A Haughty Courtesan, page 5
“What is so wrong about that?” he asked.
“Were you not listening?” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I look dull and boring.”
Even though William found her behavior amusing, he suppressed his laughter. He did not want to encourage her behavior. Beatrice was not a child anymore.
“Manners, Beatrice,” he said sternly. “You know Mother will box your ears if she heard you.”
She gave him an open-mouthed grin in the mirror and ignored William’s disapproving stare.
“She will not hear anything unless her favorite child rats me out.”
William was the eldest son and the heir. He had to receive more lessons in decorum and proper behavior than his siblings and he did not like them one bit, but he never complained, so no one knew what he really thought about the extra attention.
“There is no favorite child,” William said. “She loves us equally.”
Sometimes, he wished he could talk about his feelings with his siblings. He wished he could tell them being the eldest son was not a blessing. He wanted to share with them the burdens he had to carry on his shoulders. But he knew he had to set an example and that’s why his lips remained sealed.
“Then how come I am always the one getting an earful from her and not you?” Beatrice asked.
He smiled at his sister and shook his head in disbelief. Only if she knew how much he struggled to remain in good graces with their parents. They believed handling family business was easy for him, but they did not know how tiresome it could get sometimes.
“I try not to give her a reason,” William said. “That’s why.”
Beatrice turned towards him with her hands placed on her hips, narrowed eyes and leaning slightly at her waist.
“You are such a mama’s boy,” she said.
“That is not true,” William protested.
William was tapped on his shoulder and he turned towards his younger brother, Henry. Apparently, his baby brother could not resist watching their sister in a gown either.
Henry was a foot taller than him and had the same hair as him, but his eyes were green and his nose a bit pointed. Henry was basically the good looking one between the two brothers and that little fact was used by his brother in the form of charming ladies wherever they went.
“She decided who you will marry,” Henry said. “There is no greater proof than that, mama’s boy.”
William bristled. His siblings were ganging up on him. They had a point, but that did not mean he did not feel offended. William never disobeyed his mother’s orders nor tried to do anything against her wishes because he respected her. It certainly did not mean he was a ‘mama’s boy’.
“I did not call upon Lady Lillian nor did I sent her flowers or gifts,” William said, waving a finger to emphasize his point. “So, technically, I am not courting her... yet.”
Beatrice and Henry started laughing as he added ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence. William flushed when he realized his own mistake.
“Oh, dear brother,” Henry said, clicking his tongue. “You are such a mama’s boy that even your own mouth won’t cooperate when you try denying it.”
His siblings guffawed once again. William’s cheeks heated as the embarrassment started to settle in.
Once they had made enough fun of him, Henry turned towards Beatrice and grinned at her.
“You look like cotton candy, sister.”
Even though Henry was the one making fun of her, Beatrice still narrowed her eyes in William’s direction.
“I knew it,” Beatrice said. “I look ridiculous, but someone would not listen to me.”
William looked at Henry with a look an elder brother reserved for a sibling who was being mischievous.
“Henry, stop it,” William said. “She looks lovely.”
“She looks like those little girls who whine all the time,” Henry responded.
Beatrice started pulling the laces of her pink gown in anger. William asked her to stop, but she did not listen.
“I am coming up, children.”
The siblings straightened in an instant and all at once as they heard their mother’s voice. She was coming up the stairs.
William and Henry looked at Beatrice at the same time and were standing at her side in an instant. William tied her laces and Henry adjusted her gown. Beatrice was supposed to get ready an hour ago and if their mother saw her wasting time, Beatrice would be in huge trouble.
When their mother entered the room, the siblings were all a picture of perfect decorum and obedience.
“What were my children talking about?” their mother asked.
“William and Lady Lillian,” Henry said. “He adores her. Your choice is certainly the best.”
Their mother beamed with pride, thinking Henry was actually praising her. William was standing close to Henry and was not shortsighted like his mother, so he saw the mocking smile on Henry’s face and also saw Beatrice’s shoulders shaking in mirth.
“She is a lovely girl who knows how to behave properly,” their mother said. “I believe she will be a wonderful mother to my grandchildren and I certainly wish my son would call upon her and start courting her.”
William’s heart stopped beating. All of a sudden, his palms were clammy with sweat and his mind conflicted.
Why was the thought of fathering children with Lady Lillian making his blood run cold?
Lady Lillian had brown eyes and mousy hair, so why were the faces of a little girl with violet eyes and a boy with onyx curls popping into his head when his mother mentioned his children?
He had to stop thinking about Rose all the time. He had to know what was wrong with him. Why would he even think about Rose as a mother of his children? She was a courtesan and he was a nobleman. She talked like a noble lady, but she could never become one.
It was insanity to think of her as his wife.
“I will honor your wish this very day, Mother,” William said.
“Someone is in a hurry to see the mother of his children,” Beatrice said mischievously.
He was so far off in his head that he did not feel her elbow nudging him. The more the topic of the mother of his children was discussed, the harder it was for him to picture anyone but Rose.
“Beatrice!” his mother reprimanded Beatrice. “That is not a conversation fit for a proper lady.”
Beatrice mumbled an apology to their mother, but everyone knew she would anger her mother again before the day was over.
When they were dismissed, William knew what he had to do to. He had to call upon Lady Lillian. Once he started spending time in the company of a proper lady, the insane thoughts would stop torturing him.
He went to the stables and asked the stable master to ready the horses for a carriage. Every second counted. He could not succumb to the wishes of his heart. Rose was a courtesan and he had to keep that in mind.
On his way to the house of Lady Lillian, he stopped the carriage to pick up some flowers. It would be rude of him to call on a noble lady with empty hands.
He opened the curtains of the carriage and tapped the wall of the carriage to gain the florist’s attention.
“Show me your finest bouquet,” he said to the florist.
He picked his purse and counted the money to pay for the bouquet of flowers.
“Here, milord.”
He looked above and beheld a bouquet of red roses before him. He became speechless and went rigid. Was the universe trying to tell him something or was this a joke of nature?
“I can show you another if you want, milord,” the florist said worriedly. “I have lilies, buttercups, lavenders, jasmine.”
“This one is fine,” he said, cutting off the florist in the middle of his sentence.
He paid the florist and took the bouquet. Placing it on the bench before him, he stared at it with his mind full of conflicted thoughts.
The carriage reached a crossroad and so did his mind. One road led to Lady Lillian’s house while the other led to the brothel of Madam Olivia Dustin.
He tapped the wall of the carriage.
“Change of destination,” he said to the carriage driver.
He gave the driver the address to Madam Olivia’s house. It was the spur of the moment decision. He did not know what he was doing but hoped like hell it ended well.
Chapter 9
Rose had not expected Lord Clifford to return for weeks, so it came as a pleasant surprise for her when she was informed of his presence in the house just after three days. Even those three days were not easy on her, but she had made peace with the fact that he had his own schedule.
He was the sort of man who could not be forced into doing her bidding. She had to let him set the pace of their relationship if she wished to see him happy. That little fact had dawned upon her when he had left, and she had done a walkthrough in her head.
She was in her room, arranging tea and biscuits on the small coffee table near the hearth. She knew he would prefer talking to her rather than making love to her, so she made necessary arrangements for the comfort of both of them.
When he appeared in the doorway with a bouquet of freshly cut roses, she stood at attention and her reaction surprised her. She had meant to behave in her usual coy and coquettish manner, but one look at his face made her drop all pretenses.
“My lord,” she said and curtsied with grace.
He placed the bouquet on her dresser and came near her. He took her palm in his hand, and placed a kiss on her knuckles. The small gesture sent a thrill through her body, which came as another surprise for her. She was a courtesan and she was used to getting touched, but never had she felt such wonderful energy coursing through her with a kiss that lasted for a second or two on her gloved hand.
“My lady,” he whispered against her hand. “You look lovely as always.”
With a blushing face, she pulled her hand out of his hold and dusted unseen dirt from her elegant green gown.
“May I interest you in some tea, my lord?” she asked.
She avoided making eye contact with him lest she wished to embarrass herself.
“Yes, please,” he responded.
She dragged a chair for herself and poured the tea into two cups. He remained silent during all this time and she had a feeling he was watching her every move and her blushing cheeks were visible to him.
“So, what can I do for you, my lord?” she asked in a forced calm voice. “Or should I ask, what can I talk to you about?”
She waited for his response with eager anticipation. Even though she knew he would prefer talking to her, but a deranged part of her wished he would scoop her up in his arms and rut with her on the floor of the room or anywhere he wished.
He took his sweet time in responding and she stole a glance his way. To her dismay, he was looking out the window. She had wished his unwavering gaze would be fixated on her, but it seemed like he was not interested in her beauty and youth.
She cleared her throat. “My lord.”
“Talking would be my preferred choice for now,” he said.
She was disappointed when his gaze remained on the garden outside the window. There was no one in his line of sight so what on earth was he looking at?
What was more beautiful than the courtesan who could literally make any man eat from her hands?
“I am wounded, my lord,” she said. “Is my beauty not tempting you? Is the empty garden prettier than me?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning his face towards her. He seemed burdened. There were so many questions in his eyes. She wished she could answer all of them to his satisfaction.
“Your sheer beauty and witty banter are what brought me back so soon, my lady,” he said. “I have been thinking of nothing else since the moment I left. You occupy my every waking hour.”
If a heart could burst from happiness, then Rose would have experienced it in that moment. She had been praised for her beauty countless times by her admirers, but it was the first time she was genuinely feeling happy to hear such praise.
“Then why do you wish to speak instead of sating your desires?” she asked.
He leaned back in his chair with a frustrated sigh and looked at the ceiling.
“I am conflicted,” he said. “I was supposed to call on a lady as her potential suitor, yet here I am.”
Her heart broke. The thought of someone else in his arms made her feel possessive towards him. She had no claim over him, yet she felt like he should solely belong to her.
“You are courting someone,” she said. “I did not know that.”
“Because I never told you,” he said calmly, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.
“I wonder why that is?” she asked.
He looked towards her and cocked his head. Under his assessing gaze, she was starting to feel uncomfortable. She squirmed in her chair, wishing she had not spoken. She could feel the wheels turning in his head. He knew she was jealous of the unknown lady.
“What difference does it make?” he asked. “Do you not like the idea of another girl in my life? Or do you have a rule against men who are committed to another?”
She held her head high and swallowed the scream that wanted to tell the world she hated the idea of another girl in his life. She wished she could tell him just how much it hurt when she thought of what will become of them after he married some noble lady. She would remain here while he grew old with his wife.
“I am a courtesan, my lord,” she said. “I would not have objected even if you were married.”
Her breathing became uneven in the end when the emotions overwhelmed her. She averted her eyes when she felt moisture dancing behind her lids.
She felt rather than saw his penetrating gaze watching her. She suspected he was silent because he was giving her time to get hold of herself or so her distressed heart wished to believe.
“You spoke of freedom the last time we met,” he said, breaking the silence after a long pause. “May I ask what kind of freedom you speak of?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. No good would come of wishing for the impossible. She knew that and was ready to accept the truth.
When she opened her eyes, she was back to her normal self. She wore the mask of a skilled courtesan and pushed her own grief into a corner of her mind where it really belonged.
She spread a smile on her face she knew would slay many in their wake. She picked up the cup and saucer and sipped her tea suggestively. Batting her thick eyelashes, she leaned towards the table to pick up a biscuit and tease him with her cleavage.
When she straightened and witnessed desire burning in his eyes, she knew she had achieved her goal. His unwavering gaze was fixated on her chest.
“Society gives an unfair advantage to men, my lord,” she said. “They rule over their wives and mistresses while the women are obliged to stay in their shadow. I am free of such nonsensical obligations.”
He reluctantly lifted his gaze from her breasts towards her face, but they did not travel farther than her plump lips. She licked her lower lip and her joy knew no bounds when he crossed his legs. A maiden would have been fooled, but a skilled courtesan knew when a man was hiding his erection.
“So, what you mean to say is that you will not consider becoming a mistress of a gentleman who loves you dearly.”
She pouted her bottom lip and looked at him with fake innocence. Deep inside, she was heartbroken because he did not mention that the gentleman in question was him. She would have said yes without thinking twice if he had asked her to become his mistress.
“All my customers love me, my lord,” she said. “It would be unfair to settle down with one of them.”
“You really don’t believe in love?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
He had asked the same question with a different word choice when they strolled through the garden. She did not understand why he would insist on asking the same question from her. She had already given him a witty response then what did he wish to hear? Maybe a straightforward response was what he desired.
“Not really,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Do you not love your friends or family?” he asked.
She had no real family as far as she knew. As for friends, Rose was hated by all the girls. There was no one who wanted to spend time with her.
“I am an orphan, my lord,” she said.
“What about friends?” he asked.
She had deliberately avoided that part of his question, but he was a dog after a bone. He would approach the same question from different angles until she confessed the truth.
Conceding her defeat, she decided to tell him her real thoughts about the girls living in the house with her.
“I will befriend someone when I find one of my caliber,” she said.
“You think extremely highly of yourself,” he said.
He made a disappointed face and it just irked her. Was he not aware who was speaking to him? She was Rose. The girl who was sought after by many.
“I am the best,” she said proudly. “There is no one who can even come close to my level.”
Her chest was rising and falling when she finished her sentence. She had gotten upset more than she had realized. Her reaction was a reflex reaction to the insult she felt, but he had never seen that side of hers.
“You are the best at what?” he asked.
“At everything, my lord,” she responded immediately.
How she wished she would stop retorting without thinking, but she was helpless when it came to responding to him.
He leaned towards her over the table with a challenge in his eyes.
“Define everything?” he asked.
She saw his disappointment and it scared her. She was losing control of the situation and if the topic was not averted from her life, she might lose him, and his departure was the last thing she wanted to face.
“Can we talk about something else, my lord?” she asked.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at her with his assessing gaze, which made her extremely agitated. She felt her faults were bare to him and there was nothing she could do to rectify the situation.
