by Joanna Shupe
“To find Colton in Venice. And I succeeded.” She gestured to her belly.
“Why now after eight years?”
Julia proceeded to tell her friend everything, including Templeton, hiring Pearl Kelly and what transpired in Venice, concluding with Colton’s most recent visit to Seaton Hall.
“A courtesan?” Sophie repeated. “I do not believe it! You must tell me everything she said. And Lord Winchester helped you, you say? I can see why Colton is furious.”
“You are supposed to be on my side!” There were times when her friend’s insistence on speaking her mind grated on Julia’s nerves.
“I am sorry, Julia, but you know I would never sugarcoat anything, not even for you. I may not be married, but it’s clear any man would not appreciate being tricked. However, I can see how you felt there was no other choice.”
“He does not believe he is the father. Colton is convinced I traveled to Venice with another man’s babe in my belly, intent on seducing him so the child would be legitimate.”
“Well, time will tell on that,” Sophie said. “Nine months is nine months, Julia. Tell me of the time you spent with him in Venice. Was he . . . kind?”
Julia’s heart softened as she recalled that one magnificent week. “Yes, he was kind. And attentive and sweet. It was truly wonderful.”
“Oh, heavens. You fell in love with him. It’s right there on your face.”
Julia sighed, not bothering to deny it. “I do not want to love him. He’s been deliberately cruel since he returned. I understand he is angry, but what if he never forgives me?”
Sophie hugged her. “Then he’s a bigger fool than we thought,” she said softly. “You are so brave and strong, Julia. If Colton refuses to love you back, then we shall just ignore him. You have many friends who love you and who care about you. Though I do wish you had come to me about Templeton. Perhaps my father—”
“Oh, Sophie. No one could have stopped Templeton save Colton or the dowager duchess. But thank you. I’m fortunate to have you, and I apologize I did not confess all before now.”
“Well, I forgive you, of course. It took forever to convince Stepmama to leave Town to come visit you. The Season is winding down but she positively would not leave before now. If I hadn’t begged Papa—”
“Ah, so that’s how you managed it. And how is the marquess?”
“Desperate for grandchildren. He told me I have one more year to find a husband or he will find one for me.”
Julia gasped. “Oh, no!”
Her friend laughed and waved her hand. “I do not believe he truly means it. It is not the first time he’s made some sort of threat.”
“Well, is there anyone who has caught your eye? What about Simon?”
“No, definitely not. I know you adore him, Jules, but he doesn’t make my toes tingle. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, unfortunately I do. In fact, I could do with a little less tingling around Colton.”
Sophie eyes turned speculative. “So will you let me read the advice Pearl gave you? If it worked on Colton . . .”
“The woman is a veritable genius, Sophie. When you find the man you want to capture, I’ll give you what she wrote. And he won’t stand a chance.”
Chapter Thirteen
Never mind what others say. If you are being well cared for, let them talk.
—Miss Pearl Kelly to the Duchess of Colton
Nick threw down Fitz’s letter. Bloody Winchester. He should’ve guessed her knight in shining armor would run to her side. One of these days, Nick would get the story of what good deed she’d performed in order for Winchester to hold her in such high esteem.
Nick hated feeling jealous. Especially since he’d never, ever experienced anything similar in his life. But this burning rage and uncertainty in his gut could not be denied.
Not that he thought the two of them had been intimate. No, he hated the closeness they shared, the friendship and affection she readily gave to a man who was not her husband. Why it bothered Nick, he couldn’t say. After all, she’d played him for a fool.
But the memory of seeing her hurt, so pale and fragile, haunted him. He wanted to protect her, to be her gallant knight—not Winchester. And feeling so deeply for a woman who’d betrayed him made him the worst kind of idiot.
He was pouring himself a drink when Marlowe announced Quint. His friend came in, as disheveled and poorly dressed as always, and so Nick asked Marlowe to bring tea. Quint never touched spirits.
His friend dropped into a chair. “I came round to see if you wanted to go to White’s for dinner. Then the theater, perhaps? There’s a new play at Covent Garden.”
Nick sighed. A night on the town sounded tedious and unappealing. “I do not think so.”
“You’ve hardly been out in weeks. What happened during your last visit to Seaton Hall?”
The truth roared through his brain, humbling him. I nearly bedded my wife, who likely carries another man’s child, because I can no longer control myself. Afraid the humiliating thought would slip out if he opened his mouth, he merely shook his head in response.
“I will not take no for an answer, Colton.”
Nick knew he would not make for good company tonight. Perhaps if Quint learned that for himself, he would stop pestering Nick to go out all the time. He threw back the brandy. “Fine. Let’s go. We’ll play some hazard first.”
When they arrived at White’s, Nick could sense by the avid stares thrown his way that something had transpired. Undaunted, he and Quint made their way to the hazard tables in back. They elbowed in at a nearly full table and began betting. Over the course of the next few minutes, however, the other players started to drop out until only he and Quint remained.
They played a bit longer and then ambled to the dining room. The chatter dropped down to whispers as he and Quint were seated. Nick sighed. What now?
Turning in his chair, he tapped the man behind him. “St. John, what the devil is everyone blithering about?”
St. John’s gaze bounced to Quint and then back to Nick. “Uh, I take it you haven’t seen the betting book?”
Nick’s stomach dropped but he kept his voice steady and calm. “No, I haven’t. Is there a reason I should?”
“Your . . . wife is mentioned in it.” St. John cleared his throat. “It’s—”
Nick pushed back his chair and strode from the dining room. No one dared stop him as he made his way to where the betting book was displayed.
It wasn’t hard to find. Last entry, made anonymously.
Fifty pounds to who can guess when the Duchess of C. will give birth.
Nick grabbed the page and ripped it out in one smooth motion. Crumpling the paper in his hand, he stalked to the main room and tossed it into the nearest fire. He returned to the dining room and reclaimed his seat. Dinner had arrived, but Nick hardly tasted the baked sole, rage and humiliation nearly choking him.
That damned betting book. He still remembered the numerous bets placed during the scandal, such as whether Nick had seduced his brother’s wife, or whether he’d killed his brother. Numb at the time, Nick had been able to ignore it all. Not to mention the reality had been so much worse than what the idiots at White’s could imagine.
Speculation had followed him wherever he went in those days. And now, thanks to his wife, nothing had changed.
They were betting on the legitimacy of his wife’s child. Hell.
Quint leaned over. “Dare I ask what it said?”
Nick repeated it and Quint frowned. “There are rumors, but no one knows for certain that your wife is enceinte. More likely they are betting on when you’ll get her with child, now that you’re back in England.”
Nick hadn’t considered that. The knot in his stomach eased somewhat. “Then why the whispers? Why is everyone here acting like a frightened rabbit in my presence?”
Quint’s face registered stupefied surprise, as if the answer were completely obvious. “Because you punched a man in the face the last tim
e you were here. Or had you forgotten?”
Nick had, in fact, forgotten. He dragged a hand across his jaw. “Regardless, I do not want my wife’s name in that book. No matter the reason.”
“Well, if you still harbor doubts, Winchester swears the baby is yours.”
“And he would know,” Nick drawled.
Their dinner was cleared, and the two of them lingered with their drinks, port for Nick and tea for Quint. The conversation in the dining room had picked up a bit, so Nick could only assume they were no longer whispering about him and Julia.
His wife. Would he ever be free of her, of this all-consuming desire for her? These obsessive feelings surely had to fade at some point. Then he’d move on with his life. So why was it taking so blasted long?
Because he’d never been so bloody miserable.
Not after his brother’s death, nor when his parents turned their backs on him. Even his lonely childhood paled in comparison to finding this perfect woman in Venice, then discovering it had all been a lie.
A clever deception. He’d never suspected a thing.
I knew your reputation . . . so I paid Pearl Kelly to teach me the ways of a courtesan.
Nick frowned and sipped his brandy. Though he hadn’t been back in London long, even he had heard of Pearl Kelly. Had Julia really hired the legendary courtesan to learn the tricks of the trade, so to speak?
He’d been so sure another man had introduced his wife to the arts of the flesh. After all, she’d been so . . . skilled. Like the night he’d told her he couldn’t possibly perform a fourth time, which she’d taken as a direct challenge and proved him wrong. The memory of the way she’d used her tongue caused a bolt of desire to shoot down to his groin. Could he have been mistaken this entire time?
Quint tossed his napkin. “Shall we go? The performance starts in less than an hour.”
He’d forgotten about the theater, but the idea of leaving the club had never sounded better. Nick nodded and the two men soon found their way to Covent Garden. They ended up in the Colton box, one of the largest in the center of the theater. When they’d taken their seats, Quint elbowed him and whispered, “Don’t look now, but Pearl Kelly is with Burston, two boxes to your left.”
Immediately, he glanced over and locked eyes with a slight brunette. She gave a brief twitch of her lips and then leaned over to speak to Lord Burston. Nick watched as Burston nodded, then rose.
“I believe you are about to be invited to request an introduction,” Quint mumbled.
“More like summoned,” Nick said under his breath.
Quint chuckled as Burston entered the box. A rotund, balding man, Burston had enough money that a woman like Pearl Kelly would overlook his appearance. “Your Grace,” Burston greeted with a bow. “I had heard you returned. How were your travels?”
“Surprising,” Nick hedged. “Not what I expected.”
“Do you know Miss Kelly?” Burston waved a hand toward his box.
“I have heard of her.”
“Come, allow me to introduce you, won’t you? We’ve a few minutes before the performance starts.”
Curiosity and politeness had Nick following down the corridor, through the curtains, and into the box. Miss Kelly did not turn around until they reached her side.
“My darling,” Burston began, and a very lovely, expensively attired woman stood to greet them. With her bright smile accented by a rope of diamonds woven in her coiffure, Pearl Kelly was nothing like Nick imagined. Small in stature and not particularly curvy, her delicate face was surrounded by thick chestnut curls. Diamonds graced her ears as well as her neck, and rings adorned almost every finger. Clearly, a woman who appreciated jewelry.
Burston quickly made the introduction. Her curtsy was proper and polite. “Your Grace!” she exclaimed. “What a treat you’ve come to visit.” Her eyes were brown with green flecks in them. Intelligent, knowing eyes that appraised him carefully. “Shall we sit? I like to be comfortable when entertaining.”
Nick nearly laughed. He’d been so busy measuring her, he’d forgotten his manners. “Forgive me.” He settled into the seat beside her and noted with mild curiosity that Burston had disappeared.
“You are every bit as handsome as rumored.” She raked him from head to toe, causing him to lean back in amusement.
“And you are every bit as lovely as I’d heard.”
“I admit, I feel a bit giddy. It’s quite a coup to lure the Depraved Duke into my box.” Her mouth tilted up. “You know, I feel you and I might have met under very different circumstances, if not for your wife.”
“And here I thought most women in your position would not care a fig for the existence of a wife.” He was curious to see how this line of conversation progressed. Would she confirm taking Julia under her wing, teaching her all the tricks a Cyprian had at her disposal?
“But, then, I’m not most women. Speaking of wives, you are a fortunate man. Her Grace is quite beautiful.” Miss Kelly’s expression revealed nothing, and Nick found himself more confused. Before he could respond, she asked, “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Indeed, she is. And quite clever.”
“Most women are. You males tend to not notice such things. Call it an obsession with our more obvious assets.” She smoothed her skirts and didn’t meet his eye. “But a woman will do whatever she feels necessary to get what she wants.”
“And what is it a woman wants, Miss Kelly?”
“Oh, you must call me Pearl. All my good friends do—”
He straightened, remembering a very similar exchange with Mrs. Leighton in Venice.
“—and I want for very little, Your Grace. These days, I hardly do a thing unless it amuses me.”
Was she referring to helping Julia? Confound women and their abilities to talk in circles. “A fine habit, if such amusement does not hurt others.” Like a husband, he wanted to add.
“Oh, I doubt I have ever caused harm. My amusements tend to stray more toward the pursuits of pleasure. Surely, a man with your reputation appreciates such efforts.”
Ah, now they were getting to the heart of the matter. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, I appreciate the pursuit of pleasure, but only when solicited honestly and openly. I’ve never been one for duplicity.”
She laughed, a low, husky sound, and briefly touched his arm. “Oh, Your Grace. Even a bit of duplicity can be a good thing. Life is not a Greek tragedy. Life is to be enjoyed! To be relished. To be lived without regret. I heard you were a serious, brooding fellow, but you really must adopt more joie de vivre.”
He found himself amused despite himself. “Are you always this obnoxiously optimistic?”
“Only in the company of handsome men. And why would I not be? While it is true I did not have a pleasant childhood, look at all that I’ve accomplished, all that I have now. If we were but slaves to our doubts and failings, life would be dull indeed.”
What could he say to such a statement? It was a mirror of his life, and he didn’t like it, not one little bit. Since returning to London, he’d spent many dull nights in the town house, brooding and alone.
“Your friend—Viscount Quint, I believe.” She tipped her diamond-wrapped head toward the Colton box. “Has he always had such dreadful fashion sense?”
Nick chuckled. “Yes, as long as I’ve known him. We try not to hold it against him.”
She nodded her understanding. “It is what’s on the inside that counts, is it not?” Relaxing back in her chair, she glanced at Quint again. “He suffered a near miss with that dreadful Pepperton girl. The stupid chit ran off with a groom, of all things. Ridiculous.”
Nick only knew what Quint had told him, which wasn’t much. “ ‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,’ ” he quoted.
“ ‘And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind,’ ” she finished. “Do you believe that to be true, Your Grace? Did you fall in love with your wife’s beauty or her brains?”
He resisted the urge to laugh. In love? With Ju
lia? The idea was preposterous.
Wasn’t it?
“You look as if you’ve sucked on a rotten egg.” She laughed. “You men are so predictable. Oh, here comes Burston.” Pearl stood and Nick rose as well. “It seems our time together is at an end, Your Grace.”
“It was truly a pleasure, Miss Kelly.” He picked up her gloved hand and then brought it to his lips. Her eyes twinkled, and he regarded her carefully. “I get the sense I have served my purpose, that I have amused you this evening.”
“Indeed, you have. This exchange has been memorable for many, many reasons.” She leaned closer. “Please give your wife my best. I do hold her in the highest esteem.”
Nick stared intently into the courtesan’s eyes and the answer he’d been searching for was there. It was true—Julia had hired Pearl so she could learn how to seduce him. He swallowed the questions clogging his throat. “You may depend upon it.”
He took his leave and walked back to his box, dazed. The performance passed, but he paid little attention. Instead, his mind reeled from the exchange and what he’d learned.
Nick had been so certain Julia had lied, that another man had been responsible for her intimate knowledge of physical activities. She’d been too . . . talented for him to believe otherwise. The idea that he’d been her first lover seemed laughable.
He thought back to that first time, when she’d straddled him in a chair. He’d been too consumed with lust to notice any sign of a maidenhead, but he did remember the force with which she’d ridden him. She’d instantly taken him deep and hard. Had it been out of frenzied lust, as he’d assumed, or to pierce her membrane without calling attention to it?
Afterward, she’d immediately risen to clean both herself and him—the only time she’d done so in the time they spent together.
A sickening feeling blossomed in his stomach.
Had his wife really remained a virgin for eight years?
The idea seemed ludicrous. With her body, wit, and intelligence, she could have any man at her fingertips. Why in the world would she save herself for him—a man she didn’t know and would likely never meet? It didn’t make any sense.