The Duke's Wager (25 page)

His reflections were rudely cut off when he entered the small hallway and heard a babble of voices. There was much laughter and giggling coming from the small sitting room to his left and, without a pause, he strode in the doorway, stopping the voices short. He looked at the assemblage before him with surprise. He had thought that Maria would still be in bed. Certainly, he had never known any of his mistresses to be early risers. But there, seated comfortably in the room, was Maria, in somewhat sloppy disarray, he thought fastidiously, her ample form carelessly wrapped in a feathered dressing gown, and her companions were two older, brilliantly dressed, highly made-up women.

One, a spectacularly raddled blonde with enormous black eyes, he immediately recognized as Lilli Clare, who was, if his memory served, the long-time consort of an elderly infirm Baron of his acquaintance. The other, a tiny curly-headed brunette, was Genevieve Crane, a giddy young woman whom he himself had enjoyed under his patronage a year or two ago. They looked up at him like guilty children, startled at his presence.

He had interrupted their poor version of morning tea, he imagined. He had blundered into one of their cozy chats. He had not thought of them as having a life apart from his nocturnal visits. But he shrugged and allowed himself to smile as he looked at them. After all, he thought with some charity, it was, for the time being, Maria’s house, and she had no way of knowing that he was returned to town. It was not as if she were being unfaithful to their bargain; no male was present. And though he might deplore her choice of companions in his absence, it was really none of his business. As she would soon be none, either.

“Sinjin,” she cried, gathering her gown together, “you did not tell me you were in town. It is too bad of you,” she went on, giving her rapt companions furious looks and little waving motions of her hands.

Catching her eye, they rose promptly and, muttering little apologies, gathered up their belongings and left with admirable speed, leaving only a potpourri of assorted heady scents behind them.

“I had not planned to return so soon,” he said casually, flinging off his cape, “but a certain change in plans has occurred.”

She eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, and then, allowing her dressing gown to fall open more fully, walked toward him with the slow, seductive walk he had found so entrancing before and now watched only with amusement as he saw how her rather elongated breasts moved independently of each other as she paced toward him. Too much, he thought to himself, eyeing her rounded abdomen and the deeply defined bulge of her pubis. She wrapped two arms around his neck and sighed into his ear, “But
such
a pleasant surprise, St. John, such a pleasant surprise.”

He took her arms away from his neck and stood back, looking at her sympathetically. All the mystery of her, he found, was gone. He could only feel a certain small sorrow for the confused looking woman who surely was running to a premature stoutness, and whose fading dark good looks would soon take her to other sorts of establishments, far from this fashionable street.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “it is not too pleasant a surprise.” He withdrew a check from his inner pocket and laid it in her hands. “I’m afraid,” he went on, “that my plans have changed in many ways, and that you will have to find a new abode. But you will see that I have been generous, and that you have profited from our acquaintance.”

She looked, unbelieving, at the paper in her hands.

“But it’s only been a few weeks,” she shrilled. “You haven’t even given me a chance! It’s not fair. I’ve hardly even settled in. I haven’t shown you all that I can do…there’s lots more I can do,” she continued, but he put up his hand.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, and turned from her to look out the window.

“If it’s the ladies who were here this morning,” she said hurriedly, “well, you never told me I couldn’t have in a few friends. We weren’t talking about you really. We were just chatting. They are my neighbors, and all we do is chat.…
”

“It’s not that”, he said in a bored voice. “It’s only over, Maria. I ask that you remove yourself before the day is out.”

“What have I done?” she wailed. “What will people think, you tossing me out so soon?”

“Say what you will about that,” he said. “Blame it on my well-known capriciousness. But remove yourself from the premises, Maria. Our association is over.”

But Maria Dunstable had been around the course too long not to know that her dismissal, so soon after her having acquired such a choice place, would look bad. And she was growing a little too old to be able to bounce back easily. She, too, had seen all the signs of her looks’ decline. She, too, had seen the inevitable signs of where her path would soon lead her, and had been ecstatic at having attracted the interest of a fashionable parti like the Marquis. Her rage and disappointment got the better of her innate good sense, and she did what she knew was unforgivable in a woman of her trade. She lost her temper.

“You poxy bastard!” she shrieked, losing all the soft-throaty cadence to her voice that she hoped she was famous for. “All right, I’ll go, but it won’t be a hardship. I’d rather sell it to a spotty grocer boy in the streets than put up with your fumbling grunting any more. I’ve had better. I’ve had ones who could make me feel something, too! Even poor Lilli’s palsied old man can do it better! And even Genevieve’s better off. She had you and she don’t regret losing you! Not for a minute! I’ve had schoolboys who were—”

But he cut her off by turning and dealing her a hard slap across her face. White-faced, he gritted his teeth. “You will leave, Maria,” he said coldly.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. She had slipped. He would never recommend her to his friends. He would call her a common doxy. She would never again have the comfort of her own apartment, she would have to work in a houseful of women, and then, as the other women became younger and more desirable, she would have to take to the streets. The enormity of her crime sank in slowly. She dropped to her knees and, throwing her arms around his boots, she wept, “Oh don’t be angry. Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. There was never no better than you, I swear it. I was only angry. Oh, forgive me.”

Sinjin’s lip curled in distaste. She was weeping uncontrollably into his legs. He forced himself to pat her head once. “I have forgotten it,” he said grimly. “Now go and pack before I remember again.”

When she had left the room and he could only hear her snuffling as she gathered her possessions together, he relaxed. He could see Regina here. He could see her sitting on the couch and smiling. He could hear her soft voice. Feel her lips. He thought of the evenings they could spend here, talking, playing at cards, discussing.… He caught himself up short and frowned. Daydreaming about a mistress who would talk and play cards with him? This was a flight of fancy, indeed! And yet, he remembered that there were those of his acquaintance whose mistresses served just such purposes. Men who maintained duel households, and seemed to treat their mistresses almost as they did their wives. There was, for example, poor foolish old Lord Reeves, whose weekly perambulations with his equally ancient mistress of many years was the cause of much amusement to all his acquaintances. For thirty years, as faithfully as a footman would wind an old clock, doddering Lord Reeves would appear to take his now senile mistress for an hour-long stroll. A mistress until death did them part, St. John thought uncomfortably.

Yet he himself had never chosen his women for anything else but sensual pleasures. The Cyprians who enjoyed his patronage were always chosen only for their face, form, or reputation. Conversation was the one thing he never attempted with any of them. But, he mused, perhaps, just perhaps, if he were to set up another household, he would in time find himself in his dotage, making his unsteady way back to this little house every week, to visit with an equally infirm Regina. The thought caused his lips to curl in an unpleasant smile. He grew impatient, and tapped one booted foot as he waited for Maria to complete her packing so that he could then lock the door behind her. The door to his, and Regina’s, new home.

When Maria had left, after giving him one long, last imploring glance, St. John let out his drawn-in breath. The fight had gone out of her. She had been docile and accepting of her fate at last. He noticed again, with distaste, as she had left, how sagging her body had been, how rumpled that face that he had found acceptable only a few weeks before. How entrancing her somewhat humid lovemaking had been. But now he could only think of clear green eyes, of a long, slender, elegant female form. Of a soft, lemony perfume.

But, looking about the house before he locked up again, he felt a tremor of unease as he thought of the other women who lived on this street. Would Regina be willing to take tea with Lilli and Genevieve, or even Maria, if she were fortunate enough to find another wealthy protector? Would she take delight in comparing notes about their noble patrons, as surely Maria and her friends were doing? What would she discuss with them? Gowns? Their past? Their men? How could she even understand them? Who would her friends be? He shrugged off the unwelcome thoughts and left the house quickly. It was done. It had been an unsettling experience, that was all. But now, at least, the house was ready.

He had planned to go to visit Melissa Wellsley next, to let her know that he was back in town, to pursue that friendship a little further. Perhaps to the furthest. For now that he had Regina, he could contemplate marriage with a clearer eye. With Regina waiting for him each night on Curzon Street, he could easily tolerate a fashionable wife raising his family away, far away, at some country address such as Fairleigh. It was part of his plan and, he reasoned, a good one. It was, after all, time that he set about the business of ordering his own house, and providing himself with an heir. He would no longer have to search about for an amiable companion, as he felt sure that the liaison with Regina would never deteriorate to something as sordid and unpleasant as his recent scene with Maria. No, he would last with her for a long time, and take his ease, at last, with a delightful companion. One he could speak with as a lady. Make love to as a courtesan. He would teach her. It was all working out so smoothly.

But still, he did not, he mused, as he walked down the street, for some reason, feel like visiting with Melissa and her delightfully anxious mama as yet. It was not yet time to send Lady Wellsley into ecstacies. He laughed to himself, wondering if all men felt that way on the eve of a serious declaration. Did they all experience this…lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of holy matrimony? No matter, he reasoned, it would be easier done on a full stomach. He would take himself off to his club for luncheon first.

But luncheon did not sit well. And even the wine he sipped tasted slightly off. He was pushing the winestain from his glass into a series of little circular patterns on the snowy cloth when he became aware of someone settling down, heavily, into a chair beside him.

“Greetings, Sinjin,” James slurred as he sat down abruptly.

St. John looked at his friend with some annoyance. James was red-faced, his eyes slightly unfocused, and his neckcloth in some slight disarray, that, along with the unavoidable fact that he had seated himself without even a polite by-your-leave, all confirmed the fact that his old friend was slightly disguised.

“At this hour?” drawled St. John, lifting an eyebrow. “Really, James, does one squalling infant reduce you to this? I confess you give me second thoughts about the delights of matrimony and patrimony, my friend.”

“Never say you’ve finally been caught, old man?” James said in delight. “Who’s the lucky lady? Do I know her?”

“No such lady as yet, not quite yet,” St. John laughed. “But how do you come to such a state, James? The sun hasn’t even begun to set and you are already in no state to be seen.”

“Not so bad as that,” James said with an attempt at bluster. “Just breached an extra bottle of wine. But I’m devilish glad to see you, Sinjin. Thought you’d rusticate forever. It’s good to see you,” he said, his round face shining. “I’ve been searching for you. It’s been dull here in Town without you.”

“Now, James,” St. John said, smiling, “I’ve known you for too long to be too touched by your welcome. What is it you want of me, old friend? No, don’t bother to protest, you are at your most charming, James, and always have been, when there is something you desire of me. Whether it was a pen wiper at school, or the name of some Cyprian when you were on the town, I do know that look in your eye.”

“Put your finger on it,” James muttered, looking around the almost deserted dining room, “That’s it exactly.”

“A pen wiper?” laughed St. John.

“Don’t play coy, you dog,” James whispered, sending out a heady breath of claret. “I need your advice…on a matter of some female.”

“Really, James,” St. John said in annoyance, “when will you begin to acquire your own amusements? It seems, no more than seems, to me that you are forever acquiring my cast-offs. And losing them as quickly as you acquire them. What became of Annabelle? I thought it was all settled with you.”

“Drank, my boy,” said James with ponderous import. “The woman drank constantly. Got sloppy about it. I had to give her a congé. But, Sinjin, you never told me about it,” he said with an accusing whisper so redolent of wine that it drove all thoughts of dessert from the Marquis’s mind.

“James,” St. John said, drawing back from his friend’s reddened face, “I only introduced you. I do not think it my obligation, or occupation to provide you with feminine companionship. Why don’t you find your own divertisements?”

“Look at me,” James said hopelessly, with wine-emboldened candor, spreading his plump hands wide. “Am I the sort to be able to dig up those dashing creatures you find with such ease? Don’t know the first thing about how to go about it.”