Mary Brendan - The Virtuous Courtesan

‘That seems a sensible suggestion,’ she coolly agreed and, simply to occupy her jittery nerves, collected her bonnet from the hay bale she’d sat upon. She had also moved away from the edge of the barn to conceal herself from inquisitive eyes. Her reputation might be thoroughly besmirched, but she had no wish to add to her infamy. If she were caught in broad daylight loitering behind a barn with a gentleman, it was likely to give the town’s gossips a fine time.

Gavin moved closer, watching as she fiddled with her hat, first winding the strings about her palm before immediately jerking them loose.

Obviously he had startled her by coming upon her so unexpectedly. He strolled into the barn and made a cursory inspection of the dilapidated state of it before wandering out again. She still seemed unsettled, so he walked the length of the building to give her a little longer to regain her composure.

‘Please don’t stand where you might be seen.’ Sarah pursued him to the edge of the barn. She made as though to catch his sleeve and tug him backwards. Momentarily a small hand hovered in space before recoiling. ‘It is best if we keep out of sight. I would not want any curious passerby to come and investigate what is going on.’

Gavin duly complied whilst emitting a rasping chuckle. ‘In Mr Pratt’s office you called me a reprobate. Are you now worried for my reputation?’

‘Perhaps I am more concerned for mine,’ Sarah remarked acidly. ‘But then you believe I have no good name to keep, don’t you?’ she added quietly. She could tell he was about to humour her with polite lies and she’d rather not hear them. ‘You are right, of course,’ she interrupted him. ‘I am not liked or welcomed here in town. But it does not do to flaunt my notoriety or unnecessarily rub people’s noses in it.’

Gavin noticed the proud tilt to her chin, but she couldn’t conceal the tremor in her voice. She might know she was despised, but she suffered for it. After three or more years as a courtesan one might have expected her to acquire an amount of robust defiance. Her vulnerability was rather sweet and stirred something akin to tenderness in him.

Within a moment he had quashed the noble emotion and reinstated a more cynical outlook. He had no idea whether Miss Marchant had gladly set on the path to ruination with a man old enough to be her father. Until he did, he would reserve judgement on how genuine was her trembling modesty and whether plucking at his heartstrings was simply part of a calculated act.

‘Is it correct that you were just sixteen when Edward…?’ Gavin hesitated, sought an inoffensive term. ‘When he took you under his protection?’

‘Yes, I was sixteen,’ Sarah said. ‘And I would rather not discuss it. It was a long time ago,’ she said carefully. She had no intention of furnishing details of her affair with Edward to his brother. But neither did she want to rekindle friction between them. She was very conscious of the need to prolong this truce.

‘Three years is not so long.’ Gavin was not so easily deterred.

‘It was four years ago. It seems a long time to me,’ Sarah countered with grit in her voice and immediately turned the subject to the one presently most troubling to her. ‘We must try to find a way to solve the problem of Edward’s will. I’m sure you must want that too. It would be a great pity if you lost your inheritance.’

‘Indeed, it would,’ Gavin drily concurred.

Sarah ignored the ironic inflection in his voice. He thought she was showing him faux-concern in order to wheedle what she wanted out of him and secure her own future. It was true. A quick encompassing look roved over him. Oh, he might be far more handsome and sophisticated than Edward, but she would sooner have Edward any day.

She sensed Gavin Stone could be courteous and charming when it suited him—as it did now—but a latent and dangerous power seemed to lurk behind his measured words and smiles. He naturally wanted his bequest and she was the obstacle preventing him having it. Was Gavin Stone capable of resorting to devilry to get his money?

An anxious breath filled her lungs. She had earlier settled on an idea that seemed a very fair compromise. It was a simple plan, but she’d persevered with it because she recalled Mr Pratt had mentioned Gavin Stone wanted to hasten back to London. To expedite matters he might readily agree to her suggestion and return tomorrow. And that would suit her admirably.

‘I live At Elm Lodge,’ she blurted out. ‘It is part of the estate that you have inherited.’

‘I know.’

Sarah looked at him, hoping he might contribute more conversation. He did not. ‘I hope you will not deem it an impertinence,’ she quickly continued, ‘but I have thought of a compromise that might benefit us both.’

A slight rise of his dark brows was not the encouragement she had hoped for, but did indicate that he was willing to listen to her idea.

‘As you know, your brother resided at Willowdene Manor where there are plentiful staff. I have lived alone at the Lodge for three years and have just two servants who live out. Mr and Mrs Jackson help with cooking and gardening and so on. They have taken on other work too and have their own cottage in the village.’

‘No.’

‘You don’t know what I’m going to say,’ Sarah gasped out at that rude interruption.

‘Yes, I do. You’re going to say that you will dispense with their services and act as a housekeeper and gardener at the Lodge to earn the right to stay there.’

So he had known what she was going to say. But then it had hardly been an ingenious plan. ‘Why will you not agree to it?’ Sarah’s demand was harsh with frustration. ‘It will solve everything. You can honestly say to the executors that you are providing for me financially and thus will be able to legally claim your inheritance.’

‘I have every intention of claiming my inheritance,’ Gavin stressed softly. ‘But not like that.’

Chapter Three

‘Why ever not? Is it too simple a plan?’

‘Simple plans are usually the best sort.’

‘Well?’ Sarah prompted, a glimmer of hope brightening her eyes and voice. ‘Are you now persuaded towards it?’

‘No.’

‘To what do you object, sir?’ Sarah demanded, barely suppressing her exasperation.

‘Several things,’ Gavin said. ‘But let us start with the most obvious. If I wanted a housekeeper at Elm Lodge it would be more economic to employ Mrs Jackson.’

‘But Maude cannot help you lay hands on your brother’s fortune,’ Sarah pointed out with a note of triumph. ‘I alone can do that. My employment might be more costly, but also greatly beneficial.’ Whilst willing him to agree to her logic, she came closer to look up expectantly into his darkly rugged features.

Within a moment she could feel heat prickling beneath her cheeks for eyes of cerulean blue were interestedly roving her face, lingering on her mouth. An odd feeling quickened her blood. It disturbed her so profoundly that she took an involuntary step back. If he thought to flatter her into accepting less than was her due, he was to be sorely disappointed. She would never be duped by a philanderer’s artfulness.

He thought he had her measure. Perhaps he did, but she had his, too. Just a short time ago at the will reading he had been incensed and scornful of her. How different he seemed now he’d had time to reason that a gallant might do better than a tyrant. However much he was tempted to curse her to hell he needed her cooperation just as she needed his.

‘I only want a small living allowance of fifty pounds per annum,’ Sarah briskly informed him and peeked from beneath twin fans of dusky lashes to see what reaction that demand provoked. She could discern no change in his demeanour. He remained resting against the barn, indolently watching her.