Hunting the Hero (8 page)

Constantine rubbed a hand through his hair, wondering what Arabella could possibly know about him that could be considered a secret. Likely she was just teasing. “As enticing as that might seem to you, I don’t believe you’d care for the connection.”

“Very well,” Arabella said, but her eyes hinted at mischief. “If you believe that to be the case, then I shall bow to your opinion for now. However, I should like to ask how it is if she is so beneath me that she caught the Earl of Grayling’s eye?”

Constantine pursed his lips. “She’s rather dishonest.”

“And yet you smile so broadly this afternoon when you speak of her.”
 

Constantine did his best to appear stern, but then he didn’t think he pulled it off very successfully. There was certainly something about Calista that appealed to him. However, it was not her false name. When he went back to the House he would get the truth from her lips. He settled for a half-truth in answer to sum up his evening. “It’s been a rather unusual week.”

Arabella grinned widely and then looked around. “A sherry, Grayling. I need a drink to ward off my approaching disappointment that you will not share the particulars of your scandalous affair with your closest friend.”

An affair? Was a tryst at a bawdy house labeled an affair if it took place only over several glorious hours a few nights in one week? As he led Arabella to his study to fetch the requested drink, he realized he intended to go back to the bawdy house on the hill many times. He intended to see Calista again and acquire her real name and connections. That certainly qualified as more than a passing interest.

Arabella touched his arm lightly. “You know, if Augusta could see that smile on your face, she would wholeheartedly approve of your choice.”

Constantine almost lost the glass he held. He renewed his grip before passing it over. “I doubt that very much.”

He quickly swallowed his sherry and refilled the glass.

Arabella glanced toward the door to check that no one lingered and then clutched his arm. “She would never want your misery to last forever. You have mourned her deeply, everyone knows how much, but it is time to look ahead to the future. Taking a mistress is an excellent first step. It’s just a shame you didn’t meet her sooner. Now you will have to go to Romsey for the wedding alone and hope she is not offended that you cannot take her with you for your sisters to meet.”

Constantine winced. The timing for taking a lover was the absolute worst and Calista did not fit with his sisters’ set. Given that, he wasn’t keen to depart Wiltshire for Romsey. Surely there was plenty of time to meet the men his sisters intended to marry. The wedding wasn’t for another week or so. He took a long sip of his brandy. He would stay and see where this affair headed. If an affair it was, then he’d need to set Calista up in a residence far away from the bawdy house. “Are you headed to Romsey soon?”

“I could not possibly miss this. London will be abuzz when the season starts and likely is already. I want all the details so I can be Her Grace’s staunchest supporter when the knives come out. I’ll be yours, too, when the time comes and you take another bride to give you the son you need.”

Guilt tore into Constantine’s gut and twisted the knife already lodged there. He never wanted to risk getting a woman pregnant again. It was selfish, but he might have no choice because he would need an heir someday.
 

Arabella patted his arm. “I see that look and I’ve told you time and again Augusta’s death wasn’t your fault. Stop blaming yourself.”

“It’s hard not to.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. “I pushed the issue.”

“Nonsense. Augusta was determined to give you a son despite the risks.” Arabella released him. “Please—she knew the odds were against her from the beginning. Now think of that remarkable new friend of yours and find a reason to smile again. Make her your mistress as quick as you can, spend enough time in her arms to lay your ghosts to rest, and begin again. I’m certain you could convince this woman to love you if you set your mind to it. If you love her, too, you’ll have my complete support.”
 

Constantine didn’t know if that was wise. Calista lived behind a thick wall of secrets and lies. The lack of her real name really wasn’t acceptable. Before any permanent arrangement could be considered, he’d have to have her name so he could be sure who her connections might be and if there was likely to be trouble from a long-term association.

Arabella excused herself to say a brief goodbye to his daughters while Constantine mulled over his reactions to Calista and whether it was wise to become more involved with such an honest liar. His lover, and he couldn’t think of Calista in any other way, wasn’t his alone. The bawd had hinted Calista was very important to the House when he’d paid for a week of her time in advance.
 

If he wanted Calista to be his beyond that, he would have to meet with the bawd and Calista again to negotiate terms. He’d do more talking than kissing this time and offer an enticing arrangement that would remove her from the brothel immediately. He almost laughed. There would have to be jewels involved in the negotiations. A house somewhat closer to Stanton Harold Hall to ensure he wasn’t far from his daughters at night. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that if Calista became his mistress he wouldn’t wish to be in her bed every night.

Arabella’s sultry laugh jerked his thoughts back to the present.
 

Shamefaced, he apologized for not noticing her return. “Forgive me.”

“Oh, no. This is completely diverting. I’ve been gone half an hour and you’re still standing in the same spot.” Arabella wagged her finger at him. “Now I simply must meet her.”

CHAPTER 7

MEREDITH PERCHED ON a chair before the desk in Linnie’s sitting room, curious about her curt summons and cool greeting. Usually they got along well. Meredith accommodated the clients’ needs with little fuss and a welcoming smile. She couldn’t fathom what was so urgent as to drag her away from her last-minute tutelage of the newest initiate of the House. Tonight was Oralia’s debut. The girl was remarkably nervous.

Linnie focused on Meredith, and her steely-gray eyes, set in a face many a young girl would kill for at that age, bored through Meredith’s head. “Are you sure Oralia is ready?”

Meredith nodded. “I’ve done all I can with her. Her behavior is still atrocious when she’s weary, but her gait is smooth and her attention to her appearance improving. She should attract the gentlemen easily enough. She’ll be an asset to the House, I assure you.”

“She needs to be.” The madam picked up a letter and tapped it on the desk. “This business thrives on being agreeable and available to any who come.” Her lips pursed. “When I have one girl unavailable for a long period of time, it is bad for business. Very bad.”

Unease straightened her spine. “It is my understanding that Grayling has paid handsomely for my time this past week?”

Linnie dropped the note and picked up another. She tapped it on the desk, too. “You, my dear, are as close to an exclusive arrangement as you have ever come with any gentleman caller in the past year. I have a note here from Lord Grayling. He’s requesting your company for the next week exclusively. I also have one from Squires. It’s time to make some difficult decisions.”

Meredith frowned at the news that she had two gentlemen competing for her time. Grayling might be a fine lover, his appetite for touch as voracious as it was for conversation, but she had done little to encourage him toward a permanent arrangement. As for Squires, she was honestly not too concerned that she hadn’t needed to entertain him.
 

She didn’t want to belong to a man as if she were a horse to ride when he could spare a moment. As a mistress, she would be expected to entertain only one man. Meredith would rather it be Grayling in her bed, but she was aware that during the height of the season she could go months without seeing him. Meredith enjoyed intimacies far too much to remain faithful should a protector become distracted and not call.
 

She met Linnie’s gaze. “I had suspected Grayling was starting to tire of visiting.”
 

Linnie picked up the first note. “He’s not.”
 

A foolish burst of happiness filled Meredith. They’d made love only once last night and although he’d left her very late, he’d done so without waking her to say goodbye. They had talked for most of the evening. “If he’s requested my company, then you know I will do everything I can to make him happy.”

“T’is not just him that has to be made happy.” Linnie’s lips curved in distaste. “Someone must make Lord Squires happy, as well. Besides this letter, he’s asked for you every night this week and was far from happy to be told you were claimed again.”

Meredith looked at the madam squarely. “What would you have me do? Break with Grayling?”

The idea didn’t appeal, but perhaps it would be best to avoid forming an unwise attachment to the man. She’d caught herself thinking of him far too often and planning for their next encounter. He seemed to know just what she needed to be happy in his bed. Out of it, he’d become a dab-hand at fueling the fires just to keep her fingers and toes toasty warm.

The madam’s face grew pinched. “Grayling cannot be dismissed. He has paid a pretty penny to keep you solely for his pleasure, but Lord Squires is in danger of taking his patronage elsewhere. I cannot stand to have him tup a streetwalker when he should have the best the House has to offer.”

Meredith sighed. Deep down, she knew what the madam hoped she’d do: either speak to Grayling about a permanent arrangement, one that would see a handsome fee fill the House’s coffers, or service them both, either honestly or dishonestly, if necessary. Either way, Meredith didn’t enjoy the situation. She had grown comfortable meeting the demands of one man over several. But that was not the normal life under the bawd’s rule.
 

She met Linnie’s intent gaze. “I’ll speak with Grayling tonight and do my best to convince him that he should share.”

“Good.”

The notes on Linnie’s desk disappeared into the top drawer and she tipped her head toward the door, signaling that their conversation was over. Meredith left the room quickly, but anxiety filled her. She didn’t anticipate her conversation with Grayling would go well. She needed to be ready with her arguments. She stepped into the room she’d been assigned, the red velvet bedchamber with the southern view overlooking the gardens, and surveyed the space. It might be the best that the house had to offer, but it lacked the little touches that made seductions all the more pleasurable.
 

She dug into the drawers and cupboards and extracted sweet-smelling herbs, perfumed oil to rub into her skin, and oddments to make the room look as if she really did sleep here at night. By day, Meredith shared a cramped room in the attic with another girl, the windows of which never ceased letting in blasts of cold air. Sleeping beside Grayling night after night was a little-known luxury in her existence. Very much like sleeping beside an agile furnace, too. She was always surprised to wake with his body wrapped around hers.

Meredith arranged a thick quilt over a chair by the fire, then made sure the brandy decanter was filled and the glasses were free of imperfections. Grayling was fond of touching the items she’s strewn about the room; she guessed he assumed they belonged to her. He’d even combed her hair once, which she’d possibly enjoyed more than he had. The moment had been a soothing lull after sharing his bed. He’d even kissed her cheek as he’d left that morning.
 

With everything rendered rather homey, Meredith slipped out of her serviceable day gown, corset, chemise and stockings, and reached for the bottle of oil. She wasn’t needed in the drawing room when Grayling came to call. She could greet him stark-naked and be perfectly sure he’d be happy about it.
 

She poured a generous portion of oil into the palm of her hand and applied it liberally to her arms and legs. The earthy scent of herbs filled her nose as she continued to smooth any dryness from her skin. The liquid warmed swiftly and she rubbed her belly and twisted to smooth the oil over her bottom and lower back. She was so wrapped up in imagining Grayling completing the task that she didn’t notice the door opening until it was too late.
 

Squires leered at her nakedness. “Would you care for assistance with the rest, pet?”

Meredith turned slowly and reached for her robe. “Lord Squires. I didn’t hear you knock.”

“That’s because I didn’t. If I had, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing you so unguarded. I’ve never seen you so lovely. What were you thinking of to smile like that? Me?”

Grayling. Her every spare moment was filled with thoughts of the wicked earl. “Of course, my lord,” Meredith said smoothly as she slipped into the thin garment. She wasn’t particularly concerned with nakedness, but she didn’t want to encourage Lord Squires when she was promised elsewhere. “It’s good to see you again, my lord.”

As she finished belting her robe tightly about her waist, Squires came closer and caught her hand. “Is it? I’ve missed spending time with you.”

His grip tightened till it was almost painful. She did her best not to struggle, but it wouldn’t take much more for her to do something that would have her expelled from the House. “And I’ve missed you, too. However, I must speak to Madam quickly. Would you excuse me?”