Secret Lessons With The Rake. Julia Justiss
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to manage your household and give you heirs? Sounds like a devilishly cold arrangement.’
‘Come now, Mama, you can’t claim to have been rapturously in love with every one of your...admirers!’
‘I was when the liaison began,’ she shot back.
‘A prudent match doesn’t have to be cold,’ he argued, not surprised she resisted the idea, after having been disposed of herself in a completely dispassionate manner. ‘I know better than to wed someone to whom I am indifferent, or who feels nothing for me. There’s no reason I couldn’t share a mutual respect and affection with a more...traditional woman.’
‘“Mutual respect” with a “traditional” woman?’ She shook her head. ‘Christopher, darling, you’re much too like me for such a match to ever work! After a decade of liaisons with the most beautiful, witty and seductive of females, a dutiful, respectable virgin would bore you to flinders. And what of passion?’
‘Just because a female is respectable doesn’t mean she must lack passion.’
She sniffed. ‘If that were true, I’d have far fewer married admirers.’
Giving up on that tack, Christopher continued, ‘I’ve reached the age where the idea of returning home to tranquillity and peace in the arms of a friend sounds more attractive than a night of drinking and debauchery in the bed of a courtesan.’
He wouldn’t admit to her—or even to himself—that the idea of possessing an eminently respectable wife did sound a bit dull. Or how much the loss of the camaraderie of the three now-married men who’d been closer than family to him for a decade was driving this newfound resolve to take a wife. Once he, too, married, their intimate circle would again be complete.
But above all, he couldn’t confess he felt compelled to wed that eminently respectable female so his own children would never have to wonder who their father was, endure the sniggers and whispers of their peers about their mother—or bear the cold disinterest of the man who was legally their father.
Such a confession would sound too much like an indictment. And despite all the turmoil, slights and indignities he’d endured growing up, he truly did love his volatile mother.
The disapproving expression on her face told him she wasn’t convinced. Before he could think of another argument to persuade her, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of a tall, dark-haired woman.
Seeing him sitting beside his mother, the lady halted, her smile fading. ‘I’m sorry, Felicia! I don’t mean to intrude. Billings told me you were free.’
‘Ellie!’ Lady Vraux cried, jumping up from the couch in a swirl of silken draperies to go meet the newcomer. ‘Of course, you’re not interrupting—I got your note, and was expecting you! How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you this age!’
Gladness warming him, Christopher stood and drank in the pleasure of watching the quiet elegance that was Ellie Parmenter walk across the room. Though it must be ten years now since they’d met, each time he saw her he felt the same sense of awe—and sharp pull of sensual attraction—he’d felt the first time he’d beheld her in his mother’s drawing room, when he’d returned from Oxford on a term break. Her figure lush and well formed, her movements grace personified, her pale face perfection beneath a curly mass of dark hair, she had huge violet eyes with an air of mystery about them that he’d immediately lost himself in. The young collegian had been first mesmerised, then dismayed and disappointed to discover that this beauty a few years younger than himself was in keeping to a dissolute, much older peer.
Though neither she nor his mama had ever volunteered the details, he knew there’d been something havey-cavey about the way she’d come to be Summerville’s mistress. He’d been happy for her when the man died last autumn, freeing her from that relationship.
Had he not been entangled at the time with the Divine Clarissa, he might have pursued her himself.
‘I’m quite well,’ Ellie was saying as she returned his mother’s embrace. ‘I can wait in the drawing room until you finish your chat with Christopher.’
‘Nonsense! I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing your news, too. Wouldn’t you, my dear?’
‘I would indeed. Although, since I’m the one who turned up unexpectedly, if you ladies would prefer to have a comfortable coze, I could leave.’
‘No, please, stay, Christopher,’ Ellie said, echoing his mother’s request.
That matter disposed of, his mother rang for tea and, arm in arm with her visitor, proceeded to the sofa. He waved Ellie to the seat he’d just vacated and she took it, her dark beauty a perfect foil to his mother’s blonde loveliness.
‘So, what have you been doing to occupy yourself since Summerville’s demise, when you left the social scene?’ his mother demanded. ‘Not mourning, surely. More like celebrating, I’d expect.’
‘I was...ready to move on,’ Ellie allowed, her expression unreadable.
‘Summerville did leave you that charming little house, as well as an annuity, didn’t he?’ his mother asked. ‘Why don’t you set yourself up with a snug little gaming establishment, like Madame Aurelie? I know you have friends in the demi-monde who would be happy to work for you. The gentlemen would certainly flock there, wouldn’t they, Christopher?’
A gaming hell with Ellie as its mistress? There was no doubt. ‘Absolutely. You’d be a smashing success.’
‘Set that up, and you’d never have to worry about running out of money,’ his mother said. ‘As an independent woman, you’d retain control of your own funds and your own establishment—giving you more freedom and security than a married woman ever has.’
‘If not the respect of Society,’ Ellie murmured.
‘No great loss, that,’ Lady Vraux said with a shrug. ‘I would choose independence and control over my fortune any day! But since I take it that option doesn’t appeal, what do you intend to do? Not start that school for wayward females you mentioned when we last met, I hope!’
‘Actually, I have started it,’ Ellie said, giving his mother an apologetic smile. ‘I’d been thinking of doing something like that for years, particularly for girls born at fancy houses who don’t want to follow their mothers into the trade. It’s true that courtesans at the highest levels have the independence you so admire, but few females achieve that. Most girls caught up in the life can never leave it, either because they have no other way to support themselves, or because the madam or pimp controlling them won’t permit it. Which is why I was so grateful for Lord Witlow’s assistance in the matter of the girl who trapped Ben Tawny at the Quill and Gavel,’ she said, looking over at Christopher.
‘It’s Ben and the rest of us Hellions who owe you thanks,’ Christopher responded. ‘Without your sleuthing efforts and your knowledge of the demi-monde, we’d never have found her, and Ben might have been facing the ruin of his Parliamentary career. We’ve worked too hard for too long to lose one of our key members now, when the reforms we’ve struggled to advance are so close to being implemented.’
‘Yes, I read that your Third Reform Bill passed the Commons. Congratulations!’
Christopher nodded his thanks. ‘Now we just have to get it through the Lords. Though a few peers, like Lady Maggie’s father, are reasonable, a great many recalcitrants will try to drag their heels. Another reason we’re grateful that, with your help, we’ve still got Ben with us in the fight.’
‘I’m so thankful for your mama and all her kindness over the years. I was only too happy to do what I could.’ She gave him that sweet smile that always made his heart lift. ‘Most women of her class ignore me like an unpleasant odour. No one but Felicia has ever condescended, not just to acknowledge me, but to offer friendship. Still, had Lord Witlow not stepped in to guarantee the girl’s safety, she would have been too afraid of retribution for me to persuade her to come forward. Once he’d been made