The Courtesan's Secret (16 page)

"Yes, well, whatever he's coming to do, he's going to have to wait," Blakesley snapped, cutting her off
again
. Blakesley really was quite a horrid man; she didn't know why she had tolerated him for as long as she had. "The points of the wager are these," Blakesley said, his mouth quite close to her ear. His breath washed over her neck and against the delicate back of her ear with alarming intimacy. She almost shivered. Almost. "If you want your pearls back, you must pursue
me
, Louisa."

"I beg your pardon?" she said, pulling away from him and his intimate breath. Unfortunately, there was not much room to move and all she succeeded in doing was to plant her shoulder firmly against his chest. He had a very hard chest.

"A wager was made today at White's. Would Lady Louisa Kirkland pursue her pearls, which are now in my possession, or would she continue in her pursuit of the Marquis of Dutton?"

"Continue?" she gasped. "At White's?"

She couldn't quite grasp it. Did all the world know of her
tendre
for Lord Dutton? She couldn't breathe. If Blakesley would only move his very hard chest away from her, she might be able to form a coherent thought.

Blakesley wasn't cooperating at all tonight, on any point.

"Listen to me, Louisa," he said, pulling her arm, the arm that was wedged against his chest, and turning her to face him. His face was very close and his eyes very blue, she did notice that through her haze of confusion. "If you want your pearls back, pursue me. I shall win them for you. The question is, do you want your pearls?"

"Of course," she said. It was the one clear thought she could formulate. "But how is this the subject of a wager? Who would make such a bet?"

"It hardly matters, does it?" Blakesley said softly, looking down at her with what she would have called tenderness on anyone else's face. On Blakesley's face, she didn't know what to call it. "Avoid Dutton for the next few days, enjoy my company as you have in the past, and the pearls are yours. Can you do it?"

"Can I do it? Of course I can do it," she snapped. "I can and would do anything to get my pearls. Melverley should never have sold them."

There were many things Melverley should not have done, as well as all the things he should stop doing immediately, but she had given up on her father long years ago.

"And what were you doing at Dalby House today?" he asked with a snarl. Blakesley was of the most uneven temper tonight. "You can't have imagined Dutton would be there."

"I imagined no such thing!" she snarled right back at him. "I do have female friends, you know."

"Not at Dalby House, you don't," he snipped.

Really, this entire conversation was devolving into the ludicrous.

It was at that moment that their conversation was blessedly interrupted. She turned to face Lord Penrith, for certainly he had made his way to them by now. Louisa wiped every trace of annoyance off her face and, flicking her rumpled curl into place, turned to face him.

She heard Blakesley snort in either amusement or derision, though she couldn't possibly have cared which.

But it wasn't Penrith with his tousled dark blond locks and green eyes who faced her. No, of course not, nothing that simple.

It was the Indian.

FROM across the salon the Marquis of Dutton watched with a careless eye the conversation between Lady Louisa and Lord Henry Blakesley. He rather suspected that Blakesley was cheating at their wager. He also, not without some vanity, thought that even cheating would not change the outcome.

Louisa Kirkland was as besotted as any woman could possibly be. He had enough experience of women to know that. Which was precisely why he was standing directly across from Mrs. Anne Warren. She might be pledged to marry the ancient Lord Staverton, but she was his for the taking. They both knew that, even if she was currently ignoring him completely.

A woman never wasted time ignoring a man she didn't want.

Anne Warren stood politely ignoring him, pretending to listen to the Duke of Calbourne go on about something, likely his latest foal, which in normal circumstances would have interested him. But these were hardly normal circumstances.

Louisa Kirkland must find him available when she rushed over to present herself in all her virginal splendor.

Anne Warren must find him irresistible so that she gave him a tumble either before or after her wedding, he hardly cared which.

And Sophia Dalby must somehow be made to stop laughing at him. She was laughing, silently to be sure, but laughing nonetheless.

He looked at her and raised a single eyebrow to lofty heights. He'd quelled more than one rebellious mare with that look.

Damned, if the woman didn't chuckle.

"Your plate is quite full, Lord Dutton," Sophia said, her dark eyes gleaming with humor. "I should not think you have the resources to take on yet another female. Best you save your censure for less experienced prey."

Upon which, Mrs. Warren turned just enough so that she fully faced Lord Iveston and presented him with her back. A lovely back it was, too. The more fully she shut him out, the more fully he knew how hungry for him she was.

He could not help but smile in anticipation.

"I do so like to see confidence in a man," Sophia said, taking a step toward him and turning slightly so that they were separated from the party made up of Lord Iveston, the Duke of Calbourne, Mrs. Warren, Lady Amelia Caversham, and Lady Jordan. Mr. George Grey, to whom he'd been introduced just a few minutes earlier, was making his way across the salon to where Louisa and Blakesley stood in heated conversation. He did not have to imagine what they were discussing.

"You do have your share and then some," she continued, forcing him to give her his full attention.

It was not difficult. Sophia Dalby was a compelling woman. She also neither avoided him nor sought him out. Clearly, she had no interest in him whatsoever. It did happen, now and again. He had learned not to take it to heart.

"I have often wondered how sturdy your confidence is, Lord Dutton," she said, taking yet another step nearer to him and giving him a wonderful view of her décolleté. He enjoyed it immensely.

"I have never had it put to the test, Lady Dalby," he said. "Would that make a good wager? You seem ever to be instigating wagers."

"I turn a profit when I can, my lord," she said cheerfully. "But I would not wager against your confidence. It is such a rare trait in a man. I should so hate to be the cause, however indirectly, of shattering it."

"Perhaps in the men of your usual acquaintance," he said, stung more than he wanted to admit by her statement, ridiculous though it was. Why his gaze turned to Anne Warren in that instant he could not have said. Well, perhaps he could, but he did not want to delve at all into that particular pond.

"I assure you, darling," she said with a soft smile, "that I am acquainted with only the best of men of the highest rank. Is tonight not proof of that?"

"And your nephew?" he asked, turning the dig back upon her. "Is he of the best and highest?"

The fellow was an American Indian, that much was obvious. It had been a surprise, certainly, but he had taken it in good step. Odd, that he had heard no rumor about Sophia's savage family tree. He had, when he had thought about it at all, assumed she was of French descent.

"The very best," she said without hesitation and with complete ease of manner, "and very nearly the highest. Iroquois, specifically Mohawk, if you are at all familiar with the tribes of North America, which of course you must be as they have ever and always played such a large and meaningful part in so many of England's various wars. England is not the only society which has an aristocracy, you realize."

Actually, he had known no such thing about Indian society, and he did not suppose he could have been expected to know. To be honest, he was not at all surprised that Sophia, no matter her background as a courtesan, was from some ancient Iroquois aristocracy.

She had always had a certain manner about her which, according to all reports, she had possessed long before marrying the Earl of Dalby.

"May I ask how you came by such a lineage, Lady Dalby? I must admit to being surprised by the connection," he said, hoping to turn the conversation away from himself and upon her. He was curious, as well. One did not meet an Indian from the forests of America every day of the week.

"Oh, the usual way, Lord Dutton," she answered sweetly. "By marriage."

"Then Mr. Grey is your nephew fully? His father...?"

"My brother," she said, nodding. "Yes, we are fully and completely and most contentedly related. Which means, you understand, that Markham, the ninth Earl of Dalby, is fully related to an Iroquois sachem as well. Did you ever think to hear it? A peer of the realm with Iroquois blood running rampant through his veins? I daresay it will do England some good, wouldn't you agree?"

He didn't particularly agree, no, but as there wasn't a thing he could do about it, he didn't waste effort in turmoil. It was one of the finest aspects of his character that he had determined from an early age what was worth spending one's time and effort on and what was not. Indians in Parliament was not. Mrs. Warren was.

Life was so simple when one had firm priorities and kept to them.

Actually, Parliament wouldn't be harmed a bit if they assumed something of his policy.

"I daresay that England will survive," he said lightly, looking over Sophia's head at the current gathering.

The room was nearly full; they would soon enter into dinner. Mrs. Warren was still with Iveston, Calbourne, and the Caversham girl, who, without any subtlety to speak of, was looking for a duke to wed. Blakesley was still with Louisa, and not making much progress by the angry looks they were exchanging.

Blakesley was one of those odd fellows who apparently couldn't find his way with a woman if he had her naked and tied to a bed. Most peculiar, and endlessly entertaining.

"There's that confidence again," Sophia said softly, waving her fan gently to move the dark curls about her face.

"A family trait," he said, giving her his full attention again.

It was hardly hard duty. Sophia Dalby was both seductive and beautiful and she possessed the added allure of knowing fully the depth of her appeal. It was, to be sure, an elegant and exotic combination of assets.

"Yes," she breathed, smiling playfully at him, "I remember."

As he had no intention of allowing the conversation to drift
there
, he said, "But what of Lady Caroline? Are she and Lord Ash-don thriving in matrimony?"

"They must be," Sophia said. "I haven't heard a word from them since they left for Chaldon Hall."

"You don't expect them to return to Town this Season?"

"Lord Dutton, I have no expectations whatsoever. Should I?"

"It is only that I perceived Mrs. Warren was something of a companion to Lady Caroline. I suppose I had wondered if she would accompany your daughter on her bridal trip."

Sophia smiled serenely, but her dark eyes were gleaming with amusement as she answered what even he could admit was a clumsy sortie into the status of Anne Warren.

"And she did not," Sophia said, looking past him to nod at someone.

Dutton would not have attempted looking behind him to see who it was, but he was tempted to do so. Something in Sophia's eyes had shifted at the nod and he was beyond curious to know who could effect such a change in her. Sophia, it could almost be said, looked suddenly predatory.

"I can see that she did not," he said pleasantly.

Sophia looked at him fully again and gave him a spectacular smile. "Mrs. Warren is such a charming companion, such a dear friend, but I do her a disservice. I consider Anne Warren a member of my family. Certainly I treat her as such."

"She is in your every confidence," he said, smiling.

Sophia laughed delicately and tapped his shoulder with her folded fan. "Darling,
no one
is in my every confidence. I have far too many confidences which must remain... confidential. I'm certain you understand."

"Fully." And he did.

Anne Warren was under Sophia's able protection, but they were not complete confidantes. That boded well for him. He had no direct wish to cross Sophia Dalby, as it was rumored by those in an acute position to know that she was a ruthless adversary, yet it was entirely possible that he could seduce Anne Warren without Sophia being privy to the act.

It was an entirely reasonable supposition and he was entirely committed to acting upon it. While managing a flagrant Louisa Kirkland, he would bed Anne Warren.

Simplicity itself.

OF course it should have been the most simple thing in the world, but it wasn't, and Amelia Caversham was getting so very tired of trying. Here she was, face-to-face, and looking quite marvelous, truth be told, with two,
two
, dukes or nearly dukes and she could barely keep them looking in her direction.

One of
them
being the Duke of Calbourne, a highly eligible duke of rather remarkable good looks and perhaps of slightly more than desirable height; but, he did have a son, which proved he could do the deed. She had heard a rather interesting rumor that the Earl of Summerlund was not up to that sort of performance, the result being that his wife, who was a full year younger than Amelia, had been forced,
forced
, to make good use of the head groom.