Page 16 of Taming of the Rake
Feeling as if he watched this entire scene from outside his body, David came numbly to his feet. Mrs. Hurst gave him a wide berth on the way to the door, and he followed with slow steps. Was this truly happening? Had he really come to call on his newest client only to find that she wanted to use him like a high-priced stud? Or, had he never awakened this morning? That would make this entire meeting nothing more than a very disturbing but lucid dream.
The massive footman dogged his steps, remaining far enough that David realized he meant to be unobtrusive, but close enough to convey every intention of leaping to his mistress’s defense if necessary. Another queer aspect of the day that left David’s thoughts in a jumble of confusion. This Mrs. Hurst certainly did not act like any keeper he’d ever had. He wasn’t sure what to make of the woman with her prickly manners, brusque speech, and staunchness. Most women meeting him for the first time were either aware of his reputation and eager to have him, or enraptured by his looks, charm, and easygoing nature. Not so, this woman.
Though, he had to admit she was certainly one of the loveliest of the lot. On first glance he might have mistaken her as a sallow, washed-out creature in a shapeless dress. Experience had taught him to look beyond the surface, and a few minutes in Mrs. Hurst’s presence had called his attention to her attributes. Her skin was the creamiest shade of porcelain he’d ever seen, smooth and unblemished. Amid so much black, her red hair was a startling splash, scraped back in a severe knot that put her delicate features on full display. There was something almost fairy-like about her, and he found himself tracing the graceful arch of titian brows over pale green eyes, down the slope of a button nose to a plush, narrow mouth the color of pink rosebuds. The gentle line of her jaw angled to a dainty chin. The slender column of her throat was the only part of her body that wasn’t hidden by black bombazine and lace, though the heavy garment did little to disguise a petite but pleasing figure. Amid the rustling fabric, he made out full breasts and slender hips, and could imagine the soft stretch of pale stomach, the sinews of supple thigh and calf. She was a tiny thing, her head barely reaching the center of his chest. Something about that appealed to him in a way that wasn’t entirely lascivious.
David shouldn’t be thinking of how lovely she was, or how diverting it would be to peel her out of all those starched, black layers to bare that perfect skin to his view. He ought to start considering how he was going to get out of this mess without insulting Mrs. Hurst or annoying Benedict. Surely his friend could not know this client’s true aims, or he never would have sent Lyons with the contract. If anything, her proposal spat squarely in the face of the rules of the gentleman courtesans—one of which barred complications that would put the integrity of their agency at risk. David was fairly certain that purposely impregnating someone counted as such.
She pushed open a door leading outside, revealing a stone pathway leading to a small garden enclosed by a wrought-iron fence. Many of the plants had gone to sleep for winter, their bare branches brown and uninspiring beneath a dreary gray sky. But here and there, the winter-blooming hellebore, pansies, and crocus offered bursts of color against some still-green shrubbery. Between the rows of blossoms, earthen paths led the way to a massive evergreen growing up from the center. The shade lowered the temperature by several degrees, but David found the air milder than it had been in days and was glad for a reprieve from the wet and fog.
He could no longer see Powell, but felt the man’s presence and decided it was prudent to keep his distance from Mrs. Hurst. The giant footman looked as if he could rip both his arms off with a single tug, and David quitelikedhaving use of all four of his limbs.
This time, he remained on his feet while Mrs. Hurst settled on an iron bench, staring up at him with pleading eyes. She looked so forlorn that David wanted to give her whatever she needed to erase the sadness from her eyes and turn that frowning mouth into a smiling one. But that would require surrendering a part of himself he wasn’t certain he wanted to give.
A child, by God. His seed purchased in what felt like a far too mercenary and heartless transaction.
“I should explain myself,” she murmured. “Though, I am not certain where to begin. If you have any questions …”
Running a hand over his jaw, David emitted a sarcastic snort. Questions … he only had about a hundred of them. He settled on the first one that came to mind.
“You were married for eight years. If your husband could not get you with child, what makes you think someone else can?”
Twin spots of pink appeared on her cheeks, and she jerked her gaze away from him. “I was led to believe that our inability to conceive was my fault. However, anyone of importance in Lancashire can attest that my husband was a man of … voracious appetite. His conquests numbered many, and he did not cease after he married me. None of his mistresses or lovers ever came up with child. I investigated the matter myself, because I had to know whether I berated myself for my failures all this time when the affliction was his and not mine. Not a single child was ever born of Mr. Hurst—legitimate or otherwise. I’ve been inspected by no less than five doctors who have assured me there is no reason I cannot carry and birth a healthy child.”
Now David was the one pacing, hands folded behind his back as her words began to sink in. Whenever he thought of a life that included children, he imagined some faceless woman as his wife. David hadn’t envisioned himself settling down for at least another ten years, if that. But he’d taken the hour’s ride to meet this woman and discuss the contract. The least he could do was hear her out.
“I see,” he replied. “If you are able and desiring to have children, why hire a courtesan? Why not take a discreet lover, or marry again, or—”
“Ineverintend to wed again.”
Mrs. Hurst’s fervor drew him up short, and David found her fairly vibrating with a mixture of fury and indignation. She flushed to the roots of her hair, and her small fists were clenched. Her eyes had gone wide, dark pupils expanding to eat away at her sea-foam irises.
“I was not fond of the bonds of matrimony,” she added. “Another marriage is out of the question.”
There was definitely something more behind her vehement opposition to remarrying, but it was none of his affair. She didn’t look as if she would appreciate him prying further. “Understood. I assume you would have no qualms about subjecting your hypothetical child to the scorn they’re sure to experience as a bastard.”
“Mr. Hurst has been dead less than a month, and news of his demise is not yet widespread. It is my hope that I might become pregnant quickly enough to pass the child off as his. If I can manage that, there would be nothing to worry about.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Butwhy—”
“Why a courtesan?”
“Yes!”
She lifted her chin, the gesture almost defiant. “Because paying you ensures there can be no complications or entanglements. Your profession alone leads me to believe that you are not on the hunt for a wife? You have no immediate plans to settle down and begin a family?”
David could hardly afford to feed himself, his mother, and sisters, let alone a wife and children. “No.”
“There, you see? I need someone who is willing to give me what I want with no strings attached. You should not worry that I will make any demands of you. As Mr. Hurst’s sole heir, I am more than capable of caring for a child on my own, and have every intention of doing so. Were I to take a lover without such parameters in place, the risks would be too great. He might come to expect something I would rather not give. He might think I intend to entrap him and get cold feet. You are a professional, Mr. Graham, and that is what I need. Someone whose business is …”
“Fucking?”
“Precisely,” she replied, without even batting an eyelash at his crudity. “This need be no different than your usual liaison, except that you will neglect to use whatever methods you prefer for avoiding conception.”
“That’sall? Forgive me if I find it difficult to be as blasé about all this as you, Mrs. Hurst. What you are asking goes far beyond simply failing to sheath my cock.”
“It can mean exactly that if you could only choose to see it that way. When you think about it, siring a babe is a risk you take every time you enter into an arrangement with any woman.”
She was right, damn it, but David was still wrestling with the part of himself that wanted to cave to her wishes and the part that wanted to find his horse and ride back home as fast as physically possible. This was utter madness, and he had entertained it long enough. And yet …
