His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) (26 page)

With a resigned expression, Caro gathered her shawl about her shoulders. “It is not me you disappoint, Serena, but yourself, I fear.” She kissed Serena’s cheek before turning to depart. But at the door, Caro stopped and pulled an envelope from the pocket of her skirt. “I almost forgot, this came for you at the house this morning.”

Serena accepted it, turning it over in her hand. There was no indication of who had sent it.

“Think about what I have said, Serena. I shall return tomorrow afternoon with the children, as usual.” With that, Caro departed, leaving Serena standing alone in the little cottage.

Now, along with the ticking of the clock, the beating of Serena’s heart made a similar staccato. She sat down on the sofa, for in truth, she felt weak from the emotional exchange with her old friend. A sick feeling swirled in Serena’s stomach. She had not felt this ill since the night of the Telford Ball.

When Darius had seduced her.

When Darius had betrayed her.

When Darius had set them all on a collision course for disaster.

What did it all mean?

In less than a week, her time with Lord Kane would be over. Serena would leave Manning Park, never to return.

Absently, she opened the note, expecting to see another gossipy message from Lady Devlyn. She had received several since coming to Manning Park.

But it was not from Lady Devlyn.

It was from the man who was contracted to be her next lover, the Duke of Balfour.

Chapter 20

“
Occasionally toward the end of a contract, the protector may take it into his head to propose marriage to his courtesan. If this should happen, do the following: give him a good slap, a whiff of smelling salts, and call a doctor.”

–from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

Darius walked through the grand foyer of Manning Hall, toward the opulent drawing room. His mother had invited him for tea, as was her custom when her son was in residence at the Park.

He was late. But that was not what his mother would comment upon. She would notice his rough-hewn jacket and dusty boots—hardly the proper attire for an earl, she would say.

Darius had spent most of the day meeting with farmers from the adjacent lands of the estate. He refused to dress the part of the high and mighty earl when working with his tenants. As he had seen firsthand during the war, the troops usually had much more respect for their commanding officers when they were as dusty and dirty as the foot soldiers themselves. It was the newly arrived officers from England, boots and buttons gleaming, that no one would listen to.

Darius was pleased. Things were going very well on the estate. The farmers had enjoyed a plentiful harvest. They had enough grain to last through the winter, as well as to plant in the spring. Large yields of apples and root vegetables would be put into cold storage. The cattle, pigs and sheep were fat and happy. Even the poultry looked plump.

Darius had only to convince his mistress to stay with him, and his life would be perfect.

As he stepped into the red drawing room, he saw his mother look up from her needlework.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Uncle Dare!” Evan and Annabelle cried, dashing across the room before launching themselves into his open arms.

“Caroline, do endeavor to control your children in my presence,” the Dowager Countess of Kane snapped.

“I apologize, Mama,” Caro said quickly, rushing over to admonish her children. They hung swinging from Darius’s arms like monkeys in a tree. “Evan, Annabelle—get down at once! That is not how you greet your uncle, the earl.”

Darius reluctantly let his sister pull her clinging children off him.

“I think it is time my grandchildren retired to the nursery, Caro. I tire of their presence,” Lady Kane said.

Caro obeyed, and called for the nurse to come and usher Evan and Bella upstairs.

Lady Kane was a very critical woman. She always had been. But she seemed to take a perverse delight in criticizing her daughter, above all others. As Caro resumed her needlework, the dowager countess shot her a disapproving look. Her blue eyes, the same that her offspring had inherited, seemed always to be judging everyone and finding them wanting.

As if it were a great favor to her son, she offered her cheek to be kissed in greeting. As usual, Darius dutifully followed suit. The dowager looked him up and down. “You could have at least changed. Your boots are a disgrace, Darius. I have no doubt that you shall ruin the carpet.”

He made a little bow. “My apologies, Mama. It could not be helped. I have come directly from meetings with our tenants to the south. As the work entails inspecting each man’s lands and livestock, I must dress accordingly. Please do not concern yourself with something as trivial as my wardrobe.”

He looked for somewhere to sit, but could find nothing he wouldn’t ruin. A decorative cloth was draped over the pianoforte. As if reading his mind, Caro handed it to him. He placed it over a finely-upholstered chair before sitting down upon it.

The aging butler, Kilstrom appeared in the doorway. He had been with the family for decades, but strangely, looked exactly the same as when Darius and Caro had been children. “Tea, Ma’am.”

“Put it here, Kilstrom,” Lady Kane directed, indicating a low mahogany table nearby. Even that was said with a short tone in her voice, as if the butler should have known exactly where his mistress would want the tray to be placed.

But that was life here at Manning Hall. The dowager countess found fault with almost everything and everyone around her.

Which was probably why Darius chose to stay at the cottage when he came home.

The butler nodded and took his leave. Lady Kane barked over her shoulder, “Caro, come here and pour your brother a cup of tea.”

“I can pour it myself, Mama.” Darius made to get up.

“Certainly not! As long as you force me to be mistress of this house, I will uphold the social customs of the Manning family to the letter.”

Darius mouthed a ‘thank you’ to his sister as she poured his tea and handed it to him. “Whatever do you mean by that—
forcing
you to be mistress here?” he asked his mother.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Must I explain it to you?”

“If you would, yes.” He reached for a scrumptious-looking sugar biscuit.

“You are without a wife, Darius,” she explained. “And a man without a wife is a man without an
heir
. You have a duty to uphold, and do not try and tell me you are still grieving over Henrietta. The girl was completely mad. I urge you to make a more careful choice with your next bride.”

Darius took a deep breath, forcing himself to control his temper. Even so, he spoke in a low, warning voice to her. “Henrietta was many things, Mama. And as difficult as she may have been, it is thanks to her that we are still sitting here in Manning Hall and not living in a crofter’s cottage. I wonder how you can keep forgetting that.”

It was a curious thing. After they had received the financial settlement from Henrietta’s father, the Dowager Lady Kane conveniently forgot how dire their situation had been.

Lady Kane paused for a moment, clearly shocked. She was not accustomed to being argued with, by anyone. “How dare you speak of those circumstances to me?”

“I speak of those circumstances because they are the truth,” he replied. “And because I choose to. As the seventh Earl of Kane, it is my right to speak freely in my own house.”

His mother’s eyes shone with anger. “And as the Dowager Countess of Kane, it is my right to remind my son of his duty to take another bride. You have spent all summer in London. Do not tell me that you could not have found a suitable girl by now.”

He shrugged, saying, “Perhaps I have.”

Both Caro and the dowager’s heads abruptly swung to stare at him.

“Who is she?” his mother demanded, raising a quizzing glass to her eye. “Is she of good breeding?”

“The daughter of a viscount,” Darius replied, trading a meaningful look with Caro.

“What is her name?” Lady Kane demanded.

“I would rather not say at this point,” he replied, “so as not to get your hopes up.”

His mother frowned, but wisely did not push the matter. “And what of her appearance? Is she fair of face and figure?”

“Very fair, indeed. Beautiful, in fact,” Darius said.

“Well,
that
I approve of. Your first wife was rather plain,” the dowager said, curtly. “If I must look at your children, I would rather gaze upon pleasant-featured faces. Where does she reside?”

“She lives nearby,” he replied.

Caro almost choked on her tea. If his sister had any doubt before, she knew now of whom Darius spoke.

Serena Ransom.

His courtesan.

Living in the little cottage just over the hill.

“When will I meet your prospective bride?” the dowager asked.

“Hopefully, before the end of the week,” Darius said.

His mother seemed pleased with that.

But she would not be so pleased when she realized who he intended to take as his wife and countess. She would most likely throw a fit of epic proportions. She might even take to her sickbed, to punctuate the dramatic effect.

Darius did not care.

He had paid his dues.

He had sacrificed himself once before for the good of this family, and he was not going to do it again. This time, when he married, it would be to a woman of his choosing. He could imagine no other woman as his wife but one—a flame-haired temptress who ignited his desire like no other, who made him laugh with her sharp wit, and who challenged him intellectually.

Serena.

When he had brought her to Manning Park three weeks prior, he’d planned to seduce her anew with the genteel beauty of his estate, with the quiet pace of life in the country, and with the freedom of life away from the prying eyes in London.

Little did he know he would succeed in another seduction, this one unplanned—that of he, himself.

Certainly, he had desired Serena before, with great intensity. But living with her here, in the majesty of Manning Park, he had realized what he had always truly known, deep down. He wanted her not only as his lover, but as his countess, as his partner, as the mother of his children. For he could imagine no other.

Devil take it, she was his courtesan, but she had been a virgin when he first bedded her. It was no different than what transgressed between husband and wife. Certainly, their past association had been marred with scandal, but here on his estate where he was master, who would care?

He felt no need to impress the neighboring nobility, who, incidentally, were all of lower rank than he. They would not dare to openly criticize him or his wife.

At Manning Park, he had fallen for Serena all over again, and in ways he could never have predicted. Watching her as she played with his niece and nephew kindled a deep, abiding admiration for her. With Annabelle and Evan she gave her all, running and chasing them until her face was flushed and she was out of breath, then collapsing on the grass as the children piled on top of her, giggling uncontrollably.

This was a woman born to be a mother.

Unlike his own mother, Serena was unafraid to be touched by a child’s less-than-spotless hands. She actually enjoyed the company of children. And he knew for a fact that his niece and nephew adored Serena. They had not felt the same toward Henrietta, who was much more like his mother in that regard. She had found children distasteful and bothersome.

Before Darius had taken Serena to Manning Park, Havelock had asked him about his plans regarding his beautiful mistress. In truth, Darius hadn’t known what he would do when their contract neared its end. At the very least, he’d hoped he would be able to convince her to enter into another contract as his courtesan.

But these past three weeks together made everything crystal clear. Here at his family estate, he’d gotten a glimpse of the real Serena, not just the well-trained courtesan she played in Town.

What she didn’t know was that Serena Ransom—the real woman—was even more irresistible than the skilled seductress she had learned to become. He wanted her now more deeply, more completely than ever. He wanted more than just a sexual partner. He wanted Serena as his partner for life.

He simply had to convince her that she wanted him for the same reason.

“Darius,” his sister asked. “Might I have a word in the library?”

“What is it, Caro?” Lady Kane inquired, nosily.

“Nothing of import, Mama,” Caro replied. “I require Darius’s advice regarding the children’s upbringing, in my husband’s stead. I know how you sometimes find the subject tedious. I merely wish to spare you.”

The dowager raised an eyebrow. “You are correct. I do find the topic of your children, given your propensity for nattering on about them, wearisome at best. Do retire to the library for such a discussion. I will return to my needlework.”

Caro gave a brittle smile. “Of course, Mama.”

Darius led the way down the hall to the library. Their father had been a scholar, as well as an architect. The vast number of volumes he had acquired over his lifetime lined the walls.