Julia Justiss - The Courtesan

“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.

“So what illegitimate activity are we pursuing this morning? Must be of some great moment, to get you up at such an hour. Or have you merely not been to bed yet?”

“Got a few hours’ sleep,” Aubrey replied. “Man needs his wits about him for this endeavor.”

“Which is precisely…what?” Jack pressed.

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

And with that, Jack had to be content. During the rest of the drive, Aubrey refused to be coaxed, tricked or bullied into revealing anything further. Mystified and a bit annoyed, Jack was more than happy when his friend had the carriage stop at a modest town house in Soho Square.

They followed several other gentlemen up the stairs to the main floor where Aubrey, after tossing coins into a box beside the door, led him into what appeared to be a converted ballroom. The area by the door was thronged with groups of chatting gentlemen; beyond them was arranged an assortment of chairs, all occupied.

“Blast, I knew we’d tarried too long,” Aubrey grumbled. “Now we shall have to stand.”

After scanning the crowd, Aubrey elbowed a path to a space against the left wall. “This will have to do. Ah, they’re beginning. Is that not magnificent?”

In the sudden hush, Jack heard the clang of steel on steel. Turning his attention to the floor, he noted facing them an older man clad in breeches and shirtsleeves. His opponent, posing en garde with his back to them, appeared to be a mere stripling, but before Jack could glean any further impression, the young man went on the attack.

Although the older gentleman, clearly the instructor, was taller and heavier, the young student seemed nearly his match. The flashing blades struck sparks as the boy thrust and counterthrust, offsetting the master’s advantage in size and experience with superior agility and audacious, risky changes of direction that allowed him to steadily drive the man back.

His distaste for combat forgotten, Jack’s attention riveted on the interplay of blade with blade. When, after checking an advance intended to throw him off balance, the boy countered with a thrust so swift and unexpected Jack barely saw the weapon move, he joined the gallery in a roar of approval as the master’s sword went flying.

“Brilliant!” he said to Aubrey while the student trotted to retrieve the errant foil. “How long has he…”

As the boy untied his mask and turned to face them, the rest of Jack’s sentence went unuttered. Walking toward them, the master’s sword in hand, was not a young lad, but a girl.

A woman, rather, Jack amended, noting with appreciation the curves suggested beneath the loose-fitting linen shirt and breeches. Though with those rounded hips, that delicious curve of bottom, how could he have believed for a moment the student was a boy?

And her face—Jack literally caught his breath as his gaze rose to what must rank as one of the Almighty’s supremest acts of creation. Its shape a perfect oval, the skin luminescent as a China pearl, her countenance was animated by large eyes of deep gentian blue set under arched brows. Though the full, petal-pink lips were unsmiling, the newly minted gold hair pulled severely back and tucked into a knotted queue, she was without question the most beautiful woman he’d ever beheld.

Aubrey’s low chuckle pulled him from his rapt contemplation. “Did I not tell you?”

Realizing from the amusement on his friend’s face that his mouth must be hanging open, Jack shut it with a snap. “Who is she?”

“Lady Belle—or at least, that’s what the ton calls her, after her long-time protector, Lord Bellingham.”

“An actress?”

“No, a courtesan—and since Bellingham’s death a month ago, the most sought-after woman in London. Every unattached gentleman in the city has been pressing her to consider his offer, though Lord Rupert—” Aubrey gestured to a tall, thin man in black, his expression as somber as his garb “—has the blunt to outbid all comers. Rumor says he once offered Bellingham two thousand guineas to relinquish his claims to Belle—and doubled the offer to the lady privately, though she never left Bellingham, so it might be all a hum. Thought you might want to enter the running.”

“At a starting bid of four thousand guineas?” Jack laughed. “I haven’t that sort of blunt! She’s ravishing indeed, but—alas,” he said, surprised to feel a genuine pang of regret, “I could never afford her.”

“If ’tis true that she’s turned down Rupert on several occasions, she might be angling for more than just money. You’re a well-favored gent, war hero and all. Might have a chance with her. And if successful, you would upon occasion allow your best friend to worship at her feet.”

Something in Aubrey’s tone made Jack transfer his gaze from Belle back to his friend. “You have a tendre there?”

Aubrey sighed. “She’d never look twice at me—an un-distinguished younger son of modest appearance and fortune. But wait—the most amusing part is beginning. Once Wroxham discovered she was taking lessons—wearing breeches—the news raced through the ton and a crowd began gathering to watch. Hoping to discourage it, I suppose, she told Armaldi to charge admission, but that only seemed to bolster attendance.”

“If she makes enough from that, she’ll not need a new protector.”

“Oh, she don’t keep it—gives it to Armaldi, to reimburse him for his trouble in having such a crowd foisted upon him, she told Montclare. But Ansley—the young cub who’s been dangling after her since last Season—protested that her admirers deserved a boon for their devotion. He induced her to agree that after the lesson, she’ll meet one challenger. Anyone who manages to best her wins a kiss.”

Indeed, as Aubrey spoke, Jack noticed several young men talking with the fencing master, their voices raised as they evidently pressed rival claims to that honor.

While the dispute continued, Lady Belle stood unmoving, the tip of her foil resting on the floor. Jack felt his gaze pulled inexorably back to her—indeed, he expected she would immediately command the attention of all the men and most of the women in any room she occupied.