Font Size
Line Height

Page 12 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Chapter Ten

L ord Leith was a strange man.

If that hadn’t been clear before, it was clear now.

He had been outright rude to his mother, her fiancé, and his two friends.

“I think I now understand your sour mood,” she said, as the strains of the music picked up again.

“Don’t,” he repeated.

“I don’t blame you for being upset,” she said, experiencing actual sympathy for his distress. “If my mother remarried, I’d be overset. Especially since her choice the first time was so dreadful. I could never trust her in such a matter.”

“It’s absurd,” he huffed. “He’s her dead best friend’s husband. There will be no end of talk.”

They watched the opera in silence. As it so happened, Beatrice found the opera completely transporting. She was not given to sentiment and had never particularly been interested in reading or art. But this was different. In fact, it was an exquisite relief to find herself so caught up in the story unfolding before her that she completely forgot herself, her cares, her worries, for a few hours.

When the show stopped for the second intermission, Beatrice had barely time to look up, before she found their box visited once more.

The Earl of Stratton and his friend, Mr. Pennington, entered, followed by a retinue of gentlemen. In quick succession, Beatrice was introduced to a Mr. Merston, whose diamond stick pin and silk patterned waistcoat announced him as an unusually wealthy gentleman, even amongst this set; then a Lord James, who appeared foxed on either drink or some other substance she could not identify; and a Mr. Landon, who could not have been more than thirty but already was beginning to have the appearance of a roué.

“Miss Salisbury,” Stratton declared, “you have won many admirers tonight. Few can talk of anything but your beauty.”

Goodness , Beatrice thought, were these the pleasantries she would be expected to field as a courtesan? She had hoped for more charm, she had to admit.

“I appreciate any admiration that I can win, my lord.”

A flicker of dismay played across the man’s face. Beatrice felt a flash of confusion. She looked over at Leith, whose countenance revealed nothing.

“Miss Salisbury expects to win admirers wherever she goes, naturally,” he said, lightly. “She has never known anything else. What would make London gentlemen any different?”

“Surely very little,” Stratton supplied.

“Are you new to London, Miss Salisbury?” Mr. Merston pressed. He was looking at her with a cold hunger in his eyes. Beatrice felt no attraction to the man, but compared to Mr. Landon and Lord James, she supposed he was preferable.

“Yes,” she said, less confident after whatever her misstep had been with Stratton. “I have lived only in the country.”

“Ah,” Merston said, with the same beat of awkwardness she had seen on Stratton’s face. “You must let me take you for a ride in the park. We will take in the sights.”

“I am sure that would be diverting, Mr. Merston.”

“Miss Salisbury will see the park and every other sight in London with me,” Leith broke in. “She will have no time for riding in the park with yourself, Mr. Merston.”

The man laughed and said, “Perhaps in a fortnight or so, Miss Salisbury will have more time at her disposal.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Leith growled, unaccountably, as they both knew she would be free in two weeks’ time. In fact, Beatrice needed to make sure she had a new protector in a fortnight and Mr. Merston might be her best chance. “Now, all of you must away. I cannot countenance sharing Miss Salisbury for a moment longer.”

“Very well, now, Leith.” Stratton laughed. “We expect a longer audience, Miss Salisbury, very soon.”

She nodded at the gentlemen as they left, trying to smile and look merry, like the kind of woman they would want for a mistress, even though she felt very ill at ease.

Once they had left the box, she turned to Leith.

“Why on earth did you dismiss them? I need one of those men, or one like them, to become my next protector.”

Leith fixed her with a gaze. She couldn’t read the emotion on his face, as he looked stranded between exasperation and disdain.

“I did you a favor, Miss Salisbury. Right now, those men think you are the newest fashionable courtesan to appear in London. At the moment, you are at the height of desirability, as far as they are concerned. They want to know you more. But your conversation with them was about to put an end to that.”

“Excuse me? What was wrong with my conversation?”

“Nothing, if you were a young miss in the drawing room of a local squire. Everything, if you are attempting to ensnare and beguile and wring coin from the passel of degenerate rakes who just trundled out of here.”

Beatrice didn’t understand. The men had clearly made overtures and she had been receptive to them.

“I have no notion of what you mean. I was perfectly cordial.”

“Ah, yes,” he said dryly. “Perfectly cordial! What every man dreams of spending an absurd amount of blunt to obtain.”

“What else would you have me do in a public box? Spread my legs and say, ‘I take all comers’?”

He turned a shade paler at that. Good.

“No, Miss Salisbury, I would recommend that you do exactly the opposite. The aristocratic rake can have almost any woman he wants. His status, his wealth, opens nearly all doors. What he wants is what he must work for, even if it a farce.”

“I am beginning to suspect that you are not a man of sense, Lord Leith.”

He sighed with exasperation. “You are a businesswoman, aren’t you, Miss Salisbury? When you are at home?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised he had remembered.

“And when you are taking your sheep herd or wheat or whatever they grow in Somerset to market, do you accept the very first bid from the first bidder?”

“Obviously not.”

“And so it is here in London between men and their courtesans. The successful courtesan does everything in her power to drive up her price, which means driving up demand. When they compliment your beauty, you do not thank them, but take it as your due—it is not a surprise, but rather an established fact, as if they were calling a rainy day wet. When they say they want to take you for a ride in the park, you demand to be turned out in the finest barouche and with a new silk parasol. In short, you never make it easy.”

“But I need a new protector. I don’t want to scare them away.”

“Trust me, you will not. But you might if you act like a blushing debutante. They can get plenty of that in Mayfair.”

Beatrice felt her irritation with the man growing, not least because she was aware that the last time she had given serious thought to the finer points of conversing with gentlemen had been in anticipation of her own debut. A debut that had never actually happened. And that had been set to happen only among the local squirarchy of her home county.

“With my little show of possessiveness, I have bought you time,” he said, his hands flexing on the arms of his chair. “I don’t care what happens to you after this fortnight, Miss Salisbury,” he continued, “but if you want to find another protector, I suggest you heed my advice.”

Bastard , she thought.

The rebuke stung.

In no small part because she knew he was right.

“I suppose Stratton or Pennington would suffice.” Those two gentlemen, while not attractive to her, appeared wealthy and, at the very least, well groomed.

“Jesus Christ, Miss Salisbury,” he grumbled. “You must aim higher than Stratton or Pennington.”

“Well, I cannot be too precious in my choice. Although I draw the line at the other two fellows—I’d let Parkhorne Hall be sold at auction before letting Lord James be my protector.”

“Lord James!” Leith huffed. “As if I would let such a thing happen.”

“I thought you said you didn’t care what happened to me, Lord Leith.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t. But I’m not a monster.”

“What novel intelligence.”

“Very amusing, Miss Salisbury.”

And then they fell back into a silence that felt, to Beatrice, almost companionable.