A Courtesan's Scandal

by Julia London

  Once Kate had taken her seat, the gentlemen took theirs. The other man, Lord Dunning, nodded. “The game is Speculation, Miss Bergeron. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Yes,” she said, and blushed. “But I … I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I … I have no purse—”

  “Ah, but you do, “Darlington said, nodding at a few coins at her elbow. “They were left by my uncle, Lord Richland, who was called away. He willed them to the next player rather than break up the game.”

  Kate looked again at the coins, which she guessed amounted to ten pounds. Ten pounds would come very close to paying the lease on the rooms at St. Katharine’s for a full year. She looked at Darlington skeptically. He gave her a very subtle wink, and Kate could not help but smile. “How very kind,” she said. “You must introduce me to him, Your Grace, so that I might thank him.”

  “If His Grace does not, it would certainly be my pleasure to make the introductions,” Green said.

  “Thank you, my lord, but I would be happy to introduce Miss Bergeron to Lord Richland,” Darlington said, his gaze still on her. He picked up the deck of cards.

  “How did you find the opera this evening, Miss Bergeron?” Lord Green asked as Darlington shuffled.

  “Not very well, in all honesty. But I did enjoy the dancing.”

  “Perhaps you found it not to your liking as it was a parody,” Dunning suggested in a superior tone as Darlington dealt. “It was not intended to be a realistic story.”

  Darlington frowned sternly at the man—not that Dunning seemed to notice—but Kate laughed lightly. “I will admit to often misunderstanding the stories in opera, but on this occasion, I was aware.”

  “Gentlemen. Miss Bergeron. The play is to Green,” Darlington said.

  Green laid his card, followed by Darlington and Dunning. With delight, Kate trumped and triumphantly raked the few coins in the center toward her. They played four more rounds, with Kate taking two. She laughed gaily each time she won and tried to assure her partners that she wasn’t typically so lucky in cards.

  “The words of an expert gambler,” Green said jovially. “I’ve had the delightful pleasure of sitting at a table with Miss Bergeron, and I will warn you, sirs, that her skill is masked by her charming smile.”

  “You give me far too much credit, my lord,” Kate said cheerfully.

  A footman appeared at her side and at Darlington’s very subtle signal, he put a glass of wine beside her. Kate picked it up and inclined her head in gratitude. “Thank you. I have developed a bit of a thirst.”

  “I should think so, having worked so hard to divest three poor gentlemen of their funds.”

  They played several more rounds, Kate winning a fair number of times. Several times during the evening, she would glance up and find Darlington watching her. There was something in his deep blue gaze, something mysterious that trickled down her spine and made her feel very warm and sparkly inside.

  Or perhaps that was the wine.

  The only person who did not seem to be winning was Lord Dunning, and he grew more sullen with each hand. He didn’t seem the sort of man who liked to lose—and particularly not to a woman. But Kate couldn’t help his luck. As for herself, she was silently counting the coins at her elbow and thanking the heavens for them. With what she’d accumulated, she could not only pay the increased fee to Fleming, she would also have some money to put aside.

  Kate won another hand and Green remarked he’d been robbed of all his luck. “I seem to have found mine for once,” she remarked cheerfully.

  “You have, indeed,” Dunning said. “Tell me, Miss Bergeron … do they teach games such as Speculation in the cloth halls?”

  Stunned, Kate slowly picked up the cards Green had just dealt her. “No, my lord,” she said carefully. “A friend taught it to me.”

  “A friend,” Dunning scoffed. “Perhaps he taught you some special tricks as well,” he muttered, and glanced at the number of coins at her elbow.

  His implication could not have been clearer—he’d just accused her of cheating, and Kate was horrified. Darlington suddenly clamped his hand down on Dunning’s arm. “I never thought you to be a poor sport, my lord. Perhaps the evening has fatigued you. You should apologize to the lady.”

  “Lady?” Dunning sneered.

  Darlington stood so suddenly that Kate had to grab the table to keep it from toppling. “Apologize to the lady,” he repeated tightly.

  It seemed as if everything and everyone around them suddenly quieted, their gazes riveted on Darlington. Dunning glared at the duke, then glanced at Kate. “My apologies, madam,” he said coldly.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Bergeron,” Darlington snapped. “I did not realize we were in such poor company.” He strode around to her chair. “Have I shown you the view from the private gardens?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

  Kate’s face was flaming. Of the many things she’d been called in her life, cheater had never been among them. She looked uncertainly at the coins on the table. She didn’t want to leave them, but was too ashamed to sweep them into her reticule.

  Darlington politely solved the problem for her by picking up the coins and putting them in his pocket. “Miss Bergeron?”

  She would have kissed him if it wouldn’t have inflamed the situation. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “Good night, Miss Bergeron,” Lord Green said, coming to his feet. “It has been a pleasure, as always.”

  Dunning did not look at her as they quit the table.

  Grayson was appalled. He did not linger for polite farewells; he moved Kate through the boisterous crowd, past women who looked at him longingly, past men who eyed him jealously and Kate lustfully. He saw the prince across the room; he looked even more foxed than he’d been earlier, and was talking to the bosom of a voluptuous woman while the two young men who had accompanied him hovered about. He wondered if Kate noticed the prince.

  Grayson did not take Kate to the private terraces as he’d suggested, but to the main foyer, where he sent a footman for their coats. He was far too angry to remain here and held his jaw clenched shut, afraid of what he might say if he allowed himself to speak.

  The footman returned with the coats. A light snow had begun to fall, but Grayson scarcely noticed; he marched Kate to his carriage. His footman was there before them, lowering the steps. Grayson quickly handed her up and swept in behind her, sitting across from her, his expression quite cold as he stared out the open door, waiting for the footman to raise the step.

  When the footman had shut the door, Kate said, “I did not cheat, if that is what you think.”

  Surprised, he looked at her.

  “I may be a courtesan, sir, but I am not a cheat! I’d rather never lay another card on a table than have anyone believe that I cheat, but especially you, for I have been utterly forthright in all our dealings!”

  “Kate—”

  “Have I given you any reason to suspect that I am less than perfectly honest? Have I done anything to suggest that I am as low as a thief? You may think me low, sir, but I—”

  Grayson suddenly reached across the coach and put his hand on hers. “I do not think you cheated,” he said evenly. “I sat across from you all evening. I know you didn’t cheat.”

  That silenced her. She frowned with confusion. “But … but you seem so angry.”

  “I am quite angry,” he agreed. “I am angry because you did not deserve that.”

  Something flickered in Kate’s eyes. He could see her surprise, the rush of color to her face, and the smile of gratitude. “Thank you for that. Yet I don’t understand Lord Dunning—how could he think it of me?”

  Grayson squeezed her hand. “Because he is an ass.”

  Kate gasped. And then she smiled. “You championed me,” she said, sounding a little breathless, a little incredulous. “In front of your friends and acquaintances!”

  “Is that so odd?”

  “I suppose it depends on one’s perspective, but yes, in my experience a duke would
not take the word of a courtesan over the word of a lord. You really are quite kind, sir.”

  Grayson tried to frown, but when she was smiling so beatifically at him, he couldn’t muster much of one. “I am not kind,” he cautioned her. “Never accuse me of it.”

  Kate smiled and shook her head, settling back against the squabs. “Well … you did say you would show me the view from the private terrace, and yet you did not. That wasn’t very kind.”

  “Did I say that?” he asked, stretching one arm across the back of the squabs as his gaze wandered over her. “Forgive my oversight and allow me to describe it to you. There are quite a lot of trees and bushes and a frozen pond on which the royal family—the princesses, really— sometimes skate.”

  “Skate?” Kate asked, her eyes lighting with delight. “Now I am very cross you did not show me! I have long desired to try to skate.”

  “Miss Bergeron, do you meant to tell me you have never skated on ice?”

  She laughed. “Never!”

  “That is a tragedy.”

  The carriage turned to the right; it was very dark to the left of the coach, and Grayson guessed they were passing Green Park. She’d be home soon. But when he turned his head to look at Kate again, he silently caught his breath. She was gazing at him in a manner that made his pulse leap. It was the sort of look that men all over the world hoped to see in a woman’s eyes—the soft glow of desire. He didn’t speak, but boldly allowed his gaze to wander over her, lingering here and there, sliding down to her embroidered slippers, and up again, to her neck, to her mouth and eyes.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. Grayson surmised they were at her house and knocked three times on the ceiling, indicating he was to be left alone. “We’ve arrived at your home,” he said simply.

  She nodded. But she was looking at his mouth.

  He leaned forward. “Kate … I beg your pardon for what happened this evening.”

  She sighed softly. “Please don’t feel the need to apologize. I am well aware of where I stand.”

  “Not everyone among the ton is as boorish as some of the people you have met this evening.”

  She smiled dubiously. “I would not expect you to think so. No one would dare treat you ill.”

  He supposed she had a point—he was a wealthy duke, too powerful and influential to be toyed with. It was precisely the reason the prince had chosen him to escort Kate. No one would attempt to steal his mistress. As to that, however, he had a mistress, and one that had been neglected of late. “We have come to the end of our arranged outings,” he said, and was, amazingly, disappointed by his own announcement.

  Kate glanced out the window. “I suppose we caused a bit of commotion after all, did we not?”

  “We did, indeed.” He watched her, trying to read her. But whatever Kate thought, she was not revealing her feelings. She smiled that lovely, captivating smile that came to her so easily. Perhaps she was quite at ease with ending their public association; he could scarcely blame her. “I shall speak with George on our behalf and inquire if he is satisfied with … this,” he said, gesturing lamely to the two of them.

  “Yes,” she said. “I imagine you are anxious to return to your life. I want you to know that I am very grateful for the kindness you showed me this evening.”

  Kindness. He hadn’t been particularly kind to her at all.

  There seemed nothing left to say. Kate smiled and shifted forward, and Grayson lifted his hand and rapped once on the ceiling to indicate that the door should be opened.

  “There is just one thing, if I may be so bold?” Kate asked as the coach dipped to one side as a footman came down.

  “Yes?”

  She looked in the area of his waist. “It’s rather awkward, really, but I was wondering if I might have my winnings,” she said, and lifted her green eyes to him.

  That was not what Grayson was hoping she would say. He was hoping she’d say she wasn’t ready for their association to end, because he wasn’t ready. But he’d completely forgotten the few coins she’d won and instantly reached into his pocket.

  “Those coins will help some friends of mine,” she said apologetically.

  He really didn’t know what she meant by that, and he didn’t care. He silently withdrew the coins. Kate opened her reticule; he dropped the coins into it, and as she drew it closed, Grayson caught her hand.

  At the same moment, the door swung open and the footman reached inside to lower the steps. Grayson felt uncharacteristically uncertain and awkward. He gave the footman a look, and the man instantly closed the door. “Kate,” he said low, settling his gaze on her again, “I should like to say that it has been my extraordinary pleasure to have escorted you … in spite of my initial misgivings.”

  She laughed softly. “It has been my great pleasure to have been escorted, in spite of my initial misgivings,” she agreed, and leaned closer still. “You aren’t like the others, Christie,” she whispered. “But I shall keep your secret.”

  His pet name on her breath sent a faint shiver through Grayson, and he smiled wryly. “I’m afraid that I am like them, but perhaps a little less so now.”

  Kate’s smile deepened. She tried to remove her hand, but Grayson wasn’t ready to let go. She gave him a skeptical look. “Your poor footman is out there freezing unto death.”

  Grayson couldn’t think of the man now. He could think of nothing but Kate, lured in by the faint scent of her perfume, the glittering green eyes. He leaned in so close that he was almost touching her. “You don’t have to take your leave,” he murmured. “The night is young yet.”

  She turned her head, so that her mouth was now only a fraction of an inch from his. Her lips parted slightly; she wanted him to kiss her, he could sense it. Grayson removed his glove and touched his knuckles to her cheek. Her skin was smooth and warm in spite of the cold, her green eyes were shining and locked on his. Grayson slid his hand to the hollow of her throat, spreading his fingers against the column of her neck, and slowly down, inside her coat. Kate flinched slightly, but she did not move. Her breath was warm on his mouth as he skimmed his hand over the pearl necklace to the bare skin of her décolletage, resting against her heart.

  He could feel it beating as strong as his. He moved his hand down, to the swell of her breast, and Kate slowly drew a breath. Her skin began to heat under his hand, and she shifted closer to him.

  Grayson’s blood began to roil; when Kate’s eyes fluttered shut, he could not help himself, and touched his lips to hers. The moment he kissed her, his heart lurched; he drew her lip in between his teeth then probed deeply, his tongue swirling around hers while he filled his hand with her breast.

  Kate made a soft sound of pleasure that was Grayson’s undoing. He pushed her back against the squabs, moving with her. He pressed his hardness against her leg, let her feel what she was doing to him, and Lord Grayson was completely enchanted by her kiss, by the sweet sensation of her mouth and tongue against his, by the pressure of her body as she pressed against his hand.

  His body was swelling and simmering with passion, on the verge of exploding with the need to know her intimately. It was insanity, it was dangerous, and it could cost him dearly with the prince. Yet it was wildly erotic. He slipped his hand into her bodice. Her breast was taut, her skin warm and fragrant. The passion unfurling in Grayson’s body erased all reasoned thought. Her hands tangled in his hair, fell to the muscles in his shoulders and arms. She dragged her hands down his back and to his hips as Grayson bent his head and skimmed his lips over her neck.

  With one hand to the small of her waist, he drew her to him. He was thinking of escorting her inside—quickly— when Kate suddenly put her hand between them and pushed. Grayson lifted his head; Kate gasped for air.

  “I’ll come inside,” he said breathlessly.

  “No,” she said, and shook her head, her eyes piercing his. “I cannot. I will not.”

  “Kate—”

  “No,” she said again, and pushed with both hands. “I have
made a contract with the prince. I have given my word.”

  Of all the courtesans in London, Grayson had to experience unfathomable desire for the one who had a bloody conscience. He anxiously caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Let me come in, Kate. We will discuss it—”

  She surprised him by pulling her hand free of her glove. She pushed past him and opened the door, startling the footman who waited patiently outside.

  On the ground, she looked back over her shoulder at Grayson. He was still holding her glove. Gripping it. “Good night, Your Grace,” she said, and hurried to her door. She fumbled with the lock; a moment later, the door swung open, and the butler glared at the carriage as Kate darted inside. The door quickly swung shut behind her, and not a moment later, the carriage door swung shut and the conveyence was rolling down King Street.

  Grayson brought Kate’s glove to his nose. He was well aware that he’d just crossed some threshold of madness, but at the moment, with his body still pulsing, the feel of her warm flesh still fresh on his mind, he didn’t bloody well care.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kate pressed her back to the closed door. Her breathing was still ragged, her skin still flushed.

  Aldous looked at her askance as he took her pelisse and frowned before moving to put it away. With Aldous’s back to her, Kate touched her fingers to her lips. She never wanted to forget the sensation or the power of that kiss. Never.

  Aldous turned round and put his hands on his hips as he studied her. “Where is your glove?”

  “Ah …” She looked at her bare hand. “Ruined,” she said sheepishly. “I spilled wine.”

  “Wine, is it? What, then, love—the good gent is going to launder it?”

  Kate could feel herself color. She lifted her chin and looked Aldous in the eye. “I hardly think so.”

  But she didn’t fool Aldous in the least. He suddenly grinned and sauntered toward her. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from the door. “You needn’t worry about what thoughts go round my head, lass,” he said. “You best be fretting what thoughts circle round beneath Digby’s bald pate.”