A Courtesan's Scandal

by Julia London

  “Not at all. I’ve lived in London all my life.”

  “In Mayfair?” Prudence asked disbelievingly.

  Kate laughed. “No. Not Mayfair.” She said it as if Prudence had asked if she lived on the sun.

  Fortunately, Beaumont caught Prudence’s elbow. “You will have to keep your questions for a more opportune time, darling. The performance is about to begin.”

  “Please, be seated,” Grayson urged them, and escorted Kate to the two front seats of the box, directly in front of the Beaumonts, where Grayson could feel Prudence’s gaze burning a hole through his collar.

  He straightened his waistcoat, smiled at Kate. The footmen were dousing the lights in preparation for the performance; the house was beginning to settle. Kate leaned forward, peering down into the musicians’ stalls. Grayson inadvertently glanced toward the prince again. George was speaking with his brother, the Duke of Clarence, who was an ardent supporter of the slave trade and stood in direct opposition to Merrick. Grayson absently looked to the left of the prince—and his heart stilled.

  Lord and Lady Eustis were also present this evening, and Diana was staring at him. Her blue eyes were round and even from this distance, he could see her mouth was set in a rigid line.

  Bloody hell. He’d been so preoccupied with business and political matters and carrying out this ruse for the prince that he had not thought clearly about who might be in attendance this evening, who might see him. And as he’d not seen Diana in a fortnight, he’d had no opportunity to inform her.

  He was spared any more awkwardness when the curtain rose a moment later. Kate turned a beaming smile to him, and settled in for the performance. As the music began and several singers walked onstage to set the tale, Kate leaned closer to Grayson and touched his sleeve. “The music is rather plain just now,” she whispered.

  Surprised, Grayson looked at her, but she’d returned her attention to the stage, had removed her hand.

  The tale was rather simple. A dragon—who represented the crown’s taxation—lived in a cave and menaced the children and the livestock of a village. A knight was dispatched to battle him to the death and emerged victorious, thereby defeating taxation. The parody also made light of opera, with exaggerated dancing and singing.

  Throughout the performance, Kate continued to interpret the music to Grayson, lightly laying her hand on his arm, or touching his knee. “The music is very boastful, to match the knight,” she whispered, “much like the ship horns that blast on the Thames. Have you heard them? They are dreadfully loud.” When she leaned away from him again, she left the tantalizing scent of her perfume behind.

  When a young woman entered the stage and began to sing, she touched his knee and said, “The song is very sweet. She’s quite taken with the knight.” She leaned so close he felt a bit of her hair brush his cheek, and whispered, “Do you see how she pressed her hands to his chest?”

  Grayson glanced at Kate. She smiled coyly. “She’s flirting with him.”

  When the knight went off to slay the dragon, Kate suddenly grasped his wrist as if she were frightened. “The music is very low and foreboding, like the fog when it rolls in and swallows up the town.” An unexpectedly loud crash of cymbals caused her to flinch into him. Grayson caught that lovely, indelible scent of her perfume again. But Kate pressed her hand to her heart and slowly leaned back in her seat with an apologetic smile. “The music is very dark,” she said simply.

  It was the first time in Grayson’s memory that anyone had attempted to interpret the sound of music to him. It didn’t help him distinguish the notes any better than he usually did, but he did understand what she meant when she explained it to him, and for once in his life, the music—albeit tinny and strange to his ears—seemed to make sense.

  When the last scene began, she wrinkled her nose and looked at him. “Now it sounds a bit like a gaggle of geese,” she whispered.

  “It looks like a gaggle of geese,” Grayson whispered, given the way the dancers were hopping about in some strange dance and singing over one another. “Tell me, is anyone singing of love?” he asked, harking back to her comments at the ball, that music reminded her of courtly love.

  Kate giggled. “Not as yet,” she whispered. “They always save that for the end. Best to end with ecstasy … wouldn’t you agree?”

  He looked at Kate, and the sparkle of amusement in her eyes. Oh, but he wholeheartedly agreed.

  When the curtain at long last came down, Grayson was the first to applaud the end of such an appalling production. The actors had scarcely cleared the stage after taking their bows before Prudence was upon them. “How did you find the opera, Miss Bergeron?” she asked, eagerly linking her arm with Kate’s and walking out of the box with her before Grayson could intervene.

  “Honestly, I thought it overwrought.”

  “Did you,” Prudence repeated thoughtfully, studying her closely.

  Grayson couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation; in the lobby, the swirl of people around them made it impossible to hear anything. Nevertheless, Grayson found himself introducing Kate over and over again. It seemed as if every one of his acquaintances had attended the opera this evening, and all were anxious to meet his guest.

  He was anxious to be gone. They were to attend a private gathering at St. James’s Palace, hosted by Clarence, the prince’s brother. Grayson worked to extract Kate from the throng, and thought he’d managed it, was waiting for their cloaks when Lord Eustis put himself directly in Grayson’s path.

  God help him. Grayson forced a smile. “My lord Eustis, how good to see you. I’d heard you were in Shrop-shire for the winter.”

  “I’ve come to town to see after my young wife.”

  As if on cue, Diana slid into place beside him, her gaze fixed on Grayson’s. “Your Grace,” she murmured, her gaze sliding to Kate.

  “And how is your mother, Your Grace?” Eustis asked, ignoring Kate completely.

  “She is very well, thank you. Please allow me to introduce Miss Katharine Bergeron,” Grayson said, glancing at Diana. “Miss Bergeron, Lord and Lady Eustis.”

  Kate curtsied gracefully.

  “Good evening, madam,” Eustis said indifferently as he fit his hands into gloves. A footman appeared on Kate’s left, holding her pelisse.

  “There you are!” Prudence suddenly appeared in their midst and gave Diana a kiss on the cheek. “My lord!” she said with surprise to Lord Eustis. “I had not heard you’ve come to town. You must come to dine.”

  “I’d like that very much, Lady Beaumont, but we are to Bath shortly. We’ll have you for tea, but for now, we must bid you adieu—our carriage is in queue.”

  “Good night,” Prudence said.

  Diana fixed Grayson with a look as she followed her husband out.

  When they’d disappeared into the crowd, Prudence whirled about to Grayson. “We must take our leave as well, Christie. I can’t bear to be parted from my children another moment. Miss Bergeron, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance. You must come and join the duchess and myself for tea. I know she’d be very happy to make your acquaintance. Will you?”

  “I’d be delighted,” Kate said charmingly, but Grayson’s gut sank a little. A courtesan in a salon with his mother? It was more likely that hell would freeze.

  Prudence smiled and waved as she turned around and sailed back to Beaumont, who was deep in conversation with a pair of gentlemen.

  “Shall we?” Grayson said, taking the pelisse from the footman and helping Kate into it.

  “You seem anxious,” Kate said as he escorted her out to the queue of waiting carriages. “But you mustn’t fret. Your sister will not issue an invitation to tea. She was being polite.”

  Grayson snorted. “You underestimate Prudence.”

  “She won’t. She’ll make some gentle inquiries, and once she’s determined who I am, she will politely forget the conversation.”

  A footman opened the door to the coach; Grayson handed Kate up. When he climbed in behin
d her and took his seat, she said, “Your mistress is lovely.”

  Startled, Grayson stared at Kate.

  “Lady Eustis is your mistress, is she not?”

  He found himself quite unable to speak. He nodded.

  Kate smiled as she adjusted her pelisse about her. “She is quite lovely. I can see why you are in love with her.”

  “In love?”

  Kate looked up. “Aren’t you? I rather thought love was the point of a having a mistress—”

  “I’d rather not speak of Lady Eustis,” he said abruptly.

  “Oh … of course not.” Smiling faintly, Kate looked out the window.

  Grayson sighed. He hadn’t meant to be so short, but hearing Kate mention Diana’s name made him strangely cross. He really wasn’t feeling quite himself. “I beg your pardon for that,” he said, gesturing toward the opera house. “I might have warned you had I known the whole of London would be on hand.”

  With a very subtle flick of her wrist, Kate said, “It is a trifling thing. Have you many brothers and sisters?”

  “Two brothers and three sisters.”

  “So many!” she exclaimed. “You must have been very happy in your childhood with so many playmates.”

  He’d indeed been blessed with a very happy, idyllic childhood. “I was.”

  “And are they here in London?” Kate asked idly as she glanced out the window at the moonlit night sky.

  He had to think for a moment before answering. “My youngest brother, Harry, is in France presently. My sister Ginny is in the country. She is not yet out and is still being tutored. Yet my other siblings are in London, in preparation for the social Season.” Which, in essence, amounted to finding a match for their brother Grayson. “What of you? Have you any siblings?”

  “A brother.”

  “Has this brother a name?”

  “Yes.” She smiled a little. “Jude.”

  “And where is Jude?” he asked, imagining him in some Southwark gaming hell.

  “He … honestly, I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted sheepishly. “I lost him several years ago.”

  “Lost him?”

  “He, ah … he changed his residence and I do not know where he resides now.”

  Grayson looked at her expectantly, but Kate shrugged. “I’ve been looking for him for quite a long time. I heard recently that he’s on a ship.”

  “What of your parents? Has he not kept in contact with them?”

  “My mother died when I was twelve, and if I had to hazard a guess, I would say that my father has long been gone from this world. He was never in particularly good health that I can recall.”

  “Do you mean to say that you don’t know if your father lives?” he asked incredulously.

  She smiled wryly. “It’s a rather long and sordid tale, sir,” she said softly. “Please do not trouble yourself with the details, for I assure you, you will not find them agreeable.”

  Grayson tried to imagine not knowing if his father lived or died. But the coach jerked to a halt in front of St James’s Palace, and his thoughts immediately turned to the prince, and how anxiously he would be waiting to see Kate.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the entrance hall to the Duke of Clarence’s private apartments in St. James’s Palace there stood a marble statue of a woman dressed in ancient robes. She held a bowl above her head, in which someone had placed rose petals. Rose petals. In the dead of winter.

  Kate ran her fingers over the statue, feeling the cold, smooth marble.

  How did one ever grow accustomed to such opulence?

  “Miss Bergeron, will you allow me to acquaint you with some friends of mine?”

  Kate looked up; Mrs. Jordan, Clarence’s mistress, smiled at her. When she’d entered with Darlington, Clarence had instantly swept him away, leaving her with Mrs. Jordan. Kate knew of her—every courtesan knew of her— she’d been a famous actress before becoming the duke’s mistress and borne him several children. She was now past the age of forty, but she was still quite handsome, with a trim figure and fine features. Her situation was widely accepted among the ton—as long as it remained behind closed doors. Years ago, Madame Albert had told Kate that as a courtesan she might very well be accepted into society, but never into the ton’s private salons.

  Mrs. Jordan was quite charming and kindly took Kate in hand to introduce her around.

  The private gathering didn’t seem at all private to Kate—there were at least one hundred people within. There was gambling at one end of the salon and musicians played at the other end. A few hearty souls were attempting to dance without benefit of a proper dance floor. In between, people milled about with libations in hand.

  Kate felt as if she’d been introduced to everyone in attendance when the prince made an unsteady entrance in the company of two much younger men who appeared to be as foxed as he was. Mrs. Jordan fell into a deep curt-sey, yanking Kate’s hand and pulling her down as well. “Your Highness,” Mrs. Jordan said.

  “Mrs. Jordan, we are here,” the prince said.

  “You are most welcome, Your Highness.”

  “Miss Bergeron, how do you do?”

  “Very well, Your Highness, thank you.”

  “Where is Clarence?”

  “At the tables, sir,” Mrs. Jordan said.

  The prince shifted his gaze to Kate. “Miss Bergeron, where is your escort?” he demanded, swaying a bit.

  “He is at the tables as well,” Mrs. Jordan said.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jordan,” the prince said. “Perhaps you might inform him I have arrived. I’d like a word.”

  “At once, Your Highness,” Mrs. Jordan said, and walked away.

  The prince caught Kate’s elbow, gripped it tightly, and propelled her forward. “You may join me for some refreshment and tell me how you found the opera,” he said tightly.

  Kate could smell the whiskey on his breath. She glanced over her shoulder; the two young men who had come with him were following behind, engrossed in their own conversation.

  “Kate. You must have a care to remain at Darlington’s side,” he said low. He stumbled slightly. “People will suspect that you are quite unattached, particularly if you keep the company of Mrs. Jordan. And if they think you are unattached, they might link you to me. I cannot risk it, do you hear me? Bloody Caroline has spies everywhere,” he said, glancing around them.

  Kate glanced around, too. She thought people might more readily assume an attachment between them when he marched her across the room as he was doing now than through her association with Mrs. Jordan.

  “Kate, Kate,” the prince said suddenly, “I’ve thought of little else but you since our last meeting. Did you receive the necklace I sent you?”

  Kate indicated the pearl at her throat. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “Exquisite.” He sighed—in reference to the pearl or her décolletage, she wasn’t certain. “God in heaven, I must see you in private!” he said anxiously. “It pains me to be so close, yet so far from you!”

  Kate felt entirely conspicuous and was certain the entire room had heard what he’d said and knew that he lusted after her. She had the terrifying thought that perhaps Princess Caroline did have spies all around them. “Your patience will be rewarded,” she said softly.

  He groaned and leaned closer, causing her to inadvertently rear back. “Let me tell you something,” he murmured. His mouth was only inches from hers; one misstep and he could pitch headlong into her. As it was, he drew a breath, licked his lips. “The ladies’ retiring room is down the main corridor to your left,” he said quietly. “Just beyond that door is another that leads—”

  “Your Highness.”

  “What?” George snapped at the intruder, jerking partially around.

  Darlington steadied the prince, but the prince seemed not to notice.

  Relieved, Kate quickly put out her hand to Darlington. “Here is my escort now, Your Highness.” Thankfully, Darlington seemed to sense her distress and took her h
and, pulling her away from what she was certain would have been another meeting in another linen closet.

  The prince looked at her hand in Darlington’s and scowled. “Now that I’ve arrived you play your part very well,” he snapped. “Have a care you keep her close, Christie. I’ll not have the scoundrels here lusting after what is mine. I want this one as untainted as I might reasonably expect.”

  Kate somehow managed to suppress her gasp of indignation. She was not a whore. And she’d not come to this gathering ape-drunk as he had! She had learned as a young girl to push her feelings into a hard little box she imagined was lodged beside her heart, to turn a deaf ear to the things that were said about her or her body. That box had turned to stone over the years, cold hard stone, and she felt herself turning cold and hard now. It was the only way she could do what she must, the only way she could bear to receive the insults and attentions of a man who disgusted her, and by God, at this moment, the Prince of Wales disgusted her.

  Yes, she was living in the prince’s house and was, for all intents and purposes, his property. And were she not his property, she’d be living somewhere little better than the rooms she let from Mr. Fleming. But Kate’s desire to be free, to be her own person with control over her own body, her own life, was growing stronger by the day. Dangerously strong. It would rise up one day and jeopardize her livelihood, for she’d not be able to swallow her spleen and keep from speaking her bloody mind.

  “Are you agreeable?”

  “Pardon?” she asked, looking at Darlington.

  “I was saying that I’d hoped you would play a round of cards. We have need of a fourth.” Darlington’s voice was smooth and strong and soothed her instantly.

  “Yes. By all means,” she said, and looked at the prince. His gaze was on another woman who slowly walked by.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Darlington said, and tightened, his grip on Kate’s hand. “Come then, Miss Bergeron, before our seats are taken.”

  The prince, drunk as he was, didn’t seem to notice that she’d left. Kate followed Darlington to a table occupied by two gentlemen, who rose from their seats when Darlington introduced her. She knew Lord Green; his wife had bought bolts and bolts of China silk and he’d been a frequent guest at Benoit’s gaming table. He smiled broadly and hurried to hold out a chair for her.