The Accidental Courtesan (33 page)

Noelle chewed on her bottom lip. “Are you certain you weren't followed to Collingwood House?”

“Crawford assured me he would follow whenever I go out. Since he didn't sound an alarm, all is well.”

Still, Noelle wished she could at least know where Crawford was, in case one of the thieves decided to show himself. She was aware Gavin had a pistol tucked in his waistband, as it had bumped up against her several times during their drive. She took comfort in knowing her kidnapping would not be repeated. Gavin would kill anyone who tried.

So she settled back to scan faces in coaches and carriages for women who resembled their target. Though the weather kept most of society inside, there was a decent crowd filling the paths. She hoped to see their mystery lady in the mass.

After about five minutes, she was fidgeting in her seat again and emitting more than a few impatient sighs. Not a single face even slightly matched the sketch. “We'll never find her. She'll remain a mystery, and you shall have to live your life looking over your shoulder.”

Gavin pulled over to the side and reined to a stop. Eva's fat little gray pony-horse, Muffin, dropped her head to rip up some grass. Relatively new to London, and temporarily living under his cousin's roof, Gavin hadn't yet purchased a carriage horse or rig. He had no need for anything but his horse or a hackney to get around, so Eva had offered hers for the outing. What the little mare lacked in the refinement of the grander horses favored by the gentry, she made up for with a sweet disposition.

And since Muffin was mostly retired from service and wouldn't be recognized as belonging to the new duchess, she was the perfect choice to squire them about the park.

“We've spent an entire”—Gavin paused and looked down at his pocket watch—“seven minutes driving about. Surely you can summon up the patience to manage seven more before deciding this outing is a waste of time and energy.”

Noelle stared at his cocked brow and eyes alight with humor, and notched up her nose. “Must you fault me for wanting to see this caper end with a quick and satisfying conclusion?” She skimmed her fingers over the tender spot at her temple.

“Everyone is working quickly and diligently to see this end,” he reminded her. “You will have your justice, Noelle.”

A carriage slowly rumbled past, carrying the Baroness Brightman and her pretty but dreadfully dull daughter Minerva. Noelle resisted the instinct to wave. Courtesans did not wave at baronesses. She lowered her hand and waited until the carriage rounded the corner before turning back to Gavin.

“I plan to find the mystery woman and see her covered with honey and staked over a nest of ground wasps,” she said sharply. “And that is only the beginning.”

Gavin shook his head, smiling. “Remind me never to anger you, My Lady courtesan. You have a very evil mind.”

“Perhaps wasps are a bit harsh. A week in the stockade, then off to Australia for an existence of hard labor should be satisfactory. Anything less than life in a penal colony would be a travesty for what this woman has done to me.”

Still, no matter how the woman's actions had caused her suffering, Noelle couldn't see her locked in Newgate. No woman deserved that vile place. She still lived under the lingering worry that the earl would yet decide to have her and Bliss arrested. There was only Gavin's assurance that she was safe.

“Once she has been sent into exile and this case has been settled, what are your plans?” Gavin eased Muffin farther off the path as a large coach bearing an unfamiliar crest hurried past. “Will you go back to planning your spinsterhood? Or will you cast word about that you have decided to forgo such a charming institution and are seeking a husband after all? I'm certain there are several men who would eagerly line up for a chance to wed you.”

She stared blankly into his face. Her chest tightened.

The causal way he mentioned a husband took her aback. Would he be happy to see her wed some humorless, wheyfaced nobleman with sweaty palms and a permanent pinched expression? Would it be so easy to fob her off on another man and forget her?

She'd almost died to help him. She'd risked her heart. Now he casually mentioned marrying her off as if he had no feelings for her in the least.

Once the danger was over, he'd simply walk away.

 

T
ake me home.” Noelle clenched her jaw to keep from crying. Thankfully, the veil hid the telltale tremble of her bottom lip.

“Noelle, what is it?” He reached for her arm, but she pulled free.

“Take me home,” she repeated. “If you cannot follow a simple instruction, then I will find someone who will.” She glanced down the path and saw the Earl of Blakemore heading toward them at a clip on the back of a large white horse. “The earl will make an excellent escort.”

She made to rise, and Gavin caught her firmly by the arm. “Have you lost your senses?” he snapped. He jerked her back down in the seat, and his jaw twitched as he watched Blakemore ride past. “You cannot wave him down dressed like a courtesan. What would he think to discover you are Lady Seymour?”

In her haste to rid herself of Gavin, she'd forgotten her disguise. She slumped back on the seat.

“Taking you home is an excellent idea. Clearly your head injury is worse than I feared. You have gone insane.” He grumbled something about her, the earl, and the footpads under his breath. And it wasn't flattering.

Noelle took satisfaction in knowing she'd angered him and he had no clue why. It mattered not what he thought about her. She averted her head to keep him from seeing her tears.

Gavin Blackwell: American, Englishman, shipbuilder, cad. Why did he have to be the one she'd given her heart, just to have him stomp all over it with his polished boots?

She never should have fallen in love with him! It changed her perspective on her life, marriage, and children. She never planned to have either. And they were still barely on the fringe of consideration. But the fact that she was considering them at all, with a man who clearly didn't think of anything beyond sharing a bed, was painful.

Perhaps she
should
find herself a husband just to spite him. Then again, he'd have to care to feel the spite. And since she had no father to see her wed, he'd probably walk her up the aisle of the church and gladly hand her over to her new husband. Maybe even toast the newly married couple at their wedding supper.

He'd likely be happy to rid himself of her troublesome presence. She'd been nothing but a bother since they met. His face still held proof of her crimes in faded smudges of yellow beneath his sun-dark skin.

“Do you plan to tell me the reason for this sudden change of temperament, or do you plan to ride the rest of the way back in silence?” The question came out in a growl. She stubbornly refused to answer. “As you wish.”

Gavin clucked his tongue. Muffin sped up from slow to not as slow. The horse had only one speed.

It was several long minutes of misery before Gavin finally pulled up to the stable behind Collingwood House. By then, Noelle was covered in her cloak to hide her disguise, and she didn't wait for him to alight and help her down. She scrambled from the gig as the groom took control of Muffin.

She brushed past Gavin, pushed open the garden gate, and hurried up the path. If she'd hoped her curt dismissal would keep him from harassing her further, his footsteps behind her divested her of that notion.

Just outside the kitchen door, she quickly pulled off her veil and wig and shoved them into her valise. She dug for her handkerchief and quickly scrubbed off the beauty mark and makeup as best she could without a mirror. He stopped a few steps from her, but she refused to acknowledge him and jerked open the door.

The kitchen staff openly gawked as she stomped through the warm, yeasty-smelling space and into the hallway.

Continuing through the house at a rapid clip, Noelle managed to get to the stairs before he caught up with her.

“Noelle.”

Before he could continue, a door opened above, and Eva and Nicholas walked into view. Eva must have seen something on Noelle's face that caused her to ask, “Is there something the matter, Sister?”

Noelle expelled a harsh breath. “Men are so daft.”

Without a look back at Gavin, she turned and walked stiffly up the stairs.

 

G
avin rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. Women were so difficult to understand and so emotionally unstable. Quick to smile, quick to tears. One minute he and Noelle were having a perfectly innocent conversation, and the next she was behaving like he'd committed a crime against her. And she called him daft?

“If I have learned anything from living with a Harrington woman, Blackwell, it is that you cannot understand them, no matter how hard you try.” The duke came down the stairs and joined him in the huge foyer. “I think you need a drink.”

Gavin followed the duke to the library and accepted a splash of brandy. “When dealing with your sister-in-law, one needs a suit of chain mail to fend off the arrows she shoots from her sharp tongue.” Gavin downed the brandy and held out his glass. His Grace chuckled and filled it to the top. “May I live to a right ancient age, I will not understand her.”

“The duchess led me on quite a chase from our very first meeting.” His Grace grinned widely. “Before I realized what was happening, she'd stolen my heart.” He gave Gavin a pitying glance. “I think, sir, you have been hooked by a Harrington.”

“Nonsense.” Gavin scowled. “I have no intention to wed.”

His Grace laughed with open merriment and clapped him on the shoulder. “Eva stole my courtesan. I despised Eva. She was a drab spinster with not a single interesting quality. You wouldn't know it by looking at her now.”

Gavin stared. “Her Grace, a drab spinster?”

The duke nodded. “I planned to live my life a bachelor. My father was an angry bastard, and I was following the same path. I couldn't wish my temperament on any woman. My wife tied me into knots until I knew I couldn't live my life without her.” He winked and threw back his brandy. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

A grunt was Gavin's answer. He moved to the fireplace and gulped down half of his second drink. It slid smoothly down his throat. If only his dealings with his courtesan-thief went so well. Noelle twisted him around until he couldn't breathe without thinking of her.

“Noelle is the most contrary woman I have ever met. When I'm with her, she leads me on a merry chase,” Gavin grumbled. “When I'm away from her, I cannot push her from my mind. I am an hour or two away from Bedlam, and know not what to do to rectify this situation.”

A knowing nod followed the pronouncement. “You
have
been hooked, Blackwell, and there is no solution to your predicament. I know.” His Grace clunked his glass on the table and stretched his legs out. Knitting his hands over his stomach, the duke settled down to grin. “You might as well send for the parson, you poor bastard.”

 

N
oelle knew Gavin had left after an hour locked up with Nicholas in the library. Eva's maid, who'd been sent down to spy, had informed them when he'd exited the premises. Only then did she stop listening for sounds of him coming up the stairs to confront her again, and she took a deep, calming breath.

After she'd gone up to her room and Eva called for a bath, Noelle had ranted about men and all their foibles for a good half hour. She'd finally admitted most of her bad behavior with Gavin to her sister, in hopes of finding an ally. Instead, she'd been left with Eva threatening to see them wed. Noelle spent another quarter hour convincing her sister not to stomp down to the library and demand that Nicholas write up a marriage agreement.

“He should marry you,” Eva said several times during Noelle's rant, and she wasn't about to be put off. Whatever the baby was doing to her body, the little mite had left Eva irritable and fiercely protective. “The man knew the potential consequences of his shameful acts. He shouldn't get away with this unscathed.”

Noelle swirled her hand around in the soapy water. No matter how angry she was with Gavin, nor how hurt, she couldn't help wishing it was he, and not Eva, who was tending her bath. “You can force us to marry and turn Gavin and me into my mother and our father.” She looked pleadingly into Eva's eyes. “Would you want that life for me?”

Eva sat on the bed, her face awash with concern. “You love him.” It wasn't a question but a statement.

Biting her bottom lip, Noelle nodded. “Sadly, I do.” She ran a finger over the rim of the copper tub. “He doesn't love me. I will be forgotten once the thieves have been rounded up. He will move on to the next woman, and I will be just a memory.”

“I don't believe that.” Eva placed a hand over her stillflat belly beneath her simple green muslin gown. “I've seen the way he looks at you. He cares.”

Noelle smiled wryly. “I care for lemon tarts. It doesn't mean I wouldn't give them up if my waistline expanded.”

“I would hardly put you in the same pile as lemon tarts. Lemon tarts are sweeter,” Eva teased soberly. “I think we need to think about Mister Blackwell, and this situation, in an entirely different manner.”

“How so?” Noelle braced herself for another press for marriage. Once her sister got a notion in her head, she seldom changed her mind. In that, they were similarly stubborn. Eva was likely already thinking of the cut and fabric best suited for Noelle's bridal gown.

“Do you want to marry him?” Eva asked.

Noelle thought for a moment and answered truthfully. “I'm not certain what I want.”