The Accidental Courtesan

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  Martha stood back and sighed. “’Tis done.” She met Noelle’s eyes in the mirror, frowned, and left the room.

  “She is displeased,” Noelle said. “I’m positive I’ll be lectured tomorrow.”

  Eva nodded. She picked up a pearl and ruby necklace and settled it around Noelle’s neck. “Perhaps I should have left the two of you alone. A second sensible mind might have convinced you to give up this folly.”

  Noelle cocked up a brow. “Have you ever known me to change my mind once I’ve made a decision?”

  She’d spent two days in disguise at the courtesan school, and the only thing she’d learned about courtesans was the enjoyment men received when women kissed their private parts. The shocking frankness in the way the women spoke to each other over tea was astonishing. Of course these conversations were kept entirely to the moments when Eva was not in the room.

  She’d have to play the courtesan for Gavin off her natural attraction for him. Her lessons had been a failure.

  “If I had any sense at all, I’d call Nicholas over and have him shake some sense into you,” Eva said.

  Noelle stood and ran her hands over the tightly cinched waist of her gown. Though fashion dictated gowns of a looser fit, she had discovered this treasure in the attic and knew she had to wear it. The style was outdated, but the red color and the cut were perfect for a courtesan. Or so she thought. A few nips here and there, and it fit her as if it had been sewn to her proportions.

  Eva tugged Noelle’s bodice up, and Noelle tugged it back down. The frothy black lace at the bodice managed both to entice and to keep Noelle’s nipples hidden from view. More lace edged the cuffs and hem, and matching ribbon was at the waist. The satin dress shimmered in the lamplight. Eva knew wearing such a daring gown would draw attention. It was exactly what Noelle wanted.

  “You should be home in bed with your husband, or whatever you old married couples do when not making the rest of us envious of your happiness,” Noelle scolded. She stepped back before Eva could reach for the bodice again. She peered at the simple yet elegant coiffure Martha made out of her new wig.

  “Occasionally, Nicholas and I do manage to tear ourselves from the bed,” Eva retorted. She leaned back and stared. “You will have every man at the ball tonight hating Mister Blackwell.”

  Eva had all but ripped the Marie Antoinette–era monstrosity from Noelle’s head and replaced it with a more stylish wig. Martha had done magic with the new item. Without the heavy wig to hide her sister’s face, Eva suggested a filmy veil attached to each side of her new wig with clips. The cloth would both hide her lower face and add an air of mystery.

  The overall effect was stunning.

  “I don’t think this is the kind of thing one could wear to a lawn party.” Noelle swished this way and that in front of the mirror, her skirts flashing in the light. There was no possible chance she could be recognized tonight. She was a courtesan in every way. She hoped Gavin would be pleased.

  “Your Mister Blackwell will be a fool if he lets you out of his sight, Sister.” Eva moved behind her and adjusted the necklace. “Another man might snatch you away.”

  “I will be far too busy looking for signs of trouble to notice who is noticing me,” Noelle said. “And I would not consider a man who attends a courtesan ball a good catch.”

  “It isn’t the lords and rakes I worry about.”

  The note of concern in her sister’s voice brought Noelle’s attention from the mirror. Eva’s eyes were fearful.

  “He will take care of me, don’t you worry,” Noelle said. “He understands the danger in this charade and will not let anything happen.” She pulled Eva into an embrace. “Though I do appreciate your concern, I will come through this adventure unscathed. You’ll see.”

  “I do worry,” Eva admitted, pulling back. “How can I not?”

  Noelle smiled. “Have you met Mister Blackwell? Can you see him allowing anyone to abscond with me? If anything, you should concern yourself with when we are alone in the coach. That is where the real danger lies.”

  Eva narrowed her eyes. She obviously didn’t find the reminder of Noelle’s bad behavior at all amusing.

  “Perhaps we should add a few more layers of drawers and sew up the openings,” Eva snapped. “That would keep his hands from roaming freely where they ought not to be roaming.”

  A tinkle of laughter spilled from Noelle. When she’d first met Eva, her sister was starchy and fiercely private. Laughter had been difficult for her, under the weight of her mother’s illness. Between Noelle and Nicholas, Eva had found happiness. Still, it was during moments like these when the stubborn and protective part of Eva made a return appearance.

  “I think nothing less than drawers made of steel would keep him from finding a way to breach such a barrier,” Noelle teased, and was rewarded with a glare. She snatched up her shawl from the bed and draped it over the daring bodice. “You worry far too much, Sister dear. Now get yourself home to your handsome husband and leave Mister Blackwell to me.”

  Gavin listened to a distant clock chime eleven. It was getting late, and there was no sign of Noelle. With her insistence they go through with this debacle, and the excitement in her eyes at the prospect, he’d expected her to be timely. Instead, he’d been left to cool his heels, and he gnashed his teeth tightly together.

  Where was she? She should have arrived an hour ago. He knew women liked to fuss over their appearance, but this was extreme. She wasn’t hunting for a husband. They were setting their caps for a thief. There was no reason to keep him waiting.

  Could she have changed her mind and decided to stay home? Somehow, he doubted that was the case. She’d taken to her courtesan persona and lived it with enthusiasm. There was no possible reason she’d give up this chance to end her game without the culmination of this night’s activities.

  A coach drew his attention as an old hired hack rolled up the street and stopped in the line of gilded and polished coaches. The pair of chestnut horses looked as old as the rattletrap conveyance, their matching gray muzzles catching the light. Gavin wondered absently which of the pair would drop dead first while carrying a fare.

  He watched the weary-looking driver climb gingerly down from his perch and snatch open the door.

  A woman’s dark head appeared, followed by a pair of creamy white shoulders and a shocking red dress. It took him a full ten heartbeats to realize it was Noelle as she exited the coach with the light grace of a butterfly.

  Her shawl had slipped free of one shoulder, exposing an expanse of velvety flesh. Noelle’s breasts were pushed high by the cut of her gown, and her corset barely covered her nipples with a thin line of lace.

  His breath caught. She paid the driver and turned. She spotted him and walked in his direction, her hips undulating with the sway of the gown. The sight of her in her finery, with her assets almost completely exposed in a sinful display, caused him to stand paralyzed with anticipation as she approached.

  When she got close enough to make out her features, he saw that beneath the black veil covering her from nose to chin, a smile marked her full lips. He didn’t realize he was gaping like a fish until she reached out a finger and pushed his chin up.

  His mouth closed with a clack.

  “Am I to assume you find the costume to your liking?” She spun slowly, allowing him time enough to rake his eyes over each delicious inch of her. His eyes moved from her waist to her hips and across her perfect buttocks. He wanted desperately to see if the pair of rounded curves would fit the span of his hands.

  He swept his gaze over her arms and shoulders when she completed the spin, and her sister’s warning evaporated. The duchess could have him castrated and fed to sharks as long as he could spend the night slowly stripping her out of that dress and loving her body with his.

  Gavin took her gloved hand and pressed it to his mouth, his eyes dancing. If she knew how recklessly he wanted her, she’d have every reason to be concerned. “Any more to my liking and I’d have to ret
urn home and change my breeches.”

  It was her turn to gape, followed by a sweet bark of rich feminine laughter. “You are scandalous, Mister Blackwell.”

  “And you are stunning, Lady Seymour.”

  His compliment was met with the touch of her tongue on her lower lip. He hardened. She tempted him and knew full well her effect on his body. He had to wonder if it had more to do with her costume and the part she played, or if it was because she wanted him as passionately as he wanted her.

  He knew he should hope it was the former, but deep inside his body, he couldn’t help wishing for the latter.

  Gavin slowly shook his head as her mouth tipped into a saucy grin. “The gown isn’t too daring for this company?” she asked with mock innocence. She ran her hands gently over her waist. The movement drew his eyes to her décolletage. “I understand that some lovers enjoy displaying the wares of their courtesans. However, I couldn’t bring myself to forgo my undergarments and wet my gown. Though”—she lifted her eyes and gave him a sidelong stare—“if you think it would help the investigation, I might reconsider.”

  The little minx! She didn’t care about propriety or a wet gown. She’d clearly learned some aberrant tricks for enticing a lover from the courtesans. She was playing the coquette for him. He wasn’t sure if he should find a private place for her to show him her new tricks or turn her over his knee for teasing him to a raging erection.

  “Indeed, it is not too daring a gown for the company.” He tucked her hand under his arm, his tone turning grim with pent-up frustration and dark humor. “But I think you should refrain from sneezing, My Lady, lest you find your breasts fully exposed.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  If Noelle thought a Ton crush was spectacular in its garishness, the courtesan ball brought revelry to a new level. Displays of flesh, gowns in every bright color imaginable, beading, sequins, gauzes, and silks, with deeply cut necklines meant to shock. The rotunda was packed with bodies, and rogues of all ages and sizes thought nothing of publicly placing hands in places on their lovers where hands shouldn’t be. It was quite possible—no, it was certain—she’d never again see the like.

  Thank goodness.

  Noelle had been to Vauxhall once or twice during the day and had enjoyed the labyrinth of arbors, the endless walkways, and the sheer beauty of the place. To see tawdry displays in what she’d once considered Eden was a blow to her senses.

  She paused, bringing Gavin to a stop. “Is there something wrong, My Lady courtesan?” he asked. There was a knowing in his eyes as he looked at the company, then back to her. She shook her head. He seemed to understand her hesitation and gave her a moment to collect herself.

  “The last time I visited these grounds, there was much less exposed flesh,” she jested. She waited until the last few strains of the orchestra faded before continuing. “The gardens look much different filled with courtesans. I fear I am not as worldly as I profess. This goes far beyond what I imagined.”

  Gavin squeezed her hand. “We can leave at any time you wish. Now, if you prefer.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. Sheer bodices and rouged nipples aside, she wasn’t about to forgo the adventure of the evening. “I wouldn’t miss the sights of this outrageous ball for anything in the world.”

  Her companion’s handsome mouth twitched. “You surprise me, My Lady,” he said. “I was certain one look at nipple displays and you’d beg me to return you home.”

  The graphic speech warmed her cheeks. “If I cannot look at dozens of pairs of nipples without blushing, what sort of courtesan would I be?”

  Gavin tipped up his head and laughed wholeheartedly. His blue eyes danced when he peered down at her. “I think you’ve spent too much time with the courtesans. You are starting to speak like one.”

  “Then perhaps I will make an acceptable courtesan after all,” she teased. A bit of fondness edged his eyes when he examined her face. Clearly, he liked her and enjoyed her company. She enjoyed his as well. What wasn’t there to like when accompanied by a fine-looking man?

  He chuckled. “Remember this is a game, My Lady. If you run off tonight with a dandy and his fat purse, I will be sorely disappointed. I need your help catching the thieves.”

  Noelle leaned to press her breasts against his arm. “I only have eyes for you, my darling,” she purred. For a moment their gazes locked. The intense sensuality in his face left her breathless. Her skin tingled in hopeful anticipation of his touch. He didn’t disappoint. Gavin turned her until they were face-to-face and slid his hands slowly up her bare arms to her cap sleeves.

  Her lips parted as he lifted the bottom of the veil. She wanted his kiss and cared not who might be watching. After all, a kiss was the least scandalous of all the possible courtesan ball experiences. And if the thieves were watching, they’d expect two lovers to act . . . loverly. Gavin dipped his head, and she watched every movement, anticipating what was to come.

  Unfortunately, a pair of drunken lovers chose that moment to stumble past. The man’s elbow caught Gavin on the arm and jostled him sideways. Gavin righted himself, but there would be no kiss. The veil fluttered back into place.

  The attractive young man shot a rueful look over his shoulder. “My apologies, sir.” He winked and rushed off after the giggling woman, who was moving at a fair clip toward an arbor. There was no question of the reason the man was so eager. There were dark places in the garden perfect for trysts.

  Gavin frowned as the pair disappeared into the night.

  Envy. That was what Noelle felt deep in her quivering heart. The woman was about to be kissed, and who knew what else, by her lover. Noelle was standing on a path, an arm’s length away from the most handsome man in all of London, regretting a lost moment.

  Clearly, Gavin felt it, too, down to his slumped shoulders. He jerked his coat into place and tucked her hand back under his arm. “Shall we continue onward?” He led her farther into to the rotunda. With each step, her stomach added another knot until the space was full.

  “Have you seen any sign of the men who attacked you?” Noelle asked and casually glanced around. She saw no one who matched Gavin’s descriptions. She saw nothing but well-dressed men and their colorful courtesans.

  “Not yet,” Gavin said, “but it is still early.”

  With her veil in place, Noelle didn’t fear recognition by several men whom she knew casually, each with a garishly dressed woman on his arm. One was a duke. A very married duke. No, it was the tension of not knowing if they’d entice criminals to act that overshadowed any worry about discovery by someone she knew.

  To her surprise, Edolie was correct. There were indeed women dressed as befitting a society gathering. However, those were few. Her entire body tensed with distaste when a man dressed in a red velvet jacket tweaked his companion’s left nipple through the thin fabric of her clearly dampened bodice.

  “Easy, love. You are a much sought-after courtesan. Every man in attendance longs to share your bed,” Gavin murmured in her ear, his warm breath teasing her flesh. “I am the luckiest man in all England to have you on my arm.”

  Noelle leveled her breathing and smiled. She wanted to appear as a woman well versed in seduction. Unfortunately, she could only shake her head slowly as a middle-aged gentleman in green followed a redheaded woman in deep russet into the shadows. They had barely broken free of the flickering lamplight before their groping began in earnest.

  “No, it is I who am lucky,” she said absently. She shifted her eyes away from the spectacle, mortified by the display of lascivious behavior.

  Gavin cocked a brow at the couple. He seemed quite comfortable in the setting, as if he commonly frequented courtesan balls. Still, in spite of the goings-on around him, he had eyes only for her. “I can see by your face, love, this was a mistake. We will go.”

  “No,” she said sharply. “Please let us stay.” Noelle straightened her shoulders and her chin. “I am well beyond the age when a bit of exposed
flesh and questionable acts should permanently damage my sensibilities. It isn’t as if I have never seen a couple take advantage of a quiet garden.”

  Or coach.

  A light cough made her tip her head up, and she found Gavin struggling with his mirth. “How many times have you seen that in those darkened gardens?”

  The man in green had his lover’s breast freed and was making strangled sucking noises on her flesh. This time it didn’t shock her. Another emotion bubbled up in her throat as the man lifted his head and the pair finally moved deeper into the shadows.

  She pressed her fingertips to her lips and shook her head. “Never.”

  No matter what happened tomorrow morning, for this night she was his courtesan. She would laugh and flirt and perhaps even allow a few kisses and a caress or two—in the interest of flushing out the thieves, of course. It wasn’t as if she planned to enjoy his attentions. Not in the least.

  “If at any point this evening you become weary of nipples and bottoms and lengths of leg, say the word, and I shall spirit you away from this den of debauchery. We can worry about catching our culprits at another time.”

  The comment gave her confidence. “No worries, sir. I shall uphold my part in this scandalous production.” She slid a fingertip down the center of his chest. “Can you?”

  His grin broke loose, and he reached up to cup the side of her face. “It will not be difficult to play the part of a besotted lover, sweet. You are beautiful.”

  Noelle felt the heat in the rotunda notch up a full dozen degrees as his appreciative gaze ran down her body in a slow caress. Gavin’s fine-looking male form was bedecked in a deep blue coat and striped vest over a snowy white shirt, with matching cravat. His cheeks were freshly shaven, and she caught a hint of an earthy-spicy scent on his skin.

  She fluttered her lashes and turned her fingertip into a flat hand on his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady. “I think it is you, Mister Blackwell, who is beautiful.”