The Accidental Courtesan (4 page)

“You have no fear of Newgate this time, Bliss,” Noelle said sharply. “However, if you ever steal again, I'll send for a Runner myself.”

The courtesan shook her head so briskly that several strands of hair escaped their bindings and fell around her shoulders.

“Oh, no, Miss Noelle. I never stole anything before in my life, and will never steal again.” She pushed to her feet, stumbled a few steps, and dropped onto the settee. “But it was so pretty, and my maid, Freda, said His Lordship's wife did not deserve such a trinket. She said I should have it for myself.”

This was the second time she'd heard the story, and Noelle wondered if the maid was up to mischief when she made such a comment. Though Noelle's acquaintance with Bliss was brief, she'd discovered quite quickly that the girl was not above being swayed by the whims of others. If this decision to steal the necklace was any indication, the maid had a tight hold on the courtesan.

Thankfully, Bliss was no longer under the influence of the maid or His Lordship. Bliss wanted to be free of her courtesan's life. Or so she said. She'd decided marriage was in her future; however, Noelle wasn't completely sure of her convictions. The girl talked about the earl in such loving terms, Noelle suspected it was only the potential consequences of stealing the necklace that kept her from returning to his bed.

“Though the necklace has been returned, the earl can still bring charges against you,” Noelle said sternly. She had to make sure all ties to the earl were severed. Bliss was a chatterbox. If she made a confession to the earl in an unguarded moment of lovemaking, it could have serious consequences. “If he puts the two matters together and decides it was you who stole it in the first place, he could have you arrested. You must stay away from him forever.”

Bliss's thick lashes fluttered as she looked downward. “Yes, Miss Noelle.”

The earl's face flashed in her mind, and Noelle trembled. It was understandable why Bliss wouldn't want to give up such a virile man. In Noelle's opinion, he was a cut above all other men. Both women would be best served to keep as far from the seductive earl as possible.

“I smell strawberry tarts.” Bliss instantly forgot her worries and moved happily from the room. In seconds, the shadow of Newgate had clearly been lifted from the courtesan's mind and again replaced by cotton fluff.

Noelle frowned as she walked over to lock the parlor door for privacy. The town house housed Bliss and Edolie, courtesans waiting for Noelle's sister Eva to return to London and start a new class. By the time school started, the house would be filled to the brim with runaway courtesans. Eva helped the women change into respectable young ladies and matched them with husbands.

While Eva was away, Noelle had promised to check on the women and make sure they were settled in for their stay. How could she know such a simple task would change so quickly into a crime caper?

Fatigue weighed heavy on her as she slumped into the nearest chair and closed her eyes. But the scandalous night had left her nerves frayed.

She'd actually kissed a stranger, a married stranger, and enjoyed his caresses. Immensely. Even now, her nipple budded against her chemise with the memory of his hands running over her body and tugging at that very same nipple.

Fire burned her face. She'd not only kissed him, she'd cupped his erection, caressed the most private part on a man. Never once had she experienced more than a chaste kiss on the cheek or hand from a suitor. Though her strokes had been delivered under the guise of a courtesan, she didn't feel any less troubled by her behavior.

She so desperately wished her sisters were in London! They would certainly know how to distract her from her lascivious thoughts and direct her attention elsewhere.

What they could not do was settle the aches the very married earl's attention had caused in her body. Or erase the shameful actions she'd committed to keep herself and Bliss from arrest.

Noelle dropped her face into her open palms and groaned. Thankfully, he was gone from her life. Forever, surely.

N
oelle decided that a shopping excursion was just what she needed to get her mind off the unavailable earl. There was no need to dwell on last evening when she would never see him again. Yet Noelle didn't feel entirely calm. Though Bliss had promised not to seek out the earl, some anxiety over the whole situation remained. Spending an enormous amount of money on new gowns would certainly turn her thoughts in a more frivolous direction.

Her cousin Brenna Harrington had recently returned to London and was in residence at her family's Berkeley Square manor. Noelle sent a note asking Brenna to meet her at Madame Fornier's dress shop for a day of shopping. She changed into a simple blue day dress and set off with plans to think of nothing but gowns and hats for the rest of the day.

Brenna was one of the three blackest sheep in the Harrington family, a family that had, through the years, an entire flock of black sheep to choose from. Having been born to—gads!—the daughter of a common Irish mother and a rapscallion Harrington father, the three were seen as untamed by the Ton. One could rob coaches, or run off with a married lover, or throw oneself off the Tower of London over a broken romance, but one didn't dare marry an Irish commoner.

Uncle Walter had fallen instantly and madly in love with a dark-haired beauty, Kathleen, while visiting Dublin with friends, and wed her nearly on the spot. The tumultuous thirty-year marriage produced Simon, Gabriel, and Brenna, all of whom shared their mother's coloring and fiery temperament.

In spite of their inauspicious beginning, Noelle's aunt and uncle were still happily squabbling.

“There you are, Noelle.”

Noelle watched Brenna alight from the carriage, a picture of loveliness in a pale green day dress that matched her eyes. The cousins kissed cheeks and shared a brief embrace. After the turmoil she'd been through, Noelle took comfort in the presence of her cousin.

Brenna looked her over. “I do love you in blue.”

“I thank you, but it is you, my dearest Brenna, who makes heads turn.” Noelle discreetly indicated a young man in a sensible brown coat and trousers staring at her beautiful cousin. “That poor man nearly tripped over Lady Pemberley's pooch while craning his neck to get a look at you.”

Brenna sent him a flirtatious look and the poor fellow turned a bright shade of red, obviously shamed to be caught gaping like a spring trout. He spun on a heel and fled into the milling crowd.

Noelle giggled, hooked Brenna's arm with her hand, and led her into the shop. “You are awful, Cousin. It will take him weeks to recover.”

With both of her sisters in the country and her mother hiding out from the scandalous marriage of her youngest daughter, Margaret, to an impoverished baron, Noelle had been left to her own devices. The prospect of having control over said devices had proved more desirable than the actuality of being left quite alone in her uncle's rambling house.

“I hoped you would be in town this Season, Brenna.” Noelle sighed as they stepped into the cool interior of the shop. The scent of hot tea and the colors of bolts of exotic fabrics lifted her spirits and promised to be a delightful distraction. “Without my sisters, I am dreadfully bored.”

Until last evening. She looked forward to suffering from boredom again, now that the nobleman was well out of her life.

“I thought Aunt Clara was chaperoning you this year.” Brenna lifted a bolt of deep red cloth and held it against herself. The color complimented her skin nicely. “She can be quite entertaining.”

Noelle gave a sheepish smile. “Aunt Clara had to rush off to Sussex to be with Pudding. Her dear daughter has suffered another one of her spells and needs her mother to talk her back from the brink of her impending death. So Aunt Clara put Aunt Bernie in charge instead.”

The two cousins shared a knowing smile. Pudding, as Cousin Wilhelmina was affectionately known, was as plump as she was tall, and spent much of her time abed with a variety of ailments she conjured up in her head.

“I heard Pudding suffered a dreadful bout of consumption last month,” Brenna said as she reached to lay a bolt of gold fabric across Noelle's upturned hands. “She should be dead and buried by now.”

Noelle fingered the hideous gold cloth and held back a snicker. She did love the way Brenna spoke her thoughts without hesitation. “She had a miraculous recovery, dearest. The doctors have never seen the like.”

The cousins giggled.

“Has Aunt Bernie been able to stay sober during the soirees ?” Brenna asked with a wink. “The last time she attended a play with me, she almost toppled out of our box.”

“I have yet to call upon her,” Noelle admitted sheepishly. As Noelle usually attended functions with the express notion of having fun, she'd decided watching her aunt stumble about, making a fool of herself, was decidedly not fun. “I have been flouting convention and attending unchaperoned.”

Brenna's green eyes widened in false surprise. “Careful, Noelle. You might be added to the family list of black sheep if you continue to push the boundaries of society.”

Noelle snorted. “I shall take my chances. With you and your brothers to distract the gossips, I have been able to parade about without drawing too many shocked whispers.”

“Speaking of interesting gossip”—Brenna's eyes narrowed suspiciously—“I heard you have discovered a new relation. Evangeline, is it? There is some nonsense about her being a long-lost cousin I have never heard of. Explain, please.”

The cousins locked gazes. Noelle had known it wouldn't be long before her family became privy to Eva's existence. Brenna couldn't have been the first to hear the gossip, so the matter was out. It wouldn't be long now before the ridiculous falsehood about Eva's actual connection to the family crumbled. She hadn't expected the news to travel so quickly.

She pulled Brenna behind a stack of cloth bolts and whispered, “You cannot tell anyone this secret. She is not our cousin but my half sister. She was recently married to the Duke of Stanfield.”

“His Grace? He is so very handsome.” Brenna made a wistful sound and stared off in the distance. “I'd heard the duke had wed. 'Tis a shame.”

Noelle shook her arm. “He is my sister's husband.”

Brenna blinked, and her eyes cleared. “Right. Sorry.”

A quick glance about revealed several women lingering nearby. Too close for privacy. A tale such as this needed the better part of an afternoon to flesh out fully. “However, that is a story for another time and place. Right now I am in desperate need of a new frock.”

Brenna accepted the brief explanation, knowing Noelle would eventually give her the entire story.

They spent the day shopping Bond Street, Noelle doling out pieces of information about her secret sister until the tale was largely told. By the close of the afternoon, Noelle's back was bent with fatigue and she was weighted down with packages. Brenna was similarly afflicted.

“I think I shall skip the party tonight and spend the evening soaking my feet,” Noelle said with a soft groan. There was a second reason, one that didn't involve her throbbing feet, for avoiding public activities. The earl.

The chance was small he'd even remember her, yet there was no telling what the sot would recall. Likely he'd awoken feeling as if his head was cracked into pieces and thought her nothing but a curious dream. Still, she couldn't be certain. Even though he was not known to enjoy the frivolity of the social whirl since his marriage some five years past, it wasn't beyond comprehension that he wouldn't change his behavior and spread his presence throughout the Ton.

Tripping over him at some party was a risk. Better to let a few weeks pass before venturing out. It would give him time to forget he ever met her, and her, time to forget him.

As if she could.

The idea of living shut up in her uncle's town house for weeks was a grim prospect. Then, there was always Aunt Bernie for company.

“I have spent far too many nights of late playing the flirtatious minx for my own entertainment,” Noelle explained. She did enjoy her amusements. After years of begging her mother to allow her to spend her summers in town, she took this respite from the country to socialize. Seclusion would be a dismal prospect. “Perhaps I should withdraw for a week or three.”

Brenna watched her skeptically. “You, withdraw from society? The Season will fold in upon itself without the lovely Lady Seymour to amuse the young bucks. Wagers abound over who will finally break your reserve and wed you.” She pondered Noelle's face. “There is something you're not telling me, Cousin. I've sensed your distraction all day.”