Page 61 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
Her mother eyed her suspiciously. “I was just comin’ to see how you were farin’ with your hair and whatnot.” She shot a much darker look at Liam. “I wasn’t expectin’ you to have company.”
“Lord Keswick was just briefing me on the evening’s revue,” Nora explained, thinking fast. “There are, apparently, more members of the nobility in the north than I’d realized, and though I’m certain I won’t remember anyone’s name, it’s best to have a vague idea of who I’ll be entertaining.”
“Where’s the maid?” Clearly, her mother was not yet convinced that something untoward had not taken place.
Nora smiled. “I sent her away, so she wouldn’t overhear that I’m not who we’ve been saying I am. I swear, gossip spreads faster through servants than by express messenger.”
Her mother visibly relaxed, and Nora knew she had managed to wriggle Liam and herself off the hook. Even Denninson and Carlton nodded their heads in understanding, for Nora had always had a great skill for weaving a believable tale.
“I must admit, I keep forgetting the ruse,” Carlton admitted. “Twice today I have almost referred to you as Miss Black instead of Lady Keswick. Denninson here has had to nudge me in the ribs so often that I shall be black and blue by the time this ball is over.”
Liam turned and bowed his head to Nora. “If you are satisfied that you will have no trouble with the evening’s revels, then I shall take my leave and allow you to continue with your preparations.”
“I am satisfied, Lord Keswick.” A flicker of a secret smile danced across her lips, and her heart leaped as she saw a returned twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
With crisis averted, Liam left the bedchamber with Denninson and Carlton in tow. Nora had no doubt they would interrogate him about what they had walked in on, but as long as he stuck to the story she had crafted, she was certain he would be able to outfox them. As for herself, she only had to face her mother, who approached slowly.
Upon reaching Nora, her mother lifted her hands to her daughter’s face and cupped her cheeks gently. A sadness sparkled in the older woman’s gaze, revealing a vulnerability that Nora had never seen before.
“Be careful, Love,” her mother murmured.
Nora raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I just about remember how it feels to have someone look at me the way he just looked at you.” Her mother sighed softly. “It’s intoxicatin’, and it can make a girl lose her mind. That’s why I’ve warned you, all these years. It wasn’t to be cruel, I did it to be kind. So… just be careful with your heart, Love.”
Nora swallowed awkwardly. “It’s just part of our act, Ma.”
“No, I don’t think it is.” Her mother shook her head. “And I just want you to remember what happened the last time you fell in love with someone. It served us well, in the end, but I know it cost you a broken heart and a shattered spirit. I wouldn’t see you pay that price again, not for anythin’.”
Nora gave a small, meek nod. “I’ll be careful.” She paused, “Anyway, I already know it’s a path that leads to nowhere. How could someone like him ever come to love someone like me?”
To her surprise, her mother put her arms around her and held her tight, smoothing down the back of her hair. “Because you’re you, Love. How could he not?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As the sky darkened to an inky purple, and a few emboldened stars poked through the night’s shadowy fabric, the first guests began to arrive at Keswick Manor. The carriages trundled along the gravel driveway, depositing the fine ladies and gentlemen at the entrance, before making way for the next carriage in a lengthy line. Indeed, to Nora, it appeared as though the entirety of the north had come to join in the merriment.
“Lord Keswick! What an absolute joy to see you where you belong!” A portly gentleman with thinning white hair clapped Liam on the shoulder, as “husband” and “wife” stood in the entrance hall to greet their guests.
Liam smiled politely. “I am delighted you could attend, Lord Fleetwood. I have fond memories of scrumping apples from your orchard on many a summer’s afternoon.”
“Ah, so it was you—you scoundrel! I blamed the errand boys for it!” Lord Fleetwood laughed heartily, before his beady eyes fixated on Nora. Already, she could see the lusty cogs turning in the old man’s head. “And who is this divine creature standing at your side, Lord Keswick?”
Liam took hold of Nora’s hand, igniting that spread of calming warmth across her skin. “This is my wife, Nora, the Countess of Keswick. We were married not long ago, in her homeland of Jersey, and thought it best that we come back here to begin our family.”
Family? Does he mean… children?
For a moment, she forgot that this was all a performance. Of course, she had always wondered what it might be like to have children of her own, but there were certain physical acts that needed to be achieved in order to conceive. Physical acts that, up to now, had repulsed her, and which she could only associate with violence, coercion, and force.
But I don’t think it would be like that with you. I think you would be as kind, and tender, and generous as you are in the rest of your life.
“A new wife, eh?” Lord Fleetwood observed Nora from her head to her toes, ruining the pleasing thoughts she had been having with his seedy gaze. “About time, I should say! We have all been keen to have you back in the Manor, wed to a good, shapely woman, and ready to produce an heir or two.” The old man winked licentiously. “And at least she is from British territories. Goodness, your Aunt would have a fit if you had married an—”
“Apologies, Lord Fleetwood, but my wife and I must take our leave. My friend is gesturing to me, and I am awaiting news of my Aunt and Uncle—perhaps that is why he is waving me over,” Liam interjected, taking Nora by surprise. He did not wait for Lord Fleetwood’s response. Instead, he held onto Nora’s hand and led her through the crowds that were milling about the house.
Along the left-hand hallway, wonderful music drifted down from the ballroom, where the orchestra was playing a jaunty tune. Laughter bubbled beneath it, like the babble of a rushing stream, filling Nora with a sense of utter contentment. There was nothing she loved so much as a ball, though she was rarely permitted to attend with her “companions,” in case someone saw them and took the gossip to the gentleman’s wife.
“I apologize for that,” Liam said, as he gently encouraged her down a narrow passageway, away from the throngs. “He is a boorish lout, and I did not care for what he might have been about to say.”
