And Claire gasped again. “You’re a governess?”
*
Simone wasn’t worried that Claire would reveal her secrets, not Claudinia Colthopfer with a hidden daughter. No, she worried that Claire’s brains were addled by the blow to her head. Why else was she being so nice? Simone was suddenly courageous and valiant. Harry was instantly a hero. Together, Claire told everyone who would listen, they had saved them all, and Griffin Manor. As if Fordyce had enough bullets to shoot everybody, as if the servants hadn’t come running. No matter, Claire ordered Champagne for the rescuers, and for the surgeon who put three stitches in her scalp without cutting her hair off.
Simone worried about Harry too. He never came back that night after the soldiers took Fordyce’s body away. He’d held her until the magistrate came, and while she gave her deposition and he gave his. Simone doubted she could have stood up without his arms around her. Then he hugged her tightly, rocking her in his embrace, and said, “Lord, I will never leave you again.”
And promptly did.
Chapter Thirty
The men returned at noon. Most of them were jubilant. The plot was foiled, the perpetrators all captured or killed. Gorham’s wife had truly decamped, and her father released her funds without an argument. Comden had a special license, and two tickets for passage on a ship. Ellsworth’s wife was indeed bearing his child, so he merely came back to Richmond to fetch his things and settle his wagers. Sir Chauncey checked a year’s worth of old obituaries and found good news. Not for the deceased, of course, but for his second chance with his first love. He was eager to be on his way, and he was still sober. He’d leave right after the final judging, the presentation of prizes, and the wedding.
Claire was planning a grand celebration for that evening: the crowning of the queen and Alice’s marriage. It was to be her last lavish entertainment of this sort. With an impressionable young girl coming to live in the house, she’d no longer be entertaining the demi-monde. She was not ashamed of what she was, but neither was she going to let her own daughter experience the fast life. Bad enough the child would have to face the scorn of some in the neighborhood because of Claire’s career, but she’d have every other advantage the ward of a marquis could have.
They all gathered first in the Egyptian Room. Everyone was talking about the recent events, making plans, speculating about the contest, laughing at Alice’s excitement and Comden’s nerves.
Simone was happy for Alice and the others, but had they forgotten what just happened? Men had died, and more might have, so how could anyone care about the foolish contest? Worse, Harry looked exhausted, as well he might, saving the world or whatever it was that he did when he wasn’t being a here-and-thereian.
“A bit of work for the Regent,” he told the others when they asked how he knew so much of the plot. “A chap has to do something to earn his keep, don’t you know.”
Claire clapped her hands for their attention. First she wanted the men—only ten were left of the original twenty, to vote for the most talented female. She reminded them of all the performers and their varied artistic expressions.
Claire won, to no one’s surprise. Simone was so sure of the outcome that she’d traded Gorham the diamond and emerald bracelet for the ten guinea purse. The bracelet was made for Claire, and her singing deserved it. Claire was so delighted that she kissed Simone’s cheek. She was concussed, for sure.
Sandaree came in second, Simone third. That put Claire two points ahead of Simone in the tournament, and bound to win the quality contest, too. Simone considered the competition over. She’d lost, but that no longer mattered as much.
Claire started to explain the rules for the final judging again, the lady-like aspects to be considered, but Ruby stopped her mid-sentence. “We are not ladies, Claire, and some of us don’t care, so give up. I’m to have a shop of my own, and you’re to stay here as Gorham’s mistress. Sandaree goes home, Alice’s babe gets a name. Isn’t that enough?”
Claire surprised them all by saying, “One of us is a lady.” She held up her wrist with the bracelet on it. “One of us knows what is the right thing to do and does it. I vote for Miss Noma Royale as real quality. Raise your hands if you agree with me. The women vote, too.”
Every hand went up. Sir Chauncey raised both of his. The vote was unanimous.
Lord Gorham made notations on a tally page. “By my reckoning, that makes Miss Noma Royale the Queen of the Courtesans.”
“And maid of honor at my wedding.”
“And my good friend.”
“My salvation.”
“My inspiration.”
“Hear, hear.”
Simone wept when Lord Gorham handed her ten guineas for the final contest and the hundred pound grand prize. Then Harry kissed her and placed more money in her lap, from the wagers he’d made on her.
Claire set a circlet of gold on Simone’s head. She looked at Harry but whispered to Simone, “May you have one more miracle in your bag of tricks, your majesty.”
*
How could Simone be Queen of the Courtesans while she was still a virgin? She could give back the crown and the coins, or she could make love with Harry. The choice was easy. Convincing Harry might be more difficult.
He was already undressed, in the bed, and half asleep long before Alice’s wedding party ended. Claire had filled the ballroom with flowers, musicians, food and good cheer, all in one afternoon. Simone and Harry left before the dancing, and left a purse for the baby.
Harry claimed exhaustion; Simone claimed the right of the queen. This was their last night at Griffin Manor, and she did not intend to return to London in the same state she’d left it. She doubted she’d see much of Harry at his family’s town house or their country property, not with his prickly attitude to them, so this was her final chance to show her love in the age-old way. To the devil with the consequences, she decided. Her reputation could not be ruined any worse, and if she found herself with child, she’d beg Claire for a position as governess to her daughter. Harry would support them, she knew, if she could not; he naturally felt strongly about fathers and their responsibilities. And she’d have part of him to keep forever.
First she had to understand what had happened yesterday with Major Harrison’s death. She realized that it was all planned, except the too-final outcome, and that now Harry was free to work at Whitehall as himself. She just did not understand why he could not have told her. “I almost gave the whole thing away, because you did not trust me.”
“Others’ lives were involved,” he answered in a bitter tone. “And you needed to act surprised. This was all because I was sick and tired of wearing disguises, hiding in secret corners, not free to come and go. I never planned my double’s death, by Hades, and I will never be rid of that guilt, or what might have happened to you here.”
Simone removed her robe as slowly as she could before getting into the wide bed. “But you saved me.”
“A man held a gun to your head. I can never forget. I swear, it was the worst moment of my life.”
His lips were in a grim line, but not the telltale pucker of a lie. “Mine too, when Fordyce shot at you. But what happens now?”
“The family is not at Royce House yet, but you can move in anyway. I have a few details to tidy up at Whitehall. Who is to be in charge of what, with myself as a dilettante volunteer, nothing more. At least I am done with disguises.”
He sounded as if he was done pretending to be her lover, too. Simone knew she had to accept that, but not tonight. She inched closer to his side of the bed.
He reached out and touched her unbound hair, spreading it across the pillow. “Tell me, what do you want now that you have won? The prize money will not last forever.”
“A good position, I suppose.” She touched his legs with one of her own, a better position already.
“You have enough blunt to tempt a bachelor. You could use it as a dowry.”
His suggestion was not encouraging to Simone. His heavier brea
thing was. “Oh, I might save the money for my old age. I could still become a teacher or a companion.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Both. And mistress.” She put her hand on his chest and stroked the bare skin there. “You need all three.”
“What are you saying, sweetheart?”
“You said you’d never leave me again. I watched. There was none of that grimacing you do when you lie. Will you stay with me?”
“I will still work for the government when they need me, but I could not leave you any more than I could stop breathing. You must know by now that I love you.”
“Truly?”
“I do not lie, silly.”
“Then I will be whatever you want of me, forever. I love you too much to be happy with another man. I could not let anyone else kiss me, or hold me, or rescue me and my brother. If Claire can live in the shadows, so can I.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “But Gorham is the son of a marquis. I am the baseborn son of an opera dancer.”
“And I am the product of two misalliances.” She kissed his eyelids, and rubbed her hands over his flat nipples. “And Queen of the Courtesans.”
“And I am yours to command.” His hands moved to her breasts, whose nipples were straining toward him, not flat at all. He sighed at their silky feel, the warmth and the weight. “But you deserve better than a country hideaway. I want more for you.”
“What do you want, Harry? Tell me.”
First he kissed each breast in turn, then he said, “I want the world to see your beauty, and your goodness. I want you by my side, forever, the mother of my children. My legitimate children.”
“Is that a proposal, Mr. Harmon?”
“It better be, considering that I intend to make love to you tonight.” His hand reached down to the hem of her nightgown, and pulled it up so he could stroke her legs, her thighs, between them.
Simone tried to keep her wits about her, when all she wanted was Harry, wrapped around her. “It’s not because your family is coming, pressing you to make an honest woman of me?”
He stopped his hand, and her racing heart. “You are an honest woman. But I want a family of my own, little redheaded girls.”
“And blue-eyed boys.”
“Simone, they will recognize falsehoods, my sons. All of the Royce males do, in various forms, but they will be truth-knowers, like I am. Can you accept that?”
“If you can accept a fortune teller.”
“How do you do that, anyway? I never told you about the violin, or Alice’s son.”
She shrugged, and pulled the nightgown over her head. “I don’t know. I just see things sometimes.”
“What do you see when you touch me?” He took her hand in his, against his heart.
Simone shut her eyes. “I see you smiling. You are so happy it brings joy to my heart.”
“Then you must be beside me. I never felt such happiness before I met you. I have never been in love, and that is no lie.”
After a long kiss, Simone asked, “What do you see when I say I love you?”
“It’s Rex who sees colors. I can taste the truth. Your words are as sweet as nectar, the ambrosia of the gods. As sweet as your lips.” He kissed them. “As sweet as your beautiful body.” He started at her neck and worked his way down. “As sweet as the tiny murmurs you make in pleasure.” She murmured. “I could exist on nothing but that honeyed honesty of your love.”
“And my dowry.”
He had to smile. “We’ll save that for our children. I have ample funds of my own, you know. Enough to last forever, like our love. When I say I do, I will. I am yours, only yours. And you are mine.”
“Then I see a perfect future for us, my own true love.”
The Scandalous Life of a True Lady Page 30