1939912059 (R) (36 page)

Thérèse had certainly over-educated the girl. She had tried to keep her from getting hurt by over-sexed blighters only to—
Merde
. Her granddaughter apparently wanted the sex without the commitment. Too much like a man. But in a man’s world…she supposed it was a good thing.

Maybelle took in a deep, calming breath and let it out. “Now. I propose that over the next two months we point all of our efforts in the direction of your school and then in the direction of my travels. Then we will both be happy. And that is what we want, yes? To be happy?”

Maybe the girl needed an introduction to what she loved most but thought was unattainable: titled men. And she knew just the man to offer the girl a ballroom full of them.

Thérèse held up a finger into the air, causing all of her bracelets to fall down the length of her wrist. “I have an idea.”

Her granddaughter stepped back.

Thérèse ignored that poor humor. “Lord Hughes owes me a favor. A considerable one, I admit.” She had finally let the poor man kiss her after dealing with well over a year of pleading. It wasn’t bad. It didn’t make her toes curl, but at her age, nothing ever did anymore. She liked him.

Thérèse winked with great exaggeration, trying to remain playful. “I shall therefore see to it that he invites us to several of his soirées. He does not care what the
ton
thinks.” She smiled and folded her hands before her. “I promise to find you a man incapable of demanding any attachments.”

Maybelle’s blonde eyebrows rose.

“And when we find him,” Thérèse went on, “it will then be entirely up to you to make the best of it.”

Maybe the girl would even find a man right here in London and…stay.

Three weeks later at the house of Lord Hughes, evening

As elegantly dressed men and women whisked in and out of sight, adorned in perfectly tailored and expensive satiny hues of onyx, periwinkle, and alabaster, Thérèse kept her granddaughter tucked near the oak paneled wall to ensure they had the best view of every man in the house.

A young mustached gentleman, a mere baron grinned and nodded his pleasantries toward Thérèse as he passed by.

No chance, Monsieur Baron. Keep walking. I only have sex with grown men, not boys.
She did, however, politely return his nod, given she had no intention on being rude to potential candidates for her school.

Maybelle leaned in from behind and peered past the double bouffant sleeves of Thérèse’s low-cut, plum evening gown.

A tall, dark-haired gentleman clad in expensive black evening attire strode past making her granddaughter pause.

It made Thérèse also pause. She glanced back at her granddaughter.

Those big, eager blue eyes followed the gentleman, her lips parting.

Oho. And there it was. Lust at first sight.

A breath escaped Thérèse. Oh, to be young again. She missed the excitement of seeing a man that made her skin tingle and her stomach flip.

Maybelle gathered her cream satin skirts and bustled out from behind Thérèse to place herself on better display. She pertly waited.

Thérèse bit back a smile. Youth was so adorably stupid.

Maybelle released her satin skirts and silently watched as the gentleman rounded the dance floor and disappeared through the French doors leading out onto the darkened terrace.

Well, well. Her granddaughter had taken an interest in a real challenge. And in a duke, no less. Dukes, when done right, were certainly hard to resist. She should know. “You have very good taste. That,
ma chére
, is none other than the Duke of Rutherford. Better known to London as the man tragically ruined by his father’s lust.”

Oh, yes. She had every finger on the pulse of London’s throat. It had enabled her to survive its prudish, overly regulated ways.

Maybelle’s eyes widened. “Ruined by his father’s lust? You don’t mean his father actually--”

“Och,
mais non
!” The dirty, dirty thing. “Where is your mind tonight?”

Thérèse glanced around, snapped open her ostrich fan and leaned toward her. She hid the bottom half of their faces behind the confines of her fan and lowered her voice. “You see, a little over six years ago, his father died in the arms of a courtesan. Laudanum overdose. Dreadful, dreadful scandal. But then the
réel
rumors commenced. That the woman was not a courtesan at all, but a lady of high, respectable society. Well. That made it even more
difficile
for the
ton
to accept and ever since, the duke’s poor mama has desperately tried to marry him off to whoever will have him. Despite his dire circumstances, the man refuses to compromise his lineage and will not marry below him. And so there you have it. Ruined by his own father’s lust.”

Maybelle eyed her. “What if I wanted him? For a night, that is. What would you suggest?”

Who knew getting great-grandchildren was going to be this easy. She only hoped the girl didn’t get into
too
much trouble. Thérèse leaned away and snapped her fan closed, letting it dangle by its velvet string attached to her gloved wrist. “Seeing you want only one night, I suggest you keep it simple.”

“How simple?” Maybelle prodded.

Thérèse lifted her other hand, pulled out a small, tin box from the wrist of her glove, opened it and held it out for her. “Here. Have a mint. I will make an introduction for you before the end of the hour.”

Maybelle lowered her voice a touch more. “Why an introduction? Is it because of his rank?”

Thérèse laughed. “Of course not. It is because of
my
rank. You want him,
oui
?” She shook the box at her, rattling the candies within. “Do take one,
ma chére
. Men adore the smell of mint. It seduces their senses.”

Maybelle wrinkled her nose, plucked up the mint between two fingers and tucked it into her own glove. She turned and watched the doors leading to the balcony. “So how does one even go about seducing a man of such status? Surely it complicates matters.”

Whilst, yes, everyone in London might consider her to be a bad grandmother for pushing her granddaughter toward pursuing lust, she knew the girl only wanted an experience, not a commitment. Lust was tamable and eventually fled. Whilst commitment? That was complicated.

Besides, at one and twenty, how much longer did society expect such a passionate, pretty girl to wait? “A title is but a barrier, not a complication.” Thérèse plucked up a mint, placed it onto the tip of her tongue and slid the tin back into the unbuttoned space at the wrist of her glove. “Perhaps you should consider visiting the school and sitting in on a few lessons. We discuss social barriers all the time.” Or rather, she did. The men were a touch shy.

“No. No, thank you. I shall manage. Without stepping onto your pirate ship.” Maybelle eyed the balcony again. “I wish to approach him out in the garden. Might I?”

And she thought she was brash when she was younger. Thérèse sighed. “I will not argue.” She paused. “But. Before you go. Be certain that I do not notice you are abandoning me or I shall come across as a very bad chaperone.” She would go out and check on the girl in exactly twenty minutes to ensure it did not get
too
out of hand given they were in public.

Maybelle took to busily arranging her skirts. As she did so, she snuck one dainty step to the left. Toward the direction of the balcony. Then another. And another.

Thérèse did her best not to laugh. Instead, she lifted her chin and continued to stare out before her, appearing genuinely occupied with listening to the orchestra and watching all of the couples whirl and dance.
Twenty minutes will allow for conversation that I will then…interrupt.

Her granddaughter, being well outside of chaperone scope, sashayed her way toward the French doors leading outside and casually disappeared out into the night.

A breath escaped Thérèse. She missed being naughty.

Someone sidled up next to her. A gent whose ivory waistcoat could not hide a touch of a belly protruding forth from his evening jacket, leaned in. Mischievous brown eyes brightened as they searched her face. “You look glorious, as always. I am ever so pleased you came. How are you, my dear?”

She fully turned toward her good friend of several years, Lord Hughes. She smiled. “I am incredibly well,
merci
. More so than usual. For tonight is a very glorious night. My granddaughter is officially interested in men, which means I may still have a chance at great-grandchildren. How is
your
evening?”

“Complicated.” He puffed out a breath and leaned in. “My nephew is in a devilishly awkward position. He needs a bit female perspective. I was hoping you could talk to him. Do you have time for him this week?”

She eyed him, now curious. She had met Hugh’s nephew, Lord Caldwell, once before. Dashing, blond and playful. Or so he liked others to believe. “Of course. Is he having problems with women?”

“Yes and no. I will put it into writing given there is too much to say. Simply know that he will be calling on you soon.”

Her life was never droll. “I will talk to him.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. The boy means a lot to me.”

Her voice softened. “Yes, I know.” She rather admired how Hughes wielded a crop toward the world but when it came to his nephew, the man fell to his knee with a tear in his eye.

Setting his gloved hands behind his back, Hughes cleared his throat, scanning the dance floor. He lowered his voice. “That kiss we shared not too long ago was amazing. It gave me hope.”

Using her fan, she tapped at his arm. “It has taken some time, but I will admit you have grown on me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You make me sound like a damn wart.”

She laughed. “My days of finding passion are long over, Hughes. If you want me, you have to accept the fact you will be nothing more than an accessory I shove into my reticule. I have more use for rouge than I do for men at this point.”

He paused and leaned in closer. “I swore I would never commit to a woman again, but I am not getting younger and you make me feel…young. I need that. Will you marry me? I hear you need money, and whilst my finances aren’t as glorious as I would like them to be, I do have enough to help you and your granddaughter along. What do you say?”

Poor Hughes. The man had no idea that asking a woman to marry him at a gathering as if offering pork pie was anything but a compliment. Fortunately for him, she rather liked pork pie. It was food meant for comfort. Which is all she needed anymore. He made her laugh and was well beyond dependable. Not having to worry about money would also be nice. What was marriage anyway? A piece of paper. “Consider us engaged.”

He searched her face, his lips parting. “Do you mean it?”

She smirked. “We have known each other for a long time. I know what to expect from you, and you know what to expect from me. We call on each other practically every day. Why not save us both a carriage ride?”

“God love you.” He grabbed her face, despite the crowd of the ballroom surrounding them, and soundly kissed her on the lips. Releasing her, he grinned. “You have given me a reason not to grow old.”

She pointed her fan at him. “Do not put such a burden on me, Hughes. Or you will go bald.”

He grinned. “So when do we set the date for the church? Next month?”

A breath escaped her. He was moving far too quick. “No. Next year.”

His brows came together. “Next year?” he echoed. “Why so damn—”

“Hughes, my granddaughter comes first and she plans to go to Egypt. We have to wait until she comes back. She would be upset if I married without her being there.”

“Oh.” He lowered his voice. “Can I call on you at your house later tonight? After these festivities are over? So we could…?”

She adjusted the collar of his coat. “No. Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“No.”

He glared. “When?”

“One does not plan these things, Hughes. One simply lets it happen.”

He puffed out a breath. “The trouble is you never let it happen. Even our kiss did not last quite as long as I would have wanted it to. You ended it well before I was done.”

“What did you expect? We will always be friends first.”

“Then why marry me?”

“Because at my age, I prefer a friend in my home as opposed to a man I have to train.”

He eyed her. “That goddamn school of yours is going to your head. You had better watch your derriere. Do you realize what London is saying?”

She groaned. “It is no different than what France was saying when I left it. A school of this caliber is serving a far greater purpose beyond my need for money.” She set her chin with renewed pride. “These men need me. They require proper guidance and assurance. I am the mother they wished they had.”

He snorted. “And why do you think it is your responsibility to guide men half your age?”

She was quiet for a moment, knowing true passion had to be guided whilst one was young. “Maybe some of these men will get to live the sort of life that should have been mine. Not every relationship has to end up in shambles.” She tried to keep the angst from her voice, but it remained. She had often wondered what life would have been like had she told Gérard that night she refused to let him go.