The Courtesan

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

“C’MON, JACK! You used to be game for any lark!”

Jack Carrington, captain in the 1

Foot Guards, peered over a stack of half-unpacked linen at the young dandy accosting him from his doorway. “I’m happy to see you, too, Aubrey, and while I appreciate the flattering enthusiasm for my company which led you to hunt me down before breakfast, I’m not interested in going anywhere. I didn’t reach London until late last night, and as you can see, I’ve yet to settle into my rooms. Can this excursion not wait?”

Receiving the rebuff with no noticeable dimming of his enthusiasm, Aubrey Ludlowe crossed the room and, pushing aside Jack’s portmanteau, poured himself some ale from the flagon on the desk. “Can’t wait. Besides, why unpack? Leave it for your man.”

“I sent my batman to rejoin his family as soon as we landed and haven’t yet had time to find a replacement.”

Aubrey waved his hand. “Let your new man attend to it after you hire him. The lesson begins shortly, and if we do not arrive soon, all the best seats will be taken.”

Surprised, Jack swallowed his ale in a gulp. “You want to drag me away at barely past dawn to watch a lesson?Since when did you develop such enthusiasm for education? Not while we were at Oxford, to be sure!”

Aubrey set his mug down with a thump, his expression affronted. “’Tisn’t a matter of some rubbishy book-learning! Nay, ’tis more important than that. Indeed, ’tis the most important thing going on now in London, what with the Season not yet begun. Every gentleman of note will be present. Stands to reason there must be a decision soon, and good friend that I am, I don’t wish you to miss having a chance.”

Jack stared at Aubrey. “A lesson is the most important event now taking place in London?” he asked, trying to sift the most intelligible bits from his friend’s speech. A sudden thought occurred and he leaned forward to sniff the air. “Are you sheets-to-the-wind, Aubrey?”

His friend chuckled, seemingly much less offended to be accused of being drunk at seven in the morning than at the suggestion he’d taken up scholarship. “Nay, though I don’t mind a little nip first thing, to revive the spirits. A sirloin wouldn’t come amiss either, but we haven’t time.” Aubrey snatched the folded shirt from Jack’s hands and tossed it on the bed. “Wear regimentals, since you’re half dressed in them already, but we leave now. The fencing master closes the doors promptly at seven-thirty.”

“You’re haranguing me to go to a fencing lesson?” A sudden vision filled Jack’s head—smoke, screams, the rattle of musketry and clang of blades, himself with saber slashing. Shaking it off, he said grimly, “No, thank you, Aubrey. My fencing skills are quite proficient enough. Pray God, I shall never need to hone them again.”

His friend sobered. “Amen to that. Heard Waterloo was a dreadful slaughter. But I’m proposing a different sort of contest—and one you definitely will want to see. Trust me, old fellow! Have I ever led you awry?”

Recalling a long line of dubious exploits stretching from childhood to university, Jack smiled. “Frequently.”

Grinning back, Aubrey protested, “Well, not this time. If you decide I was wrong, you may afterward exact whatever retribution you like, but I’m sure you will be thoroughly grateful I insisted you come along. ’Tis nearly a…a life-altering experience! Or,” he added with a heavy sigh, “so it has proved for many of us. But no more—you must see for yourself. You’ll thank me, I promise you!”

“Oh, very well,” Jack capitulated, his curiosity by now thoroughly piqued. Abandoning the shirts, he shrugged on his uniform jacket. “In compensation for making me leave my kit in such disorder, you may buy me breakfast.”

“Immediately after the match,” Aubrey promised. “Only hurry! I’ve a hackney waiting.”

With the speed of long practice, Jack looped the fasteners as he followed Aubrey into the hall.

“Why are you staying here at Albany anyway?” Aubrey asked as he hustled Jack down the stairs. “Dorrie’s making her come-out, isn’t she? Why not move into the family manse?”

“Mama and Dorothy won’t be coming to London for another month. You know old Quisford won’t stir from Carrington Grove until the family leaves, nor would he trust an underling to properly open the house here. When I mentioned I intended to put up at Grillon’s until they arrive, a fellow officer whose regiment hasn’t yet been ordered home from Paris offered me the use of his rooms at Albany.”

“You’ll stay in London until the family comes?” Aubrey asked as they boarded the waiting hackney.

“I’ll remain just long enough to sell out, purchase new garments and consult our solicitors. Then I’m off to breathe country air and let Mama and Dorrie fuss over me.”

“If they can spare you the time,” Aubrey replied, signaling the driver to start. “When Mama fired off my sister, ’twas such a frenzy of preparations you’d think they were mustering an army. You’ll return with them for the Season, of course?”

“Yes, after I get the spring planting sorted out with Ericson. I promised Dorrie I’d escort her to parties, introduce her to any army chums who happen to be in town and see that only eligible gentlemen are encouraged to call. Which leaves you out,” he added with a grin.

“As if she’d look at me anyway, when we’ve known each other since we were in leading strings,” Aubrey retorted. “Besides, I’ve no desire yet to become a tenant-for-life.”

“Since as Dorrie’s equerry I shall be obliged to go about in society, I plan to keep my eyes open. Perhaps I’ll discover a little charmer who persuades me to settle down.”

When Aubrey chortled in disbelief, Jack continued, “No, I’m serious. There’s something about finding oneself intact, after riding through a hail of musketry and artillery shot, that makes one contemplate one’s own mortality. Perhaps it’s time I do my duty to marry.”

Aubrey stared at him. “I believe you mean it. Thank heaven I’m a younger son! No duties of procreation for me—not of the legitimate variety anyway,” he amended.