Page 7 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
“Do not say that, Dear Boy. Once upon a time, you adored that place. I have fond memories of summers there, and you will find peace in those halls again. You just have to face the past, and put those painful events to rest,” Denninson replied, as sage as ever.
Liam laughed tightly. “You make it sound so very easy.”
“Ah, I never said that,” Denninson corrected. “It will not be easy, but it is possible. We can go there, one day, if you like, and chase away all traces of your former wife, together.”
Liam made a non-committal noise. “Perhaps, when I grow weary of London.” He sank back in his chair, feeling suddenly tired. “I believe my Uncle is due to spend several weeks at his townhouse, so I will be able to see to my affairs then and ensure everything is as it should be with the Manor.”
“Do not put your return off for too long, Westwood,” Denninson warned. “It is tempting to pretend the house does not exist, but it is your home. You have every right to make it so, once more.”
Carlton jumped into the conversation. “Where are we going? Is it Austria again? No one told me Austrian ladies were such incredible beauties.”
“We were discussing Keswick Manor.” Denninson ruffled Carlton’s hair in a disarming gesture of affection.
Perhaps the brandy has taken hold, after all.
Carlton grimaced. “Ugh, I do not believe in such things, but it might as well be haunted. I mean, your marriagediddie there. I say you sell it and live like a king from the money you gain.”
“I could not do that,” Liam replied, a note too quickly.
Carlton squinted with bleary eyes. “If you cannot sell it, and you cannot live there, then you have reached something of an impasse, My Friend. I do not envy you. But Idoenvy Lord Westleigh.” He raised his glass, toasting the fellow across the room, though Miss Black was nowhere to be seen. “Who would have thought that the boy everyone called “Weedy Westleigh” would have such a goddess upon his arm. He must be hoarding a tremendous fortune that we know nothing about. I shall have to invite him to dine and learn his secrets.”
“You will do no such thing,” Liam scolded. “Not while you are residing with me, at least.”
Carlton pretended to pout. “Do not send me to my Mother, I beg of you. She will bring the physician and have me strapped to the bed, so my sins can be leeched.”
“It might do you some good.” Denninson smirked.
Carlton steepled his fingers. “He is well connected, Westwood. If not for me, then let me invite him to dine so that you may seek company with Miss Black. She is a courtesan, so there can be no risk of falling in love or marrying the girl.”
Liam’s chest tightened at the mention of marriage and love. Indeed, his former wife had been giving him nightmares since his return to England. Even at the beginning of his tour of the Continent, it had taken several months before he could sleep easily, without jolting awake at the sight of her wild, pale face, chasing after him in his dreaming mind.
“Excuse me, Gentlemen. I am in need of some fresh air. It is much too stifling in here.” Liam scraped back his chair and hurried for the exit, before either of his friends could stop him.
He was in such a rush to be out of there that he did not see the figure emerging from the private powder room that was reserved solely for rare, female guests. By the time he saw Miss Black, it was much too late for him to avoid colliding with her. And she did not appear to have seen him either, until her head lifted, and a startled expression passed across her face.
He put out his hands as he careened into her, in an attempt to stop them both from toppling over. Instead, it served only to knock the drink in her hand off balance, sending its contents spilling down the front of her rather daring, red gown.
“Mercy!” she cried, stumbling into the wall so she would not fall. “Are you in need of spectacles, Sir? Did you not see me coming out of the powder room?” She glanced down at the stains that were spreading across the sleek fabric of her gown. “Oh goodness, would you look at the state of me. I’ll never get this clean. It’s real silk, Sir!”
Liam gaped at her, like a beached fish. “I… I d… did not mean to walk into you, Miss. It was entirely accidental.”
“That is why I asked if you’re in need of spectacles,” she replied curtly. “I’m not exactly easy to miss. I’m practically dressed like a beacon.”
Liam’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I find it rather rude of you to suggest that I cannot see properly.”
“And I find it rather inconvenient that I now have a ruined dress, that cost more than I can make in a month.” She set the drink down and plucked a napkin of a passing tray, before attempting the futile act of dabbing the brandy stains. “I’ve had this dress for years. Oh, I’m going to miss it.”
Liam squared his shoulders, feeling rather offended by her attitude. “Do you know whom you are speaking to?”
“You’re probably a Viscount or a Marquess. Possibly an Earl, but definitely not a Duke. The Dukes go elsewhere.” She hit him with a peeved stare, as she continued her furious dabbing.
Liam felt irritation clenching at his chest. “Then you should know not to speak to me in so impolite a manner. I know thatyouare not of the peerage.”
“What gave me away?” She cast him a sarcastic smile. “The feathers in my hair, the cut of my neckline, or the fact that I am close to tears over the loss of a dress? I imagine it’s the latter, since a true lady would never be so frantic over some fabric. She would simply get her husband to buy her a new one, and perhaps threaten you with a duel he didn’t intend to see through.”
Liam floundered at her audacity. “As I have said, I did not mean to upset your drink.”
“The drink is not upset. I am,” she retorted. “So, you’ll forgive my brusqueness. I’m trying to save a life here.”
