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‘Not yet. There are several matrons of great appetite and small morals who have made their interest quite clear.’
‘And Mrs Anderson recently left the Duke of Portland’s protection. I seem to remember her casting lures in your direction, even while she was with Portland.’
‘Can’t help being irresistible,’ Christopher said, and ducked his friend’s punch. ‘Oh, they are all lovely enough. But none of them...quite tempt me.’
The image of a courtesan who had always more than tempted him came to mind. How fast he’d jump to follow, were Ellie Parmenter to crook a finger in his direction!
Shaking his thoughts free, he said, ‘How about spending the rest of the evening at Madame Aurelie’s? Good wine, lovely women to pour it, and a few hands of cards. Almost as respectable as a gentleman’s club. I don’t think Alyssa would object.’
Ben gave him a wry grin. ‘She probably wouldn’t. But going to a gaming hell run by a famous former courtesan, with ladies discreetly available for select customers who can afford their high fees, isn’t the sort of behaviour I want to indulge in.’
Before Christopher could remind him how often he’d indulged in it in the past, his friend quickly added, ‘I know I could accompany you, share a bottle of wine, a round of cards, and nothing more than conversation with ladies who are as witty as they are beautiful. But...it just doesn’t appeal any more. Sorry. Don’t let me spoil your pleasure, though! In fact, in honour of our frequent revels in the past, drink twice the wine and beguile twice the ladies, for me.’
He gave Christopher’s hand a pat. ‘Enjoy yourself—as if I need to tell you that! I’ll take the tray down.’ Picking it up, he gave Christopher a wink and headed out the door.
Though Madame Aurelie and her charming company beckoned, as Christopher watched his friend leave, he couldn’t stifle a little sinking feeling in his gut...that surely wasn’t loneliness.
Chapter One (#u4a19c7cd-4fd3-580a-bc5c-d33766a55449)
Two weeks later
Afternoon sun, diffused to a soft glow by the sheer curtains at the window, cast a flattering light over the face and figure of the voluptuous blonde in the diaphanous dressing gown. As Christopher crossed the sitting room to the couch on which she reclined, the lady stretched out an arm, a diamond bracelet dangling from her fingers. ‘Christopher, darling, what a pleasant surprise! Fasten this for me, won’t you? The clasp is troublesome.’
With an indulgent smile, Christopher bent to perform that task, tweaking one blonde curl after he finished. ‘Troublesome, like its owner?’ he teased.
China-blue eyes widening in reproach, she pursed full pink lips in a pout. ‘That’s no way to talk to your mama.’
‘Maybe not. But the usual rules of filial behaviour don’t apply when your mother is a Beauty who still twists men around her little finger and looks more like a sister than a parent.’
A fact that, depending on the day, inspired him alternately with pride, amusement or chagrin.
‘Where did you get that new bauble? Henderson?’ he asked, naming the most assiduous of her current admirers.
She waved a hand. ‘Yes. Henderson positively begged to be allowed to send me a small token of his esteem, so I at last relented. The bracelet is lovely,’ she observed, lifting her arm to admire its sparkle. ‘However, I think I must dismiss him. He’s becoming quite tiresomely possessive, and you know I can’t tolerate that.’
If she did send him packing, it wouldn’t be because Christopher’s father—or rather, the man who legally filled that role—objected. Lord Vraux and his Lady had gone their separate ways for years, and everyone knew it. Just as they all whispered about the identity of Christopher’s real father and that of his sisters, his elder brother Gregory being the only one of the ‘Vraux Miscellany’ believed to be his lordship’s legitimate offspring.
‘Have you already someone in mind to replace him?’ he asked as he took the seat beside her. ‘Chernworth would happily claim his place. Then there’s that new puppy—Lord Rogers?—following you about, writing execrable verse in your honour.’
‘He’s just a boy,’ his mother said, shaking her head dismissively. ‘Chernworth’s amusing enough, but Kennington has become quite sharp of late. Really, I’m thinking of giving them all up. Retiring to the country, perhaps.’
‘Retiring to the country?’ he echoed. ‘You can’t be serious! Without the shops, theatres and entertainments of London, you’d expire of boredom in a week. And so would Society, without you to sparkle on its stage.’
‘Without me to scandalise and fuel its gossip, you mean,’ she retorted good-naturedly. ‘Still, it might be better to leave that stage while I’m still sought after. Before my beauty fades, and the admirers drift away.’
His charming, effervescent mother looked almost...sad. Surprised, Christopher said, ‘What brought on this green melancholy?’
Picking up a mirror from the table beside her, she inspected her face. ‘See, that wrinkle there?’ she pointed. ‘Kennington teased me about it last night.’
Christopher bent to peer at his mother. ‘That? It’s barely noticeable. Kennington’s an ass. You’ve more than a few good years left before you’re in your dotage! Besides, the girls still need to be settled.’
‘You’d have me attend those dreadful parties full of insipid virgins and their matchmaking mamas?’ His mother shuddered. ‘In any event, I wouldn’t be much help in getting your sisters respectably married. You know all those society beldames detest me.’
He couldn’t dispute that claim. Lady Vraux was much admired—by the masculine members of the ton. Jealous of her beauty, charm and the mesmerising effect she had on men, society’s women were less appreciative. Though her birth and position guaranteed his mama invitations to most society entertainments—as well as to others far less respectable—her successful flaunting of the standards of proper feminine behaviour had won her few female friends.
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘If those women devoted a fraction of the time they spend criticising me to enticing their men, they wouldn’t have to worry about my charms. In any event, I’ll probably call upon your Aunt Augusta to ferry the girls about when the time comes.’
‘Gussie would excel at it,’ Christopher agreed. ‘She thrives on keeping track of who’s pursuing whom and who’s the biggest prize on the Marriage Mart.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I ought to enlist her help. I’ve been thinking...’ He hesitated, not sure, given her probable reaction, he wanted to divulge his intent. ‘Perhaps it’s time I found a wife.’
Shocked silence reigned for a moment before his mother burst out laughing. ‘You, married?’ she said when she’d recovered herself. ‘What nonsense!’
‘No, Mama, I’m serious,’ he protested.
She fixed him with a penetrating look. ‘You’re just lonely, with all your closest friends wed now. Which is hardly a good reason to get yourself leg-shackled. But then, you’re well aware of my opinion on marriage.’
‘I miss my friends, it’s true,’ Christopher admitted. Especially Ben Tawny, who’d been his carousing partner on many occasions—until he met and married his lady. ‘Despite your view of the institution, all the Hellions have found wives who make marriage look quite attractive.’
His mother waved a dismissive hand. ‘But they are all virtually newlyweds, aren’t they? If they remain happy, they will be luckier than most.’
Luckier than she’d been, Christopher knew. His beautiful mother had been married off by her financially hard-pressed father to the highest bidder—Lord Vraux. A connoisseur of all things lovely, the years-older baron had been mad to add to his collection the most dazzling girl of her debut Season. Cold, withdrawn, and remote, he had never been able to give his passionate, outgoing, demonstrative wife the affection or companionship she craved.
Whatever the beldames thought of her morals, none could dispute that she’d been a devoted mother. Especially to Christopher, son of the man rumour said had been the love of her life.
‘You are serious, then?’ his mother demanded, after studying him as he’d sat silent, lost in thought. ‘Have you a candidate in mind?’
‘No. Which is why I need Aunt Augusta. I’m hardly a romantic, Mama. I’m not expecting to discover a woman who inspires me to write bad verse, like Lord Rogers.’
Even if his friends did seem to have found such joy, he thought, the loneliness that had dogged him of late deepened by a wistful envy.
‘All I require is a respectable young lady of good birth who can manage my household and give me heirs. Not a chit right from the schoolroom, of course; even a young widow would do. Although that’s not absolutely required, someone with an interest in politics would be a plus. As I’ve always avoided parties where respectable virgins gather, besides my sisters, I don’t know any. Hence my need for Aunt Gussie.’
‘A respectable young lady of good birth to manage your household and give you heirs? Sounds like a devilishly cold arrangement.’
‘Come now, Mama, you can’t claim to have been rapturously in love with every one of your...admirers!’
‘I was when the liaison began,’ she shot back.
‘A prudent match doesn’t have to be cold,’ he argued, not surprised she resisted the idea, after having been disposed of herself in a completely dispassionate manner. ‘I know better than to wed someone to whom I am indifferent, or who feels nothing for me. There’s no reason I couldn’t share a mutual respect and affection with a more...traditional woman.’
‘“Mutual respect” with a “traditional” woman?’ She shook her head. ‘Christopher, darling, you’re much too like me for such a match to ever work! After a decade of liaisons with the most beautiful, witty and seductive of females, a dutiful, respectable virgin would bore you to flinders. And what of passion?’
‘Just because a female is respectable doesn’t mean she must lack passion.’
She sniffed. ‘If that were true, I’d have far fewer married admirers.’
Giving up on that tack, Christopher continued, ‘I’ve reached the age where the idea of returning home to tranquillity and peace in the arms of a friend sounds more attractive than a night of drinking and debauchery in the bed of a courtesan.’
He wouldn’t admit to her—or even to himself—that the idea of possessing an eminently respectable wife did sound a bit dull. Or how much the loss of the camaraderie of the three now-married men who’d been closer than family to him for a decade was driving this newfound resolve to take a wife. Once he, too, married, their intimate circle would again be complete.
But above all, he couldn’t confess he felt compelled to wed that eminently respectable female so his own children would never have to wonder who their father was, endure the sniggers and whispers of their peers about their mother—or bear the cold disinterest of the man who was legally their father.
Such a confession would sound too much like an indictment. And despite all the turmoil, slights and indignities he’d endured growing up, he truly did love his volatile mother.
The disapproving expression on her face told him she wasn’t convinced. Before he could think of another argument to persuade her, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of a tall, dark-haired woman.
Seeing him sitting beside his mother, the lady halted, her smile fading. ‘I’m sorry, Felicia! I don’t mean to intrude. Billings told me you were free.’
‘Ellie!’ Lady Vraux cried, jumping up from the couch in a swirl of silken draperies to go meet the newcomer. ‘Of course, you’re not interrupting—I got your note, and was expecting you! How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you this age!’
Gladness warming him, Christopher stood and drank in the pleasure of watching the quiet elegance that was Ellie Parmenter walk across the room. Though it must be ten years now since they’d met, each time he saw her he felt the same sense of awe—and sharp pull of sensual attraction—he’d felt the first time he’d beheld her in his mother’s drawing room, when he’d returned from Oxford on a term break. Her figure lush and well formed, her movements grace personified, her pale face perfection beneath a curly mass of dark hair, she had huge violet eyes with an air of mystery about them that he’d immediately lost himself in. The young collegian had been first mesmerised, then dismayed and disappointed to discover that this beauty a few years younger than himself was in keeping to a dissolute, much older peer.
Though neither she nor his mama had ever volunteered the details, he knew there’d been something havey-cavey about the way she’d come to be Summerville’s mistress. He’d been happy for her when the man died last autumn, freeing her from that relationship.
Had he not been entangled at the time with the Divine Clarissa, he might have pursued her himself.
‘I’m quite well,’ Ellie was saying as she returned his mother’s embrace. ‘I can wait in the drawing room until you finish your chat with Christopher.’
‘Nonsense! I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing your news, too. Wouldn’t you, my dear?’
‘I would indeed. Although, since I’m the one who turned up unexpectedly, if you ladies would prefer to have a comfortable coze, I could leave.’
‘No, please, stay, Christopher,’ Ellie said, echoing his mother’s request.
That matter disposed of, his mother rang for tea and, arm in arm with her visitor, proceeded to the sofa. He waved Ellie to the seat he’d just vacated and she took it, her dark beauty a perfect foil to his mother’s blonde loveliness.
‘So, what have you been doing to occupy yourself since Summerville’s demise, when you left the social scene?’ his mother demanded. ‘Not mourning, surely. More like celebrating, I’d expect.’
‘I was...ready to move on,’ Ellie allowed, her expression unreadable.
‘Summerville did leave you that charming little house, as well as an annuity, didn’t he?’ his mother asked. ‘Why don’t you set yourself up with a snug little gaming establishment, like Madame Aurelie? I know you have friends in the demi-monde who would be happy to work for you. The gentlemen would certainly flock there, wouldn’t they, Christopher?’
A gaming hell with Ellie as its mistress? There was no doubt. ‘Absolutely. You’d be a smashing success.’
‘Set that up, and you’d never have to worry about running out of money,’ his mother said. ‘As an independent woman, you’d retain control of your own funds and your own establishment—giving you more freedom and security than a married woman ever has.’
‘If not the respect of Society,’ Ellie murmured.
‘No great loss, that,’ Lady Vraux said with a shrug. ‘I would choose independence and control over my fortune any day! But since I take it that option doesn’t appeal, what do you intend to do? Not start that school for wayward females you mentioned when we last met, I hope!’
‘Actually, I have started it,’ Ellie said, giving his mother an apologetic smile. ‘I’d been thinking of doing something like that for years, particularly for girls born at fancy houses who don’t want to follow their mothers into the trade. It’s true that courtesans at the highest levels have the independence you so admire, but few females achieve that. Most girls caught up in the life can never leave it, either because they have no other way to support themselves, or because the madam or pimp controlling them won’t permit it. Which is why I was so grateful for Lord Witlow’s assistance in the matter of the girl who trapped Ben Tawny at the Quill and Gavel,’ she said, looking over at Christopher.
‘It’s Ben and the rest of us Hellions who owe you thanks,’ Christopher responded. ‘Without your sleuthing efforts and your knowledge of the demi-monde, we’d never have found her, and Ben might have been facing the ruin of his Parliamentary career. We’ve worked too hard for too long to lose one of our key members now, when the reforms we’ve struggled to advance are so close to being implemented.’
‘Yes, I read that your Third Reform Bill passed the Commons. Congratulations!’
Christopher nodded his thanks. ‘Now we just have to get it through the Lords. Though a few peers, like Lady Maggie’s father, are reasonable, a great many recalcitrants will try to drag their heels. Another reason we’re grateful that, with your help, we’ve still got Ben with us in the fight.’
‘I’m so thankful for your mama and all her kindness over the years. I was only too happy to do what I could.’ She gave him that sweet smile that always made his heart lift. ‘Most women of her class ignore me like an unpleasant odour. No one but Felicia has ever condescended, not just to acknowledge me, but to offer friendship. Still, had Lord Witlow not stepped in to guarantee the girl’s safety, she would have been too afraid of retribution for me to persuade her to come forward. Once he’d been made aware of the situation—and what I hoped to do for other girls—his lordship not only took steps to protect Jane, he invested in the project, allowing me to begin the school at once. I shall be indebted for ever.’
‘We are all indebted that the two of you worked in concert to clear Ben’s name,’ Christopher said.
A knock at the door, followed by the entry of the butler with the tea tray, brought a momentary halt to the conversation. Once they were settled with cups in hand, Ellie yielding to his mother’s request that she pour for them, Christopher turned back to her.
Curious about her unusual endeavour, Christopher asked, ‘How do you find the girls for your school?’
‘Are you sure you want to know more? I can become quite enthused when talking about my project,’ she cautioned.
‘Yes, I truly want to know,’ he assured her.
‘Very well. Working girls, or those with a friend or relative who has a daughter who aspires to a different life, send them to me. Or sometimes I find them at the posting inns, where I try to intercept country girls who’ve come to town looking for work, before the bawds can spirit them away.’
Lady Vraux frowned. ‘Isn’t that dangerous? I imagine the bawds don’t like being robbed of their pigeons!’
‘I’m sure they don’t,’ Ellie agreed. ‘When he learned what I intended, Lord Witlow insisted I have a burly man to accompany me. As it turns out, he engaged the bully boy at the house from which they obtained the girl meant to entrap Mr Tawny. It seems the man was sweet on her, and after Witlow helped her escape, was ready to trade his current employment for some honest work where he might be able to continue the acquaintance.’
‘Well, it’s commendable of you, my dear, setting up the school, but nobility does become rather dull. Surely you leave yourself some time for amusements—concerts, the theatre?’
Ellie smiled faintly, shaking her head. ‘I don’t go out much any more.’
‘To avoid being pestered by gentlemen hoping to persuade you to let them take Summerville’s place?’ his mother guessed. ‘Lovely as you are, I’m certain you’ve had offers! If you don’t intend to open an establishment that will earn you a reliable income, you must find some other way to secure your future. Are you planning to take another protector?’
‘No,’ Ellie said flatly, the bleakness that swiftly crossed her face before she masked it suddenly recalling one of Christopher’s earliest memories of her.
It must have been only a few weeks after they’d first met. Answering a summons by his mama to escort her home from a definitely disrespectable masquerade ball after her nominal escort had fallen into a drunken stupor, he’d encountered Ellie alone in one of the anterooms, weeping. Seeing him, she’d hastily wiped away the tears, insisted there was nothing wrong, and led him to his mother. Not knowing how to get her to confide in him, he’d let it go. But the devastation he’d read on her face then had struck him deeply—as did the glimpse of it he’d just seen.
No more certain now how to ask her about it, before he could speak, his mother continued, ‘But how are you to live, if you do not allow another gentleman to provide for you? You have the house, and Summerville was certainly generous with gifts, but even if you sell some jewels, it won’t cover your expenses for ever. Not with servants to pay, and candles, coal and all manner of victuals to be bought, to say nothing of clothing. To wrap your loveliness in outdated gowns would be a travesty!’
Ellie laughed. ‘I think I can tolerate the indignity of wearing last year’s fashions. Summerville was generous with his gifts, and thanks to your advice, I obtained that annuity and some other assets that will allow me to remain independent. I can maintain myself for a good long while before I have to worry about where my next meal is coming from.’
‘Is it the notoriety of living outside wedlock that holds you back?’ his mother persisted. ‘I can’t believe a lady as young and beautiful as you prefers to exist without...masculine attention.’
Again, Christopher caught a glimpse of distress before Ellie could submerge it. ‘I’ve quite had my fill of “masculine attention” these last few years. Nor does the idea of additional notoriety bother me. I’m not naive enough to think I can erase the past; even were I to live the rest of my life as chastely as a nun, I will always be known as a kept woman.’
‘We are all kept women, my dear,’ his mother replied, a look of bitterness passing over her face. ‘Some of us are trapped by wedding lines. You, at least, still have the power to choose your path. Don’t discount that freedom.’ Then, her face clearing, she said, ‘But enough of this sober talk. Let me tell you something that is certain to amuse you. Christopher just announced he has taken it into his head to marry! Is that not the most ridiculous notion you’ve ever heard?’
‘I’m so glad my intention to reform myself into a respectable gentleman inspires you to hilarity,’ Christopher said wryly, as his mother went off into another peal of laughter.
‘Come, you must dissuade him of the nonsensical idea, Ellie! You’ve encountered him in enough disreputable places and scandalous company to recognise he’s not sober husband material. Christopher, remaining devoted to a single woman?’ She shook her head. ‘He ought to spare some earnest, virtuous virgin a lifetime of sorrow and abandon the notion forthwith.’
Although she didn’t succumb to mirth like his mother, Ellie’s lovely eyes were definitely dancing when she glanced at him. ‘I must allow, Christopher, up to now, you’ve shown a preference for ladies more renowned for a...particular kind of skill than for their virtue, and an ever-changing parade of them at that.’
‘Indeed!’ his mother agreed. ‘Remember that soprano from the Theatre Royal—was it a vase she threw at you, Christopher? You’ve still got the scar on your chin! And the time you stole Harrington’s doxy out from under his nose, and he threatened to call you out! And then there was—’
‘Please, must you list all my indiscretions?’ Christopher protested, half-amused, half-embarrassed. ‘I agree, I’ve not exactly been a...model of punctilious deportment, but a man can change. Can’t he, Ellie?’
Instead of the witty riposte he expected, she stared at him—those magnificent violet eyes making his breath hitch, as they always did on the rare occasions when she gave him her full attention. ‘I don’t know, Christopher. I expect a man can reform, if he wants to badly enough.’ A faint smile touched her lips. ‘Unlike a female, even a truly notorious man can choose to turn respectable.’
Is that what caused the lingering sadness he saw in her eyes? Christopher wondered. She’d always seemed, and he’s always treated her, as a lady, despite her position as Summerville’s mistress. Had she once been respectable, and been robbed of that reputation by some cruel circumstance? He really must press his mother for more details about her background.
