Ann Lethbridge - A Regency Courtesan's Pride - More Than a Mistress / The Rake's Inherited Courtesan

Why was everything going wrong now? Were all the naysayers who had wrung their hands in horror at her inheritance of the mill right after all? Was it impossible for a woman to run such a large enterprise as Draycott’s? Should she have abided by her uncle Chepstow’s wishes and put everything in his hands?

She sighed. Grandfather would have solved the problem in an instant. Look out for t’coppers was his motto. Was that what she was doing wrong? Looking out for the pounds?

Dash it all, she would not be beaten.

She opened the ledger at the beginning. The answer had to be here.

Cold. Alone. Charlie opened his eyes.

Darkness assaulted his gaze. Silence his ears. A band tightened around his chest, cutting off air. Sweat trickled down his back. His heart thundered. He lay rigid. Still. Suffocating.

In a bed?

Why the hell was it dark?

The candles must have gone out. Darkness had woken him. He threw back the covers and drew back the curtains from the window. It didn’t help.

He gathered the supply of candles he’d left ready with shaking hands. He brought down the candelabra and struck the flint. A candle flared. He inhaled a deep calming breath.

He held the flame to the candelabra. Its candles hadn’t burned down, they’d been snuffed. Some time ago by their length.

He glanced at the rumpled bed. Merry must have doused them when she left.

Why hadn’t he awoken then? He had slept through her departure. Were the nightmares finally gone?

He rubbed at his breastbone and stared at the window. A faint trace of grey in the darkness of the room. He wanted to cheer. He felt rested. For the first time in years, energy coursed through his veins at the thought of a new day.

He’d made love to Merry, wonderful passionate wild love, and fallen asleep. God, he’d lost complete control with her, behaved like a green boy with his first woman.

She had climaxed deliciously. He hardened, wanting her again.

It wouldn’t happen.

Their lovemaking hadn’t changed her decision. The two things were not connected. She wanted him gone. He was to drive away and leave her to face the danger alone. Impossible. Yet what choice did he have unless he agreed to her suggestion that he pose as her future husband.

He groaned. If his father ever learned of this new adventure of his, Robert would be outcast forever. But leaving Merry in danger was out of the question. He already had enough guilt to carry. What he’d done to Robert. His failure at Waterloo.

He would not fail Merry.

He stilled. Was he once more being reckless, endangering others to satisfy his own ego as his commanding officer had accused?

He went hot, then cold. Damn it all, what else could he do? If he left and something happened to Merry, he would never forgive himself.

A knock sounded at the door. He grabbed for his banyan as Brian stepped in, carrying hot water in a jug. ‘Ready for your shave and a bath, my lord? ‘

Ready? Yes, indeed. Because he needed to see Merry as soon as possible. Not that he expected the conversation to be easy.

The account books didn’t look any better now than they had in the early hours of the morning. One thing was obvious—while costs were rising at the mill, income was falling. Clearly, she would have to deal with the other mill owners’ enmity quickly or face ruin.

Merry raised her gaze from the rows of numbers and stared out of the window. No blue skies today. The moor looked particularly bleak, a wasteland of white patches amid the brown grass.

A brief knock and the door opened to admit Charlie. He looked wonderful. Refreshed. And, damn him, more handsome than ever.

An odd feeling of shyness tensed her stomach. Warmth stung her cheeks. He’d think her such a naïve fool for blushing after her wantonness in the night. She kept her smile cool. ‘Good morning, my lord. Ready to leave?’

He grinned. ‘Forgotten my name so soon, my sweet? How are you, Merry? Did you sleep well?’ He strode to the desk, gathered her hands in turn and kissed each palm. ‘You look beautiful.’

Right, beautiful in her plain brown gown and ragged grey wool shawl. Her working clothes. The man was a flirt. ‘I am well, thank you, Charlie. Is your carriage at the door? I will come and bid you farewell.’

He wandered around the room, looking at the neat rows of ledgers on the shelves lining one wall, each one neatly dated. ‘So this is where you spend most of your time?’

‘Yes.’ She pulled her old shawl closer around her, not because she was cold, but because having him prowling around her office seemed to make the room smaller.

‘I’m not leaving,’ he said.

‘What?’ Her mouth fell open.

‘I’m not leaving while your life is in danger.’

Why did men always think they were the only ones able to solve problems? ‘I don’t need your help.’

He sat down in the chair opposite the desk. His jaw set in a stubborn line. ‘Yes. You do.’

She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Do you know what they will think if you run around town standing up for me? They will think I am your mistress.’

His dark eyes gleamed, but his face remained deadly serious. ‘After last night, you are.’

‘Well, it won’t matter what you say in that case. They will listen politely and once you leave they will do as they wish. As my my

‘Lover,’ he said, raising a brow.

‘Very well. As my lover, you will have no influence at all. And my reputation will be ruined into the bargain. I have to deal with these men every day. I need their respect. This will only garner ridicule.’

He leaned back in the chair, kicked out his legs and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Not if I pose as your fiancé.’

She stared at him. ‘Why? You were vehemently opposed to this idea barely a few hours ago.’

‘I won’t leave you to face this alone. It wouldn’t be right.’

She blushed. ‘You owe me nothing. No. I don’t need your help. Caro and I can manage this for ourselves.’

He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Your choices are fiancé or lover. Either way I will speak to them today.’

Blackmail. Brass makes t’wheels turn. Only he didn’t lack for money, and, unless she was completely deranged, he still wanted her.

‘It’s a mickle for a muckle, then,’ she said.

He stared at her blankly.

‘Is’t not plain as the nose on your face? I’ll be your mistress while you play the fiancé. ‘Tis a fair bargain and when it is done, there’s no obligation on either side.’

His eyes flashed. ‘There you are with the outrageous statements in that dialect again. I’m not looking for damned payment. What kind of man do you think I am?’

She glared at him. ‘What? Is it beneath you to make an honest bargain? Smell too much of the shop?’

A blank look crossed his face. He took a deep breath. ‘It’s a matter of honour, Merry. Surely you understand?’

Unfortunately she did. A man who thought his honour was at stake would never give in. Her heartbeat quickened. Her pulse raced. The thought of him remaining here for days, no doubt. The temptation of having him close by.

Caro would be furious.

She glared at him. ‘You said you were in Yorkshire on business. I suggest you continue on your way.’

A dark brow flicked up. ‘Suggest all you want, I am speaking to these men and that is final.’

He meant it. This man was as stubborn as she was. And if he succeeded, she would be beholden to him. Every good turn deserves a reward. Asking him to tie his name to hers deserved a far greater reward than one night in her bed.

‘And you won’t accept payment.’

A muscle flickered in his jaw. Anger. Pride. Well, she had her pride, too.