch you. Let him kiss you. Let him arouse your passions as he did before. But all the while, you will remain completely in control. You won’t let the pain of the past rule over you. You will allow him to stir your desires and enjoy it simply for what it is. Do you think you can do that, Serena? For if you cannot, I do not have much hope of you ever becoming a successful courtesan.”
Serena almost felt sick. “You’re asking me to dally with my worst enemy?”
“That is exactly what I am asking,” Lady Devlyn replied. “And if you follow my instructions, the man you hate so much will no longer have any power over you.”
“Kane has no power over me,” she insisted.
“Oh, but he does,” Lady D disagreed. “Quite a substantial amount, in fact. And a courtesan lets no man hold dominion over her—neither her thoughts nor her actions. Can you say that about Lord Kane?”
Serena held a hand to her temple. Her head was pounding. Her chest felt as heavy as lead. For she knew deep down that her benefactress was right. The only power Darius had over her was the power she had given him to wield. And the only way to get it back was to expose herself to his seductive charms yet again.
That thought frightened her more than she cared to admit.
Memories came flooding back of the night she had first laid eyes upon Darius, at Lord and Lady Pemberton’s ball early in the Season. Even then, his physical presence had a visceral effect upon her. He’d been dressed in his customary black, save for his white linen shirt and neck cloth. His unruly black hair and smoldering blue eyes made him look like a fallen angel, or a devil bent on sin.
Serena had known in that split second that she would one day feel his arms about her, pulling her close as his mouth took its pleasure from her own. It would happen but a week later, in the darkened library of Haverford House, during the Countess’s annual musicale.
They hadn’t even spoken to each other that first night. They didn’t have to. Serena had felt the dark stranger’s eyes upon her for the rest of the night. Something about him had been absolutely irresistible to her. Perhaps it was the lack of propriety. His piercing blue eyes had told her in no uncertain terms exactly what he wanted to do to her. No gentleman had ever looked at her that way. She’d found it wickedly thrilling to imagine such things.
He had made good on his promise. At event after event, Darius took Serena further down the road of desire than she could have ever imagined, all the while, leaving her virginity intact. With his hands, his body and his mouth, Lord Kane stoked Serena’s passions to new heights, leaving her trembling and weak with desire for him.
Serena had fallen more and more under his spell each time she’d seen him. She had been such a fool.
Her heart clenched painfully as it remembered all too well the searing ache of betrayal. Attending Darius’s ball would bring those horrible memories to the surface again. And Serena had worked so hard to bury them, yet they somehow refused to be ignored.
Lady Devlyn was right. It was time for Serena to face her fears.
And the horrible truth of the situation was that in order to free herself from this Devil, Serena would have to walk through the fires of Hell.
For the key to breaking free of Darius’s hold upon her could only be found within his arms.
Chapter 6
“Human passion is often compared to a garden filled with innumerable delights. But the courtesan must be aware that while plants can appeal to the senses with their beauty and fragrance, some can also be poisonous.”
–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night
In the week since he had seen Serena in Hyde Park, Darius had been busy making all the arrangements for tonight’s ball at his opulent Grosvenor Square mansion. Havelock had been indispensable, of course, assisting him with everything from the menu selection to the wine, entertainments and decorations. Darius had hired performers to entertain them with exotic dances, which he was certain would shock some of his guests, but it was all part of his carefully orchestrated plan.
White’s was abuzz with talk of the Earl of Kane’s Masked Ball, dubbed the Garden of Delights. Perhaps the most surprising bit of gossip was that Darius had invited his rival, the Duke of Balfour to the ball, which was true. Though he didn’t know it, Balfour was a major part of Darius’s battle plan to win Serena for his own.
Darius had spared no expense. There were scantily clad women who carried snakes about their necks, muscular, bare-chested men who twirled flaming batons, and even more scantily clad dancers of both sexes who were to perform a primitive mating dance practiced by the ancient Romans themselves.
All in all, it would be the most memorable ball of the Season.
And then there was Serena. He had a special surprise planned for her out in the gardens, one that he hoped would have the effect he desired.
Havelock entered the ballroom with his checklist in hand. The vast space had been transformed into a lush, tropical garden. Strategically placed torches and candelabra would provide just enough lighting so that the guests wouldn’t bump into each other, but dim enough to add an air of sensual mystery to the event.
That was one thing about the ton—both men and women of the nobility adored masked balls, as it gave them an unprecedented degree of freedom they normally did not enjoy at society events. And there was no question of the ladies of the ton boycotting the event in protest of the Courtesan Club, whom everyone knew were invited, for the ladies themselves would be able to execute clandestine assignations with the men of their choice. Little did they know they would owe it all to the courtesans whom they so enjoyed criticizing and gossiping about.
“The champagne has arrived, Dare,” Havelock said. “Cook has everything under control in the kitchens. The orchestra is due any moment and will set up at the far end of the ballroom. The dancers are preparing for their rehearsal, as are the girls with the snakes and the men who twirl fire. I suggest we station them away from anything combustible for their portion of the entertainments.”
“Are the gardens r
eady?” Darius asked.
“Everything has been arranged according to your plans,” Havelock answered.
Dare folded his arms across his chest, a grin turning up the corners of his mouth. “Good. You know, after tonight’s ball, they’re going to start calling me The Wicked Earl.”
“They already call you The Wicked Earl,” Havelock said flatly.
“Do they, indeed?”
Havelock nodded slowly.
“Ah,” Darius replied. “Well then, perhaps after tonight they’ll call me The Exceedingly Wicked Earl.”
“One can only hope to reach that lofty goal,” Havelock said sarcastically. “Stop worrying about that and get the remainder of the decorations up. You’re behind schedule, and guests will be arriving in a matter of hours. Everything must be in place in order for your plan to succeed.”
“It will succeed,” Darius said. “Because I have no intention of losing Serena to the duke.”
* * *
The carriage slowed down about a block south of Manning House. The members of the Courtesan Club craned their necks as they tried to get a better look at the arriving guests. Lords and ladies alighted from glossy black coaches, their faces covered by elaborate half-masks. Flowing capes covered the women’s gowns, but flashes of vividly hued silk and satin gleamed from beneath them in the torchlight. Dazzling jewelry sparkled in the torchlight, while the ladies smiled at their companions.
There was an air of gaiety about the scene, along with an underlying hint of wickedness—probably because most of those in attendance were looking forward to passionate trysts with other mysterious, masked guests to whom they were not married.
Serena herself felt her pulse race as she contemplated the task Lady Devlyn had assigned her. She had gone over and over it in her mind. Of course she could resist Darius Manning. Tonight she would prove it to her benefactress, and more importantly, to herself.
“We are almost to the steps,” Lady D said. “Now girls, remember Courtesan Rule Number Twenty-Five.”
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