She didn’t know why she did it. She did not know Sophia Dalby and everyone said she was ruthless and completely untrustworthy, that she had her price and that any woman who had a price was beneath contempt.
But she didn’t feel contempt. She felt safe, and understood.
Sophia’s price had been an earldom. She had married to raise herself into the peerage. Didn’t Elaine have the same price? And hadn’t her parents set that price upon her when she was still in the cradle?
“I was supposed to marry a peer,” she said.
“It is rather nice,” Sophia said with a soft smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Lots of velvets and silks and fine houses in which to wear velvets and silks.”
“Did you love him?”
“No one ever asks me that, darling,” she said, “because they think they know the answer, which is that, of course I didn’t. I married for gain, not for love. That is what they think and it is right that they should think it.”
“Did you love him? Did you love your earl?” Elaine pressed.
“I did,” Sophia said, her dark eyes glowing like black diamonds. “But more importantly for you, I think, is that I married where I chose. No one did the choosing for me.”
“Yes. I think that must be true,” Elaine said, her fingers rubbing her brow. “I think that is the key to everything.”
“It is your life, Miss Montford, and it will be your marriage. Whichever path you choose, you will be the one to walk it.”
“Yes. Yes, there is that,” she said, her mind whirling.
Roger Ellery was one path, a path she had never considered. Her mysterious earl or marquis was another path, one that had been chosen for her. She could choose. She must choose her own path. No one could make that choice for her. No one could presume to know what she felt or what she wanted. Not even Roger.
Not even Roger.
In that moment, Roger burst through the door looking like he was prepared to face a thousand Iroquois with only his bare hands. His black hair was tousled, his mouth a grim line, his eyes glinting silver under his dark brows.
“You shan’t talk her out of it!” he said.
“I?” Sophia said, rising to her feet. “You assume that Miss Montford can be talked out of it?”
Roger hesitated, his hands dropping to his sides.
“Do you think I’ve been talked into it?” Elaine asked him.
“No,” he said, walking toward her, “I think we’ve fallen into it and that if given half the chance, you’ll crawl out of it.”
“Like Lancelot and Elaine,” she said.
“Something like,” he said.
“You don’t understand women at all, Captain,” Sophia said.
“Not at all, Lady Dalby. No experience, you see.”
“How utterly charming, Captain Ellery,” Lady Dalby breathed, smiling seductively. “How refreshing to meet a man who can be so honest. ‘Tis nearly unheard of, I can assure you.”
“I have to be certain, Captain, can you understand that?” Elaine said. “I have to know that I’m choosing you not because you want me to, and not because my parents don’t want me to, and not because meeting you was probably the most unexpected, most romantic, most annoying moment of my life. I can’t marry you because of a bee sting or because of an Iroquois uprising or because you have beautifully tousled hair and that one curl that just seems to want to wrap itself around your right ear . . . .”
And Roger put his hand to his hair and ran his fingers through those curls, looking nearly sheepish and quite, quite handsome. And his uniform was superb.
She was in his arms without knowing how she got there, and he had his arms wrapped around her and was holding her so tightly that she didn’t think she could breathe, but she did, and with her breath she said, “I have to know why I’m doing this. Why I’m throwing away the life my parents planned for me. I have to know who I am and what I’m doing.”
Her face was buried against his neck and he was holding her up, her feet dangling, and his mouth was in her hair, and he said in a rough undertone that she was certain Sophia Dalby couldn’t hear, “You’re doing what I’m doing. Falling in love.”
And that was that.
Sophia Dalby wouldn’t hear of them taking a public conveyance to Gretna Green. No, she insisted that they take her coach, and then she insisted that she accompany them, the proprieties being observed and Elaine’s reputation remaining spotless.
The marriage was quite lovely. Roger insisted upon flowers, heather and rosebuds; Elaine insisted upon wearing her own clothes, a very nice cream silk with blue banding about the neckline; Sophia insisted upon a sumptuous wedding breakfast in the best inn on the English side of the border.
It was an inspired choice. The view out of their window was of fields as far as the eye could see, a rolling sea of green awash with birdsong topped by fluffy white clouds.
They did not spend any time looking out of the window.
“You’re not disappointed?” she said.
“Now is not the time to tell me I married an imbecile,” he said, pulling a strand of her long, straight hair.
“My mother despaired of my hair, not a curl in sight.”
“I am not your mother. Had you not noticed?”
“I did. I did notice.”
“I’m gratified.”
“You look gratified. And satisfied.”
“But not satiated.”
“No. Not yet.”
“Not ever. Not with you.”
They were lying in bed, the sheets wrinkled, the bed pillows flattened by use, the coverlet half on the floor, half covering her. She had forgotten to pack a night rail. Better said, Sophia Dalby had forgotten to pack her a night rail. If forgotten she had. Elaine suspected it was an entirely intentional omission.
“Come closer,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. He had a night shirt. He had not worn it. “Closer,” she said, burying her face in the soft black hair on his chest. His chest and arms were covered in swirls of black hair, as soft as lambswool, and his torso was as hard as a plank. It was a most erotic combination. “Closer,” she said, wrapping one leg over his hips.
“I can get closer yet,” he said. She loved the smell of him, could drown in the scent of him.
“Do. Oh, do,” she breathed.
And he did, and she soared over the white clouds, over and over, higher and higher.
She slept after that and when she awoke he was inside her before she could open her eyes, and woke up fully when she flew over the clouds and then she drifted back down and slept again, lambswool under her cheek and over her shoulders.
When they left their room on the third day, Sophia Dalby was gone, but she had left them her coach, and so they arrived at her parent’s house in a coach with the Dalby crest on the side. Elaine didn’t know if that would make things better or worse, but the odd thing was, she didn’t truly care.
She walked into her parent’s borrowed home in Town wearing borrowed clothes from Lady Dalby and she walked in smiling.
The most surprising thing was that her family was smiling back. Well, all except Robert.
“Welcome home, dear,” her mother said, giving her a quick hug.
“Thank you,” Elaine said, looking at her father. He gave her a nod and then bowed to Roger. Roger bowed in return. Robert looked as though he wanted to spit up his breakfast.
“Lady Dalby explained everything to us,” Elaine’s father said. “I didn’t realize that you knew Lady Dalby, Captain Ellery.”
Roger raised his eyebrows and kept his mouth closed.
“She certainly seems a remarkable woman,” Mrs. Montford said.
“Yes, she is that,” Roger said, and left it at that.
“She was very happy to hear of your marriage to my daughter,” Mr. Montford said. “In fact, she was most pleased to be a part of the ceremony.”
“About that,” Elaine began.
“As if you can fix it now,” Robert said.
Toad
.
“There’s nothing to fix, is there?” Roger said. “We’re legally wed. We even have Lady Dalby as our witness. It doesn’t get more official than that, not in this Town.”
“Yes, everyone does seem to know about it,” Mrs. Montford said. She did not sound entirely pleased. “Everyone is congratulating us, which has been quite lovely of them, really. An elopement, you know. They can be . . . difficult.”
She did not look especially delighted. What mother would? Elopements were so scandalous, even in the best of circumstances, and they never did occur in the best of circumstances, did they?
“Why didn’t you tell us before that it was her nephew who introduced you?” Mr. Montford said. “I didn’t realize you were so closely connected to the Dalby House set, Captain.”
Is that what she had told them? How clever of her. That would smooth the way as nothing else could.
“An Indian introduced you,” Robert said. “Who’d admit to that? Dirty savage.”
Roger took a step closer to her brother, and her brother took a step back. “I take it you’ve not met Mr. Grey? He’s quite a formidable fellow. I do think you’d be impressed by him.”
“I doubt it,” Robert said in a mumble.
“Why doubt? Put it to the test. I’ll make the introductions myself,” Roger said.
Robert did not reply.
“I did not hear you greet your sister. I know my wife is eager to be welcomed home by her family.”
“Welcome home, Elaine,” Robert said, staring at Roger whilst he spoke.
“Thank you, Robert,” she said, staring at Roger whilst she spoke, drinking in the sight of him like a tonic.
“As much as we’d love to stay, I do feel we must get on to my mother,” Roger said. “She must be anxious about us.”
Mrs. Ellery the elder, for now Elaine was Mrs. Ellery the younger, was not at all anxious. She was entertaining Lady Dalby and having a wonderful time of it.
“Here they are, home at last,” Lady Dalby said, rising to greet them. “Your darling mother and I were just talking about Captain Ellery senior, a most charming man and such a brilliant rider. I’ve rarely seen anyone who could compare to him.”
“You knew my father?” Roger said.
“But, course, darling. He was quite the thing in his day, before your darling mother caught him by the heels and whisked him out of circulation.”
Roger’s mother, gray-haired, weak-limbed, watery-eyed, laughed the laugh of a debutante. “I did bewitch him, it’s true. He was quite smitten by me.”
“Smitten? Why, he was drunk on you, darling. I remember it all quite clearly.”
“Where did you meet my father?” Roger asked, ignoring his mother’s giggle.
“Oh, here and there. It was quite wild in London then, not tame the way it is now.”
London. Tame. Impossible.
“Roger, Elaine, welcome home!” Mrs. Ellery finally said, giving her son a warm embrace and Elaine one of equal warmth. It was more than Elaine had hoped for.
“You’re not angry?” she asked.
Mrs. Ellery burst out with a laugh and sank back onto the divan. “Never that. My dear son is too much like his dear father. They both fell in love quickly and completely, and I remember too well how wonderful that was. I wish you nothing but joy and long life, the both of you.”
“Thank you,” Elaine said, reaching out to take her hand. “Oh, thank you.”
They chatted a bit more, about this and that, but not about the senior Captain Ellery, which Elaine thought was just as well. Roger didn’t seem to take that line of thought very well. It was a struggle to think of one’s parents as ever having been young and perhaps reckless. It was a bit horrifying. Certainly if her parents had ever done anything scandalous, like elope to Gretna Green, she didn’t want to know about it.
Sophia rose to take her leave and Elaine, seeing her chance, walked her down the stairs to the front door.
“Did you really know Captain Ellery?” she asked.
“Yes, really,” Sophia said, looking askance at her. “Does that surprise you?”
“It surprises me that Mrs. Ellery is so pleased by the acquaintance.”
“Darling, Captain Ellery was a friend, nothing more. He was not the sort of man to take affairs with a woman lightly; in that he and his son are much alike, wouldn’t you say?”
Elaine said nothing, but she smiled, the smile going all the way to her heart.
“Why did you help us?”
Sophia smiled. The footman opened the door to the street and gust of wind blew past in the same instant, blowing free a lock of Sophia’s black hair over her shoulder so that it tumbled in the breeze like a kite.
“Darling, does it matter? I was delighted to be a part of such a whirlwind courtship. It’s been ages since I’ve been to Gretna Green. How the old place has aged. It was more romantic in my day.”
“Not sordid? Not slapdash?”
Sophia smiled and tapped Elaine gently on the chin, once, twice, and said, “To marry for love is always romantic and never sordid. You know that very well. Now, go and learn how your husband takes his tea.”
And that’s exactly what she did.
CLAUDIA DAIN is a USA Today bestselling author and a two-time RITA® finalist. She lives in North Carolina and is at work on her next More Courtesan Chronicles book.
Like her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter, and find her Red Door Reads and at www.claudiadain.com
Also by Claudia Dain…
THE COURTESAN CHRONICLES
Private Places
The Courtesan’s Daughter
The Courtesan’s Secret
The Courtesan’s Wager
How to Dazzle a Duke
Daring a Duke
MORE COURTESAN CHRONICLES
Much Ado About Dutton
Encounters of the Ardenzy Heiresses
Encounter at the Museum
Accidentally in Love
Taming is Miss Grey - coming soon
ENGLISH WARRIORS
To Burn
The Holding
The Marriage Bed
The Willing Wife
The Temptation
The Fall
Tell Me Lies
For Ava Stone, who won’t turn her cell phone off on the plane, but who will listen, laugh, share stories, share burdens, share Bailey’s and drop everything for an emergency Burlesque show.
London, England
1814
“I see that you are still keeping company with that whore.”
Mr. James Vickers stiffened, his fists and shoulders going tight at the sound of the familiar, heavy rasp. He turned slightly. “Good evening, Father.”
Lord Vickers sneered and gestured toward the glass he held. “And still getting soused in public, too, I see.”
Vickers promptly tossed back the rest of his no-longer-chilled champagne. In truth, he hadn’t been foxed in a good long time—but he was fiendishly glad that his father hadn’t noticed. He raised the empty glass in a mock salute once he’d finished. “I’m very well, thank you. And I see that you are still masquerading as a gentleman.”
He had to speak up to be heard over the din in Lady Dalton’s ballroom. He took spiteful pleasure in delivering the barb in a tone louder than strictly necessary.
Beside him, Hestia Wright smiled brightly, causing at least one of the men on the nearby dance floor to stumble. “Good evening to you, Lord Vickers.” Her volume nearly matched his own. “Thank you! Of course we at Half Moon House will be happy to accept your donation.” She winked as she began to sidle away. “I’ll send ‘round a note to your man of business tomorrow to make arrangements.”
With a commiserating glance, she faded into the crowd. Vickers watched her go with resignation. Hestia Wright didn’t get invited to every Society ball, but she greatly improved each one she attended. Lady Dalton had apparently invited everyone in London to her crush of a ball. Clearly they all had accepted too. Hundreds, from Society’s
elite to the hangers-on at the fringe of the beau monde, had come to see and be seen, to dance and gossip, to fight for a bit of heavily perfumed air and a spot to breathe it. Rumor had it even the reclusive Duke of Aldmere was in attendance.
His father glared after Hestia. “I should have thought you would have tired of her long ago.”
Vickers sighed. “Father, you know Hestia Wright is a philanthropist now. Everyone knows it. She is a dear friend to me. And in any case, she was never a mere whore. She was, simply put, the most beautiful, accomplished and charming courtesan to ever grace England or the Continent.” He shook his head. “And I would be careful how you speak of her, were I you. There are statesmen, royal princes, and wealthy and powerful men aplenty who are most displeased to hear her spoken ill of.”
The viscount harrumphed. “Once a whore, always a whore.”
“Well, if anyone was in a position to know, it would be you, sir. You’ve kept company with enough of them.” Vickers perked up suddenly and allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk in sudden mockery. “In fact, I danced earlier with one of your old amours—the widowed Lady Athbert. Is that what is bothering you?”
At his father’s grimace Vickers gleefully drove the stake home. “In point of fact, she’s not the only one of your past concubines I’ve seen recently. Marjorie Potts—she held residence in your cozy Compton Street love nest at one time, did she not?”
Color blazed in his father’s face. He made a strangled sound.
“She’s dealing cards at the Velvet Nook these days. I do believe you ruined her for other men.”
He meant that literally. It must have been about Marjorie Potts’ time that the philandering men of the ton had figured out they had no wish to take up with his father’s leavings.
“She asked me to pass on her greetings, by the by, and tell you that she’d rather die in a gutter than come back to Compton.”
His father hissed like a steam valve about to release. His flush grew dangerously deep. James watched, enjoying the sweet, smooth flood of satisfaction starting to run in his veins.
An Encounter at Hyde Park Page 7