Page 35 of What a Courtesan Wants
As she’d forced her attention away from the crowd and waning whispers, she’d once again become aware of her body and the constant stimuli of the clamps. The longer she sat, the more aware she became of her aching clit. She shifted about every so often, each movement chafing her compressed nipples against her garments and sending a fresh wave of need through her. Her face flamed with embarrassment over how wet she was, and it would be a wonder if she didn’t spend the moment Aubrey laid a hand on her.
They ducked from the private box just before the end of the final act, departing once Aubrey had sent for his carriage. Once ensconced in the swaying vehicle, Lucinda breathed a sigh of relief. Aubrey’s dark shadow shifted on the opposite seat, his voice suffusing the carriage with warmth and calm.
“There now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She smiled, glancing through the window at the meager moonlight streaming through the parted curtains. “Not at all. Though, tomorrow the real work will begin. I’ll be overrun with morning callers, every one of them wanting to know where I’ve been and who you are.”
“Many of them already know who I am,” he said, leaning forward and allowing the light to slash across his face. “My fabrics dress half thetonwho were seated in the private boxes, and I’ve done business with several of the merchants and tradesmen. Millicent’s friends know me as there aren’t many in London with our singular interests, so everyone tends to know everyone. To top it all off, that repulsive gossip columnist cannot resist including tidbits about the ‘blackamoor tradesman of dubious background’ in her columns whenever she sees me about. That I associate with Ben and Dominick makes me more visible than I might otherwise be.”
Lucinda had never given any thought to the fact that he obviously understood what it was like to bear such scrutiny. Like him, she hadn’t been born into this world and found himself existing on its fringes. Only, she could at least blend into it with the right clothing and the proper lessons in etiquette. Aubrey’s dark skin and African features would also mark him as someone who hadn’t been born of this society.
“They were probably staring at me as much as you tonight,” he added. “You might prepare yourself to answer questions about me. People will talk.”
His apologetic tone stoked annoyance in her as she made up her mind then and there to take to task anyone who spoke ill of him in her presence.
“Let them talk. I wouldn’t have wanted to be with anyone else tonight. Truly … I am grateful, Aubrey.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “It is the least I can do after what you’ve taken on with Elizabeth.”
They fell into companionable silence for a moment, Lucinda’s mind circling around Elizabeth and the impending coming out. Aubrey’s determination to see his niece wed made her wonder about his own prospects. With the connections he had, it stood to reason that he’d made the acquaintance of many eligible women.
“What of you?” she blurted, curiosity getting the best of her. “Have you never met a woman you might wish to marry?”
Even in the dark she detected the shift in his expression, the hardening around his jaw and mouth.
“I did … years ago. I was engaged to be married for a time, but she cried off.”
Shocked and dismayed, Lucinda wondered what sort of idiotic woman would let go of a man like Aubrey. Hard-working, caring, and compassionate, he would make someone a wonderful husband.
“When the business began to fail, Philippa feared for her future and security,” he added, answering her unspoken question. “I cannot say I blame her, though it hurt, of course. I loved her, and thought she would give me a chance to prove I could provide for her. I just needed time to set my plans for Rowland-Drake into motion. I heard news of her marriage to someone else less than a year later. They have four children now.”
Lucinda snorted, derision filling her for the woman who had broken Aubrey’s heart. “You may not blame this Philippa woman, but I certainly do. If she truly loved you, she would have stayed regardless of your financial situation.”
His teeth flashed in the dark as he smiled. “Would you have married Magnus had he not been an earl who could give you the world?”
“Without hesitation. It never mattered to me—the money, the title, none of it. I loved him, and would have lived in a hovel with him instead of a grand house if it came to it.”
“Then your love is more steadfast than most. Your earl was a fortunate man.”
Lucinda noted the hint of sorrow wrapped in steel in his voice, felt his disappointment in events long behind him.
“After she tossed me over, I made my life about Rowland-Drake and Elizabeth. I never had any aspirations concerning children of my own or any such thing, even when I had planned to marry. I had loved Philippa, and simply wanted her. But, I’ve found contentment with what I have, and seeing Elizabeth happy and with a family of her own will be enough for me.”
But you should be more than content … you deserve to be happy.
Lucinda bit her lip to hold the words in. Aubrey’s happiness outside their time together should not concern her, and she would do well to remember that.
“Was she … was she like me?” she asked, steering the conversation toward safer waters.
Aubrey chuckled. “That is a complicated question, Lucy. Are you asking me if she was white, or tall, or had blonde hair and blue eyes? Or are you asking me if she was a submissive?”
Lucinda smiled. “All of those things, I suppose … though I was mostly curious about whether she was a submissive. If the two of you …”
Her face went hot, not at the thought of Aubrey having another lover, for she knew him to have had several before her. It was envy, she realized. Jealousy blossomed within her at the thought of another woman being allowed so close to Aubrey, sharing in the exchange of power and the deep intimacy that domination and submission demanded. What an odd emotion to feel for a man who was only supposed to be a carnal distraction for her. She supposed this was what she’d earned by letting down her guard. He was getting to her in more ways than just the physical, and she now thought of him as more than just a bedmate.
“She was a white woman. Not tall like you … brown hair. Pretty. She was the daughter of a merchant seaman, and I met her through the business I conducted with her father. And no, she was not a submissive, though at the time of our engagement neither was I a dominant. We were never intimate beyond a few kisses now and then. I clung to this noble notion of keeping my hands off her until the wedding, which turned out fortuitous. It was the end of our betrothal that led me to the practice of domination. I’d been visiting a certain brothel in London that caters to exotic tastes. I was looking for a distraction, something to ease my pain a bit.”
“I know of the place.”
