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Page 6 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Chapter Four

H is townhome in St. James’s was finer than Beatrice had expected.

In truth, finer than anywhere than she had ever been, excepting Carrington House.

And whereas Carrington House was an earl’s residence, a traditional and stately family home, this house had clearly been designed with a lady in mind—or, Beatrice supposed, many ladies.

She did not doubt that the powder-blue couches, peach carpeting, and dainty woodworking of the space had delighted many of the women who had found themselves here.

However, to Beatrice’s eye, the place seemed a bit fastidious. It lacked a sense of comfort, although it was very nicely done up. The house did nothing to dispel her impression of Lord Leith as a coxcomb. A kind of Beau Brummell.

If it weren’t for the modest size of the town house, she would have thought him profligate, too. But no one who took in the proportions of the place could quite believe such a thing. While the town house was fitted up in a luxurious style, it had only three small floors.

This evidence of economy reassured her. It would have unnerved her to be dealing with a man unable to employ his reason.

And she did have to admit that the large window overlooking the quaint garden below was quite beautiful. All in all, it would not be a terrible place to spend two weeks.

“Lor, Bea, you have to look at your bedchamber!”

She turned away from the beautiful drawing room window and towards her sister’s voice. Sally came bustling into the drawing room, her eyes wide.

“You are impressed with the place?”

“Bea, it’s beautiful!”

“Yes,” she said, casting a look around. “I suppose it is.”

“You don’t care for it?”

“It’s a bit fussy for my taste, I suppose.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” a male voice rang out from behind Sally. The girl jumped upon hearing it and whirled around.

Lord Leith stood at the top of the stairs.

Beatrice willed herself not to blush. She hadn’t meant for him to hear her opinion, of course, but she wouldn’t act ashamed of it. Not when it was sensible.

“I am sure that the rooms are perfect for your usual ladies, my lord. But you forget I am from the country.”

“I can assure you no one can forget such a thing, Miss Salisbury.”

Ah, so that was how it was going to be then. She hoped her face showed no affront.

“I look forward to you lending me what city polish I need, my lord. In the bedchamber and out of it.”

A clapping noise and a squeak sounded. Sally had smacked her hand over her own mouth and emitted, it would seem, a note of true horror, as if she had said the scandalous words herself.

So much for her retinue appearing worldly.

“Sally, would you please ready my chamber?”

Her sister bobbed a quick curtsey and left the room.

She loved Sally but she had no place in this conversation.

Now that the very kind but misguided Lord Montaigne and his lovely but equally misguided wife were out of the way, she and Lord Leith needed to have a real conversation.

“I am glad to see you settling in,” he said, his voice nearly sneering, not acknowledging her jape about the bedchamber. Somehow, despite his well-known preference for courtesans, he seemed reluctant to discuss bedroom matters aloud.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to keep the frost from her own voice. She needed him to give her what she wanted. When it came to men, she knew that they could be won over most easily by beguiling softness, if done right. No need to bring out her habitually sharp tongue unless necessary. “May I speak with you for a moment? That is, if you aren’t about to depart again. I hope I did not scare you off with my commentary about your home. It is lovely. Only not what I am used to.”

“Please, sit.” He gestured to the sofa, and she obliged. He settled himself across from her. “I assure you I take no offense.”

The curl of his mouth said otherwise, she thought, but she would let that lie.

“What do you wish to discuss, Miss Salisbury?”

“I am sure you understand that the conditions under which we had our first…negotiation were rather…constraining.”

He regarded her with a careful attention—no, she corrected herself, with suspicion.

“Because of Monty, you mean?”

“Yes. And his wife. They obviously have scruples about our arrangement.”

“Indeed, such knowledge could not escape me.”

“Yes, I wondered if you might be affronted by their attitude.”

“No, not at all,” he said, quickly, his gaze flitting away to the window.

Ah , a sore spot, indeed. She hadn’t been mistaken.

“I was surprised because I understood you and Lord Montaigne to be such friends.”

He coughed. “Well, yes, he…we…since his marriage,” he managed, “he has been more concerned with propriety. Hardly a strange thing, really. Quite common amongst our set. A man marries and he sees matters in a different light.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

“And you can see it is not a savory business. Letting his cousin become a courtesan.”

“Lord Montaigne is not letting me do anything, I assure you. It has been many years, Lord Leith, since I allowed a man to dictate what I do with my person or my time.”

He sighed. “As you say, Miss Salisbury.”

“I appreciated his help and his introduction to you. Especially since I know you have your choice of many women and are only making me your mistress as a favor to him.”

The man made a noise that could only be described as a grunt.

“But now that we are alone, we can talk as equals. You are a man of the world, and I am a woman of the world. I have had my share of lovers, so you needn’t worry about debauching an innocent. My concern, however, is that my newly proper cousin may have put some stipulations on our agreement to which I am not privy.”

He looked at her then, his amber gaze flashing. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Come, Lord Leith. I know he has told you that you are not to bed me. Even though I was very clear about my expectations. But the matter—what we do in the bedchamber—does not concern him and I expect you to disregard it.”

His face turned a shade paler.

“I…he did no such thing—I assure you. It is only that I would prefer not—”

“Yes,” she cut in. “You are supposed to tell me I am not to your tastes. That you would prefer not to bed me.”

“How do you—how on earth do you—”

She sighed. Really, aristocrats were not as clever or powerful as she had been led to believe.

“I paid a stable boy from the house next door to listen outside the door of the drawing room. As you can see, Lord Leith, I am not ignorant in the ways of the world.”

He picked an invisible piece of lint off his breeches. “I see. Well, I commend your efforts. Nevertheless, I cannot bed you. If Monty finds out that I have, he will be furious.”

Beatrice had expected this resistance. And it was here that she had to make a gamble. If she truly wanted to have the skills of a courtesan, she needed training in the bedchamber, and she needed Lord Leith to give it to her. Much rested on whether she had calculated rightly—if the tension she had noticed in that room between Lord Leith and Lord Montaigne was real.

“He will not need to find out. I certainly will not tell him. But if you do not bed me, Lord Leith, I will tell him that you have mistreated me dreadfully.”

He shifted in his armchair. “You are blackmailing me? Extorting me?”

“I believe extortion and blackmail involve real evidence of wrongdoing. This, instead, is just good old-fashioned lying. I am a simple woman at heart, Lord Leith. I grew up in the countryside and I now run my family’s estate. I have spent the past six years negotiating with men who think they can take advantage of any woman they see. Especially in business. Do you know how many of those men I have proved wrong?”

“Doubtlessly many.” His tone still managed to sound bored, but the set of his jaw told her that he was agitated. “But I will not be such a one, Miss Salisbury.”

“Oh, yes, you will be. Because if you do not bed me and teach me what I need to know, I will tell Lord Montaigne that not only have you tried to tup me, but that you have asked me to perform perverse acts in the bedchamber. Of a variety so disgusting to my country simplicity that I could not stay your mistress for even these two weeks.”

“I will not capitulate to threats, Miss Salisbury. I would obviously deny such accusations.”

“Who do you think Lord Montaigne will believe? You or me?”

He looked down at the carpet, away from her. This moment was where she would find out if she had guessed right.

Her stomach turned. The men were supposed to be best friends. Her word should be worthless beside his.

“Me, of course.”

Her stomach fell into her boots.

“I am his closest friend. And you are a cousin that he didn’t know about until a few days ago. As I am sure you know, the Carringtons have an endless array of cousins. His sister, Petunia, in fact, is fond of saying that ‘cousin’ is Carrington for ‘stranger.’ In short, me. He would believe me, of course.”

For a moment, Beatrice did not know what to do. If Lord Leith wouldn’t teach her what she needed to know, then she would be at a severe disadvantage when she went into an arrangement with another man. Aristocratic men must expect certain things in the bedchamber—why else would they pay such exorbitant sums to these women?

With two weeks as Lord Leith’s mistress in name only, she could likely find another protector. But what would happen when he discovered her to be completely unfit to be a courtesan?

And then Beatrice saw his hand clenched around the armrest. She registered the anger in his tone.

Perhaps all was not lost.

She stood. “Very well, Lord Leith. You give me no choice but to reveal the truth of your behavior to my cousin.”

“You mean your lies?”

“Precisely.”

She moved towards her bedchamber.

“Where are you going?”

“To send Lord Montaigne a letter, of course. To tell him I need his protection. From acts so depraved that I fear for my mortal soul.”

Beatrice gained the threshold of her bedchamber.

It was possible, she thought, with a pang of panic, she had misjudged the situation.

She took another step.

“Damn you,” he swore, his voice ringing out from the drawing room. “Come back here, Miss Salisbury.”

Beatrice did what he asked. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face, either.

“Have you reconsidered, my lord?”

He did not look happy. Rather than furious, however, he appeared more…uncomfortable.

“If you breathe a word about our coupling to Monty, I will leave you out of doors without a glance back.”

God, victory was sweet. Her grin widened and she bit back a laugh. She loved being right. If they could bottle this feeling and sell it, opium eaters would become addicted to it instead.

“I promise that I will tell Lord Montaigne that your conduct is nothing short of gentlemanly. Would that please you?”

He gave her one long look.

“I would appreciate it.”

Oh, she had been very right, indeed. Whatever had happened between these two men, well—Beatrice had just found her advantage over Lord Leith. And it hadn’t even been difficult.

“I will sing your praises once you have taught me all that I need to know. The more you teach me, the more your halo will shine, I assure you.”

“Wonderful,” he said, tightly.

She stood once more.

“I must go prepare my toilette. I expect my first lesson tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Not tonight.” He gave her a firm, searching look. “Please.”

Apparently, Lord Leith wanted a reprieve for one evening. That she was prepared to give. Especially when she had so thoroughly beaten him.

“Very well. I am still fatigued from my journey from Somerset. I will see you tomorrow evening.”

Leith nodded.

Beatrice moved to exit the room, but then she stopped. A thought had occurred to her. Something that needed to be made clear. Because, over the course of this conversation, his gaze had changed. He had begun to look at her in a different manner. She was sure of it.

“I never would have believed you.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He was trying his old sneer, but she could hear the real distress beneath it. She hadn’t wanted to upset him. But it had to be done. She had others to think of besides herself.

“That you wouldn’t bed me.”

He merely stared at her.

“I may be no Lady Killston. But I know when a man desires me.”

He stared at her. His mouth was slightly agape. He looked as if he had been slapped.

“Good evening, Lord Leith.”

And then she left the room.