Page 10 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
Lord Keswick turned and, for a fleeting moment, it looked like he was going to take her hands in his. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back. “I saw a young lady in trouble, and I had to act. I was over there, getting some fresh air, when I saw him grab you. I cannot tolerate that sort of behavior, especially from a gentleman who ought to know better.”
“Even so, you didn’t have to put yourself in danger like that.” She mopped her eyes with the back of her forearm. “But… thank you for stepping in, regardless. And I apologize if I was harsh to you earlier.”
He dipped his chin to his chest, avoiding her gaze. “It is already forgotten. I am just glad I could assist you, as remuneration for staining your dress.”
“I suppose this settles any debt between us,” she said, feeling foolish in her vulnerability.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I daresay it does.”
“Well then, let me offer you my thanks again, and… um… I should be on my way.” She fidgeted uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say to her savior. It was not often that gentlemen willingly volunteered to defend a courtesan’s honor.
“Be safe, Miss Black,” was all he said, before heading back into the gentlemen’s club.
She gazed up at the empty space where he had been and smiled sadly. “Oh, Lord Keswick, there is nowhere truly safe for a girl like me.”
Chapter Four
The evening had long since lost its shine, but the altercation outside had left a rather unpleasant taste in Liam’s mouth. Where the gentlemen’s club had felt stifling before, now it felt suffocating.
Should I not have offered my assistance? Should I have stayed well away? I do not know Lord Westleigh from the next peer, but I am not inclined to make enemies.
He lingered in the main thoroughfare of the club for a moment, though being so close to the rarely used powder room reminded him of his first encounter with Miss Black. She had seemed ferocious then; a far cry from the frightened, wounded young lady he had seen outside.
Was it an act, to gain my intervention?
After his ill-fated marriage to Élodie, he had grown accustomed to women putting on a performance to conceal the true nature of the rampant, vicious beast beneath. In so many ways, it had poisoned his view of the fairer sex irrevocably. He could not even accept a smile from a woman he passed in the street without wondering what ulterior motive she might have.
So, why on Earth did I rush to help that… creature of the night?
The fact that she was heralded as a courtesan of great mystique and anticipation, and not a prostitute, was almost worse for him. He could at least appreciate the bluntness behind a woman proclaiming her employ, so there could be no confusion. But a woman who toyed with a man, and reveled in doing so, and then looked so surprised when that man turned on her… it was deceit at its finest. An act befitting his former wife.
“But I did not want to see her hurt,” he told himself, and meant it.
He had been standing outside, trying to calm himself with a smoke, when he had seen the vile encounter occur. If Lord Westleigh had not put hands upon Miss Black, Liam was quite certain he would have remained where he was and let them squabble among themselves. But the second that wretch had grabbed her with such terrible violence, it was as though something else had taken hold of Liam. An impulse to save a woman in need, regardless of who, or what, she was.
A bitter laugh hissed from his throat. “Perhaps, that witch of a wife has not killed every part of my protectiveness, where ladies are concerned.”
And yet, it continued to seem so very strange that he would risk making a powerful foe for the sake of the kind of woman that he abhorred. The tricksters and schemers of female kind. Why, even when Carlton had tried to coax him into a brothel, in every country that had visited, he had turned up his nose as though he had smelled something rotten.
I saved myself for my wife, and I shall take no other until… no, that is the end of it. Never again. I will not love, I will not wed, and I will not give myself to anyone.
“Where did you sneak away to?” Speaking of the devil, Carlton bounded down the hallway. “I hope you are not already forsaking our pact for that divine blonde who just walked out.”
Liam frowned. “I saw no blonde.”
“You must have seen her! Darling Miss Jones. Not quite the radiant butterfly that Miss Black is, but she is still a pretty moth among weevils… impossible to miss.” Carlton seemed wistful, or drunk, or both. “She left not five minutes ago and must have passed you if you have been loitering here.”
Liam shook his head. “I have seen no one, though it rather sounds like you are the one who intends to neglect our pact.”
“Never!” Carlton shook a proud fist in the air. “I may be a veritable Casanova, and lover of all things feminine and fair, but I would rather be hailed a eunuch than lose a challenge.”
Liam smiled. “I think it is high time we took you home.”
“What is all this?” Denninson strode down the hallway, looking somewhat disgruntled. “Were you intending to leave me alone, with all of those inebriates, and slip away into the night without a word? Shame on you both.”
Liam could never tell if his friend was joking. He had one of those faces that could remain blank, though he might have just said the funniest thing in the room.
Denninson nudged him. “One of these days, Westwood, you will learn when I am teasing.”
