The Courtesan's Secret (7 page)

"Definitely," Eleanor said. "There are her children, Caroline and Dalby, though don't they call him something besides Dalby?"

"Markham, I believe," Amelia said, sitting back down upon her chair, her color restored to its normal flawless ivory. "A childhood name, according to Aunt Mary."

Louisa refrained from stating that Sophia's son looked anything but a child. Given that she was devotedly in love with Dutton, it was not at all appropriate for her to notice the particulars about any other man. Even if she did notice them, the particulars, in other men. Highly and completely inappropriate. She did not quite know what was wrong with her.

It must be something to do with having spent time with Sophia Dalby. It just proved how wicked influences were so completely
wicked
. She had never looked at another man since first seeing Dutton. Now it seemed that she couldn't stop herself from looking.

Wicked.

"But do tell us about Sophia's family," Eleanor said, sitting up completely, her thin arms crossed, her pointed chin resting in her hand, eyes alight with mischief and avid curiosity. "Are they as wicked and clever as she?"

"They are," Louisa said dramatically, "
Indians
."

"From America?" Amelia said in awe, to which Louisa nodded, smiling.

"
Truly?
" Eleanor said dreamily, her eyes going to the ceiling, and then she jerked her gaze back to Louisa, jumped up off the sofa, and said, "I want to meet them. How many of them are there? Are they all men? Are they all
grown
men? Where's my shawl? Louisa, help me find my shawl. Amelia, didn't I have my shawl while we were out walking?"

"You are
not
serious," Louisa said, knowing full well that Eleanor was completely serious. This was just the sort of thing to titillate her, which was absurd as sixteen-year-old, well-brought-up young ladies should not be titillated by anything, and certainly not the thought of meeting savage Indians from America. George Grey, in particular, had been particularly savage, dimple and all.

"Were they... savage?" Amelia asked, her own gaze going dreamy.

Eleanor was lifting cushions and pillows and books, looking with frantic eagerness for her shawl, but she stopped at the question and stared at Louisa.

"They were, weren't they?" Eleanor said on a hush of breath. "Savage and wicked and—"

"And they were," Louisa interrupted, slyly kicking Eleanor's rather nice cashmere shawl underneath the nearest bookcase with her foot, "the blood relations of Lady Dalby."

She had meant it as a rebuke. It was not received as such.

"Blood relations," Amelia mused softly, "that explains quite a lot about Lady Dalby, doesn't it?"

"They must certainly be
very
savage and very, very wicked if they are related to Lady Dalby," Eleanor said with a very wicked gleam. Things were not going at
all
the way Louisa had hoped. When did they ever? "But why are you certain that these men are her blood relations?" Eleanor continued. "Perhaps they are only related through marriage."

"And perhaps not even by that," Amelia said somewhat wickedly.

Louisa shrugged over Eleanor's shocked gasp. "As different as they are, they bore a resemblance to each other, particularly between Markham and John the Younger."

"John the Younger?" Eleanor said. "That sounds rather dynastic. But stop all this empty chittering and
tell
us about them and about your visit and about Lady Dalby.
Everything
, Louisa. Try to push Dutton out of your thoughts for just a moment or two, if you would."

Actually, now that she looked at it, she hadn't thought about Dutton for a full five minutes. Remembering all those unimportant men littering Lady Dalby's white salon had quite distracted her.

And so she told them, but while she was rendering a rather rushed version of the events and men that had occasioned Sophia's salon, she avoided mentioning that, by express instruction from Lady Dalby, her attendance at the supper at Hyde House that evening was nearly compulsory. Amelia, for all her pleasant manner and easy temper, was altogether ruthless when it came to invitations to a ducal residence. Amelia would not at all enjoy knowing that anyone else at Hyde House that evening had important plans of her own to put into play. At least, Sophia had implied there were important plans in play.

At this beginning stage of events, Louisa supposed she could allow Sophia some measure of trust. Some small, unimportant measure, certainly. After all, she had planned to attend the dinner before even discussing her pearls with Lady Dalby. There was nothing Sophia could do to disrupt her evening at Hyde House.

She was almost certain of that.

"And of course, she didn't explain to me how she happened to have a brother who is an American Indian," Louisa said, hopefully in conclusion.

"How utterly fascinating," Eleanor said. "Do you suppose I could meet one or two, perhaps if I loitered about in front of Dalby House? I suppose it's not entirely unlikely that I should stumble over one or more of them."

"You shall do no such vile thing!" Louisa said.

It was quite more than enough that
she
was called upon to loiter about Dalby House in her quest to attain Lord Dutton and her pearls. She did not suppose she should be called upon to sacrifice her sister to any such low endeavor. Though, to judge by Eleanor's face, it would not be much of a sacrifice.

"Will they be attending the Hyde House affair tonight?" Amelia asked. "I should so like to study them up close."

Louisa squirmed just the slightest bit and said, "I do not think they care to be studied." Though it was just possible that George might not mind in the least. "Anyway, I am not at all privy to the social schedule of Lady Dalby's rather unusual relatives."

"Pity," Eleanor said with an altogether unattractive snap. "I do think that had I been dallying about all afternoon in Lady Dalby's salon I should have come away with rather more information than you have done, Louisa."

"I rather doubt it," Louisa said stiffly, running a finger delicately over her right eyebrow.

"In fact, had I any money at all," Eleanor continued as if Louisa had not spoken, a habit of hers that Louisa found inexpressibly irritating, "I should wager that you spent your entire afternoon with all those compelling and interesting men talking only of Lord Dutton."

At which point Amelia giggled in an entirely unattractive and uncalled-for manner.

"If you had any money to wager you would lose it all," Louisa said, rubbing her eyebrow with slightly more than delicate vigor. "I did not speak of Lord Dutton at all. I spoke exclusively about my pearls and how to reacquire them."

"I suppose it is a coincidence that Lord Dutton is in possession of your pearls, which would mean that they are his pearls now," Eleanor said.

"Only until I get them back," Louisa said.

"And did Lady Dalby suggest a means to get them back?" Amelia said.

"Not... precisely," Louisa said, rising to her feet. Really, this conversation was becoming entirely too uncomfortable and she did not see any reason why she should endure another moment of it.

"Then you truly have wasted your time, Louisa," Eleanor said. "When I think of how you must have squandered all those wonderful men—"

"There was nothing at all wonderful about them," Louisa snapped.

"That," Eleanor said, "is something I should like to determine for myself."

"So would I," Amelia said as Louisa crossed the library.

Which, it must be noted, was the entire trouble with women in general: they were prone to lose sight of the proper man whenever an improper man made an appearance. Louisa prided herself, not unjustly, with having risen above that tendency entirely.

"But, admit it, Louisa, Lady Dalby is advising you," Amelia said softly, her eyes betraying a most avid and unattractive gleam.

"On how to attain Lord Dutton," Eleanor finished, gleaming in perfect partnership with Amelia. It was most unattractive.

"Don't be absurd," Louisa stated. "She is merely advising me on how to reacquire my pearls."

"She should be quite good at that," Eleanor said with a sage nod of her red head.

"Lord Dutton has your pearls, Louisa," Amelia said with a very smug smile.

"That is hardly the point," Louisa said grimly. Really, it was bad enough that she rather suspected the ton found her pursuit of Lord Dutton profoundly amusing; she didn't have to tolerate ridicule in her own library, did she? "Melverley might have the right to sell my pearls for a horse, but he hardly has the need. I want my pearls. They are mine and I'm going to get them back."

"Even if you have to tackle Dutton in a dark alley to get them, is that it?" Amelia said, grinning.

"I rather think she would prefer it that way," Eleanor said.

Eleanor was, without qualification, the most annoying person Louisa had ever had occasion to know, and that included her acquaintance with Sophia Dalby, which, it must be admitted, was saying quite a lot.

THE Marquis of Dutton sat in a quiet corner of White's and considered his options. Caroline, a bit of a tempest, though a beautiful one, was cheerfully saddled with Ashdon. Why she would choose such a dour fellow, one so given to the sulks, was beyond what little comprehension he reserved for other men. He much preferred giving his thoughts, and his attention, to women.

Which put him in mind of the devious and desirable Anne Warren. She had turned into one surprise after another. Though surprises could be delightful, too many at once and they became tedious. He decided that Anne Warren had become tedious.

Why he kept thinking of her, he couldn't quite say.

He certainly didn't need a wife, at least not yet, and Anne was hardly wife material, being the daughter of a less than successful courtesan as she was. Though she had been taken in and was currently under the protection of the Countess of Dalby, an ex-courtesan of rather legendary status, Anne had none of the flair of a practiced ladybird. At least that he could see. But could a girl fall that far from the proverbial tree? Didn't blood, after all, tell?

It was just such speculation, hovering dangerously near obession, that had driven him to kiss Anne in the privacy of Sophia's famous white salon. It had not gone as planned, not that he had worked up much of a plan. But, with most women, a heated look, a torrid kiss, and they were muddled nicely, primed for whatever he decided to do next either to them or with them. It hadn't turned out that way with Anne. He'd spoken seductively, kissed her decidedly, and waited for her to melt in his arms.

She hadn't melted. In fact, she became engaged to Lord Staverton, an old, wrinkled, cross-eyed gentleman of, by all accounts, a rather nice estate, the very next day.

It was difficult to remain pleasantly neutral about things of that sort, and in that particular order.

He had kissed her. He had expressed a most earnest interest in her. She had chosen another man.

Yes, very difficult to remain neutral.

Of course, he hadn't offered marriage, nothing of the sort, but she couldn't have expected that. Who was she? The by-blow of an indiscreet whore and the widow of a minor naval hero of a minor battle. No, marriage was not on the menu. And neither, obviously, was Anne.

Pity.

"Lady Louisa's pearls must be burning a hole in your pocket."

Dutton sighed and looked up from his slouch. Lord Henry Blakesley stood looking down at him, his blond good looks lit by a sardonic light that emanated entirely from the man himself. Most unwelcome.

"Hardly," Dutton answered in an only slightly drunken drawl.

One half of Blakesley's mouth tilted in a thin smile. "No? The word is that after Caro rejected your pearls in favor of Ashdon, you presented them to Mrs. Warren. And that she rejected you as well. Hard night, when a man can't give away a fortune in jewelry."

"In both cases, the women were previously engaged. Literally."

"That's what they're saying," Blakesley agreed, pulling up a chair and signaling for a drink.

Most, most unwelcome.

"You had your pearls rejected as well," Dutton pointed out.

Blakesley shrugged. "Entirely expected. Caro was all for Ash-don from the moment she set eyes on him. My pearls were merely a prod."

Dutton sat up straighter and pushed his hair back with both hands. "You let yourself be played as a mere pawn in a mating ritual?"

"I hardly care as long as I am not the one being mated. Besides, it was amusing, and I am hardly a pawn if I am fully aware of the game and my place in it."

The next sentence remained unspoken, but only because there was no need to say it out loud. Dutton had been played, masterfully, by Caroline. Which meant, obviously, that he had been played by Sophia. He was not the first man in London to have come to that conclusion, but that didn't make it any more palatable.

Sophia had used him to snare a husband for her daughter. How she had done so he could not imagine. It had been his idea to help Ashdon acquire a strand of pearls, just as it had been his idea to keep them for his own purposes, the first of which was to present them to Caroline at the Hyde House assemblie. How Sophia had arranged for him to do what he himself had decided to do on his own volition he could not fathom. But the results spoke for themselves. He had the pearls. He had given them to Caro, or had tried to. He had also tried to give them to Anne Warren. She had also refused his pearls.

Women were an odd lot, taken as a whole. The best that could be said for them was that they were fairly tolerable and occasionally amusing when taken one by one.

"The pearls were my idea," Dutton said stiffly.

"Of course they were," Blakesley said sarcastically. Blakesley had the rather annoying habit of speaking sarcastically whenever possible. "You decided to sell a horse to buy a pearl necklace off of Melverley and then you decided that you simply had to give them to Caroline Trevelyan. You came up with this plan when? Last month? Last week? Or on the very day that Caroline was in need of a pearl necklace?"

Blakesley then had the cheek to laugh.