His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) (2 page)

Of course, the paradox in all of this was that Serena, soon to be London’s newest courtesan, was a virgin. And she had two very well-respected physicians’ certificates to prove it.

Instead of being dismayed, Lady D had been delighted at the news of each girl’s respective virginity. After a few weeks of studying male anatomy, both with books and a human subject (a strapping, well-endowed young footman who seemed to enjoy the attention) the topic had understandably come up.

Their benefactress had assured the girls that being virgin courtesans would not hinder their careers in the least. In fact, quite the opposite. It would only serve to increase their price when the offers started rolling in.

“You see, my dears,” Lady D explained, “men enjoy the fantasy of being the first to deflower a woman, no matter who she may be—courtesan or wife. It only adds to your allure.”

At Lady Devlyn’s exclusive soiree, Serena would be the first of the Courtesan Club to make her debut. Both Felicity and Bliss would make theirs in a similar way, but at different, exclusive events imaginatively planned for each of them by Lady Devlyn herself. Along with being a font of knowledge on all things carnal, Lady D was an astute business woman. She knew all about the power of supply and demand. Making the other two new courtesans temporarily unavailable would make the most powerful men in London desperate with desire for them.

Lady D had also been leaking titillating tidbits about her new protégés to the underground press for months. Though their identities were a closely guarded secret, thanks to their benefactress’s efforts, the Courtesan Club was already famous. All of London was talking about them—albeit behind closed doors. The gossip about Town was that gentlemen were already fighting over them, and the ladies were jealous beyond all. The fact that Lady Devlyn had deigned to pass on her exclusive knowledge and skills to three fresh faced young women was the biggest news to hit London since Wellington’s victory at Waterloo.

And though the papers would never believe it, the reason for Lady Night’s philanthropy was exactly that—philanthropic. With no children of her own, she wished to pass on her legacy to three independent-minded women whose vivacious spirits could never thrive within society’s strict boundaries. Serena, Felicity and Bliss were the mistresses of their own fates and fortunes, now.

“You look absolutely stunning, my dear,” Lady D said as she came into Serena’s dressing room. “Pierrette was right, this silk is the finest I’ve ever seen. It makes your green eyes glow like jade, and your skin is as luminous as the golden silk. At first Pierrette refused to part with it, you know. Since I am undoubtedly one of her best customers, she was soon convinced—after I offered a generous price, of course.”

Serena replied, “You know the girls and I intend to pay you back for all your expenses—”

“Pish, tosh!” Lady D said, waving a hand dismissively. “You will do no such thing. I told you before, the only recompense I require is that you, Bliss and Felicity use the knowledge I’ve given you to lead fulfilling lives as independent women, with all the pleasures the world has to offer. And being fabulously wealthy at the end of it all, like me, doesn’t hurt, either.” She smiled playfully. “Now, what jewels are you going to wear? Ahh…something special, I think.”

Lady D opened the ornate cherry-wood jewelry box that stood on a nearby dresser and pulled out the largest diamond Serena had ever seen. “The Maharaja’s Diamond? You want me to wear it?”

Lady D smiled, while holding the exquisite canary diamond pendant aloft. “
Sitara
—it means ‘morning star.’ The Maharaja and I watched the morning star many times together, after a passion-filled night in his palace. Sitara has always brought me good luck, and it is my hope that the stone will bring you the same good fortune.”

Before Serena could protest further, Lady Devlyn was fastening the priceless bauble around Serena’s neck. The magnificent jewel hung from a string of smaller white diamonds, which sparkled and winked against Serena’s glowing skin. It felt heavenly.

“Ear bobs, of course.” Lady D handed Serena a pair of matching tear-drop earrings. “And a bracelet, I think.”

With the jewels adorning her, Serena felt an almost magical effect, which had undoubtedly been Lady Devlyn’s intention. Serena felt beautiful, she felt powerful and in control. She was ready to become London’s newest sensation.

Then why was her heart beating like the wings of a caged bird?

Perhaps it was the reality of what she was about to do. Playtime was over. The moment she stepped out into the Lady Devlyn’s salon, she would announce to the world that she, Serena Ransom, was a courtesan—a woman whose business it was to give a man pleasure.

It seemed a daunting vocation, now.

Lady D lifted Serena’s chin with a slim finger, meeting her eyes. It seemed her benefactress could read minds, too. “Remember, my dear—-the men out there will be clamoring for your attention, just as Marc Antony and Caesar begged for Cleopatra’s. And that is how you must act. Like a queen—and a queen needs no one. Least of all a man. If you believe that, then so will they. Men will fight duels over you. They will give up everything for you.” Lady Devlyn gave a radiant smile. “And isn’t that what it’s all about?”

Serena took a deep breath. “Yes. That’s what it’s all about.”

“But where are the other girls?” Lady Devlyn asked. “We cannot greet our guests without them.”

“We’re here!” Bliss called, as she and Felicity bustled into the room, the silk of their gowns swishing across the floor. Bliss’ strawberry blonde curls were complimented by flowing sapphire blue silk, while Felicity’s dark glossy locks were offset by a gown of emerald green. Felicity and Bliss were to make their debuts at a later date, but the men of the ton would get a peek at them tonight…and talk about them for weeks.

It was all part of Lady Devlyn’s plan to make the Courtesan Club a wild success.

“Serena, you look breathtaking!” Felicity enthused, stepping forward to hug her.

Bliss gave her a quick hug as well. “You’re a vision. You look like a Greek goddess in that golden gown. The men will go wild.”

Lady D gave a languid smile. “Yes, my dear—the men will go wild for it.
For her
. For all of you. And isn’t that what we set out to accomplish with the creation of the Courtesan Club—to bring the richest men in London to their knees?”

The girls regarded each other, their expressions a mixture of excitement, disbelief, and female pride. Now Miss Serena Ransom was about to make her debut as the first member of the Courtesan Club.

A confident smile danced across her lips and her veins hummed with excitement as she and her friends made their way toward the salon.

She hoped London was ready for her.

* * *

Darius Manning, Earl of Kane, took another sip from his crystal champagne flute and gazed about the opulent room. In one corner, a string quartet played a Mozart sonata. Footmen milled about serving hors d’eouvres from silver platters. It seemed to all the world like any other high society party. Except that the room was filled with men only, most of whom looked like wolves waiting for the poor little sheep to show up. Darius had to admit, his curiosity was getting the best of him as well.

Where was she?

“What do you think, Dare?” the man beside him asked languidly, popping a grape into his mouth. “Will you entrap this virgin courtesan in your web tonight? Or will she entrap you?”

Darius flicked a brow at his companion. Major Havelock Price had stood by his side through the bloodiest battles of the Napoleonic Wars and knew him better than any other human being on earth. Still, Darius did not enjoy being thought predictable, especially regarding a woman he hadn’t even met yet.

Darius admitted to being many things, a notorious rake being chief among them, but predictable? That could sully a man’s reputation.

“Gads, let’s have a look at the chit before you have me bidding for her, will you? She may not be to my fancy,” Darius said coolly.

Havelock tasted a morsel of soft cheese. “Not to your fancy? The only woman I ever knew who didn’t strike your fancy was your wife. And considering what a harpy she was, it was completely understandable—God rest her soul.”

Darius turned and shot a dark look toward Havelock. “It does not become you to speak ill of the dead, my friend.”

“Bloody hell—I did say, ‘
God rest her soul,
’” Havelock said. “Forgive me, but Henrietta gave you nothing but grief. Ah, but that is not exactly true. She also gave you her father’s immense fortune which saved your family name and estates. But then, that was your plan all along, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have skipped over that part. Now you have the wife’s fortune, the earldom in good standing, and you’re on the market for a courtesan to entertain your nights without any messy complications. I’d say you’re on top of the world, Darius.”

Darius pondered his friend’s words as he studied the other men in the room. Perhaps he should feel that way, considering he could outbid any man here, even the young, brash duke at the billiard table.

He, the seventh Earl of Kane, was one of the wealthiest men in England. That fact alone had made him many enemies, namely the old families with ancient titles but no money left to run their crumbling estates. Havelock had spoken the truth. Darius had made a fortuitous marriage to Miss Henrietta Barton, heiress to a huge shipping fortune. He had not loved her, though his poor wife had fancied herself in love with him.

That had unfortunately been her undoing.

Darius reached for a succulent strawberry and pushed the unwelcome thoughts away. He’d spent enough time thinking about the women of his past. He was ready to move on.

And the first step in doing so was to find himself a willing partner to warm his bed.

He took a bite of the tart, luscious berry and decided that whoever this courtesan was, he would have her, for she was exactly what he needed.

Now that he was a widower, Darius was one of London’s most sought-after bachelors. The Mad Mamas of the Marriage Mart hounded him at every turn. They all wanted their daughters to be the next Countess of Kane. Well, they could all go to Hades. After Henrietta, he had earned a respite from the shackles of matrimony. As his marriage had left him without an heir, of course he would have to marry again at some point. He had a duty to ensure the family legacy.

But duty could wait.

What he wanted now, was sex.

Pure and simple.

And who better than a courtesan to provide him with imaginative, passionate, uncomplicated bedplay? Even a mistress was uncomfortably close to being a wife, in his book. But a courtesan was something altogether different. She existed only to beguile and intrigue. Any courtesan trained by the famous Lady Night was bound to be a legend in her own right. The London papers had been talking about her for weeks, speculating about her identity, as well as to the level of her sinful skills. Yes, he would have this “mystery woman” as his own private courtesan. Only she could banish the memories of his past, which haunted him like malevolent ghosts.

A loud gong sounded, echoing throughout the salon and causing the men to murmur amongst themselves when they observed a strange sight indeed. A man appeared at the bottom of the curved, marble staircase. He stood at least six foot five inches tall, dressed in flowing pale orange silk pants and a brilliant gold vest that barely covered his massive bare chest. His skin was the color of bittersweet chocolate, his dark eyes flashed dangerously, and his face was adorned with strange tattoos. On his head sat a turban of darker orange silk, with a brilliant sapphire at the center of his forehead. A single blue feather stood proudly in the air above the sparkling stone. The man’s feet were clad in jeweled leather sandals, and a curved scimitar hung from his waist. His folded arms boasted bulging muscles the size of grapefruits.

Havelock gave Darius a nudge, looking impressed. “I don’t know who this bloke is, but I certainly wish we’d had him with us at Waterloo. Boney would have pissed himself.”

Some of the other gentlemen in the room appeared to be close to doing that, themselves. They had nervously taken a few steps back from the dangerous-looking man in the turban.

Darius tapped his finger on the armrest of his chair. “What else would you expect from a courtesan as experienced as Lady Night? She’s bound to have a bodyguard or two in her employ. And this one looks as if he could take on ten men without breaking a sweat.”

“So right,” Havelock agreed. “Best not to upset him, I suppose. So when Lady Night and her new protégée appear, try to act like a gentleman.”

“Don’t I always, when dealing with the fairer sex?” he asked.

“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?” Havelock said wryly.

Darius quirked a brow. Just because he didn’t offer to marry any of the women who gave themselves willingly to him for a night of passion, didn’t mean he treated them with anything less than respect.

And he always paid for their carriage ride home in the morning.

The bodyguard clapped his massive hands twice. In a booming voice, accented with the inflections of a far off land, he announced, “Gentlemen, may I present to you, Lady Night.”

At that, the lady in question made her entrance, drawing appreciative murmurs and applause from the gentlemen present. She wore a gown of pale lavender silk, her arms clad in white gloves that stretched to the elbow. She fairly dripped in sparkling diamonds and amethysts. Her face was mature, but exquisitely beautiful. It wasn’t difficult to imagine emperors and princes falling at her feet, which, apparently, more than a few had done.