The Captain's Courtesan. Lucy Ashford
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dear girl,’ he said, ‘I do apologise if I startled you—that wasn’t my intention in the least. I wonder, would you do me the very great honour of dancing with me?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ she said quickly, ‘I was just about to leave.’
A shadow of something—was it anxiety?—crossed his face. ‘And I respect your wishes wholeheartedly, but might I mention that there could be a slight problem?’
‘A problem?’
‘Indeed. You see, I was talking to your Dr Barnard on the stairs only a moment ago. He’s just returned to his office for more tickets for his doormen. But he’ll be arriving here any minute; since I’ve paid him personally for a dance with you, he would be a little angry, I fear, to discover that you’d slipped away.’
Rosalie’s heart sank. So it still wasn’t safe to get into Dr Barnard’s office—bother. She swallowed. ‘Yes. I see …’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ offered the man. ‘Instead of dancing, I’ll fetch you a glass of wine, shall I?’
‘I would prefer lemonade,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘And I really cannot stay long.’
‘I am honoured to be given even a few minutes of your time,’ he said softly. ‘You can’t believe how eager I am for this chance to get to know you.’
Alec frowned as the footman took his ticket and waved him into the Inner Temple. The candle-lit room was filled with gaudy splashes of colour, thanks to the cheap gowns of the women and the scarlet and mauve wall-hangings. In one corner an older woman with red-dyed hair played the piano with more determination than skill and a dozen or more couples moved around the floor in a manner that clearly hinted at more intimate encounters. The odours of stale perfume and tobacco assailed his senses.
And there—Alec’s square jaw tightened—there was his brother, Stephen, dressed to the nines as usual and talking to someone Alec couldn’t quite see since Stephen’s back blocked his view.
Alec walked with deceptive nonchalance across the room. People moved out of his way, as they tended to.
‘Stephen,’ he said softly at his brother’s shoulder.
His brother swung round, the blood leaving his face. ‘You,’ he muttered. ‘Always you. What in hell are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to speak with you, Stephen.’ Alec gazed thoughtfully at his brother. ‘Since you’re too scared to let me into your house, I thought we could have a pleasant little chat right here.’
‘This is hardly the place or time to discuss private business!’
‘Believe me—’ and Alec’s voice was suddenly harsher ‘—I take no pleasure at all in having to step anywhere near the dungheap of your private business. But you give me little option.’
Stephen’s eyes darted round. Quite a few people were watching; some couples had actually stopped dancing to stare. Stephen turned to the person at his side. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I do apologise for this gross intrusion.’
And for the first time, Alec realised who Stephen had been talking to.
He cursed under his breath. He hadn’t wanted her to be here. Blue eyes, as he’d thought: turquoise blue. He absorbed the slender delicacy of her figure, the perfect outline of her profile, the way her silver-blonde hair trailed down the silken white column of her graceful neck …
Athena. He felt, for one wild moment, the overwhelming desire to haul her over his shoulder and carry her out of this tawdry place.
Then he realised she was wearing fresh face paint. Rouge, badly applied. Disillusion flooded him. She is a whore, you fool. Alec’s gaze locked again with his brother’s. ‘Pay her off,’ he said. ‘This is just between you and me.’
He saw the girl whiten beneath that rouge as if he’d struck her. But at that very moment Stephen touched her shoulder. ‘Listen, my dear,’ Alec heard him murmur. ‘If you will just wait for me over there, I’ll be free in a moment, I promise you …’
‘I said—pay her off,’ interrupted Alec. ‘Or I will.’
Stephen flushed and dipped into his pocket, then thrust some coins in the girl’s hand. ‘Here,’ Alec heard him mutter. ‘And there’ll be more, if you’ll wait for me …’ He bent to whisper something.
Alec expected Athena to give Stephen an enticing smile, perhaps, or a curtsy of promise as she left.
But her blue eyes flashed scorn. Two spots of colour burned in her cheeks; then the girl just let those damned coins clatter one by one to the floor as if they scorched her. The noise interrupted the pianist, who stopped playing. And the girl stalked off without a backward glance, blonde head held high. Stephen clenched his fists and looked after her. ‘Damn it, I needed to talk to her!’
‘Wrong, Stephen,’ Alec shot back. ‘You need to talk to me.’
‘Not here.’ Stephen sounded quite feverish. ‘For God’s sake, not here, in public!’
This time Alec’s voice was like a whiplash. ‘You make it impossible for me to hold a conversation with you anywhere else. Now, I think you were about to explain to me why you were seen today by the whole of society driving in the park—and you were with her again. Then you come whoring, here. You are—unbelievable.’
‘I had my reasons for coming here! A matter of unexpected business—’
‘Business? Listen, Stephen. Don’t you think it might be a good idea if you suddenly found some unexpected business to take you out of town, for a week, or two, or even longer?’
Stephen moistened dry lips. ‘Are you attempting to threaten me?’
‘If you think I’m merely attempting it, then I’m obviously not making myself clear enough. Let me put it this way. It would be as well for you, brother—it would be very much in your interests—if you disappeared from London for a while.’
‘Damn you! You will not interfere like this!’ Stephen looked round quickly at the avid onlookers who gathered closer. ‘You know, I hold some cards, too, Alec. Push me too far and I’ll play them, I swear!’
Alec gave a lethal half-smile. ‘Then play them, brother mine. Damn well play them. Unlike you, I have nothing whatsoever to lose.’
‘If you think—’
‘For our father’s sake, Stephen,’ broke in Alec warningly, ‘I’ll expect news of your departure in the next day or so.’ He looked around the room and its occupants with scorn. ‘Now, my God, I’m out of here.’
‘Back to your old soldiers,’ muttered Stephen.
Alec swung round on him. ‘My old soldiers smell sweeter than this sewer of a place.’ And he strode off, the crowd parting to make way for him, the door crashing shut after him as he left.
The murmuring rose to excited chatter. All eyes were now fastened on Stephen, who, still flushed with anger, walked quickly towards the ante-room where refreshments were being served, looking, looking all the time. That girl, Stephen swore under his breath. Thanks to his damned brother, that girl, who looked like the other one, had got clean away.
In fact, Rosalie was still there, pressed into a shadowed alcove. She saw that slowly the room was returning to normal. Dr Barnard had arrived and, suspecting there’d been trouble of some kind, he spoke curtly to his wife, who began to play the piano again extremely loudly. Dr Barnard called out that the wine was on the house and a cheer was raised; couples started returning to the dance floor.
But Rosalie’s pulse rate showed no sign of calming.
Something had happened to her when the Captain drew near. It wasn’t just that he was so handsome. It was because he was so different from