Page 2 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
“Oh, mon chéri, don’t be so rash,” Élodie purred. “My heart is still yours, but it got so tedious without you. I sought some entertainment, as I imagine you do when you go to Londres.”
“I would never treat you with such contempt,” Liam shot back. “Dress yourself and cleanse away the stench of your vulgarity, and I shall decide what I am going to do with you.”
She rolled forward onto her belly, kicking her legs coquettishly. “Come now, we both know you will not do anything. I am your wife, and I am the Countess. You can’t get rid of me, unless you are considering murder, mon amour?” She cackled, her eyes wild.
“That might be the simplest course of action in your mind, but I am no monster. But you will be punished for this, mark my words.” Liam did not yet know what, exactly, he was going to do with her, but it would have to be discreet. Perhaps, he could send her to a nunnery, or take her to a sanitorium, to receive treatment for this bizarre insanity that had taken hold of her. Either way, he could not bear to look at her a moment longer.
The footman lifted his gaze. “And what about me, My Lord?”
“Your employment here is at its end,” Liam snarled. “Collect your belongings and leave, while I still have some semblance of leniency left.”
The footman’s eyes narrowed. “It weren’t just me, My Lord. Two other footmen and a valet have been in the Countess’ bed, and the stablemaster.”
Why did you have to say that?
Liam did not know if he could face the image of his wife with so many others, when he would already have to resign himself to this scene being seared into his mind for the rest of his days. How many times had she betrayed him, exactly? How many had shared the bed that he had never lain in?
“Find those who are guilty and instruct them to await my reckoning in the drawing room.” Liam clenched his hands into fists. “In return, I will allow you to leave with half of your month’s pay.”
The footman dipped his head. “Aye, My Lord. I’ll do as ye say.”
Without another word, he snatched up his clothes and ran out of the bedchamber, leaving Liam alone with his wretched wife. She continued to gaze at him with maddening eyes, fluttering her eyelashes and beckoning for him to come to her.
Disgusted at the very thought of being near her, he gave his parting words. “I came here, thinking the rumors about you were false. I realize now that I was a fool for loving you. I should never have brought you here. You are not fit to be a Countess, or my wife, or even a chambermaid in this household. I would have given you everything. Instead, you will receive nothing.”
She giggled coldly. “If you thought the rumors were false, you would not have come here. You knew what I was, but you chose not to see. You are at fault, not me. I was merely doing what any woman would, when her husband is absent so often.”
“You appall me,” Liam spat. Turning on his heel, he left the room, but not before giving the door a hard slam behind him.
Apparently realizing that her incongruous pastimes had come to an end, and her marriage would soon follow, Élodie suddenly leaped from the bed with a bestial howl and sprinted to the door, pulling on the doorknob with all her might so she could pursue him.
“Don’t you dare!” she screeched. “You will not humiliate me! You will not smear my name!”
But Liam was done listening to her. She could scream herself hoarse and try to pummel him into submission; it would not make a difference. As far as he was concerned, he no longer had a wife.
Chapter One
Four Months Later
Abluish haze of tobacco smoke swirled thickly through the London gentlemen’s club that served as Liam’s sanctuary. He swayed in his chair, precariously clutching a snifter of brandy. Beside him, his dear friend, Mark Carlton, the Earl of Sinclair, was in similarly merry spirits. Meanwhile, sitting across from the pair, the third member of their trio, Kenneth Denninson, appeared as sober as a judge, though he had imbibed just as much.
“Why would you say such a terrible thing?” Carlton cried, almost toppling from the edge of his seat. “Women are such divine creatures. Do not say you will deny yourself their wiles and ways, because your wife was nothing short of a bawd.”
Liam shook his head, making himself dizzy. “I am finished with the fairer sex, Carlton. I vow to you, here and now, that I shall never fall in love or marry again. I will never so much as look at a woman with fond eyes, lest she ensnare me!”
“I could not agree more, Westwood,” Denninson interjected, his tone gruff and serious. “You may be in your cups, but I find that some of the wisest things are said after a bottle of brandy.”
“You see!” Liam jabbed a finger at his friend. “If Denninson says I am being sensible, then it must be true.”
Carlton waved a woozy hand. “Pay no heed to Monsieur Glib over there. I would be surprised if he even knew the exquisite delights of a woman’s company, for they must surely all flee from his brooding, severe nature.”
“I merely prefer not to disclose such things,” Denninson replied, before returning his attention to Liam. “You have suffered gravely, My Friend, and I would not see you injured once again by someone you have given your trust and your faith to.”
Carlton snorted. “And what finer way to be free of his woes than to seek comfort in the arms of another splendid lady. He has learned his lesson about French maidens, but there are so many wondrous English ladies who would happily give him their hearts. He does not even need to fall in love or propose marriage. That is the beauty of it. I have enjoyed many a lover and have never so much as suggested marriage.”
“That is because you lack principles,” Denninson scolded, though the ghost of a smile curved up one corner of his lips.
Carlton shrugged. “I would rather lack principles than passion.”
