Courtesan's Kiss (7 page)

“Then we will wait until you have convinced yourself that you can stand up so that you can lie down in comfort.”

It took the better part of an hour before Nina felt well enough to move. Not five minutes after that, Mia could hear the deep breathing that meant sound sleep. Janina might think her too generous, but Mia needed her maid healthy and whole.

For a dozen reasons, but most importantly because she did not want to face Elena without Janina nearby.

Mia reached around and undid her own dress. Her singular dexterity did come in useful sometimes, like today when she had climbed up onto the driver’s box after Lord David had refused to help her.

“Che diavolo!”
Mia whispered. Janina had the ties all tangled and she would need two mirrors to see how to undo them. The room did not boast even one.

She went down to the common room, hoping to find a daughter of the house who would come up and help her.

The room smelled of hops and smoke. And men. She made no move to enter or even swish her skirts to attract attention but her one glance stilled all conversation.

That did not bother her as much as the sight of Lord David seated at a table, his newspaper announcing he did not want company. He had a private parlor, but here he sat in the common room. One would think he’d prefer solitude, rather than face the possibility of conversation when he so obviously had no skill at it.

“Is there something I can do for you, my dear?”

The gentleman who had spoken to her looked rather nice, well-dressed and well-groomed, but Mia knew better than to respond to that sort of invitation.

“No,” she said, using the imperious, queenly version of the word.

Quiet prevailed and when Lord David did look up, his bored expression conveyed his disinterest. She knew it for a sham but she also could tell that, like this morning, he would wait until the last moment to step in. Mia did not know whether to be annoyed by his lack of gallantry or pleased he thought she could handle this herself.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” She gave a vague curtsy to the room, not eyeing anyone particularly. Speaking loud enough for all to hear she went on, “I am looking for the mistress of the house. My maid has taken ill.”

Some bowed, a few only nodded, but not one of them cared about a woman with a sick maid. The gentleman who had approached her chuckled. “I’m so sorry.” His tone made a joke of it. “Why not let me escort you back to your room.”

Mia shook her head and stepped back, but the man, not a gentleman despite his dress, came out into the hallway with her.

“Perhaps we could go somewhere else.”

His tone of voice suggested something so improper that Mia did not have to pretend outrage. “No,” she said even more brusquely. “My maid is ill and if you cannot solve that problem then leave me alone.”

“Your protests charm me but they can be overdone.”

Admitting defeat and now profoundly relieved that Lord David sat nearby, she marched into the common room, over to the table where he waited, and sat down. “I need your help.”

“Hmmm” was all he said, though he did glance at her for a moment.

“Janina is sick and I need someone to help me undress.”

“But that man offered to do just that.”

She banged her fist on the table, which hurt more than she thought it would and also stopped conversation once again. She did not want the attention of anyone but Lord David. Though she whispered the words it did not diminish her rage. “Stop insulting me. Stop right now. Help me find a maid and please beat that man to a pulp.”

“Beat him to a pulp.” Lord David seemed to consider the suggestion as he eyed the room full of men, most of whom were nodding. “With pleasure, Miss Castellano.” Lord David put the paper down and took her arm, escorting her from the room.

Murmurs followed them.

“Her husband?”

“No, she would have come to him right away.”

“Her brother?”

“They don’t look alike.”

Lord David turned to the man who had been so importunate. With a speed that took everyone by surprise Lord David shot his fist into the man’s nose and then grabbed him by the cravat. “Let’s finish this outside.”

David pulled him out the door, followed by the entire population of the common room, both local and traveler alike.

“Her lover,” one of the men muttered to the others.

“May well beat her next,” another suggested.

“Neither. He’s a gent that loves a good fight and that’s all there is to it. Hurry or it’ll be over before we’re out there.”

Mia watched them leave, all their interest in her forgotten. It could be he had punched the man quite deliberately to distract the travelers from her embarrassment.

A woman came from the kitchen just as Mia remembered what had started this. She still needed someone to help her.

“Miss.” The woman introduced herself as the innkeeper’s wife.

“I do so beg your pardon, Mrs. Wills,” Mia began, but the woman seemed unperturbed by the incident.

“It happens all the time, miss. It’s good for business. Lord David will pay us for the inconvenience when, in fact, the crowd will be thirstier than ever.”

“You know Lord David?”

“That we do. He’s been traveling through here for years now. He and my son often put on amateur boxing fights. They are well matched, they are.”

Boxing! And he took offense at her behavior.

“Come along, now, miss, before they return. You say your maid is ill.”

The innkeeper’s wife entertained her with a delightful mix of caring and coarse. For the next few minutes, as Mrs. Wills untied her dress and unlaced her stays, she treated Mia to stories that made her laugh and gasp.

Mrs. Wills told her about the time that a family left one of their children behind, quite by mistake, and did not return for three days, and about the newlywed couple
who was with them now, who had broken the bed with their before-dinner use of it.

“The Belforts!” Mia exclaimed. She hoped so, though she could never, ever refer to it. Still, it would make her feel so much better. How unbelievably embarrassing.

“Discretion is an innkeeper’s most important virtue. Stories, but no names.”

Mia thought for a moment. “How many newlywed couples are guests this evening?”

“Only one,” Mrs. Wills answered with a smile that showed her crooked teeth. “I wish I could have offered you a bed for your maid,” the older woman began, deftly changing the subject, “but we are full up tonight.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I lived in Italy during the war with Napoleon and I am used to inconvenience.” Who would ever have thought that she could so casually talk about those years of deprivation and worry? “So, Mrs. Wills, now I suppose I am one of the stories.”

“Oh no, miss. The crowd in the common room came tonight because they heard that Lord David would be here and more than ready to fight. If that man had not been so rude to you, I’m sure someone else would have picked a fight with him.”

Mrs. Wills bid her good night and left Mia marveling at what men were allowed.

Mia tossed and turned, and not because of the pallet. When she had traveled with her father she had grown used to them.

Tonight had reminded her of that descent into the debacle that had been her engagement. One ill-timed kiss
had ended her engagement and jeopardized her place in society, but Lord David could start a brawl in a public place and not suffer any consequences. It was maddening and wrong.

She counted the beams in the ceiling, measured how often Janina snored, and heard when the men retired for the night—quietly enough, but the sound of their drunken steps was impossible to mask.

Quiet settled with the slam of one door and Mia wished it were as easy to close the door on what had been one of the worst chapters of her life. Bad enough to make her realize that what she had wanted so intensely was forever out of reach.

At first she made excuses for the lack of passion between her and Lord William. It didn’t matter. With him everything was so much fun, even the most mundane outing. They were
sympatico
and that would be so much more lasting than passion. It had taken her months to realize that marriage meant more than having adventures together.

The realization came one day at the Pennistan house in Richmond.

They had all been at dinner for hours and clearly had spent too much time with the children earlier in the day. When the duke’s brother Gabriel had suggested charades, everyone agreed instantly, except for the duke and Lord David. As a result, both of them felt the brunt of merciless teasing for their lack of good humor.

The duke stood and waited for them to quiet down. Mia expected him to insist they observe more decorum.

“Before the evening descends to a level suitable for the nursery, I have an announcement,” he began.

They all sobered. The duke was not smiling.

“God willing, the duchess and I will welcome a new addition to the family within five months.”

No one said a word. The duke’s first wife had died in childbirth. Though he tried to smile as he spoke, Mia could see that the all-powerful Duke of Meryon was afraid.

The duchess herself had smoothed over the awkward moment. Elena hurried from her spot at the other end of the table, pulled her husband close, and kissed him soundly.

His brothers cheered. His sister, Olivia, called out, “It’s wonderful news, Lyn!” Everyone rose to their feet, toasting the couple with the last of their wine. William bolted from his spot, shook hands with the duke, and kissed the duchess on the cheek.

That gesture reminded Mia of the blood relationship Elena and William shared: aunt to nephew, despite their closeness in age. They, too, were family.

Not a one of them shared their excitement with her. Yes, it was Elena’s moment, but William showered all his attention on her aunt and never once looked at Mia or gave any sign that this was a future they would share, too.

Mia had never felt so much an outsider, so unnecessary. She had no place in this family, any more than she had ever been part of any family. Not since her mother had died.

Mia pushed the thought to the back of her mind that
evening. Elena looked positively radiant and Mia gave her own best wishes to her guardian with sincerity.

The rest of the evening was vastly entertaining. Lord Gabriel’s crazy gyrations called for laughable guesses from all of them. Mia was inordinately pleased that she guessed which line from Shakespeare he pulled from the box: “What light through yonder window breaks?”

Her natural inclination to theatrics made her own “Out, damned spot” much easier.

When they were drinking tea, Elena had asked her to play the pianoforte for them. But it had been so long since she had been near one that she had declined. Elena had chastised William for not giving Mia time to practice. William had shrugged off the comment, insisting that listening to someone play an instrument was boring, and the subject was forgotten. By everyone but Mia.

As she brushed her hair that night, the truth about her engagement came to her with a clarity she had never before recognized. A lifetime of tribulations, disappointments, trials, and even death marked a marriage. An unselfish love made it worth the effort; passion made it a worthy adventure.

She did not know if William loved her that way, or if she truly loved him with the kind of passion that existed between the duke and Elena. Having fun and being in love were two different things.

She had tried to talk to Elena about it, but her guardian knew such deep love that she insisted the connection grew stronger with marriage and every day, and
night, thereafter. That assumed the right sort of love existed in the first place.

The fact William found listening to music boring haunted her. He would move restlessly around the room while she did her best to entertain him. Finally she realized, with profound disappointment, that he would never grow to share her love of music.

From then on Mia tested William. Tested his love, wondering where William hid the passion he showed for the adventures that were his idea of a good life, and if his passion was for her or for the adventures they shared.

And she began to practice the pianoforte alone. He had not reacted with anything more than easy amusement, leaving her to play while he spent the time at his club or at Jackson’s.

When she danced more than once with the same man, William teased her about her weakness in arithmetic. When she walked on the terrace with an older gentleman, William found them and suggested that she come back inside as the night promised a storm, even though the sky showed the moon and stars. That was the closest he came to acting the jealous fiancé.

He ignored her trifling indiscretions until that evening with the son of the Duke of Hale, when she went one step too far and William and Lord David had found them. Within days her world changed forever. She’d wondered, more than once, if William would have cared at all if Lord David had not been with him.

At night, alone with her thoughts, the past haunted
her. The embarrassment she had caused, the hurt she had suffered.

At first Mia had been shocked at the way the ton had shunned her when she and William were no longer together.

She had tried so hard to belong. Anger soon followed. The last straw came when she was not even invited to a musicale, much less asked to play. Music should transcend rank and, even here, the ton had turned their collective back to her.

That night Mia began to consider a life that was not dependent on anyone else’s whim or want. It had only been a way to escape the pain at first, but it was growing more and more real every day.

She fell asleep, awash in self-pity, desperate to find a way to live life on her terms.