How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance

by Madeline Martin

  Captain Billington’s ship was newly acquired, and he required a good amount of capital for his first few voyages. However, he promised a large return on any investment by way of silks, spices and other goods to be procured on his travels. It was for that reason Evander ended up at an old wooden building by the wharf to meet the Captain that afternoon.

  He was not the only investor to do so.

  Lord Kentworth entered through the door with a wide smile.

  ‘Westix. I wondered if you might be the other investor. This seems to have your name all over it.’ They clasped hands in greeting. ‘Welcome back from the country. I trust it wasn’t too dull?’

  ‘We enjoyed it so much we have decided to relocate.’

  Evander looked around the simple room, taking in the stained walls and the upturned barrels being used as chairs. The Captain would need some capital indeed—but, based on his itinerary, his journeys were carefully planned, with consideration for weather and other disasters. In all, it had the designs of a solid investment.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ Kentworth said as he settled on one of the barrels.

  ‘I most certainly am. I’ve merely returned to settle my accounts and ensure I’ll have proper correspondence for important matters such as this.’ Evander took a seat opposite the Marquess. ‘I assumed you were going with the silver mine.’

  ‘Not after the way they treated you. I do have scruples, you know.’ He winked.

  Evander had forgotten what a good man Kentworth could be when he wasn’t drinking. Unfortunately, that wasn’t often. ‘Oh, I do know. Thank you for being a true friend.’

  ‘Of course.’ Kentworth chuckled. ‘And a good thing I didn’t too. They got what was coming to them after their treatment of you.’

  Evander glanced out through the dirty windows for any sign of the Captain. ‘How so?’

  ‘Just yesterday the entire mine collapsed,’ Kentworth said.

  Evander’s attention snapped back to the Marquess. ‘Good God. I hope not too many men were injured.’

  Kentworth ran a hand through his thick dark hair. ‘Not a soul. It happened some time at night. By the time the men went to work in the morning the whole thing was sealed up tighter than a virgin’s—’

  The door opened and Captain Billington’s broad shoulders filled the frame. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting.’

  He approached the table—two barrels with a plank laid over them—and set down a pile of papers. ‘These are the contracts to review with your solicitors. I can meet with you both separately on the morrow, to finalise whatever needs be done.’

  Though he was young to be a captain, his weathered face told the tale of a man who’d spent a life on the sea.

  ‘I’ll review this today.’ Evander stood up from his seat to shake hands with the other man. ‘Future correspondence will go through my solicitor, who will forward it on to me in the country.’

  ‘As you wish it, my lord.’ Captain Billington’s hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as he accepted Evander’s hand in his warm, callused grasp.

  Kentworth did likewise, and the two exited the old wooden building together.

  ‘Do you fancy a fireball or a measure of whisky?’ Kentworth asked.

  Evander shook his head. ‘Perhaps another time.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Kentworth nodded. ‘Your wife is no doubt waiting for you at home.’

  ‘You should get one at some point.’

  ‘A wife, or a drink?’ Kentworth chuckled.

  Evander grinned at him and waved as he made his way towards his carriage.

  Upon his arrival home, he discovered not only Lottie in the drawing room with his mother, but also Charles and Eleanor. Several old documents lay on the tea table, rather than a tray of refreshments, as well as an old book.

  Ah, yes, the mysterious box...

  ‘Oh, Evander,’ Lottie gasped. ‘You’ll never believe it.’

  He grimaced. ‘Please tell me it isn’t another gemstone our fathers fought over, that will require another lengthy search through those abysmal journals.’

  ‘No,’ they all said at once, in equal agreement, before laughing.

  And they were truly laughing. The kind of bubbly, exaggerated sort that came from good news.

  Evander narrowed his eyes at their curious behaviour. ‘Dare I ask what it is?’

  ‘I’m Charles’s sister.’ Lottie rushed to stand by Charles with a grin. ‘Well, half-sister. Do you see it?’ She pointed between them.

  Evander looked between them—really looked between them. Of course, he had always known Lottie had stunning blue eyes, and that Charles’s were a relatively similar colour, and that both had dark hair. But never had he truly studied them side by side, looking for familial traits.

  Both had high cheekbones and full lips. Their jaws were sharp, though Lottie’s was more pointed at the chin. But, yes, when comparing them side by side, and understanding that they were indeed related.

  Evander blinked in surprise. ‘Good God.’

  ‘My father married her mother after mine passed,’ Charles said.

  ‘When I was born, our father thought she had not been faithful, and insisted I be removed from his sight,’ Lottie continued. ‘Without anywhere else to go, she went to stay with a sister in Wallingford whose husband had recently accepted an appointment as vicar in the village of Binsey.’

  She lifted the papers, settling them one on top of the other, and carried them over to Evander.

  ‘Mother—my aunt—wrote everything here, you see?’ She handed them to him. ‘My mother died soon after my birth and so my aunt, who had stayed behind to tend her, claimed me as hers. But she had my mother sign this note. And there is this.’

  She reached for a Book of Common Prayer and opened the battered volume, revealing the details of not only a marriage but also a child being born.

  ‘Then your father...?’ Evander looked to Charles and then Lottie.

  ‘Yes, my father was truly the Duke of Somersville and I was his legitimate daughter.’ Lottie touched Evander’s hand. ‘And the man and woman who raised me were my aunt and uncle—yet they treated me as if I truly was their daughter. Their love...’ She paused, taken for a moment with emotion. ‘Their love for me was so pure that I never suspected.’

  ‘Lottie.’ Evander pulled his wife into his arms and held her, knowing the impact this would have on all her memories of her childhood.

  ‘I must say this—because someone should.’ The Dowager Countess held her cane out at an arrogant angle and a slow smile crept over her lips. ‘The ton will be tripping over themselves when this news comes out.’

  ‘Oh, and it shall,’ Eleanor said. ‘I feel quite certain that the Lady Observer will be making a special reappearance to publish a column quite soon, regarding this very juicy titbit. At least once Violet receives the missive I sent her prior to our departure from Somersville Place.’

  Evander grinned in anticipation of all the tabbies, such as the likes of Lady Norrick, learning of Lottie’s true lineage. It would indeed be a sight to behold.

  * * *

  Lottie held the latest copy of Society Journal in her hands two days later at breakfast, reading through the very special edition from the previously retired scandal sheet author the Lady Observer.

  Violet’s story in Society Journal was wonderfully detailed, sharing the information about the Duke of Somersville’s marriage to Lottie’s mother, which was recorded in the Book of Common Prayer, and how Lottie had been raised without an inkling of who she was. In the end, confirmed unequivocally by the parish register in Binsey, Lottie truly was the legitimate daughter of the late Duke of Somersville.

  Lottie sighed and set the paper down beside her plate.

  ‘What do you think?’ Evander asked. ‘You’ve been quite close-lipped about the lot of it.’

  ‘It’s
bittersweet,’ Lottie admitted. ‘The people who I thought were my parents truly were not.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Evander poured himself a bit more tea and took a careful sip.

  Lottie shook her head. ‘They weren’t my parents, but all that time they never told me.’ The thought of her father—or rather her uncle, whom she couldn’t help but think of as her father—burned in her chest. ‘Nothing could make me truly theirs. I was the daughter of a duke who didn’t trust my true mother and left her to die without his support.’

  ‘I disagree.’ Evander set his teacup on the saucer and leaned back comfortably in his chair. ‘The Duke of Somersville was never a father to you in any way. Not the way Reverend Rossington was. And your poor mother never had the chance.’ He tilted his head sympathetically and reached across the linen tablecloth to take her hand. ‘You have always considered them your parents. Why change that now?’

  Lottie let his words sink in and nodded to herself. ‘You bring up an excellent point. What does it matter?’

  ‘The only difference is that now we’ll enjoy watching the ton trip over their tongues as they try to retract their harsh words.’ He chuckled. ‘On that note, shall we attend the fashionable hour at Hyde Park?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, you are wicked.’

  ‘Me?’ He put a hand to his chest in mock offence. ‘Truly, it will be a lark. Say yes.’

  He cocked his head at a rakish tilt and winked at her, setting her laughing once more.

  ‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘But this changes nothing of our intention to remove to Huntly, does it?’

  ‘Why ever would it?’ he queried. ‘I assure you, the pompous ton finally accepting you to their bosom does not endear me to people I never found agreeable. This changes nothing.’

  ‘Forgive me, my lord.’ Edmonds appeared between them with a missive on a salver. ‘There is a message for you.’

  Evander took it and thanked him. He scanned the missive and scoffed.

  ‘What is it?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘It would appear Lord Huffsby would like to offer me a place in the mining investment once more, claiming it will be just as lucrative once it’s been cleared out.’ Evander refolded the note and tossed it carelessly onto the table. ‘It appears my “considerable business acumen” would be of great value to their operation.’

  It was not the last letter to come. On and on they arrived, from various lords and ladies who had slid snide glances in Lottie’s direction or never bothered to speak with her, now offering invitations to soirees and balls. Lady Stetton even came by to see the Dowager Countess of Westix, who claimed she was otherwise engaged and would not be available for tea.

  The fashionable hour came upon them quickly, and both Lottie and Evander dressed in their finest—Lottie in a stunning blue silk dress trimmed with delicate white lace and a bonnet with several ribbon forget-me-nots adorning the band of blue running along its sides. This time they did not take the carriage. Instead, Lottie took Evander’s arm and they ambled along the slow path lining the Serpentine.

  ‘Lady Westix,’ called a cheerful, familiar voice from Lottie’s side.

  She turned to find Alice, with a tall, handsome blond-haired gentleman at her side. One sleeve of his fine jacket hung empty and pinned to his shoulder.

  George.

  ‘Forgive me for having not welcomed you back to London,’ Alice said with a wide smile. ‘George and I...’ She looked at him and bit her lower lip excitedly. ‘We’ve married.’

  ‘That’s such wonderful news,’ Lottie exclaimed.

  An ecstatic Alice made the proper introductions to George.

  ‘I’ve heard very agreeable things about you,’ Lottie said to Alice’s new husband—a very handsome young man who couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering towards his new wife.

  He flushed. ‘As I have about you, Lady Westix.’

  ‘Felicitations on your union,’ Evander said. ‘I must say, love reclaimed is even more blissful the second time around.’ His hand gently squeezed Lottie with affection.

  ‘On that we can agree,’ George replied. ‘Especially when the one you love is so persistent in ensuring you know they care for you and how much they value you.’

  ‘It takes a special person to be so determined,’ Lottie said.

  ‘And a considerable amount of love,’ Alice finished.

  ‘We truly are so happy for you,’ Lottie said.

  ‘As I am for you.’ Alice edged slightly closer to Lottie. ‘When I read the article this morning, I planned to come to Hyde Park with the hope of seeing you. I thought you might be persuaded to do it.’ Her gaze slid to Evander.

  He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I couldn’t help myself.’

  After a fond farewell, Alice and her new, happy husband departed, still smiling at one another.

  ‘Did I mention we received an invitation just before we left this afternoon?’ Evander asked.

  Lottie cast him a wary look. ‘Which one?’

  There had been, oh, so very many. Especially in comparison to the few they received upon their union.

  ‘From the Dowager Countess of Dalton,’ he replied nonchalantly. ‘For Rawley and Caroline’s wedding.’

  Lottie gasped and looked up at him. ‘You are cruel to have kept that from me.’

  ‘I feared if I told you before we left you’d insist on going to Dalton Place at that very moment to speak with Lady Caroline.’ He gave her a knowing look.

  Lottie chortled at that. ‘You know me far too well.’

  ‘Which is why I love you so dearly.’

  She looked up at him, letting herself become lost in his handsome green eyes.

  ‘Lady Westix,’ a shrill voice called. ‘Oh, my dearest Lady Westix.’

  Lottie and Evander both turned to find Lady Cotsworth hurrying towards them at a pace that set her ample bosom swaying. She huffed as she caught up and lightly fanned herself, smiling despite her ability to breathe properly in that moment.

  ‘It has come to my attention that the invitation I sent you for our ball this Saturday was somehow lost in delivery.’ Lady Cotsworth pouted. ‘I wanted to smooth over the offence of our footman’s carelessness by extending you a personal invitation to our ball.’

  ‘I see,’ Lottie replied slowly.

  ‘Well?’ Lady Cotsworth dabbed at her broad forehead. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to attend?’

  ‘We have a prior engagement,’ Evander said.

  Disappointment was evident on Lady Cotsworth’s face. ‘Oh. I see. Well, you needn’t worry. I have a soiree coming up as well. I’ll ensure that you receive—’

  ‘While it’s kind of you to consider us, Lady Cotsworth,’ Lottie said, as gently as possible, ‘we are removing to our country estate.’

  ‘Why on earth would you do such a thing?’ The older woman was flustered.

  ‘Because we prefer to be where people are kind,’ Lottie replied.

  Lady Cotsworth’s flushed cheeks went redder still.

  ‘Good day, Lady Cotsworth.’

  Evander steered Lottie away from the vile woman.

  ‘You, my dear, were far kinder to her than she deserved,’ he said to Lottie when they were out of earshot.

  ‘I don’t wish to be cruel,’ Lottie replied. ‘But nor will I lower myself to feign friendship.’

  ‘Your strength is one of the many traits of yours I find so admirable.’ Evander smiled down at her. ‘You were worth waiting six years for, Charlotte Murray.’

  ‘I’m only sorry I put you off for so long.’ She moved her fingers over his forearm and held on to him, caressing him tenderly. ‘To think we could have been so happy for all that time when we were otherwise so miserable.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t be as sweet as it is now.’ He stopped and gazed down at her. ‘Because now I know what I lost before and I w
ill never, ever let you go.’

  ‘Don’t you dare even try,’ she teased. ‘Or you will find I can be just as persistent as you when it comes to something that I want.’

  A wicked gleam shone in his eye. ‘And you want me?’

  Desire pulsed through her at the suggestion in his tone. ‘Oh, I do.’

  ‘Do you feel we’ve accomplished our goal in this promenade?’ Evander began to steer her in the opposite direction.

  ‘Quite,’ she replied. ‘I believe I should like to return home.’

  And that was exactly what they did, where they loved one another in the light of day and lay abed dreaming of a future together. A future neither one of them ever thought they would have.

  Lost and finally found once more.

  Epilogue

  August 1820, Huntly Manor

  Everything was in order. Or so Lottie hoped.

  Sarah took one look at her and chuckled. ‘Don’t you worry, my lady, everything has been seen to.’

  ‘By one of us,’ Andrews muttered as he strode by.

  Sarah cast him a pointed look. ‘The house party will be an enormous success and everyone will have a grand time.’

  ‘Did someone say a grand time?’ Evander asked loudly, swooping in from the drawing room with a dark-haired little boy perched on his shoulders, who erupted in a giggle.

  ‘A grand time,’ their son parroted.

  ‘We love a grand time, don’t we?’ Evander asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Rory cheered.

  Lottie laughed at their antics. The two were always making a ruckus, filling the house with a loudness that made her shake her head and chuckle.

  ‘Come now, Rory, get down from there.’ Lottie gave Evander a chastising look. ‘You’re supposed to keep from getting too excited.’

  ‘I’m afraid that is not possible,’ Evander said, even as he lowered Rory gently to the ground. ‘As he was already enormously excited before I picked him up.’