The Courtesan Duchess

by Joanna Shupe

  “Jules!”

  Julia turned and saw her best friend, Lady Sophia, approaching. “Oh, Sophie,” Julia said after the two hugged. “I had heard you arrived in Town. I planned to call on you yesterday, but I’ve been a bit tired from my trip.”

  In fact, Julia was exhausted. She had skipped most of the society events since returning three weeks ago and would not have even come tonight if Aunt Theo hadn’t insisted.

  But she was very glad to see Sophie. Her friend was full of life, game for anything, and consequently a lot of fun. A stunning brunette with large brown eyes, Lady Sophia was the only daughter of a powerful marquess and had sworn never to marry. Julia envied her.

  “And how was Paris?” Sophie asked. “I cannot wait to hear all about it. I bet you bought all sorts of fabulous things while you were there. I am so envious. Did you see Lady Morgan? She went to Paris, too. Oh, do tell!”

  It was sometimes hard to get in a word whilst one was engaged in conversation with Sophie.

  “I have much to tell you,” Julia answered, knowing she needed to give her friend the truth about Venice. “But this isn’t the best place. I’ll come to call on you tomorrow.”

  “You had better.” Her eyes dropped to Julia’s black shawl. “My condolences on your mother-in-law. I suspected the old bat would live forever, but . . .” Sophie shrugged.

  Julia had been of a like mind. While the dowager duchess’s death had been a shock—she’d fallen down a flight of stairs and broken her neck—it was not a reason for much sadness. “Thank you. I absolutely refuse to dress in full mourning for her, but Theo would not let me out of the house without a black shawl. The accident certainly came as a surprise. She seemed quite spry the last time I saw her.”

  “Do you think Colton will come back, now that she is dead?”

  Julia glanced away. “No, I do not. I daresay nothing could drag Colton back to England.”

  “Too bad. I’ve always wanted a glimpse of the Depraved Duke. So will you kick Lady Lambert out of Seaton Hall?” Sophie appeared positively excited at the idea. “I know she and the dowager duchess were close, but why should Colton’s brother’s wife get that huge estate to herself? She was only married to Colton’s brother for less than a year before he died. It should be yours.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, to be honest. I’m not certain I have the right to kick her out, and even if I did, why would I? I have no desire to live there.” Although moving to Norfolk might relieve some of her financial burden, Julia realized. She decided to discuss this idea with Theo tonight.

  “Ugh. Speaking of all things ducal, here comes Lord Templeton. I expect you tomorrow, Jules.” Sophie squeezed Julia’s hand before disappearing into the crowd.

  Julia took a much-needed breath of cold air. However, now that she thought about it, throwing up on Templeton held a strange appeal. At the very least, it would get rid of him . . . wouldn’t it?

  “Your Grace,” Templeton greeted. She supposed he was attempting a smile, but the effort made his face resemble a small rodent in a great deal of pain. She gave the required curtsy and he bowed over her hand. Just that small contact made her flesh crawl.

  “I apologize for not receiving you since returning, my lord. We are still trying to recuperate. I’m sure you understand.”

  In the last fortnight Templeton had dropped his card on numerous occasions, but Julia left strict instructions with the servants not to admit him into the town house. She knew he wanted to discuss the hastily written note she’d sent him before leaving for Venice. But Julia needed a response from Colton, recognizing the baby she carried as his, before she told Templeton and the rest of the ton of her condition.

  “Yes, of course, my dear. I do wish to speak with you at your earliest convenience, however. I find myself curious about the contents of your last note.”

  I am sure you do, she thought. God, how she wished her husband would come back and grind Templeton into dust beneath his feet. Templeton would not stand a chance against Nick.

  Her heart twisted. She missed him terribly. Life was unfair. Why did she have to fall in love with the one person she’d never be able to have?

  Then Julia’s stomach turned over. She dug her nails into her palm, attempting to forestall the casting up of her accounts on the Collingswood ballroom floor. “I will let you know when I am receiving again, my lord. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, dismissing him. Templeton’s mouth tightened but he did not argue. He bowed, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

  As soon as he left, Julia hurried to the French doors and stepped out onto the terrace.

  The night had turned frigid but she hardly noticed. She walked to the edge and braced her hands on the stone railing, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. If she could stay quiet and calm for a moment, the urge to vomit sometimes passed.

  From the dark corner on her right, she heard the slide of a boot heel on stone. Julia spun, surprised any other guest would brave the inhospitable temperature. Then the light from a cheroot glowed, illuminating a face she’d never expected to see again.

  “I much preferred you as a redhead, Your Grace.”

  Julia gasped, then promptly vomited on the Duke of Colton’s boots.

  Utterly horrified, she swayed. Had he called her “Your Grace”? She tried to steady herself, her hand flailing in an effort to find the balustrade.

  “Not quite the welcome I’d expected” was all Nick said before strong hands lifted her up and carried her down the steps into the garden.

  Julia could barely breathe. Her head swam. It was Nick. He had come back. But . . . why? He couldn’t have received her note and then traveled to England in this length of time. Which meant he hadn’t yet received her letter and had no idea about the child.

  She frowned. Did he come back for her?

  But he addressed her as “Your Grace,” so he’d learned her real identity. Oh God. How? Shame over what she’d done and fear over his response warred within her. What was he planning to do?

  “Colton, put me down. I don’t know where you think you’re taking—”

  His arms tightened. “If I were you, wife, I would not argue with me,” he growled in a tone she’d not heard him use before. Sharp and cutting, like the edge of a rapier. A shiver rolled through her.

  They passed through a gate and into the mews. Colton whistled, high and shrill, and within seconds, a carriage pulled around. Fitz and a driver sat on top.

  “Put her inside,” Nick said and then dropped Julia into the arms of his larger-than-life manservant.

  Fitz effortlessly placed Julia on the seat of Nick’s carriage. She considered bolting out the opposite door but knew she wouldn’t get far in her current condition.

  Outside the carriage, Nick toed off his boots. He then stripped off his stockings and tossed them onto the ground. “Leave them,” she heard him tell Fitz. “Let us see the duchess home, shall we? She is unwell.”

  He climbed into the carriage, barefoot. Even in the dim light she could see his anger. His jaw clenched tight, posture stiff, with stormy gray eyes that were cold and hard. Fury rolled off him in waves. This was not the same man who had flirted and teased her in Venice. Her heart splintered further and fresh misery oozed into her chest.

  She swallowed. “My apologies for ruining your boots,” she murmured.

  One eyebrow lifted sardonically. “Considering all that you’ve done, it seems fitting, does it not?”

  She felt the need to explain herself, to make him understand. Make him less angry. After all, if he hadn’t abandoned her for eight years, she never would have had to resort to trickery. “Nick, I—”

  He banged twice on the roof, and the carriage lurched forward.

  “I did not give you leave to use my Christian name, wife. You may refer to me as ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Colton.’”

  Julia bristled. Her intention to establish any goodwill disappeared. “Fine, Your Grace. Why are you here? Why come back to England after all these years?”
/>   “Can you not guess?”

  “No, I cannot.”

  His smile was pure evil. “Why, for revenge, of course.”

  Julia felt it again, the bile rising in the back of her throat. It must have shown on her face because Nick shouted, “Stop!” and threw open the carriage door. She dropped to the floor and peered over the side to vomit once more.

  A handkerchief appeared by her ear and she grabbed it to wipe at her mouth. “Thank you,” she mumbled. After a minute or two, her stomach calmed and she felt steadier. Another deep breath and she dragged herself back to the seat.

  “I can see carrying the babe agrees with you,” he said acerbically.

  Julia’s heart stopped. “What did you say?”

  “The babe. Your condition. I can see it agrees with you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Or was I not supposed to know?”

  “Colton, it’s obvious you’re angry with me. But you should know I sent you a letter as soon as I came back to London that explained everything.”

  “Instead of explaining in person, of course.” He leaned forward, his gaze hard and unwavering. “If you thought, madam, to make a fool of me and then return home, patting yourself on the back, thinking you’d done the trick, you were wrong.”

  “Make a fool of you?” She gaped at him. “Is that what you think?”

  “You wanted me, wife. Badly enough, I daresay, to lie, cheat, and steal for your purposes. Well, now you’ve had me. How long, I wonder, before I can make you truly regret it? And make no mistake—you will regret it.”

  Nick had never heard the main room in White’s so quiet.

  It had been eight years since he’d last visited the legendary gentlemen’s club on St. James, but nothing ever changed here. Behind these walls, the elite males of the ton sought refuge—mostly from their wives. A fact to which, sadly, he could now relate.

  All conversation halted when the Duke of Colton appeared. Every head turned his way. Even the staff craned their necks, curious as to the cause of the abrupt cessation of noise.

  But he couldn’t bother with any of that now, not when he had one very important thing to do.

  Whispers started behind him as Nick traveled to the hazard tables in the back, where he’d been told he could find precisely what he was looking for.

  Nick saw him right away. Simon Barrett, the Earl of Winchester, lounged against a table, his blond head bowed while counting his money, oblivious to the fact that the room had gone silent around him.

  Nick kept on until he reached Winchester’s side. Simon glanced up, surprise registering for a half second before Nick punched him square in the face.

  The force of the blow sent Winchester to the floor. He made no effort to stand up, his cheek cradled in his hand. “Goddamn it, Colton. I know I deserve that, but give me fair warning next time. Christ.”

  Nick crouched down and snarled, “There won’t be a next time, Winchester. You are nothing to me. Not a friend, not an enemy. Nothing. You chose her over me, and I’ll never forgive you for it.”

  He rose just as Quint rushed into the room and skidded to a halt. “Damnation,” Quint muttered at the sight of Winchester sprawled on the ground. “I was in the dining room. Thought I could make it in time.”

  Nick turned to the rest of the men in the room, straightened his cuffs. “My apologies, gentlemen, for disturbing your play.”

  Spinning on his heel, he left.

  “Can you get up?” Quint asked.

  “Yes,” Simon grumbled, and rolled to his side. Hell, his face hurt. Coming up on all fours, he pushed himself upright. “Bastard snuck up on me.”

  Quint slapped Simon’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

  The two men strolled to the front room where they found two empty chairs in front of a fire. An order for brandy was quickly placed. Quint also asked the attendant to wet a cloth, set it outside for ten minutes, and then bring it to the table.

  “What for?” Simon asked when the attendant left.

  “Your face. The cold will reduce the pain and any swelling.”

  Simon touched his injured cheek gingerly, winced. “It’s been a while, but it does seem as if Colton’s punches have grown stronger over the years.”

  “A man is capable of remarkable feats of strength when provoked. Which begs the question . . . Why did you help her? I think your betrayal cut Colton deeper than his wife’s.”

  Simon sighed. “I owe her. She once stopped me from doing something terribly idiotic.”

  “Which was?” Quint asked when Simon didn’t offer more.

  “I won’t tell, it’s so humiliating. But Julia’s been a good friend to me. And while Colton has also been a good friend, his treatment of his wife has been appalling. So she asked for my help and . . .” He shrugged.

  The brandy arrived and Simon took a deep, long swallow, hoping to numb the sting from where Colton’s fist had connected.

  “He believes you are in love with his wife,” Quint explained. “I told him you weren’t. You aren’t, right?”

  Simon nearly rolled his eyes. Hadn’t he already assured Colton he was not harboring feelings for the duchess? “I’m not in love with her, though there have been days I’ve wished to be in Colton’s shoes. She’s smart, funny, and brave. If there are finer qualities in a wife, I don’t know them.”

  “Well, I doubt he’ll recover anytime soon. I’ve never seen him so furious. He hardly said two words the entire journey back from Venice.”

  “Yes, but he fell for her, Quint. I saw it happen. Colton and Julia fell in love in Venice. They were mad for each other—until the guilt overcame her. She didn’t want to hurt him so she left. And it’s only a matter of time before they realize how perfect they are for one another.”

  “Do you honestly believe that?” Quint scoffed. “I don’t think Colton will ever forgive her.”

  “He won’t have a choice. And a day will come where he’ll thank me for bringing her to Venice.”

  And make no mistake—you will regret it.

  Her husband’s parting words haunted Julia the next morning. Meg had gone down to fetch a biscuit and chocolate while Julia, heartsick and nauseated, waited in her bed.

  What was Colton planning? He wanted revenge, but how?

  She’d been naïve to think her plan wouldn’t have consequences. He hated her. The affectionate, light-hearted lover she’d known in Venice had been replaced with a hard, furious man determined to make her miserable. Her heart clenched. As much as she wished otherwise, she still loved him. That he despised her tore at her insides.

  Regardless of the hurt she’d caused, their baby was not a mistake. There was a new, precious life within her, and Julia would never be sorry for her child.

  She had known Nick would be angry when he discovered her identity. But the vehemence of his hatred last night had caught her off guard. He’d accused her of making a fool of him.

  Heavens, did he truly believe such a thing?

  The door flew open and Aunt Theo’s plump frame emerged. “La, it is all over town. All over, I tell you! I’ve just been to the flower market and everyone stopped me to talk about it.”

  Fear gripped her and Julia sat up. She’d been so sure no one saw her and Nick together last night. “Talking about what?”

  “Your husband is here. In London.” Theo waved her arms wildly. “He punched Lord Winchester in the middle of White’s last evening. It’s all anyone can talk about.”

  Nick punched Simon? That didn’t make any sense. Unless.... Nick must be furious at Simon for helping her. Julia flopped back on the bed. “Oh, it’s all my fault, Aunt Theo. This whole mess. Whatever made me think finding Colton was a good idea?”

  Theo sat on the edge of Julia’s bed. “Winchester’s no half-wit. He knew the risks when he agreed to help you. And I believe he’s quite capable of holding his own against Colton. I’m worried about you, what Colton will do if he finds you.”

  “He already found me.”

  “H
e did? When?”

  “Last night at the Collingswood ball. I went out to the terrace for some air and Colton was waiting outside.”

  “Did he recognize you?” Theo asked. At Julia’s nod, she prompted, “Well, what happened?”

  “I vomited all over him.”

  Theo roared with laughter, long and loud, and wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “Oh, my dear. That is the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  “It was horribly embarrassing,” Julia admitted. “He is so angry, Theo. He hates me. I asked him why he came back to London and he said for revenge. The idea makes me positively sick. What is he planning to do?”

  “How did he know who you were, I wonder?”

  Julia frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask, I was so caught off guard. Perhaps one of our servants in Venice?”

  Theo waved that off. “No, none knew your true identity, and we were careful in front of them. Perhaps the hair and makeup did not disguise you as much as we’d hoped. Then Colton saw you at the ball and recognized your face.”

  “Perhaps,” Julia said. It seemed unlikely, but what other explanation could there be? “He knows I’m with child.”

  “And what did he say about the fact you’re carrying his babe?”

  “Nothing, other than a mocking remark about the pregnancy agreeing with me after I threw up in the carriage.”

  “I thought you said you threw up on Colton?”

  “I did,” Julia answered. “Then I was ill again on the way here.”

  “Oh, you poor dear,” Theo crooned. “Well, get some rest. We’ll be besieged with callers today.” She stood up. “Or would you rather hide in your chambers all day?”

  Julia shook her head. “I have to face them. If I do not, the gossip will only worsen.”

  A brief knock sounded and Meg poked her head in. “I have your chocolate, Your Grace.”

  “Come in, please, Meg. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

  There was already a stack of cards waiting by the time Julia had dressed. Simon’s was on top. She flipped it over and read his handwritten note. I’ll return in one hour.