The Courtesan's Secret (23 page)

She had absolutely no qualms about delivering the proper training. It made them so much better in the end, and really, shouldn't they be pleased at being improved?

Molly, Duchess of Hyde, looked about her as her sons rose and left the room as discreetly as possible, which was hardly discreet at all, gave her husband a particularly quelling glance, tried to proceed as if Iveston's celebration had not been so oddly interrupted, but was then made to watch as Iveston got up and left, to be swiftly followed by George Grey and, then, an odd smile on his face, Penrith.

It was as close to pandemonium as these evenings ever got before midnight after that. Dutton rose, almost knocking over his chair and the footman behind it, leaving by the main doorway back into the blue reception room. One would almost think he didn't want to find Louisa as anyone who'd been paying attention knew that she'd left the red reception room by the doorway into the yellow drawing room. And, if Sophia was not mistaken, and she never was in these sorts of situations, she'd heard the rather distinctive sound of a body being knocked against a door.

And anyone with any experience knew what that particular sound meant.

And she was definitely a woman with experience of that particular sort.

So it was, as the party split roughly in half to look for Louisa and Henry, that Sophia grinned and casually followed the crowd.

It was turning into such an entertaining and memorable evening, quite exactly as she'd expected.

BLAKES was quite a superb kisser. Not that Louisa had anyone to compare him to, but he certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

She wasn't, however, at all certain anymore that she knew what
she
was doing.

Whatever reason she had had for kissing him in the first place, if she had even taken the time to think of a reason, was lost now in the pure sensation of kissing him and of being kissed by him.

He was very, very good at it.

One would think that he'd be more insistent upon displaying his talent, but, oddly, Blakes kept pulling away from her, lifting his head, pushing her hands away from his monstrously thick waistcoat, to say the most extraordinarily meaningless things.

"If we're found, you shall be ruined," he said, and not for the first time.

He was holding her hands clasped within his fists, rather like warm shackles. It wasn't at all annoying, though she did like it better when she could touch him, her hands very modestly on his shoulders or around his neck. Well, fairly modestly, anyway.

"We shall be required to marry," he said, just before he brushed a kiss over her cheek.

"I've told you and told you, Blakes," she said, turning her mouth toward his, wanting to be done with this silly cheek-kissing business and on to the full effect of his mouth firmly pressed upon hers, "we shan't be found. I shall not be ruined."

"Yes, 'tis I who is being ruined," he breathed against her skin, his mouth whispering down her face to her throat, pressing itself against the top of her shoulder. She was
so
delighted to have worn a gown that presented her shoulders so flagrantly. "I believe you, I think. You have ruined me, Louisa. What do you intend to do about it?"

She giggled softly against his skin, her mouth brushing against his ear, and he responded by pressing his body against hers lightly, teasing her with its weight. She wanted his weight against her, that was the odd bit; she wanted to feel him press her down, her hips to his. Most peculiar, but there it was.

When one succumbed to instinct, one was left where instinct led.

Not at all reassuring, that, but as to being ruined, Blakes would never allow it. He was a very stubborn sort, consider only that he wouldn't let her touch him and would only allow their kisses to be of the briefest variety.

She happened to know that kisses could be quite lengthy affairs as she had once seen her father, the annoying Melverley, kiss one of his mistresses in the Theatre Royal for upwards of three minutes running. It had been most illuminating and, obviously, most disgusting.

"I intend to continue on, ruining you as best I may," she said. "Now, kindly kiss me, Blakes, I need the practice."

"Hardly that," he said, pulling away from her completely, even to the releasing of her hands from his.

Stubborn
and
contrary. She should have said nothing and let him think of it on his own, because surely he would have. He did seem to enjoy kissing her, which was only to be expected. She had decided in the last few minutes that she was imminently kissable and that it was a stellar quality to possess.

"You must go back in. You cannot stay so long away. Your absence will be missed. Is being missed," he added, his head cocked abruptly, listening.

There did seem to be some sort of commotion going on behind the door. Likely some footman had spilled the soup. It didn't concern them, here, in the flickering light, his mouth so tantalizingly close to hers.

Blakes took another step away from her and then another.

"It's just dinner being served," she said, stalking him greedily. She had to admit that Blakes was imminently kissable, too. How very convenient for her that he was so very available.

The noise spread and grew louder until it became, even to Louisa, a certain fact that they were being very quickly surrounded from behind the still closed doors to the yellow drawing room. There was no telling how long those doors would remain closed, and there was no being caught alone in the yellow drawing room. For all her jests about being ruined, it was a very real concern and she was very determined not to allow it.

It was so very unfortunate that she could think of no way to avoid it.

"
Do
something!" she snapped, backing away from Blakesley like a cornered rat.

"What did you have in mind?" he said sharply, just before he grabbed her hand and dragged her very willing body across the length of the yellow drawing room and into the Hyde dressing room and firmly closed the door behind them. The very same door of the very same dressing room where, not a week past, Lady Caroline and the Marquis of Ashdon had been caught in what was rumored to be a severely compromising situation, and what was in fact compromising enough to require them to marry the very next morning.

It did not escape Louisa's notice that Blakes had played some small part in that escapade, pearls, girl, dressing room, and all.

She turned a withering eye upon Blakesley and snapped under her breath, "What is it with you and this room?"

"What is it with you and kissing men with pearl necklaces?" he snapped back.

Well. That was uncalled for, certainly.

Stubborn, contrary, and
rude
.

"You are the only man I've ever kissed, pearls or not. And, by the way, when do I get my pearls back?"

"Is that why you kissed me? To get your pearls?"

"Whyever else?" she hissed, as furious with him now as she had been doe-eyed just moments before. Men were so contrary, causing her to change her opinion of him in the blink of an eye. Inconstant creatures, sowing inconstancy wherever they went and upon whomever they touched. "You certainly can't think that I would kiss you for no reason. I do have morals, after all."

"Yes, the sort of morals that allow you to kiss a man ardently and quite insistently, I might add, just for the reward of a pearl necklace. Nice, Louisa, very nice."

"You certainly can't be implying that I'd kiss a man without the promise of something as extraordinary as a pearl necklace! I'm hardly cheap, Lord Henry. Besides, it was to win a wager and regain ownership of
my
pearls! Certainly that lends the whole escapade, foolish as it was, I see now so clearly, a certain nobility of purpose."

"Only in your twisted little mind, Louisa," Blakesley snarled.

Twisted, mind you! The man was a monster, as changeable as a weather vane. He certainly had had no higher cause to kiss
her
.

Unless... had that been part of his wager at White's? To compromise the skittish Lady Louisa? For she was skittish with all men, her heart being so firmly set on Lord Dutton.

Oh, yes, Lord Dutton. Was he out there with the rest of the rabble, looking for her? And if he found her with Lord Henry, what might that lead to?

Whatever it was, she wasn't certain it would help her and so she couldn't risk it.

"Thank you for... practicing with me, Lord Henry," she said with as much dignity as she could muster, which was considerable, considering that they were hiding in an unlit room in the middle of a ducal dinner. "I'm certain I shall use all you taught me to good purpose when I marry."

She waited for him to snap at her, some tight response that would attempt, unsuccessfully, to put her in her place, which was exalted.

He remained silent, but it wasn't the comforting silence of a dark and cozy room. Hardly. It was the complete silence of motion just before the striking of a snake.

Horrid man to try and jangle her nerves even more than they already were. The noise of the party seemed to surround them, ready to burst in upon them.

Blakesley did nothing.

At first.

She really should have just slapped him when she had the chance.

"You know better how the world works, Louisa," he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet as sharp as March wind. "You've been alone with a man and you've been kissed by him. No one will marry you now, unless it is I."

"No one will know," she said stiffly. She
hated
it when Blakesley got like this, so sure of himself and so supremely sure of her.

"Everyone will know and not because I will tell them. You look like a woman who's been kissed and kissed hard. Did you think it would not show? Did you think I could touch you and not leave my mark on you?"

"That sounds almost medieval," she snapped, lifting her hands to straighten her gown and check her hair. All seemed to be perfectly in order, if one discounted the condition of her curls, which felt more than a little... fuzzy.

"Does it?" he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. Monster. "I suppose it does, yet it is true."

"I hardly think I should take your word for it," she said, forcing her voice to a matching whisper. The voices all around them were quite close now and it was not at all amusing or pleasant to contemplate being found in such a compromising situation, even if it was with Blakesley.

Surely, no one would imagine that she had surrendered to a few innocent kisses from Blakesley?

Of course, she hadn't actually surrendered so much as she'd attacked and the kisses hadn't been exactly innocent. Not if she were any judge of innocence, which she might not actually be any longer.

Oh, dear.

Whyever had she thrown herself in the way of Blakesley's arms?

He clearly wondered the same thing for he said, "Why did you kiss me, Louisa? Why me?"

She didn't know what to say, so she was left with having to say the truth, bitter thing that it was.

"I don't know exactly, Blakes," she said softly. "Perhaps because I felt... safe with you."

Blakesley laughed once, a harsh, short bark of laughter, and said, "Ever safe, ever constant Blakes," he said. "I am not safe, Louisa. I am a man, like any other."

It was at that precise moment, a moment of raw reflection and confession, that the door from the drawing room into the dressing room swung open and Lord Dutton, of all people, stood with a throng of elegantly clad people at his back, throwing candlelight all over Louisa and Blakes and leaving them not one particle of comforting darkness to hide within.

It might have been the first moment that Louisa actually found herself more than slightly annoyed with Dutton. Certainly, and this was for the first time, his arrival was unwelcome.

Dutton's magnificent eyes went from one of them to the other, his very elegant mouth opened in slack-jawed surprise. Blakesley's many brothers pushed in behind him, scowling, and Sophia Dalby and Molly Hyde pushed in behind
them
. It really was most crowded and most, most humiliating.

"What are you doing in here?" Dutton asked.

"Hiding," Blakesley answered cordially, standing next to Louisa and taking her arm in his as if they were walking in to tea.

"What were you doing before that?" Iveston asked pleasantly, though curiously. Though, to judge by the gleam in his pale blue eyes, his curiosity may have been put on to please his mother, who looked anything but amused.

"Kissing," Blakesley said, again, oh so reasonably.

Upon which Dutton's gaze swung like a dagger to Louisa, who, having faced Melverley more than once since leaving the nursery, was up to the challenge. Oh, his look hurt her, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She raised her chin and faced them all, including Molly. Molly's gunmetal gaze returned fire without so much as blinking.

Louisa dropped her gaze to the floor, but not before letting her glance slide over Sophia, who was smiling sociably at her.

"Molly," Sophia said sweetly, "I do believe you have the most scandalous dressing room in London. I simply must learn your secret."

IT seemed that the Marquis of Dutton could not quite believe it. Well, they made a good pair in that, at least, for Louisa could not quite believe it herself.

One would think that the party would have broken up, that, suffering from embarrassment of the worst sort, people would have scattered to the streets or at the very least, back to the dinner table.

That is not at all what happened because, after all, this was the very cream of London Society and they, more than any other class, loved a good scandal. The proceedings, for that is exactly what it amounted to, some special ton brand of social justice, took place in the Duke of Hyde's music room, which, as it was adjacent to the blue reception room, meant that every person who had no cause to be in the music room had their ears, shoulders, and noses pressed against the closed door in blatant and hilarious curiosity.

Louisa knew this to be so because it had happened in exactly the same fashion when Caroline Trevelyan, not a week ago, had disgraced herself and been ruined first in the Hydes' yellow drawing room and then in the Hydes' dressing room. Louisa had, without qualm, been one of those many with her ear pressed to the door as negotiations were made.