His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) (33 page)

One thing was certain. Darius would not come after her. It was over between them.

Perhaps his hatred of Serena was a blessing. She needed to ensure that he would stay away from her, to give her enough time to get over him. For if Darius appeared on her doorstep now, she did not think she would have the strength to resist him. And now that she was contracted to another man, Darius’s presence in Town might create untold problems for her, as well as for him.

The duke might call him out.

A duel might be fought.

Someone might get killed.

Darius…
.

It did not bear thinking about.

She was the duke’s courtesan, now, Serena reminded herself. She had best stop ruminating on the past and start concentrating on her future.

His Grace had sent a note to her residence earlier in the day, requesting that Serena appear at his Berkely Square mansion at nine o’clock that evening. They would have their first assignation there. It suited Serena perfectly, as to entertain another man in what was recently Darius’s townhouse would only remind her of their painful past.

The new location only presented one problem: how to ensure her personal security. It would be easier for her bodyguard, Sharif, to protect her in Serena’s townhouse. But Lady Devlyn assured Serena that Sharif was very resourceful. The man could scale walls if he had to, and could appear out of thin air like a genie from a bottle.

During Serena’s trip to Manning Park, the loyal Bedouin had returned to his usual post at Devlyn House, though not without protest. He had not been convinced of Serena’s safety at Lord Kane’s country retreat. Only Lady Devlyn’s specific orders had kept him from following Serena to Surrey on foot.

Now, Sharif was back at his post at the Grosvenor Square townhouse. Though Serena could not in good conscience use the word ‘happy’ to describe the desert warrior’s mood, the enigmatic bodyguard seemed to scowl with less bloodthirsty vehemence than usual.

In truth, Serena did not think the duke posed any threat whatsoever. But Lady D had drilled into her courtesans the importance of always having someone to watch your back, preferably someone large, muscular, and adept at swordplay. Sharif was all of those things and more.

Serena was not worried about coming to any physical harm tonight. It was more the emotional toll that worried her. She forced her mind to imagine what it would feel like to take Balfour’s hardened sex into her body. As a virgin courtesan, only Darius had touched her there. And though he had done so many times over the course of their contract—with his hands, mouth, and his manhood—it had felt natural. Because it was Darius. The man she’d loved and hated with all the power of her foolish heart.

Serena felt nothing for the Duke of Balfour. It seemed an impossibility that such a man would be penetrating her body in a matter of hours.

And yet, it would surely happen.

Unless, of course, Balfour had too much to drink during dinner and passed out in his dessert. She would have to encourage His Grace to enjoy his wine. In fact, she would bring along a bottle of Madeira from her own wine cellar as a gift to her new protector.

If Serena could have laughed at the dark humor of the idea, she would have. But the sad truth was, she doubted she would ever laugh again.

* * *

The Duke of Balfour slowly raised Serena’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her gloved hand. “My dear, you look ravishing,” he said, smoothly, greeting her in the grand parlor of Balfour House.

His pale blue eyes sparkled more brightly than Serena had remembered. But somehow, the fire that burned there was not playful and attractive. He reminded her of a child who harbored a well-guarded secret that he wanted others to guess at.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Serena replied. She had chosen a gown of ivory satin covered in shimmering gold netting. Diamonds glittered about her neck and dripped from her wrists, the exquisite pieces lent to her by Lady Devlyn. Since all of Serena’s jewelry had been gifts from Darius, she had been averse to wearing them on her first night as courtesan to the duke. Her hair was fashioned in the Grecian style by her talented maid, a diamond-encrusted band woven within its auburn waves.

Serena had chosen a rose-scented powder with which to dust her body. It added a noticeable shimmer to her skin as well as a heady fragrance. She had done everything in her power to look the part of the confident courtesan. She merely had to get through this night with Balfour, and then the next night, and the next, until she could go through the motions by rote.

This was her life now.

She had best get used to it.

The duke led her to an opulent dining room. Pale yellow patterned silk decorated the walls, upon which were hung exquisite portraits and landscapes. A footman bowed and pulled out Serena’s chair for her at one end of the long table, while the duke took his seat at the other. She inclined her head at him and smiled serenely as their dinner was served.

As she looked down at the food on her plate, waves of nausea moved through her. Serena took a breath and forced herself to cut into the roasted pheasant.

Somehow, it seemed like the hardest thing she had ever done. And yet she forced herself to take a bite, and another after that. The duke could not know about the warring emotions within her. Not tonight.

They made small talk as the next course was served. Serena focused on the sound of the duke’s voice, as it kept her mind off of the nausea that still plagued her. She whispered a silent prayer that she would not become sick to her stomach.

Serena studied Balfour’s face, so different from Darius’s. Though it was a well-known fact that the duke was considered to be handsome, his attraction was lost on her. His pale, blond hair, sky blue eyes and fine features did not inspire any reaction in her at all. None. How odd that she would be going to bed with him later, she mused.

It seemed as though another woman would be rutting with him, not her, not Serena. Perhaps that was how it would be for the rest of her career. Perhaps pretending that she was someone else altogether would be the only way she would stay sane.

The duke set down his fork and stared at Serena with a mischievous expression. Dinner was over. Which meant only one thing.

The time had come to retire to the duke’s bedchamber.

Serena dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and placed her fork beside her plate. Though relieved that she would not have to force herself to eat another morsel, she felt a dark wave of trepidation at what would come next.

Sex.

Unfortunately, Balfour had only consumed a moderate amount of wine with dinner. He seemed completely unaffected by it. In truth, going by his hearty appetite during dinner, it seemed as if he had been nourishing himself in preparation for the physical event to come.

As if reading her thoughts, Balfour rose from the table and reached out a hand. “Come, let us retire to the billiard room for a time. I have a desire for brandy and a cigar.”

Serena inclined her head in acquiescence. Any activity that bought her more time before their coupling would be welcomed.

The billiard room had two tables, covered in green baize, which stood at either end of the room. The smell of cigars, liquor, and another dark, spicy odor Serena could not identify lingered in the room. These masculine aromas normally mingled to create a pleasant scent. But here, it was different. Somehow the effect seemed to fuel Serena’s unease.

The duke moved to a sideboard, opening it to pull out a crystal goblet and decanter of brandy. Pouring himself a half-filled glass, he took a swig and studied Serena intently. “Tell me, my dear—do you like to play games?”

Serena looked about the room at the tables. “I am afraid I do not have much experience at billiards, Your Grace.”

He smiled slowly, taking another drink. “Actually, I wasn’t talking about billiards.”

Serena studied her new protector, taking note of the slight grin that curved his thin lips, and the eyes that seemed to be laughing at her. She had no idea what Balfour was talking about. And she wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

She remained quiet, noticing instead the subtle change of mood in the room.

Serena wasn’t quite sure when exactly she knew.

A memory flashed in her mind of when she was a child. She had come upon a friendly-looking dog in the village one day, and held her hand out for it to sniff. Somehow, in the moment before he snarled and snapped at her, she’d known it was coming. But she hadn’t been able to move her hand away fast enough, and the creature bit her.

She felt the same way now.

Slowly, something made her turn.

Two men stood in the doorway of the billiard room, grinning, yet their expressions held no warmth. They were well-dressed in evening attire, like the duke himself. It was obvious that these men were not burglars. And the duke was not surprised to see them.

Yet Serena knew in the depths of her soul that these men had not come here to play billiards.

They intended to play at a different sport, altogether.

Chapter 27

“When faced with a sticky situation, there are several ways with which to remove oneself. Quick thinking and a cool head are paramount to achieving success. But unfortunately, even these skills may not be enough to avert disaster…”

–from
Memoirs of a Courtesan, by Lady Night

“Tarrington. Dudley,” the duke said, greeting his guests. “So glad you were able to drop by. Have you met my newest acquisition? May I present my private courtesan, Miss Serena Ransom. Serena, this is Sir Edward Tarrington and his cousin, Lord Dudley. Served with me in the Peninsula. ‘Tarry’ and ‘Duds,’ I call them.”

Serena regarded them silently, forcing herself to remain calm. Panicking was not going to help her escape, if there was anything to escape from. And she did not want to look like a fool if her suspicions were ill-founded. Perhaps the duke’s friends had indeed come for a game of billiards. But that explanation somehow rang hollow.

The two men did not bow, or in any other way politely acknowledge her. They merely studied her intently, as if she were an object they might purchase.

The duke puffed on his cigar. “Well, boys, what do you think of her?”

“Very nice, Bal,” Tarrington said, walking about and looking Serena up and down. “Very nice, indeed.”

“And you, Duds. What say you?”

Lord Dudley followed suit, perusing Serena as if she were horseflesh. She supposed to these men, a woman like her might be exactly that.

That was what worried her.

“A beauty, she is. When do you get to ride her?” Lord Dudley asked, crudely.

“Soon, boys, soon.” The duke smiled, twirling the cigar between his fingers as he stared at Serena. “Don’t worry, we’ll all have a turn.”

Serena sprang into action, darting for the door, but she was too late. Tarrington was a big man, but light on his feet. He moved to block Serena’s escape, slamming the door shut behind him and grabbing a clawing hand out to catch the fabric of her gown. Serena heard the fabric tear as the gold netting was ripped from her dress.

She danced between the three men, managing to stay out of reach just long enough to scream. Sharif was nearby. He had traveled along with her, seated on top of the carriage. Upon their arrival at Balfour House, he’d slipped quietly into the night, fading like smoke as Serena alighted the steps of the mansion. She would have to use her martial arts skills to keep these thugs at bay until her bodyguard arrived.

Serena’s heart pounded with fear, yet she had to remain coolheaded or she would never get out of this mess. The duke and his cohorts laughed and smirked as she eluded them, seeming to enjoy the challenge of capturing her.

“Bal, she’s capital! Did you pay extra for her to do this?” Dudley chortled, swiping a meaty hand at Serena as she flew past him.

“I confess, I did not,” Balfour replied, grinning. “But she is quite good at it, isn’t she? Much better than the light-skirt we had in Brighton.”

“This one’s prettier by far,” Tarrington remarked. “But she won’t be for long.”

Serena’s blood ran cold at the man’s words. These men were animals. Whatever they had planned for her didn’t bear thinking about.

“Quiet, Tarry, you’re scaring her,” the duke said in a stage whisper. “We wouldn’t want to let on too much about our plans for our little whore, now would we?”

Keep them talking…keep them distracted
. That’s what Lady Devlyn had said to do in a situation like this.

“What do you plan to do with me, Your Grace?” Serena demanded, darting behind a chair and pushing it over to block Dudley’s pursuit.

“You really want to know?” Balfour asked, darkly.

“I think I have a right,” Serena said, kicking off her slippers. Footwear would only be a hindrance to her now.

Dudley came near again, backing Serena toward a corner. The other two men stared with interest, as if they were watching a performance of the newest play at Covent Garden.

She waited until he came a little closer, then saw her opportunity and took it. Hitching up her skirts, she jumped into the air and landed a well-placed kick under the man’s jaw. She felt the force of the kick clatter Dudley’s teeth together as his head snapped backward. As his body stretched up and back, Serena turned and kicked her foot sideways, connecting with his gut. He yelled, doubling over in pain. But she was not done with him. Another sideways kick landed on his knee, popping the kneecap out of place.