Page 2 of One Night with an Earl

Then her father committed the ultimate betrayal by taking his own life, leaving Ana to pick up the pieces. The scandal had ruined the family name. Any lingering hopes Ana had of marriage and a future were lost.

In the ten years since, she’d changed her name, her identity, her very essence to obtain employment and survive. No longer Miss Anahit Woodbridge, daughter of an English baron and a wealthy Middle Eastern woman—she was now Ana Gardner, a companion to society’s daughters.

Her employment as a chaperone was not exciting, but it was an honest living. It also allowed her to provide additional funds for her younger brother, Adam. She’d sold her mother’s jewels to pay for his boarding school, but she regularly sent the school all additional income she could spare. Adam was only fifteen years old and still needed clothes, shoes, books, and everything else growing boys required.

“As promised, your identity will be kept secret,” Madame Crescent said.

Ana reached up to touch the half mask. Madame had given her the scarlet dress and mask and had advised her, in a detailed and crude manner, how the girls that worked here prevented unwanted pregnancies.

As for the other women in the room, Ana was aware of all her differences. She had grown to look more like her Middle Eastern mother than her English father. Her thick, oftentimes unruly hair was vastly different from the fine hair of many English ladies. Their chignons and buns were shiny and smooth while her dark curls battled her efforts to tame them. The frequent rain and humidity in London caused stray wisps of curls to spring free of even her tightest buns. She was also conscious of the way her skin easily bronzed beneath the summer sun, but she’d grown proud of her heritage. Her mother’s voice was never far away.

You are special, Anahit. You come from a long lineage leading back to Arabian sheiks and Armenian kings, both existing well before the reign of any English monarch.

“Do you see anyone you’d like to do the honor?” Madame Crescent asked.

The honor. She meant take her virginity. A woman of Ana’s age was viewed as a spinster. Correction. By society’s standards, she was considered an old, moldy book on the lowest shelf. Her life as a chaperone was dull and duty-bound. She liked her young charge, but the girl’s parents, particularly her mother, Lady Malvern, were insufferable.

Ana studied the men in the room. Which one? Definitely not the ruddy-faced, intoxicated groom. She had already decided to dislike him. The others were a rowdy bunch enjoying the women’s charms.

The Earl of Moore. The Viscount Sutherland. The Marquess of Elton. She recognized them from when she’d chaperoned her young charge to her first balls and routs around Town. From where she stood, she could hear them clearly.

“I’m eager to head upstairs. Madame Crescent said there’s a chit with breasts the size of large melons in the Green room,” Moore said.

“Keep your cock in your pants and have another drink with us, Moore.” Sutherland reached for a nearby decanter and poured amber-colored alcohol into both of their glasses. Some missed and splashed on the cuff of his ruffled shirt. He didn’t seem to notice.

Elton grasped the blonde around the waist and tugged her close. “I agree with Moore that we should head upstairs.” He squeezed her tight, and she giggled. “This won’t take long, Sutherland.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Sutherland said, then threw back his head and laughed.

Elton’s eyes narrowed. “Speak for yourself. From what I heard, you didn’t perform last time.”

More raucous laugher. Had she not heard them speak with her own ears, Ana never would have believed these gentlemen could behave in such a fashion. She cringed just thinking of any of them with her fresh-faced charge.

Or herself.

“I had no idea,” Ana whispered.

“Ah, you are shocked by their talk. Men do not behave in the same fashion with ladies as they do with their friends. Still, there must be someone,” Madame Crescent said.

And then Ana saw another, sitting in the back of the room. She hadn’t seen him at first. Dark-haired and striking, he had a sculpted mouth and tanned face. Even in this group of noble-born men, his presence was compelling. Each of the women had eyed him, and some of the men had made an effort to speak to him. He wasn’t the most handsome man in the room; that distinction fell to Elton. But it wasn’t entirely his looks that caught her attention. Rather, an air of isolation surrounded him, and he gave the impression that he was unaware of any stir he made, nor did he care what others thought of him. She didn’t recognize him from her duties as she did the others. He kept himself separate from the rest but still within hearing distance, as if he was there but did not want to be.

Aloof, alert, and to her—intriguing.

As Ana watched, he unwound himself from the couch, strode to the sideboard, and poured himself another drink. He was tall, a few inches over six feet, and lean. He moved like an athlete, and his steps were too sure to be intoxicated like his friends. A divot in his chin caught her attention. From where she stood, she couldn’t see the color of his eyes. He had an innately captivating presence.

The red-haired courtesan wasted no time sidling up to him with a sensual smile. His lips tugged in a grin, but he shook his head. She pouted, then left to entwine her arm with one of the others.

Him.

“I see you’ve selected. A wise choice for a lady’s first,” Madame Crescent said.

“Who is he?” She had not heard any of the others address him by name.

“Names are not important here. Just as you guard your identity with your mask, you should not inquire as to his.”

Of course. She didn’t want to know anyway. One night. One time. That’s all she sought. Then she’d spend the rest of her years as a spinster.

…