A Regency Courtesan's Pride: More Than a Mistress / The Rake's Inherited Courtesan

The short stocky man reared back as his pale blue eyes took in the scene. His ruddy face flushed a deeper shade.

‘Miss Draycott,’ he gasped, shock writ large on his face.

Merry winced. More grist for the gossip mill. She pried Charlie’s hand free and stood up. ‘Mr Prentice, let me introduce you to the Marquis of Tonbridge, my betrothed. My lord, this is Albert Prentice, my manager.’

Charlie rose easily to his feet. He stuck out a hand. ‘Prentice,’ he said easily, with just the right amount of friendliness and condescension that would put the man at ease without being effusive.

Prentice’s eyes goggled. His jaw worked, then somehow he managed to take Charlie’s hand and bow. ‘My lord. A pleasure.’ He turned his eyes to Merry. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting. I wasn’t expecting

‘I am glad to see you. I hope you had no trouble on the roads?’

‘I no. I came along just as they were removing your carriage from the ditch. For a moment I thought. Jed said you had an accident. Are you all right?’

She saw Charlie narrow his eyes, watching Prentice’s reaction. Good Lord, the man suspected her manager.

‘I’m fine,’ Merry said quickly. ‘Luckily his lordship arrived in time to rescue me.’ She shot him a look. ‘Although I had things well in hand.’

Prentice’s gaze swivelled to Charlie. ‘I didn’t know you were expecting company.’

‘No reason why you should, is there, old fellow?’ Charlie asked.

Merry’s gaze flew to his face. His expression was dark. Stern. Questioning.

‘Mr Prentice is my trusted adviser in all aspects of Draycott’s,’ she said quickly. ‘I wasn’t sure his lordship would come so early in the New Year, Mr Prentice, but negotiations regarding our betrothal have been under way for some time.’

Prentice swallowed and tugged at his neckcloth. ‘Oh, aye.’

‘You have no cause for concern, Mr Prentice,’ Merry said firmly. ‘Nothing at Draycott’s will change.’

‘Except my assistance with Miss Draycott’s problems,’ Charlie said in rather a dangerous-sounding voice. It was almost as if he mistrusted the man. Dash it. She wouldn’t have him upsetting her manager.

She smiled at the young man. ‘Albert, Lord Tonbridge is going to help with our plans for the Skepton Asylum.

He and I are going to speak to the other mill owners. Who do you think we should approach first?’

Prentice twisted his hat in his hand; expressions chased across his face: chagrin, worry, doubt. He forced a smile. ‘Mr Broadoaks would be best, Miss Draycott.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All t’other owners listen to him.’

‘Is he married?’ Charlie asked.

‘Aye. Got four sons and three daughters, too.’

Charlie gave her a significant look. ‘I suppose the sons are out of leading strings?’

‘Aye. Two of them already help their Pa at t’mill.’

‘Benjamin Broadoaks was Grandfather’s best friend,’ Merry added. ‘He has been the most receptive to my ideas. He will help us.’

Prentice looked unconvinced. ‘Shall I speak to him?’

‘No,’ Charlie said, before Merry could answer. ‘Mr Broadoaks will receive a visit from me.’

Merry bridled at the tone of command. ‘From us,’ she said. ‘Mr Prentice, I have here a list of instructions for the mill. I think it will reduce production costs appreciably. Would you see to it, please?’

Prentice ran his eye down the notes she had made. ‘It might help,’ he said. ‘I’ll take it right away.’ He hesitated. ‘You are sure you were not harmed yesterday?’ His gaze darted to Charlie. ‘You were lucky out there on the moors with a snowstorm coming on.’

‘Very lucky,’ Charlie said.

‘I am fine, Mr Prentice. Thank you for your concern. Please give my regards to your mother.’

A muscle in Prentice’s jaw flickered at the obvious dismissal. ‘Mother will be most glad to know of your kind wishes, Miss Draycott.’ He bowed and went out, closing the door behind him.

‘Shifty-eyed bastard,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t like the look of him.’

Merry blinked.

‘Bursting in here as if he had the right,’ he continued.

‘He’s a friend and an employee.’

Charlie rose to his feet. ‘You may think of him as a friend, but do not be surprised if he has other designs.’

Had she been too friendly? Let the young man jump to conclusions? ‘Nonsense,’ she muttered. Dash it. Yet another problem to resolve. She couldn’t afford Prentice going off in a huff.

‘Time to visit Mr Broadoaks,’ Charlie said.

‘Not without me.’

He grinned. ‘Now why would I miss an opportunity to drive a lovely young woman out in my curricle?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I have a better idea. We’ll take the closed carriage. More private. And warmer.’

He smiled. ‘Why, my dear Merry, you are a naughty puss.’

She hadn’t been expelled from school for misbehaving with a gardener’s boy without learning a thing or two about taking chances when they came along. She cast him a sideways glance. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

‘Regretfully, I must decline.’

Dumbfounded, she stared at him.

‘My horses need exercise.’ It was a lie. She could see it in his face. But why? She tried not to care, not to feel rejected, but it didn’t seem to be working.

They were admitted into the courtyard of Broadoaks Mill, at the edge of town, by a child of about ten with a runny nose and a ragged jacket covered in white fluff.

There but for the grace of God, Charlie thought. Only an accident of birth separated him from the masses. He certainly didn’t believe in divine right. Charlie tied his horses to a post.

‘Master’s in t’office.’ The boy pointed to a set of wooden steps up the outside of the building.

Charlie gestured for Merry to go ahead and enjoyed the view of her shapely ankles and the sway of that deliciously curved bottom as she climbed. No wonder men had invented this bit of courtesy. Ready to catch them if they fell, indeed. It was all about the view.