Читать книгу The Illicit Love of a Courtesan - Jane Lark - Страница 8

Fully clothed, Edward lifted his weight from where it had rested on the windowsill. He could see her fingers shaking as she secured the buttons at the chest of her pelisse. He moved forward, caught her hands, set them aside and took over the task. She looked up studying his face as he did. He did not meet her gaze.

He hadn’t left her long to dress. He couldn’t bring himself to wake her any earlier. She’d looked so peaceful in sleep, young. Again he wondered at the fact that she was the older of the two of them. Age had not touched her beauty. She could pass for a debutante in her first season.

Season? A sound of humour escaped his throat bringing a question to her gaze.

He shook his head.

She was no debutante. What she was, was a courtesan who’d bluntly refused to speak of her origin. Yet his brain could not equate her with a woman of anything less than reasonable birth. It was in the tone of her voice, her posture. His mind turned to the one thing he knew—her trade was not her choice—then wondered at the cause. An over eager lover who had taken her virtue and not offered marriage?

Who was the family who’d turned its back? Or did she have none? No father, no brothers to protect her. No wonder her beauty had brought her to this.

He couldn’t think of it.

His gloved fingers skimming her cheek, her pale blue eyes met his, so starkly different to the luxurious fall of her ebony hair. He was so moved by her beauty.

She looked saddened by their need to part, but there was no other option. He’d seen what Gainsborough could do to her. He couldn’t let her take risks until he’d worked out what to do. If she’d told him how she’d met Gainsborough it may have helped, but she clearly wasn’t going to make helping her easy. He needed to think.

She turned away from his touch, picked up her hat and re-secured it, then pulled the veil across her face.

“Are you ready?” she asked, turning back.

He nodded, taking a breath, almost afraid to ask the question he longed to in case she refused. “May we meet tomorrow?”

Her expression was uncertain but she nodded none the less, blushing and turning away from him again to collect her gloves.

“Not here though, somewhere else.” She spoke with her back to him, pulling on her gloves and then picking up the muff.

Edward stepped forward, clasping her waist and then pulling her against him so that he could kiss the delicate skin behind her ear. “I could pick you up in a hackney if you wished, if you tell me where to meet you?”

She turned in his arms and pressed one gloved palm to his cheek, a shallow smile touching her lips and happiness warming her eyes again. “I can wait for you on the corner of Jermyn Street at eleven, but you must not be late.”

“I shan’t be.”

Her lips brushed his.

The doorknob rattled and Ellen jerked back and stepped away.

It was undoubtedly another ploy of the landlord’s to play voyeur. “Y’u done yet? Yu’r time’s up!”

Ellen’s chin lifted and he recognised her distaste for clandestine assignations. He didn’t like them either but until he decided how to free her from Gainsborough they could not meet openly.

“We’re leaving!” Edward barked back at the door, taking her elbow as she slid both hands into her muff.

When they left the room the landlord was standing outside, a smirk on his ugly face.

Edward’s fist balled, but Ellen’s fingers closed over it, briefly, before she walked on ahead. He assumed her silent implication said it would do no good. She was right of course.

She must have experienced years of such disparaging looks and cruel comments. In response, he saw the shell she’d developed to shield her through those years draw into place. Her shoulders stiffened, her chin lifted higher and her eyes focused ahead.

He was not sure he could be as strong. Perhaps her greater age did show after all, but never-the-less he was determined to strip her of her armour. The woman he’d fallen for was the one living beneath it.

~

Accepting Edward’s offered hand Ellen stepped up into the carriage. The driver shut the door and Edward immediately reached past her to draw the curtain across the glass and protect them from the visibility of passers-by. Private, obscured from interested eyes on the street, he pulled her close and kissed her. Hunger and longing instantly lit a fire inside her. This was how it had been each day for nearly a week.

Edward’s embrace pressed her back against the squabs and she slid her legs across his lap.

She’d learnt in the days since Gainsborough had left London that her appetite for Edward was insatiable, as was his for her. Laughing, after a few moments, she pushed him away. “You will have me in disarray before we even reach the inn and then what will people think.”

His voice escaped in a guttural tone. “You know damn well they think it anyway so I hardly give it credence.” Her fingers tenderly straightening the knot of his cravat, she then hugged his shoulders and settled her cheek against the capes of his greatcoat, while his arm lay across her back, his hand resting at her waist.

“Millie thinks I have run mad, she found me singing while I bathed this morning.” His forefinger brushed along her nose, then slipped a stray strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I told her, in Wentworth’s hearing, I have made a friend. I said we met in Gunter’s, in Berkeley Square. He knows I trust Millie. He thinks I wouldn’t lie to her. He thinks my days are spent gossiping.” She laughed again, light hearted and carefree.

His finger tilting up her chin, her eyes met his. They were almost black in the shadow of the hackney, the slate blue-grey a narrow rim around his pupils. She could not really tell what expression was on his face until he smiled. “She’s right. You are completely different than you were but five days ago. You have lost your shell, Ellen. There is no weight on your shoulders anymore.”

She smiled too. “Why need I worry about anything when I have you to worry for me?”

A kiss fell on her forehead in response, another touched her nose and then his lips covered hers. Once again she was engrossed in him, her fingers in his hair and slipping up and down his back, while his grasped her breast over her pelisse.

True to form, when the hackney carriage stopped they were jolted from the seat. Gripping his hand, exiting the carriage, she felt her lips stinging from his kisses and saw creases in her skirt. When he let go of her hand, he buttoned his greatcoat, hiding his swollen groin, before combing his fingers through his hair and then straightening the knot of his cravat.

“You look a sight, my Lord,” Ellen whispered in a teasing voice.

Laughter sounding in his throat, he gripped her arm and leaned to her ear, steering her forward. “As do you, you wicked woman. You’re a wanton.” He led her in through the inn’s public bar, “You deliberately entice me.”

She looked up as he guided her on and through another door to the stairs, and whispered back, “But I believe today, my Lord, the fault is all yours. I took control of myself but you must kiss me again.”

“So I am impatient,” he growled, but there was humour still beneath it. “Can you blame me with a beautiful woman beside me in the confines of an enclosed carriage? After all I am a man and not a saint. Madam, thy name is temptation.”

She laughed.

This was how it was between them now, she could barely remember that first day when they’d hardly known what to say. Now their conversation was a continuous play of words, as much as their love making was a mutual game of touch.

He reached around her, opened the door, stood back and gave her a shallow bow. “For today, Madam, I offer you the luxury of only the finest of feather beds.” The room smelt of lavender and clean linen, and a tray stood on a chest at the foot of the bed, bearing plum cake, a steaming pot of chocolate and an un-opened bottle of champagne. It was a lovely room, sunshine streamed in through a wide window and reflected back from the white plaster walls.

She smiled more broadly and turned to face him, her fingers moving to free the buttons of his greatcoat. “Now I know you are a liar, my Lord, you are definitely a saint and not a man at all. It’s beautiful.”

“Ellen, I am very much a man.”

He shrugged off his coat, threw it aside, then hauled her close and kissed her firmly as her fingers pulled the knot of his neckcloth loose. In a moment she broke free, twisting from his grip and tossing his cravat aside, laughing as he chased her. He tried to catch her, but she dodged from his path, placing the bed between them.

Watching her, visibly waiting for her next move, his fingers undid the buttons of his morning coat. Laughing again, Ellen kicked off her slippers one by one and thrust them across the bed in his direction. Then she set one foot onto the bed and, smiling, swept aside her pelisse and started seductively inching up her skirt.

He licked his lips, his smile twisting as he shook his head at her.

Her skirt slid over her knee and then she gripped her stocking, slipped it from her thigh and down her calf before throwing it at him too.

Edward caught it and held it to his nose, his face showing the same appreciation one would for a fine wine.

“You are intolerable, Edward Marlow.” She made a run for the tray of refreshments, but screamed in play as she found herself firmly caught about the waist and thrown gently to the bed. Then his fingers undid the buttons of her pelisse.

“And you Ellen Harding are a tease, and irresistible.” Her pelisse loose, his hand reached into the bodice of her plain yellow, low cut, day dress and freed one breast. Warmth absorbed it.

Ellen pushed him off, still laughing as she climbed from the bed, tucking her breast back within her bodice. “I would like my chocolate first, my Lord, if you please, while it is hot.” She walked away from him and pulled loose the sleeves of her pelisse, then let it slide off behind her, provocatively, as she crossed to the table. A sound of masculine amusement echoed about the room as she reached for a cup, a moment before she felt his fingers undoing several of the highest buttons of her dress. Then he eased it lower and kissed her back.

Glancing at him across her shoulder, lifting the pot of chocolate, she asked, “Do you wish for this, champagne, or plum cake?”

He smiled warmly, but left her and bent to pick up her pelisse, then laid it over the back of a chair. “The only thing I am hungry or thirsty for, my dear, is you.”

“While I, my Lord, am more discerning.”

He approached her again and his arms slipped forward around her waist, holding her close as he kissed her neck. “So am I, Ellen, so am I, and I shall try to make sure you can be for as long as I live, if you will give me the chance.”

For a moment she heard a deep sincerity in his voice, but dismissed the thought as foolish and his words as banter. She wanted nothing to mar the pleasure she’d found with him, not even childish imaginings, their connection had out stripped that. She wanted it now for what it was—an island sanctuary—a private world existing just for them. When she was with him there was nothing else, even her memories of Paul were fading, and her fears for both the present and the future receded. With Edward there was only ever love and security; she felt cherished.

Her arms rested over his at her waist as she leaned her head back to enjoy his embrace for a moment. Then he squeezed her tightly and let go.

“Go on, Ellen, I will leave you be for a moment so you may drink your chocolate and eat cake.”

“There, and now you are a saint and Marie Antoinette.”

Laughing, he sat on the chest and lifted his boot to his knee to work the damn thing from his foot. This was always when he missed his valet. But then what Cooper would think of this affair he dare not even consider. He doubted anyone would understand, yet he didn’t care what they thought.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“Yes, honestly I ate well enough at breakfast. I truly am only hungry for you.”

“You are a flirt, Edward Marlow.” Her voice rang with the happiness visible in her smile. God, he could not believe the difference in her in just five days. She was no longer hesitant, nor self-conscious. She was a different woman with him and he couldn’t stand to see her ever change back to what she’d been before. And today he had a proposal for her that would mean she never had to.

His lips tilting into a smile, he felt the expression in his heart. “And you, Ellen Harding, are everything a man desires, so how can you blame me for being in need of you.” Her smile broadening with a coquettish air, she sidled close to him as he set his one stocking clad foot to the floor beside the other booted one, then she slotted herself between his legs. His hands resting on her hips, he looked up as she looked down, not daring to pull her to his lap as she gripped her cup of chocolate in one hand and a slice of cake in the other. Her pale blue eyes, her dark hair and the whiteness of her skin awed him. It did each time he saw her. He wondered if they lived together until they were a hundred if her beauty would smite him like this even then. He could never imagine becoming accustomed to it. He thought he would always revere it as a precious thing.

A smile still toying with her lips, she swallowed a mouthful of cake and chocolate. “So why are we celebrating today, my Lord?”

“Edward, if you please, enough of your teasing, Miss. And I have cause to celebrate every day I am with you, Ellen. Why should I not splash out and find you a decent bed and an inn with some standing and good food? We didn’t even receive an odd look as we entered, did you notice?”

She drained her cup and licked the chocolate from her lips, looking gloriously happy and dishevelled. His heart lurched. He took her empty cup from her hand and set it down, then kissed each of her fingertips, before pressing a last gentle kiss into her palm. He curled her fingers about it. “To save for later, Ellen, when you are alone.”

“I am never alone now I have you,” she declared, affection shining in her eyes, saying more than she knew probably, admitting she’d been lonely before he’d filled the void.

Another smile from his heart touched his lips. She was special this woman, he would dare any man in his position to deny it. But then he thought of Gainsborough, again. God, I wish I could keep that man out of my head.

“But I did think we’d agreed to be cautious, this inn is a little—obvious—Edward, what if someone knew one of us?” If she challenged his choice of inn clearly that damn man was in her head too, like a bloody canker which wouldn’t go away.

“It’s only for a day, Ellen. I wanted to give you more than a dirty room in some seedy inn, just for once I did not wish to have to be circumspect. I’ve booked the room under Mr and Mrs Brownlow and for a whole night. No one will ask questions. No one will think it odd.”

Her fingers uncurling, they slid across his cheek, and he rested his head against her delicate embrace.

Her touch felt cool despite the fire already burning in the hearth.

Was it madness to love her so much? To place her happiness above his no matter what?

She fed him her last mouthful of cake, her pale eyes dancing with frivolity and something else as she turned his head up to hers. “I love you, Edward,” she whispered.

Edward felt his heart soar and burst like a fire cracker, while Ellen continued her declaration ignorant of the jubilation she’d engendered.

“I think I am insane to say so. I hardly know you. We have known each other barely a month, and here I am, head over heels in love with you.” Her last words were uttered on a nervous laugh as she bent to cover his lips with hers.

Words forgotten, cupping her nape Edward tumbled back to the bed, pulling her with him, his heart singing with joy.

~

“Ellen.” Edward whispered to her over an hour later, as they reclined naked beneath the covers on the comfortable feather bed.

“Yes,” she sighed contentedly, snuggling against the warmth and comfort of his body, one leg draped across his, one hand splayed on his chest. Glancing up she saw his eyes fix on the white plaster ceiling.

“I don’t know how to explain what I feel for you, but I think I should try. I feel…” He paused, apparently searching for words.

She rose a little, rolled to lay her palm on his chest and rest her chin on top of her hand, while he pulled a second pillow beneath him, and then set his hands behind his head. His gaze met hers. “It is akin to insanity, isn’t it?” He laughed. “That first night,” One hand slid from beneath his head and fell atop her hair, then played with a single lock, twisting it through his fingers. It was a wonderfully tender caress, “ever since it, you’ve been like a drug in my veins. I can’t bear thinking of you with him, Ellen. I don’t want to let you go.” He took a breath. She felt it pull into his lungs, beneath her palm. “I know you are afraid to leave him…”

“Edward,” Instantly she pulled back, shifting to kneel beside him and pressed her fingers over his lips, “stop. I did not tell you I loved you because I wished you to make false promises to me.” Leaning back on her heels, her fingers slipping to rest gently at his hip she added. “Nor do I want Lord Gainsborough discussed in our bed. Forget him.” She held his gaze. “Besides I have known you barely a month, it is probably just an obsession. I was being silly.”

“Whatever it is, it’s a feeling we share, I…” Leaning forward she covered his mouth again.

“Edward.” It was time for blunt words. “I know you can offer me nothing other than this. I don’t expect it. Honestly. I cannot leave Gainsborough anyway.” It was not a lie. She was trapped, but it hurt to say it aloud. She had hoped for more, but that was a dream, she didn’t expect him to make it reality. He couldn’t.

She turned away, getting up before he could see the tears she felt in her eyes.

Rolling over he followed her across the bed and then his fingers clasped her wrist, but his grip wasn’t over-tight, it just asked her to stay. “Stop running.”

She slipped her hand free, slid off the bed and bent to pick up her undergarments then turned to face him, her clothes in her hand and held to her chest. His eyes absorbed her naked body with his usual reverence. That dark awed look of his always sent a coiling spiral of heated desire through her tummy. His gaze lifted and met hers, intent and asking ‘why?’

“What are you afraid of?” he challenged, his tone accusing.

She didn’t answer, just watched his nude, nubile body shift into motion as he cast aside the cotton sheet and followed her off the bed to stand before her. Then his forefinger lifted and tipped up her chin and her gaze. “Stop running from me. I am trying to say I love you too, and I can offer you something. I can offer you marriage. I want you to be my wife and not go back to him, Ellen. Marry me.”

A sharp pain struck her heart and her eyes glanced up to the ceiling, unable to look at him as she caught a breath into her lungs and stepped back. She prayed for strength, fighting tears as her anger flared. She shook her head. Offering the impossible was no help. She could not accept him. It hurt.

Was the man wearing blinders? Surely he could see it was no answer?

Her fingers, clutching her underclothes more tightly, she looked at him again. “Is this what you intended celebrating? Shall we break open the champagne, Edward? Or should I remind you what I am? I am not a woman men marry! And I cannot leave him!”

Furious, she turned and collected her dress from the floor. He moved to touch her, but she knocked his hand away. “Don’t, Edward!”

She couldn’t marry him. In the fiction of dreams—yes. In reality—no!

Perplexed Edward dropped back to sit on the bed, his fingers running through his hair. She slid on her drawers and tied them, then pulled on her chemise, ignoring him, her lips fixed in a stiff line, anger oozing from her.

For some inexplicable reason his offer of marriage had made her seethe. He could only assume she thought he wasn’t serious. He was. He’d thought long and hard enough about it to be sure. He’d considered just offering her protection, but his ingrained honour-bound sensibilities had baulked at the idea.

He refused to keep a woman for the sole purpose of sexual pleasure. He loved her. He couldn’t place her worth beneath his. Guilt had struck him even at the thought. His new-found happiness was based upon re-building her self-esteem not shattering it. He refused to insult her.

No, he’d decided he wanted to keep her, and if he wanted to keep her he could only offer her an honourable route—marriage. After all he was a second son with no fear of insulting the ton’s bloodlines. Heirs were his brother’s worry. The blessing of being a second son was that you could walk away from status if you chose. He’d chosen.

His only problem was an independent income; he’d been living off Robert’s estate all his life. He’d need to find some other way to support her. But having managed Robert’s land for years he presumed he could easily find a position as a steward. His mind made up, he’d been walking on air anticipating her gratitude, expecting to be hugged and cried over, with happy tears. Not Ellen, no, only Ellen could see a marriage proposal from the son and brother of an Earl as offensive.

He stood up, impatient, and struggling to understand her unjust response, caught her shoulders and stilled her. “Ellen, I’m serious. Think about this. Surely you would rather be with me? I don’t want you as my mistress. I want you as my wife.”

Anger was apparent in every taut muscle beneath his touch. She turned away, her eyes full of pain, and continued dressing. “I know you mean well, Edward,” she said as she moved, her words clipped and tight, “you are honourable and good, and for that reason alone I would not accept you. You need a decent woman for a wife. Not me.” Her arms in the sleeves of her dress, she slid it over her head and then turned back, meeting his gaze as her dress dropped, sheathing her slender frame. “But even, despite that, I cannot. He’d kill you.”

“Thank you!” he thrust back, lifting his hands, palms upwards, expressing his frustration as he reined in his fermenting ire. “It’s nice to know you have no faith in me. I am able to protect myself, and you, Ellen. And if I cared about your status I would not have made the offer.”

In answer his shirt was thrown at his chest. “Just get dressed, Edward.”

“I wouldn’t let him reach you!” he yelled, throwing his shirt to the bed before bending to collect his underwear from the floor. Pulling it on, he looked back to see her sitting in a chair, putting on her stockings.

Intensely angry, he pulled on his breeches and buttoned them, then bent to collect his stockings and boots and sat to put them on, grumbling as he worked. “Stubborn, bloody, woman. I cannot see what is so important to you that you would stay with him. I saw the bruises he gave you with my own eyes. Why would you stay with a man like that?”

When his eyes lifted back to her she was fully clothed standing a few feet away and watching him. As their gazes met she walked forward. He sighed and she picked up his crumpled shirt from where it lay beside him.

She rolled it up while he watched her and then set it over his head.

He slid his arms into the sleeves, his eyes not leaving hers, waiting for an answer.

“Because I have to. There is nothing you can do about it except believe me. Just accept it, Edward.”

Frustrated, he stood and his hands bracketed her waist, but the storm of his anger began blowing out. “Then for God’s sake tell me why? If I understood perhaps I can find a way to help you.”

She pulled away again, turning her back and reaching for his waistcoat and his morning coat. “You can’t. Just leave this, Edward. Please.”

His brow furrowed as she turned back with his clothing, her gaze pleading. He put his morning coat aside and drew on his waistcoat. He was confused. When he’d decided to marry her, he’d thought it the perfect solution. She obviously did not.

“Ellen, if you are worried over my brother’s opinion I don’t care for it. We could move away, somewhere no one will know your past and Gainsborough would not even think to look for you.” His waistcoat secured, he looked back up.

She was standing before him with a well of tears glittering in her eyes.

Cut by her pain, his frustration burned completely out as her forehead fell against his shoulder as if every good thing he’d given her in the last few days had ebbed away. “Ellen.” He embraced her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”