The Accidental Courtesan (22 page)

His chuckle was explosive. The woman was a tigress when it came to her family. His admiration rose.

Gavin dipped into a low bow. “Yes, Your Grace.”

The duchess tucked her reticule under her elbow and stepped close. The scent of lavender filled his senses. “I do not agree with your plan to parade her around the courtesan ball in an effort to draw out your thieves. But Noelle is stubborn.” The duchess frowned. “If you let anything happen to her, the priest will be called for another reason: to pray over your coffin.”

Gavin's laughter followed her out of the house.

When he was alone again, he pondered both the differences and the similarities of the sisters. Both were strong-willed, almost to a fault. He suspected the duchess's husband was forever busy keeping up with his wife. Any man married to her would need a firm hand. Still, spending nights with such a spitfire would be well worth dealing with her feisty nature. He believed any man sharing Noelle's bed would feel the same.

Gavin knew Her Grace's threats were not made lightly. If he ruined Noelle, he'd find himself burdened with a wife. There wouldn't be a hiding place far enough away for the duchess not to find him and fulfill her threat.

 

W
ith Eva hovering with a deep-set frown creasing her face, Noelle finished dressing for the courtesan ball, knowing tonight could lead the investigation in a new direction. Hopefully, Gavin could catch at least one of the footpads and force him to give up information to tie the thugs to their leader.

Not that she expected the culprits to confess willingly. And truthfully, the night could end with no captures or fresh clues at all. Still, being with Gavin would be worth the time spent getting into disguise.

She wished they could get the Bow Street Runners involved. It would help ease her worries. But between her and Bliss, their crimes were many. Until she was sure Seabrook would not prosecute for the theft of the necklace, or for her break-in at his town house, she'd have to trust that Gavin would keep her safe.

“A little more rouge, please,” Eva instructed the maid. Martha's lips were pressed tightly together. She didn't know the full extent of the plot, but what she did know, she didn't like. She slathered Noelle's cheekbones with color, and Noelle wondered if too much scowling could eventually cause one's face to harden that way.

“Not too much,” Noelle protested as Martha dipped her fingertip in the rouge pot a second time. The maid set down the pot and wiped her hands on her apron. Her mouth worked silently, and Noelle knew she had much she wanted to say. It was the presence of Eva that kept her from voicing her disapproval. Noelle was grateful for Martha's respect of her sister's title.

Martha stood back and sighed. “'Tis done.” She met Noelle's eyes in the mirror, frowned, and left the room.

“She is displeased,” Noelle said. “I'm positive I'll be lectured tomorrow.”

Eva nodded. She picked up a pearl and ruby necklace and settled it around Noelle's neck. “Perhaps I should have left the two of you alone. A second sensible mind might have convinced you to give up this folly.”

Noelle cocked up a brow. “Have you ever known me to change my mind once I've made a decision?”

She'd spent two days in disguise at the courtesan school, and the only thing she'd learned about courtesans was the enjoyment men received when women kissed their private parts. The shocking frankness in the way the women spoke to each other over tea was astonishing. Of course these conversations were kept entirely to the moments when Eva was not in the room.

She'd have to play the courtesan for Gavin off her natural attraction for him. Her lessons had been a failure.

“If I had any sense at all, I'd call Nicholas over and have him shake some sense into you,” Eva said.

Noelle stood and ran her hands over the tightly cinched waist of her gown. Though fashion dictated gowns of a looser fit, she had discovered this treasure in the attic and knew she had to wear it. The style was outdated, but the red color and the cut were perfect for a courtesan. Or so she thought. A few nips here and there, and it fit her as if it had been sewn to her proportions.

Eva tugged Noelle's bodice up, and Noelle tugged it back down. The frothy black lace at the bodice managed both to entice and to keep Noelle's nipples hidden from view. More lace edged the cuffs and hem, and matching ribbon was at the waist. The satin dress shimmered in the lamplight. Eva knew wearing such a daring gown would draw attention. It was exactly what Noelle wanted.

“You should be home in bed with your husband, or whatever you old married couples do when not making the rest of us envious of your happiness,” Noelle scolded. She stepped back before Eva could reach for the bodice again. She peered at the simple yet elegant coiffure Martha made out of her new wig.

“Occasionally, Nicholas and I do manage to tear ourselves from the bed,” Eva retorted. She leaned back and stared. “You will have every man at the ball tonight hating Mister Blackwell.”

Eva had all but ripped the Marie Antoinette–era monstrosity from Noelle's head and replaced it with a more stylish wig. Martha had done magic with the new item. Without the heavy wig to hide her sister's face, Eva suggested a filmy veil attached to each side of her new wig with clips. The cloth would both hide her lower face and add an air of mystery.

The overall effect was stunning.

“I don't think this is the kind of thing one could wear to a lawn party.” Noelle swished this way and that in front of the mirror, her skirts flashing in the light. There was no possible chance she could be recognized tonight. She was a courtesan in every way. She hoped Gavin would be pleased.

“Your Mister Blackwell will be a fool if he lets you out of his sight, Sister.” Eva moved behind her and adjusted the necklace. “Another man might snatch you away.”

“I will be far too busy looking for signs of trouble to notice who is noticing me,” Noelle said. “And I would not consider a man who attends a courtesan ball a good catch.”

“It isn't the lords and rakes I worry about.”

The note of concern in her sister's voice brought Noelle's attention from the mirror. Eva's eyes were fearful.

“He will take care of me, don't you worry,” Noelle said. “He understands the danger in this charade and will not let anything happen.” She pulled Eva into an embrace. “Though I do appreciate your concern, I will come through this adventure unscathed. You'll see.”

“I do worry,” Eva admitted, pulling back. “How can I not?”

Noelle smiled. “Have you met Mister Blackwell? Can you see him allowing anyone to abscond with me? If anything, you should concern yourself with when we are alone in the coach. That is where the real danger lies.”

Eva narrowed her eyes. She obviously didn't find the reminder of Noelle's bad behavior at all amusing.

“Perhaps we should add a few more layers of drawers and sew up the openings,” Eva snapped. “That would keep his hands from roaming freely where they ought not to be roaming.”

A tinkle of laughter spilled from Noelle. When she'd first met Eva, her sister was starchy and fiercely private. Laughter had been difficult for her, under the weight of her mother's illness. Between Noelle and Nicholas, Eva had found happiness. Still, it was during moments like these when the stubborn and protective part of Eva made a return appearance.

“I think nothing less than drawers made of steel would keep him from finding a way to breach such a barrier,” Noelle teased, and was rewarded with a glare. She snatched up her shawl from the bed and draped it over the daring bodice. “You worry far too much, Sister dear. Now get yourself home to your handsome husband and leave Mister Blackwell to me.”

 

G
avin listened to a distant clock chime eleven. It was getting late, and there was no sign of Noelle. With her insistence they go through with this debacle, and the excitement in her eyes at the prospect, he'd expected her to be timely. Instead, he'd been left to cool his heels, and he gnashed his teeth tightly together.

Where was she? She should have arrived an hour ago. He knew women liked to fuss over their appearance, but this was extreme. She wasn't hunting for a husband. They were setting their caps for a thief. There was no reason to keep him waiting.

Could she have changed her mind and decided to stay home? Somehow, he doubted that was the case. She'd taken to her courtesan persona and lived it with enthusiasm. There was no possible reason she'd give up this chance to end her game without the culmination of this night's activities.

A coach drew his attention as an old hired hack rolled up the street and stopped in the line of gilded and polished coaches. The pair of chestnut horses looked as old as the rattletrap conveyance, their matching gray muzzles catching the light. Gavin wondered absently which of the pair would drop dead first while carrying a fare.

He watched the weary-looking driver climb gingerly down from his perch and snatch open the door.

A woman's dark head appeared, followed by a pair of creamy white shoulders and a shocking red dress. It took him a full ten heartbeats to realize it was Noelle as she exited the coach with the light grace of a butterfly.

Her shawl had slipped free of one shoulder, exposing an expanse of velvety flesh. Noelle's breasts were pushed high by the cut of her gown, and her corset barely covered her nipples with a thin line of lace.

His breath caught. She paid the driver and turned. She spotted him and walked in his direction, her hips undulating with the sway of the gown. The sight of her in her finery, with her assets almost completely exposed in a sinful display, caused him to stand paralyzed with anticipation as she approached.

When she got close enough to make out her features, he saw that beneath the black veil covering her from nose to chin, a smile marked her full lips. He didn't realize he was gaping like a fish until she reached out a finger and pushed his chin up.

His mouth closed with a
clack.

“Am I to assume you find the costume to your liking?” She spun slowly, allowing him time enough to rake his eyes over each delicious inch of her. His eyes moved from her waist to her hips and across her perfect buttocks. He wanted desperately to see if the pair of rounded curves would fit the span of his hands.

He swept his gaze over her arms and shoulders when she completed the spin, and her sister's warning evaporated. The duchess could have him castrated and fed to sharks as long as he could spend the night slowly stripping her out of that dress and loving her body with his.

Gavin took her gloved hand and pressed it to his mouth, his eyes dancing. If she knew how recklessly he wanted her, she'd have every reason to be concerned. “Any more to my liking and I'd have to return home and change my breeches.”

It was her turn to gape, followed by a sweet bark of rich feminine laughter. “You are scandalous, Mister Blackwell.”

“And you are stunning, Lady Seymour.”

His compliment was met with the touch of her tongue on her lower lip. He hardened. She tempted him and knew full well her effect on his body. He had to wonder if it had more to do with her costume and the part she played, or if it was because she wanted him as passionately as he wanted her.

He knew he should hope it was the former, but deep inside his body, he couldn't help wishing for the latter.

Gavin slowly shook his head as her mouth tipped into a saucy grin. “The gown isn't too daring for this company?” she asked with mock innocence. She ran her hands gently over her waist. The movement drew his eyes to her décolletage. “I understand that some lovers enjoy displaying the wares of their courtesans. However, I couldn't bring myself to forgo my undergarments and wet my gown. Though”—she lifted her eyes and gave him a sidelong stare—“if you think it would help the investigation, I might reconsider.”

The little minx! She didn't care about propriety or a wet gown. She'd clearly learned some aberrant tricks for enticing a lover from the courtesans. She was playing the coquette for him. He wasn't sure if he should find a private place for her to show him her new tricks or turn her over his knee for teasing him to a raging erection.

“Indeed, it is not too daring a gown for the company.” He tucked her hand under his arm, his tone turning grim with pent-up frustration and dark humor. “But I think you should refrain from sneezing, My Lady, lest you find your breasts fully exposed.”

I
f Noelle thought a Ton crush was spectacular in its garishness, the courtesan ball brought revelry to a new level. Displays of flesh, gowns in every bright color imaginable, beading, sequins, gauzes, and silks, with deeply cut necklines meant to shock. The rotunda was packed with bodies, and rogues of all ages and sizes thought nothing of publicly placing hands in places on their lovers where hands shouldn't be. It was quite possible—no, it was certain—she'd never again see the like.