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“Are you sure you’re well?” Margaret asked her, shivering in the chill air. “You are as white as a ghost.”
“I think I am out of the way of crowds, that’s all. My life has been so unexciting until now.”
She could feel Margaret’s curious gaze on her but refused to meet it. She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened in that moment when she and Sebastian stared into each other’s eyes, but she felt as if something inside of her had broken. She’d believed she could move on, but what if she couldn’t? Right now she needed to go home and hold her son, and remind herself of all the reasons she must stay away from Sebastian. And all the reasons she must forget him.
They were safe in her carriage when she heard herself say, “The woman with Captain Longhurst . . . I thought I recognised her.”
Margaret grimaced. “So did I. I think . . .” She glanced at Lavinia as if deciding whether or not to say the words, and then did so anyway. “She is not a very nice woman.”
Lavinia’s lips twitched as she focussed on her friend but her amusement for the turn of phrase soon faded. “She’s his mistress then?”
Margaret shook her head and then nodded it. “I don’t know, Lavinia, but she is someone’s mistress. Her name is Mrs Chandler and that is her profession.”
> They didn’t speak again, and the silence hung thick in the luxurious vehicle. When Margaret alighted at her cousin’s address in Mockingbird Square, she turned back to Lavinia, and her green eyes were full of worry.
“You know you can talk to me,” she said earnestly. “I want to help, and I would not repeat anything you said.”
Lavinia raised an eyebrow. “You and Monkstead are very thick, Margaret. I think everyone in the square knows that. And as you’ve pointed out to me before, the earl likes to interfere in the lives of his neighbours. I don’t want him interfering in mine.”
Margaret flushed. “I barely know him,” she retorted. “And he annoys me as much as he annoys you, Lavinia. You do not need to worry about me gossiping with Monkstead. Believe me when I tell you I am quite indifferent to that man.”
Lavinia wondered if Monkstead felt the same. She thought she had seen the opposite to indifference in his dark eyes when he looked upon Miss Margaret Willoughby. Everyone knew Monkstead was an enigma, a man with a past, a man with secrets. And although over the years there had been many women linked to his name none of them had been respectable, while Margaret was the epitome of ‘respectable’.
Once inside her own town house with the door closed, Lavinia breathed a sigh of relief. Safe. Immediately her thoughts began to clear, the heat inside her to cool, and Sebastian was relegated to where he belonged—the past. She was able to remind herself that it had been Patrick’s wish that her son be heir to his estate and nothing must jeopardise that, no scandalous whisper must attach itself to either of them.
Sebastian’s companion touched his arm with her gloved fingertips, demanding his attention, and blindly he turned to face her. Mrs Chandler, courtesan and mistress, the sort of woman many men salivated over and only a few could truly own. At a price.
Right now, for this evening, she had agreed to be his. He saw her mouth move, heard the sound of her voice, but it was meaningless. In his mind he was still seeing Lavinia—the emotion in her eyes and the way her face drained of colour. He had been desperate to go after her, bundle her into his own carriage and demand she tell him what was the matter.
But he had no right. She had taken that away from him. And when she walked away just now, he knew the last thing she would want him to do was force her to acknowledge their past.
“… is she his sister?” Mrs Chandler was still speaking and he still wasn’t listening. She gave an impatient sigh and tapped her fingertips against his cheek. A tap that almost instantly turned into a caress. “Captain Longhurst?” she called in a sing song voice.
Enough. It was time to do what he’d come to do, Sebastian told himself resolutely. He turned with a smile and hoped it didn’t look too forced, and then he took her fingers in his, bending to kiss them. “I’m sorry. I’m distracted. I’ll do better.”
She pouted with her lips but there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I could see that Lady Richmond thought me a terrible woman. Perhaps I am a terrible woman,” she lifted her chin, “but sometimes we find ourselves in situations that require us to make a choice. Survive and be terrible, or don’t survive at all.”
Sebastian realised that he, too, had been guilty of judging her. She was exquisite, and he had assumed she had chosen the easy option, trading on her looks in order to gain wealth and a comfortable life. He gathered from her words that her choice might not have been made lightly. He had come here tonight knowing that to get his way he may have to threaten this woman—or seduce her. He was willing to do either if it meant preserving Patrick’s inheritance for his son. But perhaps the solution was simpler than that; perhaps all he needed to do was speak the truth.
“You are very different from the men who usually pursue me.” She was still watching him curiously.
He met her eyes, wondering if after all he would need to seduce her. Suddenly he had no taste for it. Beautiful she may be, but she was not Lavinia.
Mrs Chandler sighed, reading the truth in his face. “There is someone else and you are an honourable man, Captain. A shame.”
“A shame? Why so?”
“Because I was looking forward to our supper and more, but your heart is already taken. That would not matter, but as I said, you are an honourable man. I have discovered that men like you do not allow themselves to take pleasure with other women. Women like me. It is very frustrating, Captain. I would much prefer to spend time with you than my other clients.”
He gave a surprised laugh. “I’m flattered, madam.”
“But you do not refute it? Your heart is given elsewhere? Yes, I see it is. Are you sure you cannot forget about her, for just one night?”
The offer was there in her smile and her eyes. She really was a beautiful woman. He kissed her fingertips again. “I wish that I could. I am flattered, but . . .”
“Then do not let her break it, Captain,” she said. “Because if she does, I will be waiting.”
He wondered if it was already broken, but that was not a conversation to have with Mrs Chandler. They had more important matters to discuss.
