Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  James smiled kindly. “You do not need to defend yourself quite so passionately, Sarah. If anything did happen, I would completely blame him and not you. One does not blame a bird for being caught in a fox’s jaws, does one?” He sighed. “Perhaps I need to show you what a true rake looks like so you can be on your guard.”

  “Brother?” Mary sounded quizzical. “What ever could you mean?”

  James grinned, but didn’t answer her. He tapped on the roof of the carriage, leaning towards the window. “Turn around and head towards Bath, driver.”

  “Bath?” Sarah frowned. “I thought that we were heading to a small village.”

  “We were,” said James, his grin widening. “And perhaps we shall get there today as well. But first, I want to show you something else, if I may. The teashop will still be there for our scones and ginger cake, I am sure.”

  Sarah and Mary exchanged puzzled glances. It seemed neither of them had any idea what James was talking about.

  The driver pulled up the horses and turned the carriage around, trotting in the opposite direction. Sarah stared at James but he just smiled secretively, relaxing back into the seat. He tilted his hat over his eyes as if he was settling in for a good long nap. It was obvious he did not wish to talk anymore about what they were about to do in Bath.

  Sarah gazed out of the window. She couldn’t help it. The mysterious man with the different aliases was back on her mind. She had barely thought about anything else since she had first met him.

  She knew that time was running out for her. Her parents had obviously not approached James about marrying her yet, but their patience with her was wearing thin, and they would do so very soon. And if James was not receptive to the idea, as she was sure he would not be, then they would simply find some other eligible suitor. Her goose was about to be well and truly cooked.

  This delicious game that she and the mysterious gentleman had concocted between them was going to end very soon. How could it not? It was as ephemeral as morning mist.

  Whoever he truly was, he was not serious about her. He knew that she was a respectable lady, and yet had no desire to officially court her or he would have done so by now. Perhaps his status or wealth was not good enough to do so. Who knew? He was an unknown quantity. Even if he did have the status and wealth, perhaps he was simply not hunting for a wife and merely wanted a dalliance.

  Very soon, the duty that was pressing in on her from all sides would have to be taken up, and this exhilarating game forgotten as if it had never happened.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back tears. If only she could keep it going for a little while longer. If only.

  Chapter 11

  Arthur and Captain Morgan strode along the back streets of Bath. Arthur shot his friend a quizzical look, but the captain ignored him. They had left the fashionable area of the town well and truly behind them.

  The streets in this area were narrower and darker. It wasn’t quite filled with tenements, but Arthur knew that proper ladies and gentlemen would never be openly seen here. They passed street vendors, shouting out their wares in rough dialects. Here, you could buy everything from questionable pork pies to a posy of flowers. The smell of strong liquor and roars of inebriated laughter emerged from a tavern on a corner as they swept past.

  They slipped down another street, which was quieter. The captain kept briskly walking, before coming to an abrupt stop in front of a tall white house.

  His friend turned to him. “Here we are, my friend,” he said, grinning inanely. “A very fine establishment that every young gentleman in Bath has visited at one time or another, I should say.” He paused, gazing up at the house. “It is run by Mrs. Quinn, who picks her girls with great discernment.”

  Arthur couldn’t believe his ears. “You have brought me to a bawdy house?”

  “I prefer the term bordello,” said the captain, his eyes twinkling, “makes it sound a trifle more exotic.”

  As they stared at the house, the front door opened and two young men emerged, looking slightly rumpled and dazed. A woman wearing a bright orange taffeta gown with garish red hair piled high on her head stood in the doorway, seeing them off. When they walked away, her gaze fixed on Arthur and the captain, smiling seductively.

  “Gentlemen,” she purred, dropping a curtsey, “a fine day, it is.”

  Arthur turned to his friend. “No, Morgan. Definitely not.”

  “It is an orderly house,” whispered the captain. “You need not fear contracting the pox, my friend.” He paused. “The only way to forget one lady is in the arms of another. And a doxy can give relief.”

  Arthur laughed shortly. “So I have heard. But it shall not work for me this time, my friend. There is only one lady who can quench this fire and no other shall do it, I fear.”

  The captain looked disappointed. “I was only trying to help.”

  Arthur’s face softened. “And I appreciate it. Perhaps any other time I might have been receptive. But not this time.”

  A carriage was rattling slowly past, its wheels clattering on the cobblestones. Arthur turned to the woman still standing in the doorway, staring at them expectantly.

  “No, thank you,” he called, “good day.”

  The woman smiled crookedly, before closing the door.

  Arthur walked slowly away.

  “Nordarken!” called the captain. “Wait.”

  Arthur turned, staring at his friend. “Yes?”

  The captain looked sheepish. “You do not mind if I partake of the delights, perchance? While we are in the vicinity…”

  Arthur laughed. “Enjoy, my friend. Just make sure you are careful, as always.”

  He kept walking. When he reached the corner, he glanced back. The captain was already knocking at the door of the tall white house, before disappearing inside.

  ***

  Sarah stared out of the window of the carriage. They had reached Bath. James had already given the destination to the driver as soon as they got to the outskirts of the town, in a whisper. He was obviously determined it would be a secret.

  They were in an area that she wasn’t familiar with at all. Instead of the wide streets of the fashionable district, where ladies and gentlemen shopped and took tea, there were narrower roads cluttered with street vendors and teeming with life. She gasped in shock as she watched a woman lean out of a top window, tipping the contents of her chamber pot onto the street. A passing man leapt aside at the last minute before being doused in it.

  She turned to James, more intrigued than ever. “Where are we going?”

  “This is not a decent area to be seen in, brother,” said Mary nervously.

  James smiled. “We shall not stay long, and we shall not get out of the carriage.” He paused. “Relax, ladies. All will be well.”

  The carriage turned down a quieter street. There was a line of tall white houses. Two young men were walking on the pavement, grinning from ear to ear. They looked a little dishevelled.

  Mary’s eyes popped. “Why, that is Lord Harkins and his friend, Mr. Andrews! What on earth are they doing in this area?”

  James laughed. “And so, we come to our destination,” he said, in a dry voice. “They have just left Mrs. Quinn’s establishment, Mary. That is why they are looking a bit wild.”

  “Mrs. Quinn?” Mary looked mystified. “I have never heard of her.”

  “I would be surprised if you had,” said James wryly. “Mrs. Quinn runs a bawdy house, Mary. A brothel.”

  Sarah gasped. “You are taking us to a brothel?”

  James rolled his eyes. “I am hardly going to take you both over the threshold, Sarah,” he said. “We are merely driving past it.” He stared at her. “I wanted to show you what a rake looks like, my dear. And we have already seen two of them, in the form of Lord Harkins and Mr. Andrews. Those two are well known to frequent Mrs. Quinn’s house.”

  Sarah kept staring at the two gentlemen strolling along the street, who were grinning and slapping each other’s backs. L
ord Harkins rather admired her, always asking to be put on her dance card at balls. And she had danced and conversed with Mr. Andrews as well, many times.

  “I cannot believe it,” she whispered. “Both of them have always seemed so stuffy and respectable. Why, Mr. Andrews is seriously considering joining the church.”

  “People can be different in different circumstances, Sarah,” said James slowly. “They can lead secret lives.” His gaze sharpened, “That is why it is important that you come to me if you are serious about a young gentleman. I know most of this district’s secrets. I already knew that Lord Harkins and Mr. Andrews frequented the bawdy house, as I said. So, if you were seriously contemplating either of them, I could advise you to think again.”

  The carriage rattled slowly past the gentlemen.

  “Ah, here we are,” said James, pointing to one of the tall white houses. “Mrs. Quinn’s. And there appears to be two more visitors about to enter.”

  Sarah and Mary gazed out of the carriage window. Suddenly, Sarah gasped. One of the two men standing in front of the house was her mysterious gentleman.

  “What is it?” said James sharply.

  “That is him,” she whispered, appalled, without thinking. “The gentleman I was telling you both about.”

  James’s mouth tightened. “It seems I made the right decision to bring you both here, then. What fortuitous timing.”

  Sarah’s eyes filled with shocked tears. She should have suspected he was not proper at all. She kept staring at the two men on the street. They were talking together in hushed tones. In the doorway of the house stood a tall woman with bright red hair, gazing at them. She seemed to be waiting.

  But suddenly, the mysterious gentleman called out to her. Sarah could hear what he said quite clearly.

  “No, thank you,” he called, “good day.”

  The woman smiled, shutting the door. The mysterious gentleman walked away from his friend, shaking his head. He was obviously refusing to go into the bawdy house.

  “He is not going in!” she declared triumphantly, turning to James. “He is not such a rake after all.”

  She could not believe the relief she felt. She almost sagged against the wall of the carriage.

  James was still peering out of the carriage window. Abruptly, he jolted upright, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the gentleman.

  “Why, it is Nordarken!” he exclaimed, shaking his head incredulously. He turned to Sarah. “You are telling me that it is Lord Nordarken you have been dallying with, Sarah?”

  The carriage reached the end of the street, turning a corner. The mysterious gentleman vanished from view.

  Sarah slowly turned to face James. She felt herself turning pale. “You know him?”

  Mary looked stunned, her head swivelling from her brother to her friend, as if she could not keep up with it all.

  “I have met him,” replied James grimly. “The Viscount Nordarken. He is the heir of the Earl of Halwell, who keeps a house in this area, although Lord Nordarken resides in London.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. She had been thinking that perhaps her mysterious gentleman was not a man of means – that perhaps he was a conman. But he was not that at all. He was a viscount. The heir of an earl, who would someday inherit the title.

  Mary looked pleased. “Why, that is good news, is it not?”

  “I think not,” continued James slowly. His gaze was piercing as he stared at Sarah. “Have your parents never mentioned the Earl of Halwell to you at all?”

  Sarah slowly shook her head. “No. Why should they?”

  James sighed heavily. “It is an old story, Sarah. My late father told me about it, just before he died.” He took a deep breath. “There was a huge scandal, many years ago. The Earl of Halwell and your good mother had a love affair and the earl went quite mad with passion. Their families refused their marriage and it ended in a duel.”

  “What?” Sarah couldn’t believe her ears. “My mother…and this earl?”

  James nodded. “Indeed. Your grandparents had to hide your mother away from him. The scandal was huge, and people still talk of it.” He paused. “You cannot have anything to do with Lord Nordarken, Sarah. He is the son of the Earl of Halwell and your parents would never allow it, not in a hundred years. My late father told me that your father still carries a grudge against the man and refuses to acknowledge him. He once told my father that he will run him through if he ever sees him again. The earl is quite your father’s nemesis.”

  Sarah stared out of the carriage window. Her mind was spinning.

  The mysterious gentleman had been identified as the son of an earl who had fallen violently in love with her staidly respectable mother, before she had married her father. An earl that had caused a scandal because he wanted her mother so much. And her father hated that earl and refused to acknowledge him.

  Mama, she thought, stunned, I would never have suspected.

  “I am sorry, Sarah,” said James, looking at her sympathetically. “But you did say that it was only a dalliance, after all. Probably best if you move on from it, I would say.”

  “Oh, Sarah,” said Mary, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you feeling?”

  Sarah shrugged, fighting back the tears. What could she say? She didn’t know the mysterious gentleman – Lord Nordarken – very well. They had only seen each other three times, after all. It was not as if she was being asked to give up an ardent suitor who had declared love and wished to marry her. She had no right to be upset.

  And yet, she was upset. So very upset that she knew if she opened her mouth to speak, she would start to cry. She pressed the hand Mary wasn’t holding against her mouth, refusing to look at either of them. She gazed mournfully out of the window.

  All is not lost, she thought desperately. The scandal happened so many years ago. Perhaps my parents would not be so very upset if they knew I was acquainted with the son of the earl.

  But even as the thought slid into her mind, she knew it was false. James had declared that her father would run the Earl of Halwell through if he encountered him again. There was simply no way he would entertain the earl’s son as his own daughter’s suitor. She knew intuitively that this particular ill feeling ran far too deep.

  Chapter 12

  Sarah gazed out of the carriage window as the streets of Bath ambled by, illuminated here and there with gas lanterns flickering like fireflies in the darkness. She was about to attend a popular musicale at an old theatre with the Marcus’s. One that she had been eager to see only a week ago.

  Now, she couldn’t seem to muster any enthusiasm for the event. All she could think about was her mysterious gentleman, Lord Nordarken. A gentleman who was mysterious no more, now that his identity had been revealed to her. And the fact that she shouldn’t continue their delicious game any longer.

  She sighed heavily. She had not encountered him at any event since she had seen him on the street outside that bawdy house. Even though he had not entered it, he was probably still a rake, just like his father. She would probably never see him again. James had informed her that he lived in London. He had probably returned there and his dalliance with her long forgotten anyway. The whole thing was doubtless over and done with.

  The carriage drew up outside the theatre, and they all stepped out. Sarah wrapped her stole tighter around her shoulders as they slowly walked up the steps and into the theatre foyer, where a crowd of people were mingling before the show.

  Sarah surveyed the scene. The crème de la crème of local society was all here, dressed in their finest, milling around like a flock of colourful butterflies.