No one among the aristocracy was going to hire her except as a bedmate, but she realized she had more reasons than that.
“I don’t want respectable. I had respectable. I had friends I loved, thought they loved me, but when I needed them the most, they turned their backs on me. Because of something that wasn’t my fault. I want to return to Society on my terms. As the mistress of a lord, I will wield some semblance of power.”
“Why do you need a protector?”
She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
He leaned forward again, and she was grateful less distance separated them. “If I’m to have a role in you acquiring this life you’re seeking, I want to make damned sure you understand all the ramifications of it. You will be treated as though you are an object, property leased for a spell, to be used at the buyer’s whim.”
“Even in the most stately of homes, women are oftentreated as property. Are you not familiar with the laws that govern marriage, that apply to women?”
His sigh was long, drawn out. “Once you embark on this journey, doors that are now open to you will begin to close.”
“They are closed now. Without my father’s title, wealth, power, and influence behind me, no lord is going to marry me. I have no dowry. By the time I have earned your generous pounds, regardless of which deadline I meet, I shall be a quarter of a century old, gathering dust on the shelf.”
“As I mentioned, I know a good many untitled men who have accumulated fortunes that rival those held among the aristocracy, in some cases even exceed them. They are finding themselves becoming accepted by the peerage, invited to their affairs. You could marry one of them. Return to Society as the wife of a gentleman who possibly wields more power than some of the noblemen surrounding him.”
“This successful man who has worked so very hard to gain his elevated place in Society—how much will he loathe me when the rungs of the ladder are sawed out beneath his feet and he tumbles back to the ground because he demonstrated the bad judgment of marrying the daughter of a traitor? And our children? Do you think they will not suffer, that they will not be taunted and teased? Will servants take pride in serving our household? Do you not see how many people will be tainted by any association with me?”
His jaw was so tense that his back teeth had to be aching from the force with which he was biting down. “Do you not think a lord who takes you as his mistress will not suffer the same fate?”
“I will be his . . . My mother had a term for it—” She closed her eyes, envisioned her mother’s face before illness had befallen her, illness Althea believed had been the result of her shame over her husband’s actions. She opened her eyes. “A watercolor wife because I could be easily washedaway. He may take me on occasion to the theater or a derby, but I’ll never truly be part of his life. He may covet me, but he will not love me or sacrifice his position for me.”
“Why would you want that?”
Now she was the one to lean forward. “I recently learned that my brothers are making decisions that place at least one of them in a dangerous situation. They are doing it in an effort to care for me, to increase my chances of finding a husband—as though marriage is all I should want from life. But I don’t want to be dependent upon a husband. If I learned anything at all from my father, it was that a husband can let you down as easily as anyone.
“With the money you will pay me, I could lease a residence, determine who I entertain there. I could set the terms for what being in my company would cost the lord I take as my lover. Jewels, gowns, servants. Men lavish things on their mistresses. At least my father did. And if my lover disappoints or proves himself foolish, I can easily rid myself of him.” She’d be exclusive, only one lover at a time and hopefully for an extended period. “Once I have established myself, my brother might end this dangerous quest he is on—if it doesn’t come to an end before then. But if he continues, it won’t be because he’s seeking to make my life easier.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” His tone held a bit of surprise, a tad of awe, and some admiration.
“To be honest, since I was twelve years old.”
His eyes widened at that, and as though he was on the cusp of dropping his glass, he set it on a table beside his chair. “I thought noble ladies knew nothing of sex before their wedding night.”
“Have you ever heard of Harriette Wilson?”
“No.”
“She was a courtesan during the time that the prince regent ruled, was lover to some of the most famous andinfluential lords of her time. Lady Jocelyn, who was once my dearest friend, unearthed a copy of the scandalous courtesan’s published memoirs. She refused to reveal how she had come to have it, although I always suspected she stole it from beneath her older brother’s bed. We took turns reading each chapter aloud. Harriette Wilson described one lover as exhibiting ‘ungovernable passion.’ For some reason it stuck with me, and I thought that someday I would like to experience that level of hunger about something, anything. It has eluded me thus far.
“But another aspect of her story has also stayed with me: the power she wielded over men. They practically auditioned for the honor of being her lover. If they displeased her, she moved on. I know it won’t happen overnight, but I do have a sense of the independence that awaits me if I follow this path. For the entirety of my life, I have been at the mercy of men’s whims. Let them be at my mercy for a change. Teach me when to touch, where to touch, how to caress, how to drive a man mad with ecstasy.”
Silence stretched between them until all she could hear was thetick, tick, tickof the clock on the mantel, the occasional hiss of the fire. Without taking his gaze from her, he reached back, grabbed his glass, tapped a finger against it, took a sip. How was it possible for the man to mask every thought, every emotion?
“If I were your brother, I’d break my jaw and nose before blackening my eye for good measure for even giving your proposal serious thought and not immediately dismissing it.”
He was so incredibly somber, so serious. “I’m not going to tell Griff about this part of our arrangement. I’m going to tell him only that I’ll be residing here, teaching etiquette. I’m not even going to reveal it’s a brothel.”
Another sip of the scotch. She longed for the sherry butdidn’t want to reveal that her fingers were trembling as she awaited his answer.
“I have a strict rule I adhere to, one I’ve never broken. The women under my protection are forbidden to me. I don’t take advantage of them. I don’t bed them. You’ll be under my protection.”
Disappointment slammed into her. “What if I didn’t reside here?”
“I would still see myself as responsible for you.”
Perhaps the ladies could teach her. Although how would she become comfortable with the touch of a man if a man wasn’t touching her? She didn’t want to admit that she was anticipating his caress, feeling the graze of his fingers along more than the underside of her jaw. “Surely, you could teach what I need to know without a full consummation. I should think that would be to my benefit. To be proficient but pure.”
