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

“Handsome woman,” Havelock said. “Didn’t you say you’d met her once before, Dare?”

“Yes, in Bath, just before the war,” he answered.

Though Lady Night had been attached to a rich Marquess at the time, the beautiful courtesan had flirted with an impoverished young earl named Darius Manning who was about to go off and fight Napoleon. She had even let him taste a kiss or two, completely free of charge. When he’d left that soiree, he’d felt like a king. The memory of her kiss had sustained him on more than one occasion during his darkest days in the war. For that, he would always thank her.

A mature woman, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. Though a few strands of grey appeared in her chestnut hair, it seemed to compliment the planes of her face—the high cheekbones, the intelligent blue eyes and full mouth. Legend had it she was now one of the richest women in the Kingdom; some of her fortune acquired through the generosity of her benefactors, and some through clever investments. Either way, Lady Night was a woman to remember. If her new protégée was anything like her, Dare mused, the men of London were about to be set into a tailspin from which they would never recover.

Lady Night flashed an entrancing smile at her guests in the packed salon. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming to my little soiree this evening. I am delighted that you have chosen to attend what surely proves to be the most unforgettable night of the Season. Though I have tried to keep news of my protégée under wraps, there has been much speculation about her existence in the press, no doubt which many of you have read. Why, a recent article in
The Sentinel
advised ladies of the
ton
to insist that their husbands remove themselves to the country, so as to protect them from this corrupt creature of Lady Night’s creation. One article even suggested a most dreadful course of action: fleeing to the wilds of Scotland for safety!”

At this, robust laughter rolled through the crowd.

One man yelled out in a thick Scottish brogue, “I hail from Scotland, Lady Night, and I can tell ye, a Londoner would nae be safe up there, except for ye and yer bonnie lass we’ve come ta see!”

More chuckles sounded at this, and Lady Night joined in as well. “Indeed,” she said. “A rather drastic scheme. And why? To deny you, the most powerful men in the kingdom, the chance to make the acquaintance of a beautiful, educated, fascinating young woman—a woman who is unlike any you have met before. Be warned, she is fiercely independent, highly intelligent, and selective. She knows what she wants and will settle for nothing less. On top of all that, she is a virgin…as yet untouched by the passion of a man, but skilled in the knowledge of how to stoke that fire. I know this description will alarm some of the gentlemen here tonight,” she said, with a sly look in her eyes, “but to the right man, one who is truly worthy of this exquisite creature’s company, these will be attributes that will increase the pleasure—and yes, gentlemen, there will be
much
pleasure—of their association.”

Lady Night paused a moment, seeming to size up each man in the crowd before she continued.

“Before I introduce you to my new friend,” she continued, “I ask that you remember two things: please keep the fisticuffs to a minimum, and duels, if they must be fought tonight, should be conducted on the East Lawn.”

“That was quite the sales pitch,” Havelock said in a low voice. “I particularly liked the closing remarks. Genius, really.”

Darius glanced at his friend, and said, “The thing about it is, if this girl is half as good as her predecessor, there might indeed be a duel on the East Lawn.”

“Did you bring your pistol?” Havelock asked casually.

“Of course, but I won’t be needing it,” Darius said. “I can outbid every man here.”

“Even our friend, the Duke of Balfour?”

“Even him, though I should much prefer the excuse of shooting him,” Darius answered.

“Balfour hates to lose. You might require that pistol after all,” Havelock pronounced.

Darius raised a brow. “Be glad I’m a crack shot. As my second, you will only have to stand there and look pretty. Much as you did at Waterloo.”

“Ha, ha,” Havelock said, dryly. “If they only knew how many times I saved your sorry arse from Boney’s cronies, not to mention Balfour’s idiot regiment.”

Darius grinned, but didn’t reply. He and Havelock had both saved each other’s hides during the war. They had lost count who had saved whose more often. By Darius’ calculations, they were tied, though Havelock liked to insist he was ahead by one.

“And now, gentlemen, Your Grace,” Lady Night nodded at the Duke of Balfour, as he was the highest ranking peer in attendance. The King had promised to come, but his current mistress, Lady Conyngham, had apparently put up quite a fuss at the suggestion. “I give you, the Incomparable Serena….”

A hush descended upon the room as a figure appeared at the top of the wide staircase. Clad in a shimmering golden gown, she stood for a moment, as if she were in no hurry to even acknowledge the throng of salivating men who awaited her on the salon floor. Glittering diamonds adorned her ears and neck, with one magnificent teardrop pendant hanging enticingly between the tops of her creamy, full breasts. Beautiful, thick auburn locks crowned her head in an intricate arrangement, interwoven with gleaming white pearls. Finally, this woman—whom the most powerful men in London had come to see—faced her audience in the salon below.

Darius stared up at her and almost dropped his champagne flute onto the marble the floor.

“Sweet Christ,” he growled. “
It’s her
.”

Chapter 2

“When making the acquaintance of a new gentleman, the courtesan should take pains not to seem too interested in anything the man is saying, but instead should cultivate a distance and aloofness that would befit a queen…”

– from Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

“Her?” Havelock almost choked on a grape. “Her who? You mean the courtesan?”

“Otherwise known as Miss Serena Ransom,” Darius said. He struggled to control himself as he watched the beautiful vision descend the staircase with all the grace and poise of a princess. But she was no princess—she was a bloody courtesan! And she was advertising her wares to every man in this room in the hopes of snaring the highest bidder.

And most impressive wares they were, too, Darius thought. Lord knew, the memory of sampling them still burned in his mind…and in his loins. The full, pouting mouth that begged to be devoured, the soft, glowing skin that made a man feel desperate to touch, and the bewitching, cat-like green eyes that challenged one to unlock the mystery of the woman that dwelled within.

Darius could only imagine how those natural attributes had been refined under the tutelage of Lady Night. If Serena had been unforgettable before, she would be even more so now.

Which was only one of the reasons Darius had to have her as his own.

And have her, he would.

His very salvation depended upon it.

Darius glanced about the room. Most of the other men here looked as if they were thinking the same thing he was. Well, they would all be terribly disappointed. He had lost Serena once, due to circumstances beyond his control, and he’d be damned if he’d let any of these men so much as think about touching her.

Havelock popped a raspberry in his mouth. “Call me as daft as George the third, but I think perhaps you should have married this girl instead of Miss Barton.”

Darius glared at Havelock. “You know perfectly well why I married Henrietta. And it
was
a love match—at least from her point of view. Now, I’ll have you say no more about my late wife, if you please. Else the two of us can make use of the East Lawn.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Darius. I’ve no wish to stand as target practice for you this evening, or any other. Oh look, the beautiful Miss Ransom approaches.” Havelock grinned. “I can hardly wait to see this.”

* * *

Serena closed her ivory fan and tapped it flirtatiously against her chin as she made her way through the crowd to meet yet another of her gaping admirers.

“Why, Lord Bainbridge, I had no idea you were interested in botany. I have so many questions for you, as it is a great passion of mine as well. You will find time to speak to me about it later, won’t you?” She touched his arm and looked full into his eyes. “I shall be crushed if you do not.”

Lord Bainbridge seemed at a loss for words as he bent forward and kissed the back of Serena’s gloved hand. “Of course, my dear. I should like nothing more than to discuss our mutual passions.”

Lady Devlyn smiled, ushering Serena slowly through the throng of enthusiastic men. As soon as Serena had finished making the acquaintance of one, there were two more at her elbow, fighting over who was to be next.

“May I introduce Sir Radcliffe Parry…”

“Viscount St. Albans…”

“The Marquess of Summerton…”

All of them bowed and reverently kissed Serena’s hand, as if she were a visiting queen from a far off exotic land. In each of their eyes she saw something different. In some there shone awe at her beauty, in some she saw unadulterated lust, and in others, heartbreaking loneliness. But each gentleman had one thing in common—they all wanted something from her. Desperately, it seemed.

Serena turned toward the next gentleman to be introduced.

“The Earl of Kane.”

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. She was aware of the blood pounding heavily in her veins, and a hint of nausea pooling in her belly. Serena took a deep breath, taking quick rein of her wildly spinning emotions.

For the one man she had never wished to see again stood before her now, looking as wicked and dangerous as her tortured heart remembered.

Darius
.

He stared down at her coolly, his dark blue eyes giving away nothing. He was dressed for a night in a gaming hell. His well-cut superfine jacket in somber black contrasted with a rich, silver and black brocade vest and snow-white French linen shirt. His intricately tied neck cloth resembled froths of cream atop a decadent dessert. A heavy gold and ruby ring adorned the pinky finger of his left hand—worn by the earls of Kane for centuries. Everything about his appearance personified power—the kind men were careful not to provoke, and which women wished desperately to arouse.

His raw sexuality cast a powerful spell about him, like a net that effortlessly caught any woman he desired. It had certainly worked on her that fateful night at the Telford Ball.

“Lord Kane,” Serena said, meeting his gaze with her own. She held out her hand to be kissed.

Slowly, skillfully, Darius took her hand in his. Serena felt the heat of his strong, capable hands penetrate through her thin satin gloves. She remembered all too well exactly what those hands felt like as they had once roamed over her skin in the cool night air, making her quiver with wanton passion.

She also remembered how she hated him.

He bent to place a kiss upon her hand, but stopped a few inches away from the barrier of her glove. His lips hovered there for what seemed like an eternity, at least to Serena. He looked up at her then, a wicked glint in his blue eyes. “Miss Ransom, it is
always
a pleasure.” With that he sensuously pressed his lips to her hand.

An infuriating bolt of heat snaked up her arm from where his mouth touched her.

Darius released her hand, and Serena realized too late that her breaths were coming short.

“My dear, you know Lord Kane?” Lady Devlyn asked smoothly. But in fact, she knew exactly how well they’d once known each other, and the terrible price Serena had paid for their association. But she pretended otherwise for the benefit of her guests, saying, “I had no idea you two were acquainted.”

Darius replied casually, “I was fortunate enough to meet Miss Ransom two seasons ago. Perhaps she does not remember me.”

Serena smiled back, icily. After all Lord Kane had put her through, he dared to act as if he had never broken her heart, let alone ruined her reputation. “I do recall our meeting, my lord,” she answered. “As I remember, I had lost a personal item which you gallantly helped me to recover.”

Her silk stocking had somehow ended up hanging from the branch of a tree in the darkened garden. In fact, she remembered quite clearly Miss Barton pointing at it and shrieking in horror where it fluttered above Lord Kane’s head.

He gave a little bow. “Ah, yes. I was glad to be of service to you that night.”

“I am sure,” Serena replied, flatly.

Darius indicated the gentleman standing next to him. Where Darius was dark and dangerous, his friend’s sandy blond hair and hazel eyes seemed to impart a more affable air. “May I present to you, Major Havelock Price.”

“Major,” she said in greeting.

Major Price grinned warmly. “Miss Ransom.” He kissed her hand with gusto. “You are as beautiful as you are gracious.”

She inclined her head and favored him with a smile. “Thank you. And now if you will excuse me, I must greet my other guests.”

Darius gave a curt bow as Serena turned away. Soon he had disappeared into the throng of men clamoring about her.

As Lady Devlyn ushered Serena toward another group, she whispered, “Well done, my dear. You gave nothing away. And I am sure Lord Kane is quite curious as to how you kept your composure, considering your history together.”