The Courtesan's Secret (2 page)

"No," Sophia said in obvious amusement, "you don't have to tell
me
."

Obviously not, as Sophia, somehow, had orchestrated the entire shameless event. Shameless, yes, but so very to the point. Caroline, Sophia's daughter, had in a single evening, acquired three very likely men: the Lords Dutton, Blakesley, and Ashdon. Each man had presented her with a pearl necklace, and each man had sought her favors, shamelessly and ruinously. The obvious problem being that Caroline had not been ruined in any meaningful sense of the word. No, Caroline had made her choice, the handsome though somber Lord Ashdon, and she had been married to him the very next morning. It was perfectly obvious to Louisa that Caroline had married the man she'd wanted and that she'd arranged things perfectly to get him.

It was even more obvious that Caroline Trevelyan, at the innocent age of seventeen, could have arranged no such thing. Her mother, the ex-courtesan, had been behind it all.

If it could be done for Caroline, Louisa saw no reason why it could not be done for her. Unless, of course, Sophia did not care to help her get what she wanted. Sophia, rather too intelligent for comfort, likely suspected that Louisa did not hold her in the highest regard. Or she hadn't. Until now.

"I don't know how it happened exactly," Louisa said, plunging forward and ignoring the clever glint in Sophia's dark eyes, "that is, I don't know all the details. But I was given a rather lovely strand of pearls by my grandmother, and somehow Lord Dutton got them from my father, Lord Melverley, and attempted to give them to your daughter."

"Well, my dear," Sophia said, taking a small sip of her drink, "Caro doesn't have your pearls. Why come to me?"

It was perfectly obvious to Louisa that Sophia knew
exactly
why she had come to her, but that, being Sophia, she wanted Louisa to crawl over broken glass and beg for her aid.

Fine. She could do that.

"I would like, that is, I noticed, we
all
noticed, how well things have gone for Lady Caroline and I was wondering...I was thinking that you might...be... able..."

It was far easier to contemplate crawling over broken glass than to actually do it. This begging for help business was decidedly difficult. She was completely certain she did not like it one bit. Even Lord Dutton's dashingly beautiful face grew a bit dim in the light of the amusement in Sophia's eyes.

"You would like your pearls back, wouldn't you?" Sophia said, setting down her cup on a very elegant Directoire table.

"Yes," Louisa said, holding Sophia's dark gaze. "I want my pearls back."

"Then, darling, we shall simply have to get them for you."

IT was as Lord Henry Blakesley was leaving the Prestwick town house that he bumped into the Marquis of Hawksworth about to go in. Where Hawksworth was, Louisa was not far distant. Where Louisa was, Dutton was almost certainly to be.

Louisa made rather a point of that.

"All alone today, Hawksworth?" Blakesley asked. "Dutton left Town, has he?"

Hawksworth smiled slightly. "Certainly you'd know that as soon as I."

A point, and well taken. Louisa not only made use of her cousin to escort her around Town, she made equal if less comfortable use of him. He did not particularly like being used as a sort of tame hound to sniff out the elusive Marquis of Dutton, but that was how Louisa chose to use him.

Blakesley knew precisely how that sounded and he didn't care for it in the least. Unfortunately, he did nothing about it. He didn't care to think too deeply about why.

"You're calling upon Mr. Prestwick?" Blakesley asked, changing the subject.

"Or Miss Prestwick," Hawksworth said casually. Hawksworth did most things casually; he was becoming almost famous for it. "They are a pleasant family, are they not?"

"Most pleasant," Blakesley said. "Mr. Prestwick is just within. I believe you were at school together?"

"Yes, and he spoke so often and so well of his sister."

Blakesley smiled. "She is eager to wed, so I'm told."

"Aren't they all?" Hawksworth said with a pleasant smile. "She is in season, I should think, her age and circumstances being at that precise point."

"You are not afraid of getting caught in the matrimonial net?"

"There is a season for everything, Lord Henry," Hawksworth said languidly. "It is a waste of energy to fight against the seasons. They change most regularly, no matter our preferences."

"And you will ride the change, enjoying all of spring's abundant pleasures?" Blakesley offered.

"Precisely."

"You are of a mind to marry Miss Prestwick?"

"I do not know Miss Prestwick," Hawksworth said pleasantly. "It is not the season for me to wed, and so I may dally where the mood takes me. Miss Prestwick might be pleasant enough to dally with in this off season for me, in all propriety, of course. I find myself here; there is no reason why I should not avail myself of blessed proximity."

"Of course not," Blakesley said, more amused by Louisa's cousin than he had ever been before. For such a young man, he was either more naïve than his peers or more sophisticated. It was so very difficult to decide which. "You have left your cousin somewhere safe, I trust? Or did you come to Upper Brook Street on your own?"

Blakesley knew Louisa's habits well enough to know that she had dragged her cousin here and then shucked him off like so much mud on her shoe. Hawksworth was of a disposition to allow it. Blakesley was not.

Hawksworth smiled in lazy good humor. "She is calling upon Lady Dalby. She made it very clear that she did not want my company when she did so. Perhaps she will welcome your company more than mine. It is hardly possible that she would welcome you less."

Or was it? Gone to see Sophia Dalby? Blakesley did not like the sound of that. Sophia Dalby had a way of managing things, a way of manipulating events and people until things were all muddled into a pattern that no one could have foreseen and few would welcome.

Except, he suspected, Sophia herself.

What was Louisa doing tangling herself up in Sophia's skirts?

"I think I shall call upon Lady Dalby. Care to join me, Lord Hawksworth?" Blakesley asked. "I can promise you that Sophia is more entertaining than Penelope Prestwick could dream of being."

Hawksworth smiled languidly and shrugged slightly. "I am at your disposal, Lord Henry. It is to Dalby House for the both of us. I do not care to think what Louisa will do when she sees us."

"It will be entertaining, at the very least," Blakesley said with a slanted smile. "What more can be asked of an afternoon call upon a countess?"

LOUISA had no idea why Sophia would help her; there seemed no logical reason for it, but she was not going to spoil what she hoped would be a profitable alliance by looking for reasons. That Sophia was willing to help her was more than enough and, frankly, more than she had dared hope to achieve on a single visit.

"Now, darling," Sophia said, leaning forward in her chair, "you simply must promise me that you will do everything exactly as I tell you. Delicacy and a certain precision are absolutely essential in affairs of this sort."

It did not escape Louisa's notice that obeying Sophia, a woman who truly had no reason to help her, might possibly be the worst course of action she would ever undertake. She had, to be brutally honest, never been particularly nice to Sophia. In fact, it could be argued that she had occasionally behaved in a rather nasty fashion to her. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that Sophia, rumored to be rather ruthless when she chose, might choose this exact moment to be ruthless with Louisa.

Dutton was worth the risk. Oh, and the pearls as well. She couldn't let herself forget that this was all about getting back her pearls. That Dutton was in possession of them was glorious serendipity.

"I shall do whatever you think best," Louisa said, leaning forward in her own chair.

Sophia nodded and smiled in approval.

Whatever alarm Louisa felt upon receipt of that rather calculating smile, she suppressed. Ruthlessly. Dutton, and her pearls, were worth it.

"Perfect," Sophia said softly. "We shall get on splendidly. I do so enjoy it when my dictates are followed to the letter."

"Dictates?" Louisa said, her previously repressed alarm baying vigorously.

Sophia shrugged delicately. "
Mandates? Counsel? Instruction?
Choose the word that best pleases you. As long as we are in agreement as to what shall happen. I shall instruct and you shall obey."

Louisa was almost entirely certain that she had never obeyed anyone in her life. If not for the compelling nature of Lord Dutton and her compelling need to get possession of her pearls, she would have refused Sophia baldly. But she could not. She needed her pearls. She wanted Dutton. Or perhaps it was that she wanted her pearls and she needed Dutton. She didn't suppose it mattered as long as she gained possession of both.

"In the pursuit of my pearls," Louisa qualified.

"Naturally," Sophia said, her dark eyes gleaming. "A woman simply must have her pearls. And the man who took them from her must be punished."

"Punished? Oh, no. Not at all necessary," Louisa said abruptly. "I'm quite certain that my father is entirely to blame for selling my pearls. Lord Dutton can hardly be held at fault for buying them."

"Really?" Sophia said softly. "I'm equally certain that he could have purchased someone else's pearls with little effort. It seems entirely too convenient to me that he would practically steal your pearls from off your very elegant neck and proceed to make a public spectacle of presenting them to another woman. Though the other woman happens to have been my daughter, it wasn't very chivalrous of him, was it? I can state without hesitation that Caroline in no way expressed an interest in either Lord Dutton or any pearls he might happen to have found himself in possession of. The entire pearl spectacle as it involved Caroline and Lord Dutton was entirely Lord Dutton's idea."

Louisa hadn't considered that.
Had
Dutton made it a particular point to acquire
her
pearls? Had he done it to entice her? Or had he done it to insult her? And why had he done it with Lady Caroline at the most interesting assemblie of the Season?

With Dutton, either course was as likely. He was flagrantly adept at both enticement and insult. It made for a most exhausting romance, particularly as she was becoming more and more certain that she was the only person
present
in the romance. Dutton, inexplicably, did not seem to have succumbed to her obvious appeal and she had, to be brutally honest, given him ample opportunity to succumb.

She was, she was becoming increasingly certain, hopelessly in love with the Marquis of Dutton, and he was not, despite her best efforts, falling hopelessly in love with her.

It was inexplicable. Yet, it appeared to be true.

It was on the heels of that rather unpleasant thought that the door to the white salon opened and Fredericks entered with her cup.

"The gentlemen have returned, Lady Dalby," Fredericks said in an undertone. "With guests. Will you admit them?"

Sophia turned her dark gaze to Fredericks and said serenely, "With guests? Male, I presume." To which Fredericks nodded with entirely more amusement than was proper in a proper butler. He was an American; Louisa supposed that must answer for his coarse familiarity. "By all means. Admit them," Sophia said, her eyes on Louisa. Louisa resisted the urge to shift her weight on the fine white silk damask of her chair. "I think this will be most instructive, Lady Louisa. Do try and enjoy yourself fully."

It was a most odd remark to make. Louisa did not like it in the least.

And it was on the heels of
that
rather unpleasant thought that the door to the white salon opened and a parade of men of the most singular attractiveness walked into the room. It was quite impossible to form a coherent thought of any sort for quite some time after that. It was only at Sophia's amused cough that she managed to stand and curtsey her greeting at the gentlemen presented. They were introduced to her in the proper fashion and she supposed she made the proper replies; she had been the recipient of a more than passable education, after all, and one expected certain rules of etiquette and deportment to rise to the fore in uncomfortable circumstances, and meeting the men of Sophia's family certainly qualified as an uncomfortable circumstance.

Louisa sat back down upon Sophia's white silk damask, arranged her skirts, and tried not to stare.

No exercises in deportment could have been sufficient to the task.

First, of course, should have been Sophia's son, the rather remarkable Earl of Dalby. Wavy dark brown hair, liquid dark brown eyes, an expression of smoldering amusement tracing every line of his chiseled features; for all that, he was a boy compared to the man that was Dutton, she forcefully reminded herself. It was unexpected in the extreme that the Earl of Dalby was almost completely eclipsed by the man introduced as Sophia's brother.

He was a complete shock as he was clearly one of those American Indians one heard so much about. He certainly looked the part. Tall, bronzed, his dark hair falling straight into roughly cut chunks about his harshly chiseled face. His dark eyes were mere slits of speculation and he looked at her rather more closely than she was accustomed to.