A Regency Courtesan's Pride: More Than a Mistress / The Rake's Inherited Courtesan

Chapter Six

Cloaked in a fur-lined rug, with a hot brick at her feet and Tonbridge’s large form beside her, Merry felt toasty and warm. She curled her fingers in her swans-down muff and breathed in the crisp clear air.

The snow glinted and sparkled like fairy dust. ‘This was a good idea,’ she said, glancing at Tonbridge.

Once he’d manoeuvred the horses between the gates, he smiled at her. ‘It’s a long time since I drove a sleigh.’

She’d been surprised when Tonbridge insisted on driving them, and then decided it was just as well that his hands were kept busy with the reins, since the seats were not very wide and the thought of his hands on her body was keeping her far too warm. Just feeling him alongside her sent delicious tingles over her skin.

Not surprisingly, Caro had refused to accompany them on their jaunt and Merry had blithely said a groom would go with them. So much for decorum.

The day was too lovely for such thoughts. She wanted to absorb the warmth of the sun in through her skin. Feast on the brilliance of a cerulean sky and rolling hills of pristine white. The vastness shrank her problems to nothing. She leaned back with the muffled thud of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of the bridles filling her ears.

‘The Yorkshire countryside is magnificent,’ he murmured.

‘Most days I’m too busy to notice,’ she admitted. Too wrapped up in business matters.

He tipped his head back to look up into the sky, his eyes creasing at the corners as he squinted at the light. ‘An eagle,’ he said. ‘See it?’

She looked up and saw the bird, wings outstretched to catch the wind, wheeling high above them. ‘It will be lucky to find any prey with so much snow on the ground.’

‘Oh, he’ll find a vole or a mouse or two. Did you know one of my ancestors was responsible for the King’s mews? Back in Tudor times?’

‘Mine probably cleaned up the droppings.’

They laughed and the horses’ ears twitched.

The tension flowed from Merry’s shoulders. He’d made her feel comfortable. She didn’t feel the need to hide the smile curving her lips or to say something blunt to keep him at a distance. She could be herself. She let go a sigh. ‘I wish every day was like this.’

‘Me, too.’

He turned at the crossroads, entering the main road. No tracks marred the snow. No vehicles had passed this way since the previous evening. The wrecked phaeton soon came into view. Snow had drifted around it, but the shafts sticking straight up reminded her of a sunken wreck.

It looked sad and lonely. ‘I hope it can be repaired,’ Merry said.

He frowned. ‘You know, you really shouldn’t be driving around the countryside without a groom. Footpads are not unheard of in this part of the country. And there are rumours of Luddites again.’

‘I know everyone in the Riding.’

He shot her a look from beneath his brows that said he thought she was a stubborn foolish woman. She glared back.

He drew the horses to a halt and handed her the reins. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’

‘You surely aren’t thinking of pulling it out of the ditch?’

‘No. I want to look at the axle.’ His frown deepened.

‘Leave it to Jed.’

He didn’t reply, just climbed down and trudged through the snow. Stubborn man.

It was ridiculous. The snow had drifted well up the wheels. There was nothing to see. And what was the point of him getting soaked and cold? He was spoiling the afternoon.

She had a good mind to drive off and leave him there.

He headed back, stepping in the tracks he’d left. He went around to the back of the sleigh and grabbed a shovel.

‘Leave it be.’

He ignored her. Blast the man. Merry wound the reins around a strut and jumped down. She followed in his footsteps, the snow clumping on the skirts of her coat, making it hard to walk. By the time she reached his side, she was sodden. He had one of the wheels cleared of snow.

‘This is foolishness,’ she said.

‘Is it?’ He crouched down. ‘It is just as I thought.’ He looked up at her, his face solemn. ‘This was no accident.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Do you suppose I drove off the road on purpose?’

‘No. Look at that axle. It’s been sawn halfway through from below. The rest of it snapped, but it wasn’t an accident.’

Her stomach fell away. ‘Why?’

He rose to his feet. ‘Yes, Merry, why? Who would want to cause you serious harm? You could have been thrown from the carriage and killed, or died in the snowstorm.’

Her heart stopped. Bile rose in her throat as she stared into the concern on his face. The world seemed to spin around her head as she tried to breathe.

Slowly her heartbeat picked up again. She managed to take a breath. ‘I can’t think of anyone’ Her voice tailed off as she remembered the mill owners’ faces at the guild hall. Angry red faces. And one very worried-looking Mr Prentice.‘Oh, dear.’

Was it possible one of them hated her so much he wanted her dead? Or all of them? Men she’d known all her life? The backs of her eyes burned. Her chest hurt. She wanted to bury her face against Tonbridge’s shoulder and weep like a child.

‘Who, Merry?’ he demanded, his voice almost a growl. ‘Who wants to hurt you?’

She turned her face from his irate gaze. ‘You are mistaken,’ she said dully. ‘It must be an accident.’

‘The evidence is clear and it seems to me you know who did this.’

The urge to unburden herself ached in her throat. She bit her lip against its allure and felt the chill of the air on her teeth. ‘There are several people who don’t like me very much at the moment.’

‘People?’

He wasn’t going to let it rest. ‘Other mill owners. Town councillors. But, honestly, I don’t think any of them would have done such a dastardly thing. They are all respectable men. Pillars of Skepton.’

‘Is anyone else angry at you?’

Her teeth started to chatter. Cold. Shock. Damn it, fear, too. ‘Certainly not. Next you will be telling me this is my fault.’ She spun away from him. ‘This is none of your concern, my lord,’ she called back as she stomped away. ‘Let us return home before we freeze to death.’

‘Merry, wait.’

She kept walking. She couldn’t stop, because if she did, she might fall down, her knees felt so weak. Because if she stopped, she might truly believe someone had deliberately tried to end her life.

He caught her by the arm and pulled her around to face him. ‘Oh, hell,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He wiped her cheek with his gloved thumb. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

Her breath stuck in her throat at the gentle concern in his face and the softness in his dark brown eyes. ‘Of course you didn’t scare me. The wind brought tears to my eyes.’

He chuckled, a soft low warm sound that comforted rather than mocked. He pulled his hand from his glove and placed his palm against her cheek. Warmth infused her skin, not just where he touched her, but all over, as if he had the power to heat the blood in her veins from her head to her feet.

‘You are cold,’ he said. ‘You should have stayed in the sleigh.’

Her teeth chattered and her body shook. ‘No, I shouldn’t.’

He swept her up in his arms as if she were nothing but a half-bolt of cloth. ‘My dear Merry, allow me to help you back to the carriage.’

‘Put me down.’ But the words were half-hearted and mumbled against his coat. Somehow her arms had gone around his neck and he was walking. Beneath his hat, his dark hair curled against his temple. His ear was very nicely formed, she decided, not too large, nor did it stick out from his head. In profile against the bright blue sky, his nose was a little crooked. A very small imperfection, scarcely noticeable unless you looked closely. Somehow it made him seem less of a god and more human.

Her heart tumbled over.

Oh Lord, she really did like him. She loved the feel of being in his arms, of being held close to his chest, like something precious. She felt feminine. Cared for. Protected.

He glanced down with a smile. ‘Ready?’

Dash it, they were back at the sleigh already. He lifted her up on to the seat and walked around to the other side and climbed up. He arranged the rug over her knees and tucked it up under her chin. ‘Is there any warmth left in that brick?’

‘A little,’ she said. She had no idea, her toes were too cold.

‘But not enough, I am sure.’ He put his hand under her chin, turned her face towards him. ‘Tell me, Merry.’

The strength of command in his voice shivered all the way down to her toes. The intensity in his dark brown gaze trapped her.

‘Who would want to do you harm?’

His hands cupped both sides of her face. She looked at the firm set of his mouth, anything not to have to gaze into his searching eyes.

‘You do know,’ he said. ‘You foolish female.’ He lifted her face, then those wonderful lips descended on hers, gentle, comforting. ‘Tell me, Merry,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Let me help you.’

Then his mouth firmed, it wooed and tormented until she could no longer think of anything but the delicious sensations ravaging her body. Her insides quivered with the joy of it, her heart thundered and she angled her head for better access to those wonderful lips. She pulled her hands from her muff and put them on those powerful shoulders.

His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, not demanding, sweetly requesting. Resistance had no place in her mind; the joy filling her took up every inch of space. Trembling deep inside she granted him entry and he swept her up on a tide of passion.

She clung to him, and let her senses drift where they would. Delightful waves of desire washed over her, thrilling and beautiful.

Slowly he drew back, his brown eyes smoky beneath half-lowered lids, his breathing as ragged as her own. ‘Tell me.’

The man had no mercy. And she had no will. Never had she felt so weak. So vulnerable. Not since the day her parents died and she’d learned love was a fleeting thing. She shivered.

‘Damn,’ he said under his breath. ‘You are still cold. I need to get you back to the house.’ He paused, his dark gaze hardening. ‘But I will have the truth of this.’

She briefly closed her eyes against the pull of the insidious weakness. Brushed his demand away with a half-laugh. ‘You make mountains from molehills, my lord.’ She sounded breathless. And, God help her, afraid. The moment he released her, the bone-chilling fear had returned. Someone had tried to do her harm. A warning, or had they actually intended her death?

It didn’t bear thinking of.

He picked up the reins. ‘Call me Charlie. Make no mistake, Merry, I will not let this rest. You will let me help you.’

The heir to a dukedom was used to getting his own way. And he wanted to shoulder her burdens. It felt good. For once having a man want to protect her felt freeing rather than constraining.

‘Very well,’ she said, the words spoken before she really had time to think. ‘There is one thing you could do for me.’

Engaged in the process of turning the horses in the road, his head whipped around, a question on his face.

‘Marry me,’ she said.

Chapter Seven

Years of dodging matchmaking mamas sent Charlie’s hackles rising. He hadn’t expected such a trick from a woman who seemed so straightforward in all her dealings. Inwardly, he cursed. He had held her to comfort her obvious distress. And let their mutual attraction flame out of control. Idiot.

She must have guessed at his thoughts because the smile on her lovely lips died.

Outwardly, he smiled calmly, as he had on so many other occasions when a female tried to net the heir of a dukedom. ‘You flatter me.’

She rearranged her expression into one of polite dismissal and shrugged. ‘I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.’

He urged the horses on with a click of his tongue. ‘Then what did you mean?’ He shouldn’t ask. He should let it go. This ground was as dangerous as the quicksand in the Wash, but knowing her life was in danger, he could not walk away. Not until he knew she was safe. Once he knew who was behind this cowardly attack, he would bring all the power of a dukedom to bear on the blackguard.

The vehemence of his reaction took him by surprise.

‘I meant we could pretend an engagement,’ she said carelessly, but there was an undercurrent of something in her voice he didn’t quite understand.

Oh, Father would really like that. And Robert, poor Robert, would continue to be left out in the cold. ‘How would that help?’

‘I think some of the other mill owners are angry at me,’ she said quietly. ‘They are opposed to my idea of providing an asylum for women who have led less than respectable lives.’

‘You mean the ladybirds I met this morning,’ he said, smiling at the memory.

‘Yes. They need a place from which they can find suitable work.’ She winced. ‘Perhaps meet husbands. I asked the local mill owners to give them employment.’

‘And because they are not in favour of the idea, they decided to damage your carriage?’ He couldn’t quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.

‘Caro and I opened a house in Skepton. They called it a bawdy house. Men came one night and attacked the girls and set fire to the house.’

‘Which is why they are living with you.’

‘Only two of them. The rest disappeared. We need to find them. Give them a home.’

‘I still don’t see how a pretend engagement resolves the problem.’

She turned in her seat, a furrow in her brow, her eyes focused somewhere in the distance, as if she could see the future playing out before her.

He wanted to kiss her.

God, he ached for far more than that. If he hadn’t broken free of her a few minutes ago, he might have laid the blankets down in the snow and made love to her right there in the open. And he would have been forced to accept her proposal of marriage.

Such an error of judgement would be the final straw for the duke. The disgrace at Waterloo and then Robert’s scandal had been bad enough, but for his heir to marry beneath him might well kill the old man. His father had looked ill for weeks after Robert’s scandal broke. Another such event would likely cause him an apoplexy, not to mention it would certainly end all possibility of Robert’s return to the family fold.

‘Because I am a woman, the other mill owners will not admit me to their meetings at the guild hall,’ she said stiffly, as if the admission stirred more anger than she wanted to admit. ‘They would listen to you, if they thought you were my future husband.’

The slight bitter edge to her words gave him pause. How would it feel to be successful, as she so clearly was, and yet ignored by one’s peers?

‘If you pretended to be my fiancé for a few days,’ she continued. ‘If you put your name behind my plan, they would be forced to give in. Then you would cry off.’

‘A business arrangement,’ he said. Irrationally he felt a sense of disgruntlement. An odd reaction, when he’d been ready to flee at the word marriage. He shook his head to clear it of such stupid thoughts.

It had taken weeks of argument to convince the duke to accept Charlie’s promise to make a suitable marriage in exchange for Robert’s forgiveness. To go back on his word would be cruel to his mother as well as dishonourable. He had to be practical.

Guilt weighed him down. No matter how much he wanted to help Merry, this was not the way.

Not because he couldn’t see himself married to Merry, he acknowledged with surprise, but because of what it would mean for his family if he broke his agreement with the duke.

She nibbled her bottom lip and then let go a long breath with a shake of her head. ‘It would never work anyway.’

‘Why not?’

‘No one would believe a man of your station would stoop to wed me. Not unless you were in desperate financial straits.’

He raised a brow, considering her words.

‘Well, they wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘Look at the way you reacted.’

He felt insulted by her quick dismissal. But she was right. He’d instantly hunkered down behind his defensive walls. Yet he could not leave any woman defenceless, especially not this one, not now when his suspicions of foul play were confirmed.

He turned the sleigh in through the gates of Draycott House—the carved words on the pillar announced the name. Beneath the name was a coat of arms. A kingly red deer surrounded by ivy. It looked vaguely familiar.

‘I will speak to these mill owners on your behalf.’

She gave a small shake of her head, a wry smile twisting her lips. ‘As my friend, or even as the son of a duke, you would have no real influence. They will meet you individually, agree with everything you say, but behind closed doors, they will do as they please.’

How she must hate the exclusion. ‘Then I will speak to the constable. And the magistrate.’

‘You are most kind.’

She couldn’t have sounded more unconvinced. He wanted to throttle her pretty little neck. Or kiss her pursed lips. Neither one of which would help matters.

‘Don’t underestimate the force of the Mountford name.’

‘Oh, I won’t.’

The dryness in her voice grated. He had the feeling she felt let down, but she really didn’t know the power he wielded as heir to a dukedom.

‘Oh, my word!’ she exclaimed, sounding shocked and amused.

Charlie followed the direction of her gaze. In front of the house, on an expanse of snow-covered lawn interrupted only by the odd ancient elm and cypress, several figures darted about with cloaks flying. Snowballs flew through the air. The sound of laughter and shrieks of joy pierced the quiet. There was a smaller figure, too. A child?

‘Your ladies are out on a spree,’ he said.

‘I suppose Caro decided they needed some exercise in the fresh air.’

‘They look like any other young women when faced with sunshine and an unexpected fall of snow.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Hard to imagine how awful their lives must have been before.’

For a moment, Charlie tried to imagine what it must be like, selling your body to live. Hell, wasn’t that what his father wanted him to do when he married Lady Allison in order to expand the Mountford influence? The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

One of the women collapsed in a heap of giggles on a snow bank. Another dropped a snowball on her face. Mrs Falkner—Charlie could make her out quite clearly now dressed in dark grey—called to the small boy.

All the women were laughing and giggling. He guessed there were few times in their lives when they’d been as happy as they appeared this afternoon. Something about it felt right and good. One of them picked up the boy and whirled him around.

‘Do you think they would like a sleigh ride? Around the lawn?’

Merry’s face broke into a smile. ‘They would love it. And it would be a terrible shame to waste all the work of harnessing the team.’

Her obvious pleasure put warmth back in a day that had grown cool after their kiss. He walked the horses across towards the small group. One girl came running when she saw the horses approach. The thin sallow-faced one hung back.

He doffed his hat and bowed. ‘Ladies.’

The round-faced one giggled as she had this morning. She covered her mouth with her hand when she saw him looking at her.

He grinned.

Merry threw off the blanket and jumped down. No waiting for help for Miss Draycott; it didn’t surprise him in the least.

‘Clydesdales,’ the giggly girl said, stroking the offside horse’s nose. ‘They are beauties.’

The horse nuzzled at her hip. ‘I don’t have anything for you,’ she said with obvious dismay.

‘I do,’ Merry said and pulled a lump of sugar from her pocket.

The girl’s face lit up, making her look terribly young. No more than eighteen, Charlie was sure. Too fresh-faced for the kind of life she’d fallen into. The freshness would fade all too quickly in her line of work.

The other woman stayed well clear, obviously unused to such large animals.

‘Lord Tonbridge offered to take the girls for a drive,’ Merry said to Mrs Falkner.

Mrs Falkner eyed him a little askance.

‘I won’t take them out of sight of the house,’ Charlie hastened to assure her. ‘A couple of spins around the lawn.’

The girl petting the horse turned a hopeful expression in Mrs Falkner’s direction.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Lord Tonbridge.’

‘Don’t thank me, it is Miss Draycott’s rig.’

‘Let me introduce you to the girls,’ Merry said. She pointed to the giggly one. ‘Ladies, this is Lord Tonbridge. This is Beth and that is Jane.’

Jane lifted her chin as if daring him to say anything about their earlier meeting.

‘What about the lad?’ Charlie asked. ‘Would he like to go, too?’

‘That is Thomas,’ Merry said. ‘Mrs Falkner’s son.’

Charlie touched his hat. The boy bowed with a grace many men would envy.

An anxious expression crossed Mrs Falkner’s face.

‘Please, Mama,’ the boy said.

‘Tonbridge is a very good driver,’ Merry said. ‘I can assure you, Tommy will be perfectly safe.’

The boy looked pleadingly at his mother.

‘Very well,’ Mrs Falkner said. ‘Stay close to Beth, Thomas.’

Charlie jumped down to help the ladies aboard, handing Beth up first into the back seat. An eager Thomas waited his turn.

‘You can sit next to me,’ Charlie said and lifted the boy up into the front seat, ignoring Mrs Falkner’s frown. The boy’s happy smile clearly prevented her from remonstrating. He pretended to notice nothing amiss and held out a hand for Jane.

She shook her head with an ingratiating smile. ‘Not me, thank you very kindly, my lord. I need a good walk after being shut up in t’house for days, if it’s all right with you, missus?’

Mrs Falkner nodded. ‘When you return, come to the day parlour. I will ask Gribble to send up hot chocolate. I doubt his lordship will be long.’

A warning to Charlie. The woman was a proper mother hen. He hid the urge to grin.

Jane nodded and trudged along the tracks left by the sleigh, heading for the gates. Mrs Falkner watched her go with a frown.

Merry released the horses’ heads and stood back. Not that the team really needed holding—Charlie had never driven more placid obliging beasts.

He flicked his whip over their heads, jingled the bridles and they lumbered forward. He glanced down at the bright-eyed boy beside him. ‘Would you like to hold the reins?’

The boy stared up at him. ‘Will you teach me how to do that thing with the whip?’

‘Get used to guiding these beasts first,’ he said. He turned and looked over his shoulder. ‘Everything all right, Beth?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed, her eyes shining.

The sleigh glided off.

Merry stood beside Caroline and watched the sleigh draw away. ‘How kind of him.’

‘Very,’ Caroline said. ‘What is he after?’

‘Not me, sadly.’ Dash it. Was she speaking the truth?

‘Merry!’ Caroline sounded shocked.

‘He offered to help me with the mill owners, that is all.’

Caro frowned. ‘Won’t that look rather odd?’

Merry stiffened. Another person who viewed her as beneath a marquis’s touch. ‘Do you think so?’

‘Merry, can’t you see? If a man like Tonbridge takes an interest in your affairs, might they not make assumptions about why? Why does he want to help?’

‘Out of friendship. Gratitude.’

Even to Merry’s ears it sounded rather weak. Nothing but the truth would do. ‘He thinks someone tampered with the carriage.’

Caro pulled her gaze from the slowly diminishing sleigh, her wide eyes searching Merry’s face. ‘Oh, no. Surely not?’