Gail Ranstrom

by The Courtesans Courtship

  She glanced at Mr. Renquist and knew he had not forgotten about Geoffrey Morgan. She went to the dressing room door and said over her shoulder, “I won’t keep you, Mr. Renquist, Madame. I really must be going. Wouldn’t want to get caught out after dark alone. I shall come again tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Tomorrow.” She waved as she hurried out the shop door.

  Geoff arrived home to be told by Giles that Miss Lovejoy was preparing to go out that evening. He ordered a bath to wash away two days of hard riding, sleeping in his clothes and digging up graves, then dressed quickly. He wanted to see Dianthe, and prayed she would speak to him without denouncing him for the cad he was.

  The swish of fabric and soft footfalls on the upper landing warned him that she was coming. He went forward a few steps and saw her pausing on the landing to check her appearance in the mirror. Strangely, she began talking to her reflection, though he couldn’t hear the words. Her pause gave him a moment to collect his wits. He’d never experienced such trepidation about facing a woman he’d lain with.

  She was dressed in a gown they’d selected together. Of a pale lavender hue with an embroidered hem of gold metallic fleur-de-lis, it flattered both her natural blond coloring and the brunette wig she wore now. Her neckline left nothing to the imagination, and he cursed himself for selecting such scandalous gowns. Had she become inured to the temptation she presented?

  She turned away from the mirror and began her descent to the foyer. When she saw him, her steps faltered and she took a deep breath, then gave him a smile so sultry that his blood rose immediately. He was no school lad in the flush of his first crush. He was a well-seasoned man who could hold his passions in check. But Dianthe Lovejoy was making him feel eighteen again.

  “Geoffrey!” She greeted him in a low, throaty purr. “How nice to see you. Giles did not tell me you’d come home. Were you waiting for me?”

  “I thought we could go together. I assume you are still in the process of your investigation?”

  “I am, amongst other things.”

  “Dare I ask what other things?”

  “Best if you don’t,” she laughed. She had been trailing a matching lavender shawl, and she handed it to him to drape around her shoulders.

  My God! Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this cool sophistication. It was enthralling, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. When she turned, his gaze snagged on her décolletage. Lord, there they were, those virginal, rose-tinted crescents peeking above the lavender satin banding. His mouth literally watered when he remembered how they’d tasted, how they’d felt beading against his tongue.

  Was it his imagination, or was the scent of warm lavender trailing in her wake as she went around him to the door and waited for him to open it? No, it was real…and very seductive.

  He chose the seat facing her. As the coach started off, he cleared his throat and tried to remember his rehearsed speech. “Um, Dianthe…Miss Lovejoy, I cannot tell you how deeply I regret the events of the other evening. I know you would prefer to ignore it, but I believe we should clear the air, just so that we know where we stand. And I would like to give you my assurances that it will never happen again.”

  “Hmm,” she said, fiddling with the fringe on her shawl. “I really prefer not to discuss it, nor to make promises we cannot keep. It happened. It is over. Shall we leave it at that?”

  “But you were innocent, relying upon my goodwill. I was unconscionable—”

  “I have no expectations, if that is what concerns you, Geoffrey. I am grateful for all you’ve done for me, and grateful, too, for your…restraint the other evening. Though it was somewhat disappointing for me, I would not have your remorse on my conscience.”

  Disappointing? Her reaction was very unlike most of the women of his acquaintance. Most would be expecting an expensive gift, or to be installed in their own residence as his mistress. He’d been prepared to offer her all of that, and more, along with the promise never to touch her again. Had the incident meant so much less to her than it had to him? Disappointing? Even the notion was maddening.

  She arranged her skirts to avoid wrinkling and gave a deep sigh.

  “Melancholy?” he asked, hoping she would confess to being at least a little affected by their night together.

  “Elvina Gibson. She was murdered night before last. Is being a courtesan fatal?”

  He watched her through the dim light. “Not ordinarily,” he admitted, “but these are extraordinary times. And circumstances no one could have foreseen.” But he should have when he began baiting el-Daibul out of Tangier.

  She frowned and tilted her head to one side. “What circumstances?”

  Perhaps it was time for the truth. Nothing else had worked as a restraint on Dianthe’s determination. “Women have been disappearing.”

  “Disappearing? Not murdered, but just…gone?”

  “Just gone,” he confirmed.

  “Perhaps they’ve gone home, or decided to quit being courtesans. Or perhaps they’ve had to leave for a time to, um, cover an untimely birth?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “All those things have happened before, but not all at once, and not without signs. These women would have packed bags, bought passage on a coach, left a letter for friends or lovers. Something, Dianthe. Anything.”

  “How do you know they haven’t?”

  “I’ve asked. They’ve been leaving empty-handed in the middle of the night, taking no bags, belongings, jewelry or keepsakes. I’ve searched lodgings. I’ve looked for them in their home villages.”

  “What is happening to them?”

  “Kidnapped, we think.”

  “Kidnapped? But who will pay ransom for a courtesan?”

  “There have been no ransom demands. We suspect they’ve been abducted for the slave trade.”

  Dianthe’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “God in heaven! How do you know all this? And why have you troubled yourself over a few courtesans? Have they all been your mistresses?”

  So someone had finally told her. Well, it was bound to happen. “Only Nell. I know, Miss Lovejoy, because I have been investigating this case for years.”

  She sank back against the leather squabs and narrowed her eyes. “Years? You’ve been investigating all this time, and you haven’t said a word to me?”

  “I couldn’t be certain Nell’s murder was linked to my investigation. I thought it might have something to do with you.”

  She blinked and looked out the coach window. “I did not murder her. I’d never heard of her before that night.”

  “It does rather stretch the imagination, does it not? Your resemblance to one another, the fact that you were dressed alike, your card found in Nell’s possession, your hand holding the knife.”

  “That is why I am in this predicament, Geoffrey.” She frowned and rubbed her temple.

  Her insistence on using his given name was driving him wild. Every time she said it, a nerve tingled somewhere and his memory flashed on her pale form against the velvet counterpane. Geoffrey…yes, yes! He shifted his weight, easing the pressure of his trousers against his sudden erection.

  “So you know about the card? And you knew about Miss Gibson, too? Is there anything you didn’t know?”

  Was there a hint of annoyance in her voice? “I had no idea that Elvina was upset or might know something about all this until you told me, Miss Lovejoy. But by then, it was already too late.”

  She nodded and folded her hands in her lap. He could not tell from her expression what she was thinking.

  The remainder of the ride was made in silence and, when he helped her down from the coach in front of Thackery’s, he was hard pressed not to tug her neckline up to cover more of her. As if she sensed what he was thinking, she gave him a provocative smile and preceded him through the wide glass doors.

  Dianthe hadn’t been certain she’d have the courage to venture into the hells again after the debacle with Mr. Munro, but she felt safe with Geoffrey beside he
r. His mere presence in the same establishment was a deterrent. His brother-in-law would not importune her again.

  Screwing up her courage over the state of her décolletage, she allowed him to take her shawl and hand it to a footman. He had chosen this dress; he could deal with the consequences.

  “Do you mind if I look around and see what games are in play?” he asked.

  Another surprise—asking her permission, almost as if he were a suitor. “Certainly, I’ll just look for some of the…ladies.”

  He glanced down at her décolletage and hesitated. Oh, this petty vengeance was every bit as delicious as Miss Osgood had said it would be! Dianthe waited while a myriad of emotions passed over the usually unreadable face. Discretion won, and he merely nodded and turned away. She wondered what that decision had cost him as she began her ascent to the mezzanine, pushing her aureoles into the scandalous neckline. She would have to remember not to breathe deeply.

  Nell. Geoffrey and her cousin. How could that suddenly hurt her so much?

  Flora Denton was the first person she noted. Dianthe hurried to her side and drew her apart from a circle of admirers. “Where have you been? Have you heard about Elvina Gibson?”

  Miss Denton nodded. “It is awful. I cannot conceive what is happening.”

  “You must leave town at once. Go to the countryside, or anywhere safe, until this is over.”

  “I have nothing to do with all this. No one would wish to harm me.”

  “But you talked to Elvina just before her death. The murderer may think you know something. And that is all that matters.”

  Flora looked down at her fan and murmured, “I thought someone was following me earlier today.”

  “There! You must go. Your life may depend upon it.”

  “But I haven’t any money.”

  Dianthe thought of her meager hoard, down now to three pounds and the five Madame Marie had given her this afternoon. She’d lost the money Geoffrey had given her at the tables. She didn’t know how long it would be before this was over, but she could ill afford to be penniless. Still, there was another possibility. “Miss Denton, I have a fare for a post chaise to Scotland, and I can give you the names of friends there who will take you in and care for you until this is over.”

  A tremulous smile curved Flora’s lips. “You would do that for me?”

  She nodded. “Meet me tomorrow on the north side of Leicester Square at one o’clock. I shall have the ticket with me. Bring your valise so that you will not have to return to your rooms. Do you have any cash at all?”

  “A few pounds. I could scrape together another few,” she said.

  Dianthe breathed in relief. “Once there, your needs will be provided. I will bring the names and addresses for you to contact tomorrow. It would be best if you’d go home now and pack.”

  “I have…an appointment with Mr. Munro later this evening. Surely that will be safe enough?”

  Dianthe suppressed a shudder. She pitied anyone whose sustenance was dependent upon Mr. Munro’s goodwill. And anyone who must sell themselves to a man who would hurt them. Munro. “Is he here tonight?”

  “Yes. At the vingt-et-un table. He was not coming home with me. We agreed only to go upstairs. He was to arrange for a room.”

  “Flora, I cannot emphasize this enough. You must go now, and you must be very careful.” Dianthe steeled herself for the next offer, gaining courage from the fact that Geoffrey was present. “I shall speak to Mr. Munro for you. I shall tell him you’ve come down with a stomach malady and have gone home.”

  “But he will expect you—”

  Bile rose in her throat. The very thought of Lewis Munro touching her where Geoffrey had made her blood run cold. “Munro will expect nothing. Nor will he bully me. Lord Geoffrey is here, and he would never permit it.”

  “How will I ever repay you, Miss Lovejoy?”

  “You needn’t. But, if you have one, I’d like a key to Nell’s lodgings.”

  “The police have already searched there and have left it in shambles. If there were anything to find…”

  Dianthe shrugged. “They may have overlooked something. Something that would only catch a woman’s eye.”

  “Then you shall have it, and a key to mine, as well.”

  Miss Denton gave her a quick hug, and Dianthe went down the stairs with her, determined to see her into a coach. But she waved Dianthe off as she exited the building, turned left and disappeared into the night.

  Squaring her shoulders, and checking to make certain she was all tucked in, Dianthe headed for the vingt-et-un tables. She wasn’t looking forward to her encounter with Mr. Munro.

  She found him rattling his counters in his hand as he watched a game in progress. She reminded herself to be pleasant and not show her fear before she tapped him on the shoulder and stood back. When he turned, his eyes lit with a feral gleam.

  “Ah, Miss Deauville. Have you changed your mind?”

  She waved his words away as if they were insignificant. “Actually, Mr. Munro, I’ve come on be’alf of Miss Denton. I fear she is suffering the debilitating mal à l’estomac. She ’as gone ’ome.”

  “Are you prepared to take her place?”

  She smiled and tapped his cheek with her fan, wishing she could stuff it down his throat instead. “We ’ave ’ad this discussion, sir. I am under obligation to Lord Geoffrey.”

  “Why you bother with him is beyond me, Miss Deauville. You could do so much better.”

  “With you, sir?”

  “Precisely. You are wasted on a scoundrel and libertine the likes of Morgan.”

  “Nevertheless, M’sieur, I would not violate our understanding. That would be unethical, would it not? And ’ow would you ever trust me if you thought I ’ad no more regard for my word than to break it? No.” She shook her head and moistened her lips as Miss Osgood had taught her. “Because, should we ever ’ave the arrangement, I would want you to be able to trust my word, just as I’d want to trust yours.” She wondered again if she could cozen him into admitting complicity in Charlotte’s death.

  “Hmm. I see your point, m’dear. Then is there a chance for me when your fascination for Morgan has waned?”

  She smiled again but said nothing.

  “Yes,” he mused, “I can see there would be an advantage to an ethical mistress. Are you as discreet as you are ethical?”

  “You ’ave no idea the secrets I am keeping, M’sieur.”

  “’Lo, Morgan.” Reginald Hunter, Lord Lockwood, took a place beside Geoffrey at the hazard table.

  “Lockwood,” he acknowledged. He placed his bet and turned to look at the man.

  Lockwood laid his counters alongside Geoff’s and fastened him with a hard look in his eyes. “How long have we been friends, Morgan?”

  Geoff shrugged. “Five, six years?”

  “It would be a shame if anything ruined that.”

  “What could ruin it?”

  “A certain woman, whose name shall not be mentioned in this company, has come to my attention. I would just like to say that I would take it amiss if anything, ah, untoward should occur as a result of her placing her trust in you.”

  Good God! He knew about Dianthe Lovejoy! “Did she ask you to speak to me?”

  “She has no idea that I know who she is. I recognized her voice when she forgot her accent last night.”

  Keeping his expression neutral, he called Lockwood’s bluff. “If you know all that, you know her circumstances. Would you like to take her off my hands?”

  “Hell, no!” Lockwood gave a short laugh and shook his head. “She’s more than I could handle. She’d have me wrapped around her finger within three hours.”

  “Then you see my problem.”

  “Yes, and I don’t envy you. Nevertheless, she is of some importance to my sister. I would have much to answer for if Sarah found out I knew about this and did not put a stop to it.”

  “Then we shall not tell her.”

  Lockwood lifted his glass in agreement
. The croupier called the numbers and pulled the winnings away. Once more, Geoff was on the losing end. This was becoming a habit.

  “Looks as if she is testing her boundaries again,” Lockwood said, tilting his head toward the vingt-et-un tables.

  Geoff followed his line of vision and winced when he saw Munro running his hand up and down Dianthe’s arm. Geoff handed Lockwood his glass and tried to keep from clenching his hands into fists as he went to them.

  “Here you are, my dear,” he said, taking Dianthe’s arm. “Having any luck at vingt-et-un?”

  Dianthe gave him a look he could have sworn was relief. “Alas, my luck ’as run out.”

  Munro laughed and turned away.

  As he led her away from the table, Geoff asked, “Was I just the target of your jesting?”

  “Only Mr. Munro thinks so.” She looked up at him and there was a softness in her eyes that made him catch his breath. “I want to go home, Geoffrey.”

  He retrieved her shawl and had her to the coach before she could change her mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Was it Munro?” Geoff asked when they were halfway home. “Did he say something, do something to upset you? Did he lay so much as one hand on you?”

  She smiled at him. “Be careful, Geoffrey. That sounds very much as if you are protecting me.”

  He bit his tongue and stared out the window at the passing lamplights. It was true. He was nearly desperate to keep Dianthe safe and untouched by the ugly, dangerous part of his life. He glanced down at his boots and said nothing, neither admitting nor denying her charge. He couldn’t even look at her for fear that she would see the truth in his eyes.

  When she spoke again, it wasn’t what he’d expected. “Why did you not simply fire into the ground?” she asked. “If you had not wounded Lord Grayson, he and Mr. Lucas would be alive today.”

  Geoff crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. Was she still brooding over that debacle of a duel months ago? Would he ever make her understand that there’d been more at stake than winning or losing? “Firing away is considered an admission of guilt, Dianthe. It is taken as an apology. Deloping, some call it.”