Accepting a glass, Christopher said, ‘You’re very welcome for the assistance with the landlord. I’m not so sure I want to take credit for the urchin. I have a terrible suspicion you may one day find she’s stolen you blind and run off.’
Ellie shook her head. ‘I doubt that. She’s been a thief for certain. But many of us, given a chance to escape doing what enabled us to survive, prefer to take a different path. I think she will, too.’
Christopher shook his head dubiously. ‘I hope you’re right. But after so many years thieving, I suspect she knows as much about conducting herself as a law-abiding citizen as I do about properly courting a Virtuous Virgin.’
‘After spending all your formative years among ladies of the demi-monde?’ she replied tartly. ‘A gentleman’s behaviour towards innocent maids must certainly be quite diff—’ She went silent, her hand with the wine glass halting halfway to her lips. ‘You truly don’t know what to say or how to act around innocent maids?’
‘The only females of that description I’ve ever spent time with are my sisters. Since our conversations generally involve them plaguing me until I feel like giving them a slap, I doubt that experience will prove very useful.’
‘Definitely not,’ she agreed with a chuckle. ‘You must know how grateful I am for your many kindnesses over the years. Artis’s desire to repay my help inspires me to want to repay yours as well. You may find the offer ludicrous, coming from me, which I would totally understand, but… But as you’ve learned today, I used to be just the sort of innocent maid you need to court. If you think it would be helpful, I could school you in what to say, how to behave, the kinds of compliments you can pay and gifts you can offer. Warn you against the sort of remarks and behaviours that must come naturally after your long experience among the demi-monde, but which would be disastrous if directed towards a respectable female.’
Before he could think how to respond, she rushed on, ‘You possess a well-earned reputation as a rake. Having neither a title nor great wealth to offset that drawback puts you at a disadvantage in the search for a suitable bride. The most well-bred and accomplished of the available maids will be pursued by a crowd of admirers, most of them with unsullied reputations. To win the superior lady you desire, your speech and behaviour must convince not just the maidens, but also their sceptical mamas, that you have truly reformed your rake’s ways. I could help you do that.’
‘School me into becoming the sort of gentleman who could win the hand of a Virtuous Virgin?’ he asked, torn between amusement and interest.
‘Exactly,’ she replied. ‘It’s only a matter of altering behaviour and language—as I well know, you already possess a sterling character, else you’d not have treated me with such compassion and kindness all these years. I’d be honoured to repay that debt by helping you find a wife worthy of one of Parliament’s rising leaders.’
As useful as that service might prove, he felt a deep, gut-level resistance. But that was foolish. If he truly meant to follow up on the notion of taking a wife, he needed to master the intricate rules of acceptable behaviour with unmarried ladies. Besides, his friends had all found respectable ladies as lovely and fascinating as the women of the demi-monde he’d admired, women to whom they believed they could remain devoted for a lifetime. Why should he not, too?
Ellie was correct; he had little doubt that his ‘well-earned’ reputation would precede him. He would need help to overcome his rake’s ways and be seen as a serious suitor, capable of devotion and fidelity.
Was he capable of becoming such a man? He had to admit he shared his mama’s doubts about his ability to limit himself to only one woman—a dull, virtuous one at that! But while he struggled to resolve that problem, it only made sense to acquire the tools that would convince Society his rake’s days were behind him.
Besides, accepting would allow him to see Ellie frequently, giving him more time to figure out how to ignore his automatic responses to an alluring woman. He’d also be able to delay courting actual Virtuous Virgins until a time when, with Ellie’s help, he was better equipped to confront that foreign species.
‘It is an outrageous idea,’ he said, setting down his wineglass.
‘But…’ she prompted.
‘But it’s ingenious, too. And I can’t deny I have need of such lessons.’
‘So we’ve a bargain, then?’
‘We have a bargain, Miss Wanstead of Wanstead Manor. I am grateful for your offer and will do my best to learn well.’
‘Excellent!’ she said, looking delighted. ‘I must remain here and help Artis settle in. Why don’t we begin your lessons at my house in Hans Place tomorrow afternoon, if you are free then?’
‘I am. I shall be delighted to call upon you tomorrow afternoon, Miss Wanstead.’
‘I shall be delighted to have you call, Mr Lattimar.’
She held out her hand. As he shook it, sensation zinged from her fingers to his, automatically tightening his grip. Gritting his teeth, he loosened it.
Trying to purge this from his mind was going to be difficult. But somehow, he could manage it—and keep Ellie as a friend.
Ignoring the little voice that whispered friend might not be enough, he bid her goodbye and walked out of the office.
Lessons in wooing a virtuous wife—given by a former courtesan, he thought as he strolled towards the hackney stand. His mother would appreciate the irony, even if she’d disapprove of its object.
Though he was glad to have left Ellie in a more cheerful frame of mind, Christopher wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t come to regret the bargain he’d just made.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next afternoon, Ellie gave the parlour one last inspection, noting with approval that the maids had dusted every surface, straightened all the furniture, and set the fire burning properly. Smoothing her dress with trembling fingers, she tried to suppress her excitement and trepidation.
It was just Christopher coming by, she scolded, trying to still the flutters in her stomach. They’d talked together on a variety of subjects times out of mind over the last ten years.
But never alone, with you in your own home, free from your bondage to Summerville, the little voice whispered back. Never with him in the guise of suitor, and you the woman he is wooing.
Except she was not an innocent maid, and he wouldn’t be wooing her, no matter how well she played the part. She suppressed a wave of sadness. She’d long ago accepted that a respectable marriage was no longer possible for her. But she could equip Christopher to make one for himself—and that would be a worthy accomplishment. As his friend, of course she wanted what was best for him.
Seeing him often would be helpful for her, too. She still needed to master that lingering schoolgirl infatuation with her ‘Knight in Shining Armour.’ Meeting him day to day, surely she would discover he was just a man like any other. With noble traits, to be sure, but also with the inevitable flaws that would tarnish that knight’s armour for good and set her free from his spell.
She should keep a list of the faults she discovered, to remind herself when she was tempted to turn dreamy-eyed. Then, having put him in proper perspective, she could regard him only as a valued friend.
She sighed. Except for that unexpected, unwanted sensual pull between them.
Much as she knew about sexual congress, she knew almost nothing about how to deal with desire. Being compelled to give herself to Summerville so young had ruined the experience of passion for her. She’d often silently marvelled when other courtesans frankly discussed their lovers, some boasting of the pleasure given them by younger swains, some lamenting the lack of technique or consideration among the older protectors.
Summerville had certainly been a member of the old school. She’d often suspected of outright invention the women who rhapsodised over the heights of fulfilment to which some man had taken them. For h
erself, after having been punished on several occasions for resisting Summerville’s instructions, she’d tried to mentally remove herself as much as possible from what she was doing and what was being done to her as she followed his directions.
In any event, he’d been thirty years her senior, his ageing body not a subject to inspire lust.
Christopher Lattimar was a man in the prime of health, strength and virility.
Just recalling his handsome face, the strong arms that had held her, evoked that distinctive ripple of what she now recognised as desire. Recalling their almost-kiss, she felt a stirring of the yearning that had consumed her then.
That must be what those satisfied women had been talking about. That intensity of feeling, as if her nerves were on fire, all her senses striving towards some pinnacle of pleasure. With Christopher, she’d wanted more and more of it, and been awed—and disturbed—by the strength of her disappointment when it was denied her.
Soon she’d be spending more time alone with Christopher. She knew he desired her. With privacy, and opportunity, she could probably break through the barriers of his control, sweep him into kissing her, touching her, and fully experience what he’d made her crave.
Except, she’d promised herself she’d never again be any man’s convenient—and that was all she could ever be for him. She had also offered to give him, not a tryst with a not-so-reformed courtesan, but lessons from a once-virtuous maiden.
It would be a betrayal of their friendship to promise that, and then attempt to seduce him.
It would be a betrayal of her character to seduce him, and become again what she’d only just escaped.
Even if it meant she would most likely be turning her back for good on discovering all that pleasure meant.
No wonder her stomach was tied in knots!
But if she meant to salvage her dignity and self-esteem, she must master her craving for him as she mastered her infatuation. Submerge all feeling but the pure affection of a concerned friend, and offer him only what he really needed from her—not temporary pleasure, but the skills to win the wife who would stand by and support him for the rest of his life.
Thus resolved, she chose a book from the stack of suitable volumes she’d assembled for his lesson and set to reading.
She’d gone over the same paragraph six times when the front doorbell sounded. Quelling the nerves that skittered in her belly, she made herself look at the book again while she waited for Tarleton to escort Christopher in.
But the words of greeting dried on her lips when she glanced up and saw, not her good friend’s smiling face—but her mother’s grim one.
‘Lady Wanstead,’ Tarleton announced, giving her a curious glance—no doubt as astonished as Ellie to be called upon by this obviously respectable matron.
Ellie closed her lips before she could blurt out ‘Mother’. ‘Tarleton, would you bring us tea, please?’ she said instead. Giving her unexpected visitor a stiff curtsy, she said, ‘Won’t you have a seat, my—my lady?’
After Tarleton closed the door, her mother said, ‘Miss Parmenter, I believe you’re calling yourself?’
Years of anguish rushed back, and she struggled to control a sudden surge of anger. ‘It would have been a bit impolitic to call myself “Miss Wanstead”, don’t you agree, Mama?’
‘Your father knew we could count on your discretion,’ Lady Wanstead replied, a surprisingly bitter edge to her tone.
Determined to extract as much information that might prove useful in protecting her sister as she could from what would surely be a short interview, Ellie said, ‘You’re here for Sophie’s come-out, aren’t you? Who will be sponsoring her?’
‘Your Great-Aunt Marion. She has…looked after us since your father died.’
Surprise and a twist of conflicting emotions—anger, disgust, a wisp of sadness mingled with a child’s anguish over a parent’s inexplicable betrayal—held Ellie momentarily silent. ‘He’s dead?’ she said at last, unable to make herself say ‘Papa’.
‘Yes, five years ago now. He was never the same after we…lost you. Officially, he died after taking a fall from his horse—but he was castaway at the time. He was always in his cups, sometimes locking himself in his study for days at a time. Ravaged by grief, probably, over what became of you.’
‘Or guilt?’ Ellie suggested, still working to master that anger. ‘Did you go to live with Aunt Marion then? As I recall, Wanstead Hall was in ruinous condition. Enfield Place would have been more comfortable.’
‘Soon after. Despite your father’s…condition, the estate actually prospered those first years after you—left. New hangings and furnishings for all the rooms, smoking chimneys repaired, the tenant farms put in better order.’
‘I’m ecstatic that sacrificing me meant you could dine without the smell of smoke,’ she spat out.
Ignoring that gibe, her mother continued, ‘Wanstead’s cousin Reginald, who inherited, would have allowed us to stay in the Dower House, but I preferred to accept Aunt Marion’s offer. After what had happened, I never wanted to see Wanstead again.’
‘I am moved by your pain,’ Ellie said.
‘What exactly do you think I could have done to prevent it?’ her mother snapped back. ‘My dowry was long spent. I had no resources of my own. I didn’t even know what Wanstead intended until after Summerville had taken you away! By then, it was too late. Even if I’d had the means to follow, you would have already been ruined.’
Hearing her mother’s words changed what she’d believed all these years. She’d thought her mother an equal partner in the outrage committed against her.
Staring at the woman who’d fallen silent, her face averted, Ellie hesitated, unsure what to say, how to feel. ‘If…if you didn’t approve his actions, why didn’t you try to find me after his death?’
Her mother shrugged. ‘What would have been the point of that? The moment you arrived in London with Summerville, you were lost to polite Society. Dead to me. There was nothing I could do for you, and I had your sister to protect.’
Dead to her. True as the words were, they should not have hurt so much. But despite what her logical mind argued, her heart recoiled in anguish at this second rejection. A reviving fury burned it away. ‘Then why bother to come now?’
‘After I recognised you at the bonnet shop, I hurried Sophie out, hoping the proprietor hadn’t got a good glimpse of the two of you together. But at several of the other establishments we visited, the shopkeepers kept staring at her, or remarked how familiar she looked. I told Aunt Marion about the encounter as soon as we returned home. She immediately consulted a good friend from her own debut Season, Lady Sayleford, whom she says practically runs society.’
‘Lady Maggie’s great-aunt,’ Ellie murmured.
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘In any event, Lady Sayleford advised that since the resemblance is so strong someone might eventually make the connection, and since you are no longer a…a kept woman, it would be better for us to quietly recognise you. Not, of course, take you with us into Society, or do anything that might call attention to the bond. Lady Sayleford instructed Aunt Marion to bring you to call, so that if one of Sophie’s suitors should learn about you, the Dowager Countess could assure the young man she was aware of the relationship and approved of Sophie, despite her…unfortunate sister.’
Her unfortunate sister. Battered by another wave of hurt and loss, she struggled to recapture the fury. Why should you put yourself out for the family that disowned you? Christopher had said. Taking strength from his angry words, she rallied her bruised spirit.
Had her mother been asking for herself, she would have refused. But this was for Sophie. What good would it have been to sacrifice her own future, if she refused to protect her little sister’s now?
‘Very well,’ she replie
d, still struggling to suppress the pain.
‘That’s settled, then.’ Her mother rose. ‘You needn’t see me out.’ As she walked towards the door, Ellie watching with an aching heart, all the old wounds torn back open, her mother hesitated. Turned back towards her. ‘You look…well, Tess. Still so beautiful. If only you had been less beautiful.’
Ellie swallowed the tears that threatened. ‘If I had been less beautiful, Sophie wouldn’t have a chance at a future either.’
At that moment, a knock sounded at the parlour door, followed by the entrance of Tarleton. ‘Sorry, ma’am, but you’ve another visitor. Mr Lattimar.’
With the shock of her mother’s unexpected call, she’d completely forgotten she’d been expecting Christopher for his first lesson. He followed Tarleton in, then stopped short, his smile fading as he recognised Lady Wanstead.
Meanwhile, her mother was looking him up and down with blatant suspicion. Turning back to Ellie, she said, ‘I was told that after your…association with Summerville ended, you’d not formed any further…arrangements. Was I misinformed?’
Hanging on to her temper, Ellie disdained to answer. ‘Mother,’ she said coolly, ‘let me present Christopher Lattimar, Member of Parliament for Wiltshire and son of Lord and Lady Vraux. Mr Lattimar, my mother, Lady Wanstead.’
Christopher made a curt bow. ‘As you may be aware, Lady Wanstead, Miss Parmenter runs a school for disadvantaged girls, for which my mother is one of the sponsors. Along with the Earl of Witlow and his daughter, Viscountess Lyndlington. Excuse me for intruding upon your meeting with your mother, Miss Parmenter. I came about the donation for your school that my mother promised.’
‘I will not hinder your business,’ her mother replied, looking relieved. ‘You will receive an invitation to call on Lady Sayleford,’ she said, turning to Ellie. ‘I trust you will make yourself available.’
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 51