Page 5 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
As for him—what price had he paid? None, other than the fine townhouse that she called home. But even that had been hard won by her own determined hands. After all, the rich knew nothing of consequences. Not without a threat, anyway.
But that’s a skill I hope I never have to use again.
* * *
Liam sat in the corner of the gentlemen’s club, with his two dearest friends at his side. After five years traveling foreign lands together, he did not know if it felt good, or rather banal, to be home again. He certainly missed the music and the liveliness of the Greek and Spanish tavernas, the operas of Austria, and the illuminating conversation of French cafés.
But home is home, and there is nothing quite like familiarity.
He had been absently watching a young lady for a while, more out of surprise than interest, for he had not realized that the gentlemen’s club had become somewhat more… continental in its approach to allowing ladies inside.
“Who is she?” he asked, gesturing to the raven-haired minx who appeared to have every gentleman but himself in raptures.
Personally, he could not see any great appeal. She was somewhat on the tall side of average height, with a pleasing enough figure, and a classically pretty face. Handsome, maybe, more than pretty, with tumbling dark hair that held a spray of red and black feathers, and darkish eyes, though he could not make out the color. A reasonable woman, but nothing to crow about.
“I do not recall ever seeing her here before, or any lady for that matter,” Liam added, feeling slightly awkward.
Carlton turned, just as the young lady made her way through the crowd. Coming close to their table in the corner, her eyes rested on Liam’s, just for a moment. He looked away sharply, as though he had been stung, and when he dared to look back again, she was gone.
Blue… her eyes are blue… not that it matters.
“Aha, so you have noticed the rare bird in the aviary, then?” Carlton twisted back around in his chair, wearing an enthusiastic grin. “That, my dear, oblivious friend, is Miss Nora Black.”
“You make it sound as though I should know her,” Liam replied drily. During their travels together, Denninson and Carlton had returned to England intermittently, while he had remained abroad until he absolutely had to come back. As such, they were not so out of the inner circle as he was.
Denninson curled his lips in a grimace. “You would do well not to know of her, Westwood. She is naught but trouble, from what I have heard.”
“My good man, there is an enormous difference between a woman being trouble and a woman being notorious,” Carlton insisted. “Do not tarnish our dear Westwood’s first impression of such a deliciously infamous vixen. Why, I would offer half of my estate for but a single evening with her, and it would be worth every penny.”
Denninson arched an eyebrow. “She is a manipulator, as all courtesans are. Do you know of any gentlemen who have actually enjoyed an evening with her?”
“Well… no, but that is what makes her all the more enticing. She is shrouded in mystery, and my curiosity is certainly piqued.” Carlton took a deep gulp of his brandy. “If she had been ravished by all of London, and I had heard of it in vivid detail, I would lose all interest. The not knowing is the tantalizing part.”
Liam raised his hands in surrender. “Can we not speak of such tawdry things? I have been back in England but a week, and already I feel as though the last five years never happened.”
“Perhaps you could be the one to captivate the mysterious Miss Black?” Carlton waggled his eyebrows at Liam. “It would cheer you immensely to get back upon the horse, as it were.”
Liam shot him a warning look. “I assure you, it would not. I have not forgotten my vow to avoid the fairer sex, for I do not find them to be remotely fair. All they desire is money.” He watched the door, in case Miss Black re-entered and overheard him. “The only thing I may say in that woman’s defense is that at least she is honest about it.”
“Will you return to Keswick, or will you savor London awhile?” Carlton tilted his head toward the door, where Miss Black had just stepped back into the room, bearing two glasses of brandy. It appeared he was changing the subject, but Liam knew he was merely expanding upon it.
Liam sighed. “I intend to remain at my townhouse for the time being, though I suppose I shall have to see how my estate is faring at some point. My Uncle has been taking care of the Manor, but it is unseemly for an Earl to perpetually avoid his family seat, much as I would like it if I never had to set foot in that place again.”
I would see the echo of her in every hallway and hear those awful sounds every time I walked to my bedchamber. She is in the very walls of that place.
He shuddered at the memories that, until the ship had docked in London a week ago, he had been able to push to the back of his mind. Ironically, thoughts of Élodie simply did not exist for him on the Continent, despite that being precisely where he had first encountered her.
“She is looking our way,” Carlton hissed eagerly, sloshing his drink onto the table. Apparently, he had not been paying a single jot of attention to the conversation between his two friends.
Instinctively, Liam glanced up to find that Miss Black was, indeed, staring in his direction. An uncomfortable lump formed in his throat as he drew his eyes away once more, unable to hold her gaze without feeling a rising heat, like the rash of a nettle bush across his skin. It was not a pleasant sensation, as though his body were rejecting her presence.
He waited until he saw her move away, in his periphery, and lifted his glass. “I feel it is due time that we renewed the promise we made on the last occasion I was in London.”
“Which one was that?” Carlton raised his glass regardless. “Is that the one where we vowed to take pleasure in ladies of all countries?”
Denninson sighed. “No, you dolt, it is the one where we vowed to escape our troubles. Andwewere not in agreement about your reasons for traveling abroad.”
“I shall never forget them.” Carlton stared wistfully into the middle distance, prompting a rare bark of laughter from Denninson.
