His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) (32 page)

He glared down at her, watching her work hard to keep her emotions beneath the surface. She would give nothing away now, not when her final victory was within reach.

It had all become clear to him last night as he’d tossed and turned on the library sofa. There was a reason why leaving him wasn’t difficult for her. Because this had been her plan, all along.

Revenge
.

His little mistress. His virgin courtesan. She had not loved him, not truly. The little cat had played him for a fool. And he had let her.

“Why the long face, pet?” Darius asked, his voice hard with sarcasm. “I should think you’d be happy. You’ve finally gotten what you wanted. As of tomorrow, the Grosvenor Square townhouse will be yours. My solicitor has already been instructed to draw up the papers to transfer the deed into your name, as per our agreement. The jewels, the clothes—they are yours, as well. Fitting payment for all your hard work, my dear. In truth, I cannot begrudge you your wages. You did a damn fine job on your back for me. I’m sure your next employer will be delighted with all your tricks, as well, not to mention your work ethic. A more dedicated harlot one would never find, I’d wager.”

Raw shock flooded Serena’s expression, and his own heart twisted in response. What was he doing? He didn’t know. He only knew that torturing her like this gave him some kind of perverse relief from his own agony.

Darius pivoted on his heel, making to leave. But something made him turn to regard her one last time. “Oh yes, there is one thing for which I am in your debt. Indeed, I find I am most grateful to you for refusing my proposal yesterday. In the sober light of day, I realized my dreadful folly in asking you to be my wife.” He laughed, coldly. “Can you imagine? A more ridiculous idea I have never invented. A courtesan as my countess… I’d be laughed right out of Parliament.”

Serena’s eyes widened at the insult, their green depths glittering with emotion. She looked as if she had been slapped, quite viciously, too.

Her vulnerable expression momentarily shamed him, but he quickly banished such a thought from his mind. If Serena was hurt, it was from her own doing. He would not feel guilty for merely pointing out the facts of the matter to his stubborn little mistress.

She gazed up at him silently, pain etched upon the fine features of her face. Even like this, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

He had to get out of there before he remembered the sweetness of her lips…the softness of her skin…and how desperate he was to touch her.

“I bid you good-day, Serena.”

He inclined his head in a stiff nod, then stalked off. For if he stayed longer, he might embarrass himself by pulling Serena into his arms for one final, heated kiss. That was a scene best left to penny novels.

With each step he took, his heart bucked against him. But Darius refused to turn around and look at the courtesan he had left behind. He had to keep moving forward, or he would not have the strength to. And the sick churning in his gut told him he would need that strength to get through the coming days without her.

Not to mention, the rest of his life.

* * *

The next morning was cold and damp, the skies depressingly gray. Fitting weather for a painful departure, Serena thought. She had done as she had threatened, going to the manor house and knocking upon the kitchen door at the side of the great house. The front door would have been barred to her, she was certain.

After convincing the cook to pass a message to Lady Kane, she had received the answer which she sought. The Dowager Countess had indeed become a reluctant ally. Darius’s mother was only too happy to provide a carriage to convey Serena back to London and away from her precious son.

Now, she sat in its plush blue velvet interior, staring at the passing countryside as the vehicle rolled down the lane. She tried in vain not to think about the painful goodbye she had just endured with Caro and the twins, or the agonizing last few moments with Darius. The uncomfortable memories seemed to delight in haunting her, like malevolent spirits.

She wiped at her eyes, wishing above all that they would stop tearing up. Crying would accomplish nothing, accept to make her nose red, her eyes puffy, and leave her with a throbbing headache. She did not wish to be plagued with any of that nonsense when she arrived back in Town. Today was the first day of her contract with the Duke of Balfour. She had to look her best when she made her debut as his courtesan tonight.

A lump formed in her throat at the thought. Serena dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, using the sharp pain to focus her mind. She
had
to gain control of her emotions. This agitated state would do her no good when she was trying to bring sensual pleasure to the duke. The task would be difficult enough for her, if not almost impossible. She would force herself to rely on her training and to banish thoughts of Darius from her mind. It had to be done. There was nothing else for it.

The final scene with Darius had been worse than she could have ever imagined. It seemed that he hated her now, much as she had once hated him. Serena’s refusal to marry him, or even continue on as his mistress had turned him against her.

One thing was certain, Darius would
not
be coming after her. He had made that abundantly clear. As far as her career went, it was the ideal situation. Lady Devlyn had always emphasized the importance of making a clean break with one lover before taking on another, however it was achieved.

Well, Serena had certainly succeeded in that regard. She would never forget the accusing look in Darius’s eyes as he’d mercilessly flogged her with his words. The tenderness she had seen in him the night they had made love had been replaced with anger, pity and disgust.

Toward her.

It was for the best, she told herself as the sharp reality twisted in her heart. She imagined the pain she felt was akin to recovering from a war wound. As she healed each day, the discomfort would be a little less. Then one day, the wound would be fully healed. She would have to be patient until that day came, and pray devotedly for its speedy arrival.

Serena forced herself to focus on positive thoughts. Her contract with Darius was over. She was now the owner of a spectacular Grosvenor Square townhouse, along with all the luxurious furnishings, fashionable clothes, and dazzling jewels within. After only six months as Darius Manning’s private courtesan, she was now a wealthy woman in her own right. No one could take that away from her. If she played her cards right, she would be wealthier still, with each consecutive protector she took on.

Serena knew she should be congratulating herself on her success. She had achieved her goal. She would never have to worry about starving or having nowhere to live, like she and her poor mother.

And yet, her victory felt decidedly hollow. Compared to the heady, ethereal love she had felt in Darius’s arms, those treasures she had coveted for so long now seemed tarnished and dull. She had tasted the wondrous perfection of love for only an instant before it swirled away on the breeze, like a cloud bursting in a bright blue sky.

Those magical moments with Darius would never be eclipsed by material wealth, of that she was certain. And yet, prosperity was the only thing she could count on now, the only thing which Serena could control and ensure with her own actions.

Perhaps if she accumulated enough wealth, one day she would stop feeling so afraid.

Later, as she gazed out the carriage window, a wave of welcome relief washed over her. The outskirts of London loomed in the distance. She had never been so glad to see the sprawling metropolis as she was this very moment.

Serena had instructed the driver to deliver her to Lady Devlyn’s Mayfair mansion. What with these tumultuous last few days, she desperately needed to see her mentor. Lady D would be there to offer sage advice and give Serena’s confidence a much needed boost before her evening with the duke.

Felicity and Bliss—they would be a sight for sore eyes, as well. Serena needed their camaraderie, their warm smiles and witty remarks to lift her spirits and make her feel like her old self again.

Soon the carriage was rolling along in the familiar congested traffic of Town. She had never been so happy to see the familiar crush of vehicles, the shouts of drivers as they attempted to maneuver through the throng that was London, for it meant that she was home.

As they neared the Mayfair district, Serena sat forward on the plush seat, itching to alight from the vehicle and plant her feet firmly upon the ground. They pulled up in front of Devlyn House, and Serena waited for the driver to open the door and pull down the step for her. As the man saw to her bags, she trotted up the stone steps to the front door and was admitted by Mansfield, who showed her into the parlor.

Lady Devlyn looked up from her embroidery, Bliss looked up from her penny novel, and Felicity stilled the fingers that plucked away at the keys of the pianoforte.

“Serena!” the ladies said in unison.

Lady Devlyn, however, perusing her with her hawk-like gaze, said something altogether different. “Serena…you look absolutely, positively, and quite utterly
ghastly
.”

Chapter 26

“
When trying to forget one man, simply gaze at another. Or better yet, take him to bed
.”

–
From Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

Serena studied her reflection in the glass of her dressing bureau as she ran the ivory-handled brush through her thick auburn hair. Now at home in Grosvenor Square, she made the last preparations for her evening with her new protector, the Duke of Balfour.

It had been a most unusual homecoming, to be sure. When she had walked through the front door of the townhouse—her townhouse, now—it felt cold and bleak. Somehow, the knowledge that Darius would never return here, never share her bed or a private joke over breakfast made the house seem like a tomb.

Perhaps it was a fitting end to her scheme. The glittering townhouse that had once been such a prize would now be no better than a crypt, housing the beautiful, ambitious courtesan with the dead heart and withered soul.

But she was getting ahead of herself, she thought, bitterly. Her heart wasn’t completely dead yet. She could still feel it twisting and clawing within her breast, in its painful death throes. It was only a matter of time before it ceased feeling, altogether.

Going to bed with duke tonight would surely deliver the killing blow.

Then she would be free of Darius’s power over her. The memories of him that swirled about her like smoke and choked her with malevolent fingers, would fade away. And like a poor, afflicted pilgrim who welcomes death, Serena would finally be at rest.

Perhaps Darius was right, after all. Perhaps she was a coward. But how could anyone condemn her for taking measures against inevitable pain? To live with Darius, even as his wife, was to risk a future heartache so profound that Serena doubted she would ever recover. She was not willing to give Darius that power over her once again—the power to love and cherish, to hurt and destroy.

Though she knew many would not understand why, Serena’s choice to continue in her life as a professional courtesan was an act of self-preservation. However flawed this existence was, it was preferable to the alternative—falling deeper and deeper in love with Darius each day, sealing her sorry fate with every beat of her foolish heart.

Suddenly a sharp, searing pain pierced her breast. Absently Serena rubbed at it. She had done so many times in the past few days, though it did nothing to relieve the true source of the torment. It was the memory of a man, like a splinter deep within her heart, that plagued her.

Midnight blue eyes.

A warm, wicked mouth.

Hands that tortured and tempted with every caress.

Darius…

She pushed such maudlin thoughts away, focusing her mind on the task at hand. In a matter of hours, she would become mistress to the Duke of Balfour. She had applied cosmetics to her face, a hint of rouge on her cheeks to make her look flushed with passion, a blush of color on her lips to make them seem reddened from kissing, a faint dusting of khol on her eyelids to make them appear drowsy with desire.

These were only a few of the courtesan’s tools, ones which she would be using for years to come, she wagered.

The cosmetic preparations had worked their magic. Thankfully, she looked a far sight better now than she had upon her arrival at Lady Devlyn’s. Her mentor’s honest appraisal of her appearance had not been taken as an insult. Upon looking in the mirror, Serena couldn’t help but see the dark circles that shadowed her eyes, the sallow skin and dull, untidy hair that had so alarmed Lady Devlyn, Bliss and Felicity. The Courtesan Club had quickly sprung into action, ringing the maid for hot water, plush towels and the finest Castile soap.

A few quick beauty treatments—cucumber slices for her eyes, a hot, fragrant bath, followed by luxurious creams for the skin—had done wonders for Serena’s outward appearance, if not her inward state of mind.

Serena had scrubbed vigorously at her skin, attempting to banish those torturous thoughts of Darius with the action. Lady Devlyn had warned her not to take such feelings out on her tender skin, lest she would leave it raw and irritated. Instead, she encouraged Serena to calmly concentrate on the task at hand, to fill her mind with her immediate goal—that of preparing her body for her new protector—and everything would work itself out.