Page 45 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
“Tell her I’ll have fried eggs and some buttered toast.” Nora feigned a yawn. “But I’m sure she’ll make you something else if you ask her nicely. She’s fond of you.”
Donovan nodded excitedly. “I’ll go and ask right now!”
With that, he hurried out of the room, leaving Nora alone with the letter. In truth, she had been expecting Liam to attempt something like this, since she had continued to deny him entry to her home. He had evidently not yet realized that she was refusing to see him for his own benefit.
What am I to do about you, hm?
Nervously, she picked up the letter and broke open the seal on the back. In truth, there were additional reasons for her denying him entry. For one, his presence bemused her, and she was not yet well enough to figure out the complexities that had taken root in her heart. Secondly, she did not like that he had seen her vulnerable. No one got to see that side of her. Thirdly, she could not risk the complication of there being something… real between them. It was easier, in many ways, not to know.
“But you won’t leave me be,” she whispered. “Just… forget about me. Let’s think of that night, and that kiss, as a pleasant dream. It won’t do either of us any good to consider it as anything else.”
Her armor could not afford to be compromised, and all these feelings of affection and comfort and passion that he inspired in her were entirely alien to her. She feared they might soften her or create a chink in that armor that she had built up over the years. And all because of one cold night, and one man who had held her as though she were still a person and not a tattered, used-up object.
With a deep breath, she began to read:
Dear Miss Black,
I hope this letter finds you in better health than when we parted ways. I find myself compelled to admit that I cannot stop worrying about your welfare, for I feel as though I am partially responsible, due to my attempts to encourage you to carry on your journey to Northcrop. I should not have done so. That was a mistake on my part. However, I want you to know that it was my only mistake during our time together.
With that in mind, I would like to ask what you intend to do with your memoirs? It would be a shame if you were to leave them unpublished, even if you can only have them printed in the scandal sheets. I abhor such gossipmongering papers, but it may be your best vehicle in having your voice and your story told, if you cannot reach this publisher.
Please, Miss Black, allow me to visit with you one day soon, so that we may discuss your memoirs in person. If there is anything I may do to aid you in their publishing, I shall do it. However, I feel that I must see you, so I can be certain that you are not dying, or suffering, or languishing from your injury.
I fear my nightmares will worsen if I continue to fret for your welfare. I beg again, please put me out of my misery.
Yours Faithfully,
L
Nora folded up the letter and pressed it to her chest, precisely where she had pressed his palm to her heart in the hopes his warmth might thaw it. Perhaps, she thought his letter might do the same.
“Tomorrow, I will give you a reply,” she whispered to the note. It was too harsh to keep him in suspense, though she did not yet know if she would write her response or allow him to see her. Maybe, the latter was a touch too dangerous, in case it weakened her resolve to keep him at a distance.
I can’t allow myself to have any vulnerabilities, other than those I already possess in my Sister and Mother. If I must be cruel to be kind, then I will be.
For that reason, she suspected she would have to write her reply, and make it cold enough to dissuade him from ever coming back to her door. He would thank her for it later, she was certain, when he found happiness with a good, honest, untainted woman. He would be able to forget any moments they had shared and resist looking back on them fondly; instead, considering them just another act in her repertoire.
As for what he could do to help her publish her memoirs; she had already realized that attempting to go to Northcrop again might end in the same way, but without anyone there to save her on the road. Nor could she post the manuscript, in case it was intercepted during its journey or the publisher decided not to print it, leaving her without her only copy.
With that in mind, she had taken care of the matter herself, in precisely the way that Liam had suggested she might. Come tomorrow, he was not the only one who could expect a surprise delivery. The “Butterfly of London” was set to fly again on the paper-thin wings of the scandal sheets and send a fresh ripple of shock through the city.
And she had selected the perfect target.
Chapter Twenty
Rising early the following morning, with the full intention of returning to Nora’s doorstep to inquire about a reply, Liam paused beside the silver tray in the entrance hall that held the morning’s post. Ordinarily, he would have waited for Wilks to deliver the post to him while he had his breakfast, but he was curious to see if, perhaps, Nora had sent her response by letter.
Sifting through the small pile, there were several addressed to him, though none were written in a familiar—or decidedly feminine—hand.
He gathered up the small collection, only to stop as something else caught his eye… the latest scandal sheets, half hidden beneath the morning’s paper.
“I might as well read something interesting while I eat my eggs,” he mused aloud, as though giving himself an excuse to pore over the gossip rags.
Although, he had a sound reason for looking through the less reputable sources of news. Perhaps, there would be something within the pages that might reveal something, anything, about the individual who had sought to take Nora’s life. A scathing retort from Sir Arnold, or an anonymous commentary from someone who wanted Nora to know they were displeased.
He slid the pamphlet into the newspaper and carried on toward the dining hall, where he knew he would be eating alone. Carlton had indulged in his usual, excessive nightcap, Denninson had gone to dine with other acquaintances and had not returned until the wee hours of the morning, and his uncle was likely already on his way back north.
It was so very pleasant to see him again. I must not allow so much time to pass before we meet the next time, though I suppose it shall have to be when he comes back to London.
