CHAPTER 2
D amien had spent days and nights pondering the challenge of winning the support of Miss Esmeralda Ballantyne. He was tempted to believe that there was a way to present his choices and his plans that might show him to advantage, but in truth, he suspected she would see his retrieval of her younger sister as a betrayal.
If not worse.
He had glanced toward her box upon arrival at the theater and had been heartened that she was in attendance. He had little time to savor his relief before his companion’s appearance, then Miss Ballantyne’s reaction was unmistakable. She was livid, so furious that she could not disguise her reaction, and he was surely the target of that anger. Knowing there was no hope of an amiable discussion, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He called upon her later that night, as soon as Sylvie was securely within Haynesdale House.
The hour was late but he knew Miss Ballantyne would be awake.
Indeed, the house was so ablaze with lights that his arrival might have been anticipated.
Latimer looked well, doubtless the result of his mistress having returned to where he believed she belonged. He showed Damien into the drawing room, where Esmeralda ceased her pacing and spun to confront him.
It was a relief to see her eyes flashing, an encouraging sign that her spirit had not been broken by her ordeal, even though he was the target of her annoyance. She had changed to a simple green dress that was generously cut, perhaps to hide how much weight she had lost. Damien noted that she was thinner than she had been when last they had met, but the fire in her eyes indicated that she had begun to recover from her ordeal. His heart skipped in a most unruly way when their gazes collided. Though it seemed an eternity had passed since she had been in his arms, he could still taste her fiery kiss.
The very recollection of her finding her release sent a wave of heat through his body.
He studied her, giving full rein to his fascination, the better to see it quickly appeased.
Miss Ballantyne did not even wait for the door to be closed behind him before she strode closer. “How dare you?” she demanded hotly. “How dare you breach my trust and undermine my choices to see Sylvie protected…”
“She was no longer safe where she was.” He spoke mildly but firmly. “I dared not leave her undefended.”
“How could you know as much?”
“Because I have an understanding of our mutual enemy.”
Fear made a brief appearance in her eyes, a fear that he could not explain and one that enraged him. What had Jacques DesJardins done to Miss Ballantyne?
The fear was banished so quickly that he might have imagined it. Had he?
“You should not have interfered without my permission. You go too far in this!”
“I could scarcely confer with you,” Damien said crisply. “My sole objective was to guarantee your sister’s safety and I have done as much. No one will touch her while she is under my protection.”
The lady eyed him warily. “And how long will that last? What are your intentions?”
“I have told all that she is my ward. We have been shopping since our return from France. She is most delightful and has exquisite taste, I must say.”
Miss Ballantyne’s eyes blazed with protective fury. “If you have touched her…”
“She is a child,” Damien interrupted tersely, disgusted by even the thought. “She has been indulged with pretty trinkets, no more and no less. Let people believe what they will.” He was intrigued that Miss Ballantyne was so agitated by his choice, knowing there must be a good reason – for both her determination to defend Mlle. LaFleur and her fear of Jacques DesJardins.
“She cannot be revealed as my sister!”
“She has not been,” Damien replied calmly. Miss Ballantyne paced the room, restless and unsettled. He had never seen her so distraught. “I have introduced her as my ward, Mlle. Sylvie LaFleur. No more than that explanation has been offered. And truly, my mother has relations abroad. No doubt some interpretation has been created and shared.”
The tension in her shoulders eased only slightly but her gaze remained wary. “No doubt people have concluded that you mean to wed her.”
“No doubt,” Damien agreed easily. He indicated the pair of sofas that faced each other and Esmeralda sank to perch on one. He lowered himself to sit on the one opposite, giving his leg a rub. The fire burned on the hearth and the atmosphere should have been cozy if not amiable. Instead, the air between himself and Miss Ballantyne fairly crackled with tension. He felt in this moment that all hung in the balance and he could only hope that he would gain his desire.
“Do you mean to marry her?” his companion demanded.
Her tone was sharp, as if she did not approve, which interested Damien. It amused him that Miss Ballantyne found his assets insufficient for her sister. “I mean to see that she weds well, and until that time, her security is assured.”
Miss Ballantyne exhaled, suspicion still emanating from her. She rose to pace the room then returned to face him with that challenge bright in her eyes. What a firebrand she was! He recalled the kiss they had exchanged in the prison, how incendiary it had been even for a ruse, and his lips burned in recollection.
He wanted more, and worse, he feared that once would not suffice.
No, the worst was that he did not care if he was in this woman’s thrall. She fascinated him as no other woman had ever done. He liked that she was clever. He liked that she was outspoken, even fearless. He liked that she had challenged his views more than once, prompting him to consider other perspectives. In this moment, he could not help but be aware of her scent, the curve of her breast, the ripe fullness of her lips. He recalled the way she had found her satisfaction in his arms and wanted to pleasure her again. Here and now. Repeatedly.
Had he ever met a woman so beautiful and provocative, so mysterious and intriguing? Never, but this, perhaps, was the allure of a successful courtesan.
Damien could not help but think that he was securely trapped in her web, like a fly chosen to be a spider’s prey.
He should not find it so remarkable to be glad of it.
“Why?” she demanded, proving that he had not won her agreement as yet.
Damien smiled, looking down at his cane, wondering whether the truth would serve him well in this instance. He knew he had little to lose. “I would gain the favor of one lady in particular,” he confessed. “And I believed that the protection of one she considers to be beneath her own care, particularly when she could not provide any such protection herself, might win her approval.” He steadily met Miss Ballantyne’s gaze.
She studied him, her doubts clear. How interesting that she did not believe him. “She was already hidden. She was safe. There was no cause for you to intervene.”
Damien shook his head. “She was not safe. He was in Paris and he hunted her. He wanted vengeance upon you and he knew of her existence. I knew he would find her, given time.” He shrugged as if the matter had been simpler than it had been. “I found her first.”
She inhaled sharply. “You led him to her!”
“Undoubtedly. But I also took her beneath my own care and brought her to England. He risked a great deal in following us here, where he was a convicted felon and had to cling to the shadows.”
She tilted her head to regard him. “You made the advantage your own by changing her location.”
He nodded, appreciating that she could understand his strategy. “And then I set the trap.”
“Tell me.” She was still as watchful as a cat, but more at ease than she had been. Damien dared to believe that her view of him improved.
“I bought her an emerald parure and ensured it was well displayed. My home looked to be scantily defended. The treasure seemed to be easily within reach. When it appeared to have been left on the dressing table in her very well-lit chamber, he could not resist temptation.”
Miss Ballantyne straightened in indignation. “You used her as bait!”
“The emeralds were the bait,” Damien corrected. “And neither they nor your sister were ever at risk. He was apprehended in her chamber by Bow Street Runners, with the gems in his grasp, after he had admitted himself to the house. Mlle LaFleur was securely within another chamber at the other end of the house.”
His companion exhaled. “She is safe?”
“Entirely so, particularly now that the fiend is in custody. He confessed to his part in seeing you blamed for the earlier thefts, which is why you were released.”
She considered him, her gaze darkening. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Why have you taken my cause?”
“Because you are the lady whose favor I would win.”
She made an impatient gesture and turned away from him. “Nonsense! You disapprove of me and my kind. You have made that much abundantly clear. You need not tell me pretty tales, Your Grace, to appease my pride. I understand the situation between us.”
Damien leaned back to watch her. “Then explain it to me.”
She inhaled, sparing him a hot glance. “I owe you a considerable debt for your involvement in my situation, whatever your reason for doing so. I understand that and am prepared to…compensate you for your trouble.”
Damien played with his cane. “And yet, I would not collect that due in the way you clearly anticipate.”
“I cannot pay you in coin.”
“I would not ask it of you, just as I would not consider the matter resolved with a night of satisfaction.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Had he ever faced a more worthy adversary in a battle of words? “Let me be blunt, sir. There is only one currency in which I can repay you.”
“Must intimacy be a transaction, Miss Ballantyne?”
To his surprise, she smiled. “I see no reason to call it other than what it is.”
Damien would have liked to have argued that, but he knew she would be deaf to any mention of emotional bonds, of pleasure willingly given and received without any attempt to tally a balance.
Her eyes narrowed again and she looked as shrewd as he knew her to be. “Tell me, Your Grace, what precisely is it that you desire of me? I find negotiations proceed more smoothly when specifics are listed.”
Damien recognized that she had no trust in men, and though he did not doubt that her wariness was often deserved, he wanted to teach her first that he could be relied upon. She would never open herself to him otherwise.
“I desire a mistress,” he said. “A mistress who is mine alone.”
“I am prepared to welcome you when you call.”
Damien shook his head. “Me and no other. I wish exclusivity.”
“No.”
“That is my price.”
Esmeralda inhaled sharply and pivoted, striding to the window. “I vowed a long time ago that I would never again be beholden to one man.” She took a breath. “I will not be captive .”
“And yet, by your own admission, you are deeply in my debt.”
She cast him a poisonous glance, proof that the reminder was not welcome. “What will you do to her if I refuse you?”
Oh, her view of men was a poor one, to be sure, but Damien knew it was a learned response. “She is safe beneath my protection. Nothing will change that.”
She eyed him for a long moment and he knew she struggled with his terms.
“She will be like a daughter in my house, no more and no less.” He let his voice drop. “And you, you would be cherished as my mistress, as you clearly deserve to be.”
“I have no need for gifts and trinkets.”
“I thought more of a listening ear and confidant, of a comrade in more than physical union.” He lifted a brow. “A friend, even.”
Something flickered in her eyes then she averted her gaze, clearly pondering her choices. He could not imagine what she had tolerated from men in the past, what insults and affronts she had been subjected to, what betrayals had made her so wary of everything and everyone. “You cannot imagine that I would unburden myself so readily as that. My secrets, sir, are not to be shared.”
Damien smiled. “I have long believed the same yet I find myself tempted to confide in you, Miss Ballantyne. I have a sense that we might be two of a kind, and that intrigues me beyond all. I would explore the possibilities.”
“You might be disappointed.”
“I surely will be if I abandon this investigation before it begins.”
Their gazes locked and held, the crackle between them more sensual than adversarial. He noted the ripe curve of her lips, the guardedness fading from her expression, the way her eyes darkened. She swallowed and he watched the smooth column of her neck work, noting how her breasts rose when she caught her breath. He was fascinated when she licked her lips quickly. Her lashes fluttered as she lowered her gaze and he did not care if this was a move she employed routinely. The glimpse of her vulnerability, even if it was feigned, disarmed him. His protectiveness surged to the fore and he wanted only to ensure this woman’s happiness and contentment.
For there was a nobility in Esmeralda Ballantyne, a kindness and loyalty to those who had won her trust. Of course, she was a courtesan but he already guessed she had not chosen that life herself. He respected that she had made the most of what others had inflicted upon her, ensuring her own success and financial security. He knew she would do anything for Doris Nelson, Bert Latimer and Sylvie, and he admired that. He suspected that whatever agreement she made with him would be more about protecting those three than her own needs or desires.
He had embroiled himself in her affairs to ensure justice, but as he sat in her drawing room and watched her battle her doubts to believe him, he knew that his heart had recognized Esmeralda Ballantyne as a remarkable woman. What would it be like to share her confidence? Damien was surprised by how much he wanted to know.
“What will be the duration of our union?” she asked.
“Until he is unable to injure either of you again,” he said.
She paled. “But he is arrested and charged.”
How intriguing that she could not even say the villain’s name.
“And not yet tried or convicted. I fear his resources,” he acknowledged. “I fear that he might gain release or escape captivity.”
“And then he would know where to find her,” she whispered. “With you.”
“And then he will have dozens of men to defeat to even draw close to her,” Damien said with impatience.
“You must have a plan,” she insisted, and he was glad of her confidence in that much at least.
“I do. I intend to leave for the country on the morrow, and will take Mlle. LaFleur to Haynesdale Manor with me. It will be easier to see her defended there, where there are few strangers. I may retain an English tutor for her, as well, and perhaps a dance instructor. The nuns have been remiss in those details and she will need both skills if she is to wed well.” He nodded. “My mother will be glad of her company, to be sure.”
“But that is in Nottingham. It is so far!” There was yearning in that exclamation, a fondness beyond duty to a sibling.
Esmeralda loved Sylvie. Damien had suspected as much but now he saw it.
“I would invite you as a guest, as well,” he said, watching a light flare in her eyes then be quenched.
She shook her head. “You could not. You dare not.”
She wanted to accept the invitation, though, Damien could see it. She would deny herself and stay away to ensure that Sylvie’s reputation be untarnished and her safety assured. Truly, Damien knew few people who would put their concern for others so far above their own interests.
He admired those who did.
“I dare to do whatsoever I desire,” he countered. “I have no care for a tide of disapproval, no matter how loud it might be.”
“I would love to see her,” Miss Ballantyne confessed. “I would talk to her. I would assure myself that she is well, that all is as you declare.” She flung out a hand. “But it is impossible.”
“Not if you come to Haynesdale Manor as my guest.”
“No, it cannot be so.” She paced the room again, more like a caged tiger than a woman. Her brows drew together and he wondered at what she was thinking. “Doubtless you can withstand whatever is said, but Sylvie’s reputation will be marred by the presence of a courtesan in the same house.” Damien watched her, admiring the grace of her movements, savoring his sense that she was weighing options and discarding many of them. When she spun to confront him, he braced himself for her suggestion, whatever it might be.
But still she astonished him.
“You have made the acquaintance of Mrs. Oliver, I believe.”
Damien grimaced. “You cannot mean the vulgar aunt of Montgomery’s who forced herself upon his household last Christmas? There cannot be two Mrs. Delilah Olivers in town.”
“There are not.” Miss Ballantyne, to Damien’s surprise, smiled. She looked like a woman with a secret, though he could not guess it. “That is the lady I mean. You might invite her to Haynesdale Manor.”
Damien was outraged. “I could never do as much! She is no lady! She is crude and common, and further, I believe she deceived Montgomery. I suspect she is not his aunt at all, but some brazen woman who strove to take advantage of his genial nature. There are limits to my generosity, Miss Ballantyne!” Esmeralda’s smile broadened, though Damien could not fathom why. “Why should I invite that woman to be my guest and subject my household to her inappropriate commentary, her greed at the table, her…
“Because I am she,” she said, interrupting him and astonishing him both.
Damien stared at her in shock for a full minute. Her confident smile did not waver.
He frowned and cleared his throat, unable to believe as much. “You?”
“It is my disguise, created with the aid of an actress, who appears as Mrs. Oliver when I cannot.”
Damien blinked. He was recalling Mrs. Oliver’s many veils, her sly comments, her unexpectedly green eyes. “You,” he said again, scarce able to believe it.
His companion smiled. “I must entreat you to keep my secret.”
“No one would believe that such a beauty as yourself could become that crone, much less that she would do as much willingly.” His words seemed to please her greatly. “But it is useful that you might be able to visit as an admittedly odious but marginally respectable guest.”
She laughed, looking younger and happier than she had thus far. Damien felt a surge of pride that he had, however inadvertently, improved her mood.
He liked even better that she had trusted him with this confession.
“It is rather amusing.” She took the seat opposite him now, lounging there, her lips curved in a smile and her eyes sparkling. She had not only surprised him but she enjoyed that she had done as much.
What a woman.
“And if I do this, facilitating your visit with Mlle. LaFleur and keeping your secret, what will be the exchange, Miss Ballantyne?”
Her smile was coy and sent heat surging through his veins. “Doubtless your country house has a bedchamber adjacent to your own.” Her voice was husky and provocative, her eyes gleaming with sensual promise. Once again, Damien knew she led his thoughts purposefully in one direction, and yet again, he did not mind.
Not in the least. “Of course,” he said.
“Then all will be conveniently arranged.” She held up a finger. “I must be able to speak with Sylvie in private first, to assure myself that all is as you say.”
“Of course.”
She studied him for a long moment and he despised everyone who had ever willfully deceived her.
Then she lifted her chin and came to sit beside him, placing her hand over his. Her touch was light, her skin soft and warm. He waited, inhaled the sweetness of her perfume, and yearned.
No, he burned for a satisfaction that only she could give.
And that, Damien realized, was precisely what Miss Ballantyne expected. She had envisioned the remainder of this evening’s events and could predict them perfectly, for he suspected that each man, once snared in her spell, was helpless to do other than she expected.
Perhaps he should endeavor to surprise Miss Ballantyne as often as she surprised him.
He did approve heartily of surprises, after all.
“I will visit for a fortnight as Mrs. Oliver by day and, by night, if all is well with Sylvie, I will be available to serve your every whim, Your Grace.” She lifted a dark brow. “Exclusively, sir.”
Satisfaction surged through Damien and he could not tear his gaze from hers. She granted his one desire and he would ensure she did not regret it. He did not doubt that she read his anticipation of those nights most clearly – and he guessed that she did not realize yet how much more he desired of her. “I agree,” he said with a soft heat that made her smile. He smiled slowly, watching a light dawn in her eyes. “You may begin by calling me Damien.”
Her smile was polite. “And you, sir, may call me Esmeralda, in private, for the duration of our agreement.” She lifted her right hand and offered it to him, as if they would shake hands upon a wager made.
“Our agreement cannot be sealed thus.” Damien lifted a hand to her chin, cupping her face in his palm. Her skin was soft and smooth beneath his hand and his thumb stroked her, seemingly of its own accord. He felt the quick leap of her pulse and chose to believe that it was because she anticipated this embrace as much as he. Had their single kiss in Fleet Prison filled her dreams as it had filled his own? He hoped as much.
“You have my pledge, Esmeralda,” he said, loving the sound of her name upon his own lips. Her lashes fluttered, her gaze dropping to his mouth, and it seemed she held her breath. He bent slowly, giving her time to protest even as he hoped she would not. Gently, he captured her lips beneath his own, a sweet sample of what might be.
He would woo her, as she had never been courted before.
That would surprise her as little else could.
She barely hesitated before she kissed him back with welcome ardor, her hand falling to his chest. He stood, gathering her into his embrace and deepening his kiss. He lifted her in his arms, astonished that she was so light, wanting only to carry her to safety. Her kiss lit all the fires within him, filling him with a need to protect her at any price – and savor her endlessly.
First, though, he would teach her that she was not the only one who could offer pleasure to her partner.