2
At first I took to the stage, for I had a fine singing voice and I looked very fine in breeches. Gentlemen flocked to Drury Lane to see my most stirring performances.
Gentlemen were so bold as to assume that a bouquet of roses or perhaps a sparkly bracelet could buy my favors. But I was not to be swayed—until, finally, I succumbed to the ardent pursuit of a most gloriously handsome man.
Having found the perfect earl—he was thirty, unmarried, and in possession of a vast fortune. He was of course the Earl of R——(as you see, if you are a reader of a male persuasion and of exalted position, a lady can select her moments to be discreet if she is motivated to take such action). Every feminine wile I bestowed upon him seemed to leave him inexplicably cold.
So frustrated was I that I visited his bedchamber one night. Aroused to a fit of feminine pique, I wandered about his bedchamber while he slept, slapping my legs with a riding crop. The thwack of the leather both awakened and aroused him. With glowing eyes, he shyly suggested that he roll upon his stomach and I playfully punish him accordingly.
At that moment, my eyes were opened to the odd and outlandish tastes of gentlemen.
—From an unfinished manuscript entitled A Courtesan Confesses by Anonymous
“Caradon, goddamn it, I could call you out!” the marquis sputtered.
For the first time, Sophie saw the Duke of Caradon smile. Watching the sun rise would prove pedestrian after this. His smile was not a wicked grin like his friend Saxonby’s, but something so beautiful, she would have been tempted to launch a thousand ships to get him.
“Not wise, Halwell. I spent years soldiering, and I am a very good shot.”
They were going to shoot each other? Shock, as well as sheer fury, gripped her. Sophie exploded out from behind the duke. “You can’t be serious, both of you! You can’t shoot at each other over this! What if you kill each other—?” She thought of Samuel. He had gone to battle to serve his king. He had been young, with everything to live for, and a bullet had stolen his life from him. “How can you want to shoot another man over something like this? Dear God, after there has been war. What an utterly stupid—” She broke off.
Caradon stared at her with startled pale blue eyes.
“My dear—”
“No!” she cried. Samuel would have much preferred to have lived. He gave his life for his country, and she had shed tears every day for two years after he had died, wishing he could have survived. How could these men throw away their lives so casually?
“It’s senseless and horrible, and I won’t let you do it,” she declared.
“Keep out of this, you daft, idiotic girl,” Halwell snapped.
She glared at the marquis. “You behaved in a most ungentlemanly manner, my lord. You assaulted my person. You have absolutely no right to be insulted, and you should apologize.”
“Apologize? To a tart?” Halwell laughed. “I think not.”
“I would be careful,” Caradon spoke smoothly, but his tone made Sophie shudder. There was something about it . . . something strong, threatening, something that made her feel she would most definitely obey and be careful.
“You assaulted my new mistress, Halwell, so I am the wronged man here. Should I call you out? I will do it right now if you push me further. Then you’ll face me over a pistol whether you are willing or not.”
The bulky marquis withered before her eyes. Light revealed beads of sweat on his brow. “I didn’t see you with the lass, Caradon. I had no idea she had been spoken for. Angelique presented her to me. The fault lies with that manipulative whore, not with me.”
“Begone.” Caradon’s voice, though raspy, was like ice.
The marquis, who had been so bullying with her, scurried away.
The duke turned to her. “Are you all right, Miss—”
“Sophie.” Her voice came out breathless. “Sophie Ashley.”
“The Duke of Caradon. At your service.”
In this circumstance, any woman would gawk in blatant admiration at her handsome rescuer. Sophie did just that. Staring at his dark-lashed, blue eyes—light blue like a wintery morning sky—she observed, “He’s a bully. He fell apart when you called his bluff. You certainly didn’t have to do much to scare him away. Why is he afraid of you?”
The duke’s brows lifted in surprise. She thought he wouldn’t answer, then he said, “Because I actually am a good shot.” He said it in a self-deprecating way. “So Angelique threw you into his clutches?”
Sophie nodded, then shuddered. “She couldn’t have known what kind of a gentleman he is.”
The Duke of Caradon shook his head. “She did, I am sure. She was his lover once.”
Sophie squirmed. “Why did she do such a cruel thing? If Angelique wanted rid of me, why not just send me packing?”
“To Angelique, it was probably a humorous joke.”
“But I explained why I came here without an invitation. I told her why I must be here. I have to find a protector, or my family will starve. And she thought the marquis would be perfect for me. I thought—I thought she seemed sympathetic.”
The intensity of his gaze made her cheeks heat. It wasn’t a lustful stare though. Still, she took swift breaths—something about the way he was looking at her made her short of breath.
“Women like that are not sympathetic to young, pretty competition.” His eyes searched hers. “You have a starving family, you said. The truth?”
Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t cry—she didn’t look pretty when she cried. So she nodded. “It is true. Three children.” Her voice was wobbly and strained as she battled those wretched tears.
“Yours? You look so young.” He wore a troubled expression.
Oh goodness. He definitely did not appear happy at the idea of children. And one was indeed hers. “My—my friend’s . . .” she began. Then she stopped. Maybe it was easier just to stop at that. At a not-exactly-a-lie moment. “My friend and I had both lost our homes, so we have been trying to survive together.”
He didn’t say anything for several minutes. She was not sure what to do. In her mother’s manuscript, it was advised that mistresses had contracts—legal papers that laid out exactly what they could expect and what they could keep after the affair. When would he mention that? Talk about the house, the carriages, the jewels—the things she desperately needed.
And she hated herself for thinking so avariciously.
She’d never cared about this kind of thing. She would have been content to have been as poor as church mice with Samuel. But having a child changed everything.
She could starve. She couldn’t let children starve.
When he didn’t say anything, her stomach began to gnaw with worry. “You called me your new mistress, Your Grace,” she reminded him. “I am very thrilled to begin my—uh, my new position.”
He had been studying her with a frown. Now he started. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am your new mistress?” She said it hesitantly. Why didn’t he either make her the offer he was supposed to, or at least try to kiss her or something?
“Oh, that,” he said carelessly. “I wanted to scare off Halwell. Of course you are not my mistress. We have barely met.”
Disappointment crashed in on her. It was true. She knew nothing about him. But he’d come to her rescue. He was honorable. And—
And so gorgeous, she felt breathless around him.
“You would be quite fine to be my protector,” she assured him. “I would be happy with you as my choice.”
His brows shot up again. “My dear—”
A sharp, grating sound interrupted them. She knew what it was—the first draw of a bow over strings. The strains of a waltz filled the ballroom.
“A waltz!” She jumped up and down with excitement. Now that Halwell was gone, she was in no danger, and she had met a dazzling duke who was perfect to be her protector, she remembered where she was.
In a ballroom.
Where there was music.
And waltzing!
No one in Newton-Upon-Avery, where she grew up, had ever waltzed. But she had seen drawings of the elegant dance. It was so close. So shocking. The woman rested her hand on the man’s shoulder and clasped his other hand. The gentleman—
His free hand pressed to the woman’s low back. Right over her bottom.
A shiver ran through Sophie at the idea of Caradon’s hand there. A delicious shiver.
She had wanted to try waltzing with Samuel, but he’d thought her mad. He’d preferred kissing and groping, which, truth be told, had been very hot and exciting.
“We must waltz.” She grasped his hand. “Could we? Please?”
“You are amazing,” he said.
“Thank you! Now quickly, before we run out of music. I have no idea how to do it, and I might be dreadful, but it would be so wonderful to try!”
The duke shook his head. “Sweetheart, you obviously do not belong here.”
“Of course I do! I wasn’t actually invited, but I do want to be here. I need to be here.”
He did the worst thing in the world. He chuckled.
She was new to the business of being a courtesan, but her mother’s manuscript talked of men being besotted, being mad with desire.
Chuckling was not good.
The duke stood his ground and, with one tug on her hand, brought her back to him.
“I mean, you are sweet and innocent, and this world will corrupt you and ruin you,” he said. “What you need to do, love, is go back home. This world”—he encompassed the packed ballroom of eager gentlemen and brazen women with a careless nod—“is filled with vice and sin. Some I suspect you can’t name. Some you don’t even know exist.”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “I am worldly.”
“I doubt it.” Softly, he said, “Do you have the fare for a coach to take you back home?”
“I can’t go home. If I go home with empty hands, three innocent children starve.”
Home! What a horrible word that was for her now. She had no home. She had been thrown out. She belonged nowhere. And as their money had dwindled, she and Belle had been forced to take shelter in worse and worse places. For a while, they had taken refuge in an old barn.
Home for her was anywhere they could keep rain off their heads.
She couldn’t go back without the hope of money to support her family. Not when the revolting Earl of Devars was waiting to get her into his clutches. He wanted her to be his mistress, but he was even worse than the Marquis of Halwell.
Devars made Halwell look a perfect gentleman, he was so awful.
“There must be another way for you to save your family other than shatter your innocence and give your body to a gentleman in exchange for money,” Caradon said. “What of marriage? You are a sweet and beautiful young woman.”
With an illegitimate child. She couldn’t marry. Making love to Samuel before he had gone to war had destroyed any chance she had of a proper marriage. “There are reasons I can’t marry,” she hedged. “Anyway, there is more to being a mistress than just going to a man’s bed in exchange for money. A courtesan is so much more than that.”
“Is she?” A smile played around his lips again. “How is a courtesan more?”
She wished he would stop smiling as if he found her immensely amusing. It didn’t bode well. He should be panting with desire for her, promising her the world. That was what a protector was supposed to do, according to her mother’s memoirs.
“Well, we would have stimulating conversations,” Sophie said. “I would be a very gracious companion. I would make him very happy and please him. And perhaps there might be love between us.”
“Love,” he repeated. The duke looked at her as if she had just told him the sky was green and had always been that color. Then he shook his head. “I can’t let you do this. It’s not right.”
He looked like Dr. and Mrs. Tucker had when she’d had to admit she was expecting a babe. So disapproving.
But he was a duke. Wealthy beyond imagination. He had no idea! “It is easy for you to say. You have no idea what it is like to watch children sob quietly because their tummies are empty and they know there is no point in asking for more food because there isn’t any!” Frustration crackled inside her. “And if you think it is so wrong for a woman to be a courtesan, why are you here?”
“I didn’t say it’s wrong for a female to be a ladybird. It’s wrong for you to be one.”
His light blue eyes and his long dark lashes dazzled her. How gorgeous he was. But this was hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
“I do thank you for your advice,” she said stiffly. “Since you are so obviously experienced with my type of situation—I’m sure you’ve spent many days penniless, with an entire family dependent on you—I will most assuredly take your advice to heart.”
She began to walk away.
His hand clamped on her wrist, stopping her. “Walking away from me to find another charming protector like Halwell? You will get on a coach and go home if I have to plant you on the seat myself.”
She could not go home! Lord Devars knew what she had done to save her family—the terrible thing she’d had to do. He could have her arrested and transported.
He had offered her a bargain. He would not turn her in to the magistrate if she became his lover. He’d given her a fortnight to make her decision.
But if she had a lot of money, she could move Belle and the children somewhere Devars would never find them. And if he came after her, she could use her wealth to make them all disappear.
She could not go back just as impoverished as when she’d left.
“I can’t go home with empty hands. I can’t look at all their faces and see the disappointment and the fear. I don’t care what the price is for them to be fed and safe and happy.”
“You do not even understand the price,” he said softly. “Come with me.”
“To dance?”
“No. I have something to show you.”
Cary had planned to find a mistress here tonight so he could prove to himself he could take a bride and have a normal married life with her. A married life that would include children—the duty of every English peer.
Instead, he was leading a pretty dark-haired young woman down a quiet corridor to show her the truth about life as a courtesan.
At every turn in their conversation, Sophie Ashley had startled him. She had argued with him. She had disdained him for being here, looking for a mistress when she was looking for a protector. She’d accused him of being clueless when it came to poverty. Then, when she’d decided she’d wanted to waltz, she’d guilelessly tried to drag him onto the dance floor. She’d sparkled like a jewel, her lovely green eyes wide and full of hope and excitement. Her innocence had shone like a candle’s glow.
She had sweetness. And spirit.
She was an absolute beauty with her lush black hair and massive green eyes.
And she had no bloody clue what she was doing.
He led her out of the ballroom and down one of the corridors of the assembly rooms. He took her farther from the crowd, where the hall was darker. For all appearances, it was deserted, but he knew differently. At these events, a Cyprian usually lured a lover away to ensure she sealed the deal.
He heard a soft, saucy giggle. A guttural male moan.
Cary led Miss Ashley to the door, which was partly open. A low fire burned in the grate, giving enough light so she could see into the room.
He pushed the door open farther.
And stood back, expecting to see poor Miss Ashley freeze, go chalk white with shock, then back away in haste.
Seconds later, he realized she was still watching. And she was not pale.
Her cheeks had gone sweetly pink. Her eyes were wide. Her tongue swept over her lips in a way that was like a sharp slap to his cock, telling it to wake up.
He watched her tongue sweep, tap, lick, and make her full, lush lips shiny and moist.
“Look what she’s doing to him.” She gasped breathily. “Goodness, look at his face. He’s transported by pleasure. He loves every minute of it.” She turned to him and dabbed her full lips again. “Do you like to have that done to you?”
What was she talking about? Cary realized he had better look....
The duke had pushed the door open so stealthily, so gently, there had been no sound. Sophie had heard giggles and groans and, when she’d looked, she had seen a naked woman get down upon her knees in front of a man who wore only a white linen shirt.
The Duke of Caradon stood right behind her. She couldn’t see him, but her whole body was aware of him. She was quivering, waiting to feel him touch her somewhere.
Then he leaned closer, and his warm breath washed over her ear. She let out a moan. She couldn’t help it. Her whole body went tense and wobbly at the same time.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
At the same moment, in the room, the woman’s head moved between the man’s legs. She took hold of his thick staff with both hands and pointed it to her mouth.
Was she going to kiss it?
Not quite. The woman parted her lips and ran her tongue along the veined staff. Licking him! Heavens, now she knew what was meant when her mother wrote that a woman could control a man with her lips. She’d thought that her mother had meant conversation.
She’d seen Samuel’s penis, all erect and eager. This man’s was fatter and bigger. Really, it was quite shockingly large. The man, with his dark wavy hair, was rather handsome. But Sophie found it hard to keep looking at his face.
She couldn’t resist looking lower.
The man’s erect member disappeared inside the woman’s mouth. The woman kept her lips all soft and relaxed around him, holding him tight as her head bobbed and she took him in and out. The woman sucked so hard, her cheeks hollowed.
Oh, the man looked as if he were in heaven. Obviously, men really did delight in this. Could she—?
She thought she could, with the Duke of Caradon. Her rescuer.
Then the man in the room put his hand on the woman’s head to hold her in place and pumped aggressively into her mouth. Harder and faster. Saliva dribbled down the woman’s chin. She took hold of his buttocks and the ballocks between his legs, and squeezed both.
The man threw his head back. “I’m coming!” he hollered, and surged his hips forward. Grabbing his hips to hold him in place, the woman sucked so hard, she made the man scream. Literally.
“Bloody hell,” the Duke of Caradon muttered behind her. He pulled her back from the door. His broad chest rose and fell with his heavier breaths. “I wanted you to see the kinds of things a man would demand of you.”
“I would be willing for a man I desire,” she said honestly. “For you.”
The duke rubbed his temple. His teeth were gritted. “That is not what I wanted you to discover.”
She moved toward him until her bosom almost brushed his chest. “But it’s what I have discovered. I’m not innocent, you know. I certainly know what desire feels like. And I want you.” She gripped the duke’s solid forearm and surged up on her tiptoes.
Sophie sucked in a scared breath, softened her lips, and pressed her mouth to his.
Her first kiss as a courtesan!