Page 11 of Portrait of a Lady
“Worlds better than me,” Benedict said with a chuckle. “Though, do not tell Celeste I said that or I may lose her to you.”
“Better than David?” Hugh speculated aloud, stroking his chin. “Have you forgotten the bidding war that broke out between that duchess and her cousin over him?”
Benedict scoffed. “David is certainly good at what he does. The ladies love his pretty mouth, and he loves showing them all the useful ways he can employ it. Nick has a way with his mouth too, but it’s the filth that comes out of it they like. Aubrey...well, you know how his very unique tastes appeal to a bolder sort of woman. All of you have your talents, this is true. But you, yes, you are the best.”
Curiosity got the best of him, and Hugh sat up straight in his chair. “How so?”
Benedict gave him a smug smirk, crossing one leg over the other and bracing an arm along the back of the love seat. “Because you make your keepers believe in love. And when it comes to the fairer sex, isn’t that entirely the point?”
Hugh went still, his snifter held up to his lips. “I thoughtmoneywas entirely the point.”
“For us, perhaps. But for them...women are different than we are, Hugh. A man with a mistress wants someone to fuck him, laugh at his jokes, and otherwise avoid annoying and nagging him the way his wife does. But a woman, she wants from her courtesan all the things the men of her world will not give her. Affection, a listening ear, romance, and of course, someone to fuck her.”
They laughed together at that, Hugh calming after a moment to take another sip of his drink.
“Nick and David are very, very good at the fucking part of things. Aubrey is a good listener. I myself have...certain talents that I know how to use to my advantage. But you’ve got it all going for you. I do believe in their own way each of your keepers has been head over heels in love with you.”
Hugh’s heart sank at that, even though his mind told him he ought to be proud that Benedict had meant it as a compliment. However, as he thought over his arrangements as a courtesan the past two years, he couldn’t help but realize one unavoidable truth.
He had never loved any of them.
He’d certainly liked them well enough; one couldn’t be in this line of work without at least learning to like his lover and coax her better attributes to the surface. He’d danced attention and affection on them, made them feel beautiful, and fucked them—all except the last one, who had insisted he keep her maidenhead intact for her eventual husband. He’d adhered to her rules without wavering, thinking up ways to pleasure her, keeping her happy until she’d broken off their arrangement in order to wed a baron. David or Nick might have seduced her out of her virginity while making her think it was all her own idea. Perhaps this was what Benedict meant—he was the best because of his care and consideration for his keepers.
Still, that comment about love lodged itself someplace inside him, making him dashed uncomfortable.
“I’ve never wanted to lead anyone on,” he murmured, staring across the room and into the fire.
“Of course not,” Benedict replied. “Who said you did?”
“You! What else could you mean by that?”
“Only that making your keeper feel loved is the way it’s done,” Benedict offered, his tone softening. “And you’ve done it without losing yourself in the process unlike that idiot Norton.”
Hugh bit back a bark of laughter, knowing it would only annoy Benedict. Not long after founding the Gentlemen Courtesans, Benedict had gotten the idea of bringing other men into the fold. The demand for the sort of service they provided had been far greater than they’d anticipated. Among those who had been inducted into their agency was Edward Norton, who had been with them all of a month before falling in love with his keeper. Much to Benedict’s dismay, the man had broken ranks and married the chit before whisking her away to Devon to live in wedded bliss.
While Benedict had found another man to replace him, he never ceased making it known that such a thing was unacceptable. They were an agency of courtesans, not a matchmaking service, and for each arrangement he secured Benedict received a small percentage. The loss of a courtesan affected his bottom line, and nothing mattered to their leader more than that.
Fortunately, the loss of a courtesan to love and marriage had been a singular event, and the other men did their jobs without entangling themselves.
“My focus is my work and the upcoming Exhibition,” Hugh assured him. “Now, tell me about my new keeper.”
“Her name is Miss Evelyn Coburn and she immediately struck me as being perfectly suited for you. Young, but not too young—five-and-twenty, I believe she said. She’s a shy thing, but you should have no trouble coaxing her out of her shell.”
No, he wouldn’t. His ability to gently charm his way through a woman’s defenses was one of the reasons Benedict almost always assigned the virgins to him. Having gone his entire life striving for excellence in his art, Hugh would never have thought to develop a talent for seducing chaste, virtuous women.
“Here,” Benedict said, retrieving a slip of paper from his coat pocket. “This is her address. The contract has been signed, and she is expecting to meet you soon.”
Hugh accepted the paper and opened it to find an address a short walk from his own residence. That would certainly prove convenient.
“Very good. Thank you, Ben.”
His friend shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. “All in the line of duty. Now, if you’ll excuse me. Celeste is expecting me in an hour, so I’d better go make myself presentable for dinner.”
Hugh finished off his drink and stood, tucking Evelyn’s address into his own breast pocket. He would ruminate over how best to begin with her, then meet with Crosby. He could focus on nothing else while feeling so anxious over what his mentor might think of his progressing piece for the Exhibition.
“Best of luck with your newamour,” Benedict said just before Hugh passed through the drawing room door and out into the main entrance of the townhouse.
A footman opened the front door for him, and Hugh set off for home. He only had a few hours before Crosby was due to visit, and he wanted to accomplish a bit more work on his painting before the man arrived.
