One Night with the Marquess

Chapter One

“Oh, and Courtney, remember to not cross your arms in the presence of Lady Davenport as she gets irked easily. Oh, and never eat scones in front of Lady Hanvey as she is quite mindful of her figure lately, and you should not…” Aunt Pippa drawled on and on about one insipid rule or another as Courtney effectively ceased to listen altogether.

The carriage swayed from side to side with annoying regularity. It had rained the night before and the ground was slippery and full of ruts. Courtney would rather have been anywhere but here, but her father had summoned her for the Season, and she had no choice but to attend him.

She glared across the seat at her brother, who had extracted a hip flask from his pouch and taken a long swig.

“What?” Thomas asked rather belligerently.

“I did not say a word,” Courtney answered primly.

“You were glaring fit to set the curtains on fire.”

“I was not.”

She grunted, feeling discontented about being here and not looking forward to the dressing down her father would inevitably give her. Thomas could walk in the room, drunk as a lord, without a coat, and bedraggled as an alley rat and Father would still sing his praises. She, on the other hand, could look as immaculate as The Virgin and her father would still find fault. 

It was the way things had always been; her brother was her father’s pride and joy, his one and only heir, while she –just like her mother– was a mere woman who had to obey, as if talking back to the head of the house was a grave sin. One that had made her mother miserable enough to…  

He smirked, shaking his head. “You cannot fool me. You are upset at me.”

“I am not upset at you.”

“Oho! I knew it. Then what, or who are you upset at?”

Courtney narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. “Fine. If you must know, I am just angry that you can appear in front of Father ape-drunk and buffle-headed and he will beam with approval. You cannot even be bothered to remain sober when you are meant to be my protector on this journey.”

Thomas put up a hand, “Now, now, you cannot get upset at me for something Father did. I did not ask him to treat us differently.”

“You never speak up for me either.”

He snorted. “As if Father would listen? Come now. You know better. Aunt Pippa, tell her.”

“That is enough! I will not sit here and listen to the two of you squabble. You are giving me a headache.”

Courtney turned apologetically to her aunt Pippa with whom she had been staying before Thomas came to fetch her. “I am sorry, Aunt. I did not mean to get carried away like that.”

Aunt Pippa reached out and squeezed her hand. “There is no use railing about the unfairness of the world, dear. We ladies must just keep our chins up, put a smile on our faces, and adhere to the rules. Do you hear me?”

Courtney sighed. She had lost count of the number of times her aunt had given her the same lecture. But Courtney just could not do it anymore. The injustice of it all made her so angry. She crossed her arms, sighing, as she stared out of the window. The weather seemed to be very much in sympathy with her as it began to rain again.

“It seems we will not be able to travel very far today,” Thomas said worriedly.

“Not to worry,” Aunt Pippa replied, “There is an inn a few miles from here, we can stop there for the night.”

“Good idea, Aunt.” He flicked a glance at Courtney, but she studiously ignored him. She was happy that they were stopping though. Whatever would delay a meeting with her father was more than welcome in her view.

The thought of putting herself back on the marriage mart for the third time made her feel a cold sting that had nothing to do with the thinness of her shawl or the strong wind blowing outside, rattling the windows of the carriage. At the age of twenty, she was already a disappointment.

She spared a thought for the coachman who must already be wet through. Turning to the other two in the carriage, she softened her pout. “You are right, we should get out of the rain as fast as possible. Perhaps we can set out tomorrow if the rain stops.” Or leave and never come back.

Thomas gave her a strange look. “This is England, my dear, it is always raining.”

“Yes, but this is more of a squall. It is really pouring.” She peered out of the window to prove her point. “It cannot be safe to travel in this.”

 “Oh, it is quite safe, do not worry,” Aunt Pippa said. “But as I said, we will stop at the inn for the night.”

All three subsided, Thomas still sipping from his flask and Aunt Pippa sinking back into her lecture about eligible lords and the quirks of each one. Courtney stared miserably out of the window and contemplated her fate.

Last year, during the Season, she had failed to land a husband – not that she had tried very hard to find one. All the men she had met reminded her of her father and she had no desire to spend the rest of her life with such a man.

Perhaps this year will be different.

She snorted doubtfully under her breath. The kind of man her father wanted her to marry, one who came with a title and a fortune, narrowed the marriage mart down to only a few, all of whom she was sure she had already met. And wanted to forget.

I must come up with some sort of plan before Father decides to take matters into his own hands and choose someone for me instead.

Her heart sped up faster at the mere thought of being at her father’s mercy when it came to choosing a husband. In all her two decades of living, she could say with certainty that he had never shown her an iota of affection. Which meant he would not take her welfare into account.

I can only imagine the man Father would choose for me…

Suddenly, the carriage halted, forcing Courtney out of her musings. The innkeeper came hurrying out to them, an umbrella held up high. “Let me take you inside while your coachman takes your horses to the inn, my lord,” he said solicitously, standing back to let Thomas help Aunt Pippa and then Courtney out of the carriage.

“Yes, right this way. I have some hot chocolate on the boil if you would like some. As well as pigeon pie. The tavern is quite full, but we have a private room you can use.”

Courtney nodded politely while Aunt Pippa ignored the innkeeper, focusing on walking on the wet cobblestones without slipping. Thomas took up the rear, herding them all ahead of him while Courtney helped her aunt get inside safely.

They could hear the noise from the tavern, as patrons engaged in loud conversation. Courtney was glad that they did not have to go in there and mingle with the drunk, gambling men.

She leaned close to Thomas, “You had best book rooms for the night before it gets full, brother.”

“Never you worry, Courtney, dear. Let Thomas handle this, he is the gentleman accompanying us after all.” Aunt Pippa said as she reluctantly took her seat after swiping it with her handkerchief first.

“Sure,” Thomas said noncommittally as he took a seat, his attention on the card tables in the adjacent room.

Courtney huffed, sitting down beside him. The innkeeper went to the corner to light a fire in the grate, while a portly woman stepped into the room with a large tray laden with steaming cups of chocolate and a plate piled high with pigeon pies.

She placed it on the table with a smile before giving each of them a cup. “Is there anything else I could do for you?”

“We will need rooms for the night,” Courtney said after she noticed that Thomas was too lost in his daydreaming to pay any attention.

The portly woman looked at her and nodded. “I will see about it in a moment, m’lady,” she said before instituting a clumsy curtsy and leaving the room.

Thomas glared at her. “I would have done that in a moment.”

Courtney snorted. “Well, then why did you not?”

He fished out his hip flask and took a swig. “You did not give me the chance!”

“What did I say about this squabbling?” Aunt Pippa hissed.

Both Courtney and Thomas murmured grumbling apologies and turned to attend to their own refreshments. Courtney sipped her chocolate slowly, relishing the slow warmth that filled her as a result.

She took a bite of pigeon pie, realizing that she was quite famished.

They had not eaten all day save for the apples and bread they carried with them in the carriage. Courtney turned her full attention to the food, deciding to put aside her annoyance at her brother and the dread she felt at the prospect of meeting with her father.

The fire warmed the room quite nicely and made it cozy and comfortable. Once her stomach was full, Courtney might have fallen asleep where she sat. Luckily, the innkeeper’s wife came back, announcing that their rooms were ready.

“We did not have any that were adjoining, I am afraid. We have two rooms on the second floor. If you will follow me, my lord, my ladies…” she turned, heading for the door.

Courtney helped Pippa to her feet, and they followed Thomas who was already on the woman’s heels. They climbed the stairs, reaching the landing of the first floor and taking a little rest for Pippa’s sake before going on to the second floor.

“The lower rooms are for our common guests,” the innkeeper’s wife said. They’re a bit draughty.” She gave a small laugh. “But do not worry, your chambers are much better insulated.”

They arrived at the first room which was close to the stairs. Pippa immediately took ownership of it. “I am not walking anymore,” She declared, “And I am tired.”

The bed was neatly made atop a straw mattress, but it was narrow and only fit for a single person. There was a palette on the floor, undoubtedly for any servants that might be traveling with them. Courtney hoped they did not expect her to sleep on it.

The second room was smaller, at the corner of the inn; a single bed with a straw mattress, also neatly made. Thomas planted his feet. “I shall take this one,” he declared.

“What?” Courtney squeaked, “What about me?”

“You can sleep with Aunt Pippa.”

“No, I cannot.”

Thomas gave her a look, “Well I cannot sleep in the same chambers with her. How would that look? I am a gentleman.”

Courtney growled in frustration. She was very tired and did not wish to spend an uncomfortable night with little rest when tomorrow, she would be facing her father. “Easy for you to say, Thomas. You have never slept close enough to Aunt Pippa to know that she snores like a bear!”

“Well, that is not my problem, is it? Go and sleep with Aunt Pippa. You can collect more pillows from the carriage for comfort.”

Courtney stared at him, her mouth wide open, “You are no gentleman!” she tossed him a pillow before stomping out of the room.

She expected Thomas to follow her for retribution, but he did not. The innkeeper’s wife did, however. She hurried after Courtney, wheezing audibly, her buxom bosom bouncing.

“M’lady? M’lady? Where are you going?”

Courtney gave her an impatient glance as she stomped down the darkened corridor. “What does it appear that I am doing? I am going to find somewhere to sleep.”

“B-but we are full up.” She protested.

“Surely, there must be a room somewhere. What about the attic? Do you not have any space there? A proper bed?”

“Well…yes, but–”

“Good. Take me there.” Courtney opened the door to Aunt Pippa’s room and took hold of her carpet bag before dragging it out of the room and closing the door behind her. She gave the innkeeper’s wife an imperious look. “Lead the way, please.”

The portly woman stuttered and stammered in protest but nevertheless, led the way. “This is not a good idea m’lady. This is not a proper room for you,” she wailed as Courtney opened the door to the attic room and stepped inside.

It was an airy place, its sloping roof broken by a wooden window that was slightly ajar. Only enough to let in a sliver of light and lower the temperature of the room thanks to the wind that managed to slip in through the cracks. The bed was on the opposite side of the room and so, the slight rain that managed to find its way in did not wet it.

There was a bucket collecting water beneath the window and on the far end of the room was a fireplace, atop which hung a cauldron filled to the brim with water. The innkeeper’s wife went to the grate and began to arrange the logs before she extracted a flint and tinder from her apron and set about lighting the fire.

“The fire and steam from the water will help to keep you dry and you will be able to bathe if you so choose. There is a tub on the other side of that screen.”

Courtney looked in the direction she was pointing. In one corner of the room, between the fireplace and the window, was a Chinese screen. She walked forward and peered behind it to find a chamber pot and a tub.

The innkeeper’s wife got to her feet with a grunt and a sigh. “My husband said to keep this room free. I think he is expecting a guest, though he was supposed to have arrived hours ago.” She tried one more time.

“Well then, I suppose he will not be coming after all in this weather.” Courtney turned toward the bed. It was large and comfortable, though it still sported a straw mattress. There were several blankets atop it and pillows.

She sat down with a sigh, drawing her shawl closer around her. “Thank you.” She aimed a smile at the other woman, “I appreciate your hospitality.” 

The innkeeper’s wife accepted the small pouch of coins and with a last sigh, the woman left the room.

Courtney drifted to sleep before her head even touched the pillow but she was not asleep for long until she heard heavy footsteps entering the room.

Chapter Two

“Poles! Where is my bed, you bloody plebian?” Nicholas staggered into the inn and called out to the familiar innkeeper. 

The Marquess of Bighaven arrived very late at the inn, having sent a letter to the innkeeper, to make sure he had a room reserved for the night. He had been riding in the rain all night and he was exhausted, wet, and cold. All he wanted was to shed his wet clothes and climb into a warm bed.

He was paying a visit to his friends outside of London. The Duchess of Sinclair had sent him off with a packet of warm bread, cheese, and meat that he had managed to eat as he rode his horse. The duke had sent him off with a bottle of the finest scotch whisky and so he was well hydrated and heady. All he needed was sleep.

The innkeeper appeared at the end of the corridor, wiping a tankard and smiling wide. “I put you in the attic, m’lurd. You know the way.”

Nicholas saluted clumsily and began to climb the stairs. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a pouch of coins, tossing it to the innkeeper. “Good man, Poles. I shall have my breakfast promptly at half past six.”

Poles tipped his hat at Nicholas, still grinning. “You shall have it, m’lurd.”

Nicholas gave one last nod before taking the stairs as fast as he could. Once he reached the attic, he was gratified to see that a fire was still roaring in the grate. He discarded his cloak and then took off his wet clothes, reaching for a cloth that hung beside the jug and basin on the side table, and wiped himself down. Dressed in just his undergarments, he slid into his bed. He wriggled about trying to get comfortable and froze in his tracks.

There was someone in the bed with him.

Very slowly, he turned, reaching out with his hand to poke at the lump beneath the sheets. He snatched his hand back when he encountered living flesh. Quick as a flash, he sat up and lit the lamp that stood on the bedside table. He lifted it high, to peer at the human shape in bed with him. The blankets covered all except for the tangled mane of straw-colored tresses that spread on the pillow.

His mouth dropped in surprise. He could not recall telling the innkeeper to get him company for the night. Perhaps the man thought to make more money off him by leaving this offering, but Nicholas was too tired to take advantage. He reached out and shook her awake, wondering what kind of courtesan would fall asleep so soundly in a patron’s abode.

It smacked of incompetence.

He shook her again, a little more roughly and she moaned, grumbling under her breath before jackknifing to a sitting position. “What?” she snapped, her hair falling all around her face like a halo. Then she caught sight of him, and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth and began to scream.

Without thinking, Nicholas’ hand shot out and covered her lips. “No, no, no,” He hissed, shaking his head, “We are not doing that.” To his shock, she nipped at his palm and instinctively, he snatched his hand away. “What are you doing?” he growled, rubbing at his palm.

“I think that is my line. Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?” she demanded much to his consternation.

“Who am I? You are the one who is in my chambers. In my bed!”

“Your chambers? How did you come to that conclusion? I was already here when you came in!”

Nicholas was beginning to suspect she was not a woman sent for his entertainment.

“I have paid for this room. So kindly leave.” He pointed to the door.

The woman drew the blanket more closely around her like a suit of armor. “So have I. This is my room and I need to sleep.”

Nicholas blew out an annoyed breath, his mind working, trying to find a solution. He eyed the woman, raking her body. She was petite-looking though apple-cheeked and womanly. He was quite sure he could carry her easily. Perhaps he would deposit her outside the door.

Jaw clenching determinedly, mind made up, he began to march up to her. She pulled the blanket even closer around her, her eyes widening with fear. “What are you doing?”

“If you will not leave, I shall have to carry you out.”

She squeaked in alarm, shuffling away from him. “You cannot… do not touch me!”

Nicholas waved an impatient hand, “Oh, hush. Do not act as if you have never been alone with a man before.”

To his intense surprise, she threw the pillow at him, “How dare you? I am a lady of the ton!”

He snorted with amusement, “If that is true, then where is your lady’s maid or your chaperone? A proper lady would never be caught in such a position.”

She growled. “My chaperone is downstairs. There was no room for the two of us in her room.”

“A likely story. One that will give me leave to doubt.”

“Well, it is true! How dare you call me a liar!” she rooted around as if looking for something else to throw. Her eyes widened with something like triumph before she picked something from within the blankets and threw it at him.

To his utter bemusement, he realized that it was her stays. He held it up, smirking as he cocked his eyebrow at her. “I beg your pardon? Is this an invitation?”

As she colored with embarrassment, he threw her stays over his shoulder as he crawled on the bed, stalking her like a tiger. She moved back until her back was against the headboard of the bed, knees drawn up to her chest. “L-leave me be.”

“Why should I?” He loomed over her, his eyes raking her face, “You seem to be confused as to whether you are a lady or a trollop. Shall I find out for myself?”

She lifted one hand away from her blanket, and made a warding-off gesture, “If you do that, you will be forced to marry me. Is that what you want?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “How now, pray tell? You do not even know who I am.”

She seemed stymied by that for a moment before rallying. “I shall simply ask the innkeeper.”

“Are you so sure he will tell you the truth? He might lead you astray and you will find yourself at the altar with some shriveled old gentleman with not a penny to his name.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “You are cruel and… and… rude! Not to mention boorish. Is forcing yourself upon a woman the only way you can get one to attend you?”

Nicholas laughed so hard he had to sit down, leaning against the headboard as well. She glared at him the entire time and every time he looked at her, he burst into fresh peals of laughter. Finally, his chuckles petered off and he was able to speak. He looked at her, eyes raking what he could see of her body, “You are very amusing. Thank you for that. I must be sure and remember to tell my friend Sin of this. He enjoys a good joke as well.”

“This is not a joke, you Friday-faced, fat-skulled chawbacon.”

He covered his mouth, impressed, “Oh, look at her. The insults fall from your tongue in a most unladylike manner. Shall I have proper etiquette be taught to you? No lady would talk like that to a gentleman.”

The woman growled, her cheeks a deep and healthy pink. Nicholas had the urge to press his lips upon them, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. “Speaking of manners,” he said instead, “we have not been introduced. Seeing as there is no one to do the honors, perhaps you might grace me with your name?”

“So that you might go and ruin it? I do not think so,” she spat.

“Well, then what shall I call you?”

“You will not call me anything, sir, because you are leaving.”

“I do not think so.” He reached out and encircled her waist. “I am staying right here. If you wish to stay too, do not be surprised if I take… liberties.”

She weakly pushed at him, but he did not budge. He needed her to know he was serious if he wished to get any sleep at all.

“I am fagged to death, and I will not let your insistence stop me from getting my rest.”

She huffed with annoyance. “I have no intention of interfering with your rest, just as long as you go and rest elsewhere.”

He shrugged, “If that is your decision.”

Pulling the blankets from beneath him, he got into bed, and made himself comfortable on the pillows, going so far as to close his eyes. He could feel her stare as she sat against the headboard, unmoving.

“I am not leaving,” she said finally. He gave her no reply.

He felt her soft small hand against his naked shoulder, trying to shake him awake, and he almost smiled. Surging upward, he sat next to her, their bodies flush against each other. “I am trying to sleep, madam,” he said, looking into her eyes.

From this close, he could see that they were such a deep green as to almost look black. He stared, fascinated, into their mossy depths. His eyes dropped to her lips.

“And to answer your question about how I find women to attend to me, I do not. They are the ones who come to me with… requests.”

It was only for a moment but he caught her eyes flicking from his lips to his chest and she licked her lips. The mere gesture made the blood in his veins sore and, throwing caution to the winds and giving in to his desires, he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were just as soft as he had imagined they would be. She made a surprised sound, somewhere between a squeak and a moan, her body stiffening against his. He thought to pull back, but he wanted a taste of her.

It is not possible that an innocent lady would kiss me back with so much fervor. Or is it?

He nipped at her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. He leaned in, relishing the soft downy feel of her bosom against his hard chest. She twisted in his arms, and he immediately let her go. As he pulled back, her hand slapped his cheek.

The shock of sound seemed to freeze them both in place, staring at each other aghast. Then, she lifted a finger to her lips, tracing the path his tongue had taken and the slap ceased to hurt as much.

“Why did you do that?” she asked in a whisper.

He smiled slowly, “Because I wanted to.”

“How dare you! I… I have never–”

Heavy rapping on the door suddenly broke the moment between them and Courtney jumped up, dressing up with newfound urgency.

“Courtney? I was told that you are in here? Open the door this instant!” Thomas was already up and about so early in the day which was unlikely for him.

“Get up! Hurry!” Courtney said in a hushed whisper as she pulled Nicholas from the bed.

“What are you–” Nicholas did not manage to finish his sentence before Courtney gave him all his clothes to hold and pushed him behind the door. She smoothed down her dress before opening it.

“What is it, Thomas? I thought we were to live at six, were we not?” 

“Father sent word that you are to attend a very important dinner tonight so we have to be in London earlier than we thought. Come, Aunt Pippa is already having breakfast.”

Nicholas caught something akin to blushing on her cheeks as she gave him one last look before walking through the door. 

As the door closed behind her, Nicholas found his way to the bed once more, but this time, her lingering scent and the fire he had seen in her green eyes could not let him sleep. His body burned with need at the thought of touching her and kissing her again, and he groaned as he used his hands to cover his face.

So much for keeping my rule of not letting innocent ladies into my bed.

Chapter Three

“Not so tight, Meggie!” Courtney cried as her lady’s maid pulled her stays tighter.

“Sorry, my lady. But you know how your father likes it.” Meggie ran a soothing hand down her side and Courtney was reminded of another person who had recently had his hands on her. She had to stop herself from shivering.

“Yes, yes. I know. My stays are not tightened enough if I can still breathe,” she said breathlessly.

Meggie laughed as she began to tie the laces together. “I think he just prefers if your waist looks as small as possible.”

“He would have a different opinion if he tried it for himself,” Courtney murmured, raising her hands so that Meggie could put her gown on. She wiggled her hips so that the gown could fit into place and then stood still as Meggie fastened all the buttons.

Her baby blue gown shimmered in the candlelight, made of the most expensive satin that could be found in London. The short sleeves fell off her shoulders, and she wore long satin gloves that covered the rest of her hands. Her hair was piled in a severe knot atop her head, and she wore a pearl choker around her bare neck, with pearl earrings and a bracelet to match.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Meggie said smiling proudly.

“Thank you.” Courtney gave her a strained smile.

Father will not be able to find a thing wrong with me this time.

She squinted at herself in the looking glass one last time, searching for flaws and finding none. Her heart was thrumming with nervous anticipation at this meeting. Being in the same room as the Earl of Wellton – her father – always had her feeling anxious and dripping with perspiration regardless of the weather.

This cool evening in May should not have had her palms sweating but here she was. She knew it was all in her imagination, but she was terrified that her father would take one look at her and just know what happened on the journey to London.

“His Lordship has not been in the best mood all day.”

She tried to push thoughts of the mystery man away along with the image of him in her bed and focus on the present.

It was harder to do that than she had ever imagined. Every time she closed her eyes, his gleaming chest, lightly feathered with auburn hair came to mind. That chest was unexpectedly hard, like leaning against an unyielding wall. She had never seen a man without his shirt off.

It is so different from a woman.

While her body was all soft curves and malleability, his was well-defined hard muscle and strength. Her fingers itched to run down his arms and feel his firmness once again. And his thighs…

A knock on the door startled her and she put a cloth to her face, trying to hide how red it had gotten. “Yes?”

“Hurry up, dear. Your father is already in the parlor, halfway through his first brandy,” Aunt Pippa called.

She got to her feet with a sigh. “Never fear, auntie. I am on my way.”

“Have a good evening, my lady,” Meggie said, and Courtney lifted her hand in acknowledgment.

She heard her aunt’s footsteps going away and breathed a sigh of relief. Getting to her feet, she smoothed down her gown, gathered her shawl closer to her body, lifted her chin, and walked determinedly out of the room.

The corridor was empty, with only one lamp burning and no footman in sight. Her father’s townhouse was so very different from Aunt Pippa’s comfortable manor – or rather, the Goodrem family seat.

Lord Wellton hardly spent any time there and her father’s sister was a capable overseer and so, Courtney’s time there had been peaceful before she attained her majority. She had even come to terms with the fact that she would always be a perpetual disappointment to her father.

Making her entrance into society two years ago just reinforced the fact that she was considered a failure to her family. Lord Wellton had spent his time criticizing everything about her from her clothing to the way she breathed, to her uselessness as a daughter to find a husband. Courtney had spent nights fantasizing about running away.

A door to her right opened and Aunt Pippa emerged wearing a magnificently embroidered green and black satin gown and clutching a fan in her black-gloved hand. She looked Courtney up and down and nodded. “Good. You look well. Your father will be pleased.”

Courtney snorted. “My father is never pleased.”

Pippa patted her arm. “Do not be so blue-deviled. One must put their chin up and their best foot forward. And always, act like a lady. Do not forget what I taught you.”

Courtney nodded absently. “Of course, Aunt. I never do.”

Pippa patted her arm again as they reached the bottom of the stairs. They walked down the corridor to the parlor. A footman opened the door for them, and they stepped in to find the earl in conversation with another gentleman. Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

Courtney took a deep breath and pasted a polite smile on her face. The earl and his companion got to their feet.

“Lady Pippa, Lady Courtney, allow me to introduce the Count de Champagne.” The earl said as he gestured toward his guest, smiling widely, “Count, this is my sister, Lady Pippa Goodrem, and my daughter, Lady Courtney Goodrem.”

The Count walked up to Courtney, picked up her hand, and kissed the air over her knuckles. “Enchante, madame,” He murmured.

He turned to Aunt Pippa and bowed, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Aunt Pippa blushed, before curtsying prettily, “Likewise, my lord.”

“Ah please, you may call me Pierre,” he said with a smile.

Aunt Pippa curtsied again but said nothing. Courtney stared at the Count, noting his full head of salt and pepper hair, his tall lankiness, his big veiny hands, and his dark eyes. He was fairly attractive she could concede and yet, her heart did not trip-hammer at the sight of his smile, neither was she curious about how his large hands might take hold of her and keep her imprisoned within his arms. Not like with…

Her mind went momentarily blank as she realized she was still thinking of the man in the inn. Very ruthlessly, she cut the thought off, hitching the smile back onto her face and clasping her hands together, demurely.

Her aunt had emphasized that a man wanted a woman who was submissive and retiring. Modest and unremarkable. One who could play the piano and the clarinet. Courtney was fairly proficient with the former, having gone so far as to create a few original compositions that she had played for the village dance during May Day.

Somehow, she did not think the count would care about that.

The butler brought her a glass of port which she was tempted to down in one go but ever conscious of her aunt’s words, took a lady-like sip instead.

“…just came out two years ago.”

Courtney tuned back into the conversation to find that they were talking about her. She smiled, looking around politely.

“Courtney, why do you not tell the count of your life in the countryside?” Lord Wellton’s eyes were narrowed, and his cheeks were flushed which meant he was annoyed. Courtney straightened her back even more and smiled wider.

“Oh well… I spend time crocheting and playing the piano. In the afternoons, we take the air or visit the tenants and pray with them. Sometimes, the vicar comes by for tea.”

The count looked less than impressed. He nodded before turning to Lord Wellton to inquire about the piece of land he apparently had for sale.

“It is not far from London. A beautiful place to bring up a family.” Lord Wellton smiled painfully hard.

Courtney sighed, blushing with embarrassment before smiling as well. “Do you have any children, Lord Champagne?”

The Frenchman looked at her in surprise. “Not that I know of.” He grinned, “I have been traveling for much of my life. I have not had time to settle down.”

Courtney perked up with interest. “Is that so? And where have you been?”

He waved his hand elegantly, “Absolutely everywhere. I have followed the winds to all corners of the earth.”

Courtney’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is that so? I have seen pictures and paintings of tigers. Do tell me are they as beautiful as they look?”

The Frenchman veritably beamed. “I should think so, mon chérie. Unfortunately, I have not seen one. The emperor of China did offer to capture me one, but we were unable to wait as the monsoon season was coming upon us.”

Courtney frowned, “Oh, I thought the tigers were in India.”

The Count narrowed his eyes at her, “Indeed, that is what I said.”

“I… I think you said the emperor of China offered to capture a tiger for you?”

“Oh, indeed. Tigers can be found in both China and India, mon chérie. But, of course, that is not for a lady such as yourself to know.”

Courtney subsided in confusion. She felt that she had angered Pierre but was not sure why. Her father quickly took up the conversation again and by the tenseness on his shoulders, she knew he was angry at her. To her relief, the butler came to announce that supper had been served.

The count offered Aunt Pippa his hand, leaving the earl to escort Courtney to the dining hall. Her heart sank as she could feel him vibrating with anger. She resolved to do better, keep her questions to the minimum, and smile more. Perhaps after dinner, she could play one of her original compositions for Lord Champagne. That would make her father happy, would it not?

Dinner was a disaster of starts and stops in the conversation. The count wanted to discuss the land that the earl was apparently selling to him. The earl, on the other hand, kept directing the conversation to Courtney and what a suitable bride she would make a lucky man. Courtney’s smile was fixated on her face, and she could hardly think of a thing to say. 

With an internal shrug, she decided to bring up a topic she was interested in. “Do you read much, my lord?” She asked.

He frowned, “Read? Yes of course I read.”

“What kind of literature do you enjoy?” She asked with relief.

“Literature? Oh no I do not have time for that rubbish. I read ship manifests and profit ledgers.” He flicked a frustrated glance at the earl, “title deeds.”

Courtney suppressed a sigh. “I see,” she said, and frowned, trying to think of something else that might interest him.

This is a disaster.

Aunt Pippa tried to come to the rescue. “You know, my niece is wonderful at embroidery. She makes the most beautiful designs; I do not even know how she thinks of them. She is also a very accomplished painter. I am sure she will make her home most beautiful, the envy of the Ton.”

Lord Champagne avoided her eyes by keeping them on his plate. He made a noncommittal sound and Courtney’s heart sank. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment because she felt as if both her aunt and her father were trying to shoehorn Lord Champagne into declaring for her when he clearly was not interested. It was mortifying for her.

There was nothing she could do to stop any of it.

After what felt like years, dinner was finally over, and they moved to the parlor for tea. Her father insisted that she and Aunt Pippa join him and the count instead of leaving the men to their cigars and brandy.

The count seemed severely displeased with this arrangement, and Courtney could hardly blame him. No doubt he had come for dinner with the idea that he would negotiate terms for the purchase of the land, and then was blindsided by having her thrown into his face.

He smiled uncomfortably at her; they had been maneuvered onto the loveseat together. She smiled back sympathetically, wondering what would happen if she leaned in and told him that she was not interested in marrying him either. She wondered if he would be insulted or relieved.

“Would you like me to play a song for you?” She indicated the piano in the corner.

The count made a non-committal sound which she took for agreement. Standing up with alacrity, she went over to the piano and sat down. It was easy to lose herself in the music for she really did enjoy playing. 

If only I could live my life the way I wanted without having to pretend.

She felt wistful as the notes died away and the song came to an end. She stopped playing, turning toward the room with a smile on her face. The count and Aunt Pippa applauded politely, while her father simply sipped his drink, red-faced with anger.

Courtney did not understand what she had done wrong this time.

To no one’s surprise, the count took his leave soon after. He said goodbye to Courtney with barely a graze of her fingers. As soon as he left the room, Courtney let out a sigh and flopped back on the seat. She was tempted to run to her room, but she knew that if she delayed the lecture her father no doubt wanted to give her, it would be twice as low and three times as tedious. Better to wait and endure it.

The earl came back into the room after bidding the count goodbye at the door, already glaring at Courtney.

“How will you ever find a husband if you cannot keep a man’s interest for even one evening?” He demanded.

Courtney swallowed hard, at a loss for words. “I did everything Aunt Pippa told me to do. I was demure and retiring, I smiled, and I played the piano. What else did you want me to do, Father?”

“Is your Aunt Pippa married? Why would you take advice from a spinster like her?” The earl said cruelly. “Truly, Courtney, I know you are daft but you cannot be that much of a simpleton! Have you any idea how wealthy the count is?”

Pippa gasped, getting to her feet, and making the sign of the cross. “May God forgive you!” She sobbed before storming out of the room.

Courtney watched her aunt go with wide eyes and pity. Her father made a dismissive sound of contempt. “You have to understand how useless you are if you cannot make a good match. Having a daughter is bad enough. But one who cannot even wed?” He shook his head, sneering at her, “What is the use of you now that we are in need of funds?”

Courtney shot to her feet, ready to give him a piece of her mind. Just then, Thomas tumbled into the room, clearly three sheets to the wind. He grinned drunkenly at first Courtney and then his father, “Did I miss dinner? My apologies, a card game had me diverted.”

The earl threw back his head and laughed, reaching out to clap Thomas companionably on the back, “Thomas! You remind me of myself in my heyday, son. I hope you won some money.”

“Course I did, Father. What do you take me for?”

The earl laughed some more, nodding in approval. “You are truly the chip off the old block,” he said.

Courtney watched the interaction with jaded disbelief. She was so very, very tired of this. Her father would criticize her for the smallest things, but good old Thomas could do no wrong, merely because he was a man. She knew all too well that her father loved Thomas so much only because he acted in the way he would deem approvable. And Thomas tried his best to appease him.

Bosom heaving, she took a step closer to them. “I do my best to do as you tell me to, Father, and yet, Thomas is here stumbling around, dipping deep and looking beef-witted in front of his peers, and yet you shower him with praise. How is that fair?”

“Hush your mouth, Courtney. That is no way to address your elders. Thomas will soon be the man of the house.” Thomas chided, further infuriating her. The earl was nodding in agreement as he glared at her. “Now leave my presence before I decide to take a switch to you.”

It was too much for Courtney. With a swish of her skirts, she followed her aunt’s example and stormed out of the room.

I cannot believe him! I try my best every time and yet…

She shut the door loudly behind her and sat on her vanity. She worried that her lady’s maid would be soon there to help her undress for bed. She could not stand the thought of another human being in her space, however. Not when every muscle in her body was trembling with anger and hurt.

It was one thing to get the dismissive treatment from her father – but Thomas should really know better. He had implied that he understood her pain as they drove to the city. For him to take their father’s side over hers was a double betrayal. And yet… she could not entirely blame him. It was what her brother had to do to survive; appeasing their father to no end.

She was just reaching for the bell when there was a tentative knock on the door. She turned, calling for them to come in expecting that it was her lady’s maid. At the Wellton country seat, everything that happened in the house was known in the kitchen within moments. She had not spent enough time in her father’s London house to know if it was the same here, but the speed by which gossip traveled amongst the staff was daunting.

“Come in,” she called and was startled to see her aunt’s head poking in tentatively.

“Courtney, dear, can we talk?”

Courtney cocked an eyebrow quite surprised at this turn of events. “Of course, Aunt, come right in.”

Pippa walked slowly into the room, taking a seat on the bed with a sigh. “I just wanted to tell you that you did nothing wrong tonight. Everything that you did was correct, but the count did not seem interested in you. Be glad that he was honest about it, instead of leading you on.” There was sadness in her eyes, and Courtney’s heart softened remembering that her auntie had once been left at the altar, by her beau.

She never spoke about it but even all these years later there were always people ready to gossip about that day. Courtney could not always avoid them.

“I am so tired of this aunt,” she confided.

Pippa shook her head, “I know, dear. But disobeying and disrespecting your father is a sin. So is forgetting your place in society. This world is built by men and for men, and you should do well to remember that.”

“But auntie, women should be able to choose how to live their own lives. It is not fair; I have a mind of my own and–”

Her aunt Pippa had always said that she was too clever for her own good.

“No man wants a bluestocking,” she said to Courtney. “You must stop thinking so much.”

Courtney promised to try but her fingers were crossed behind Aunt Pippa’s back. The other woman stood up and left her, with a fond goodnight. Courtney closed the door behind her and leaned against it with a sigh. The man from the inn had not cared about how clever she was, or how many books she had read. His hands on her body had seemed hungry and seeking. Greedy to touch, and eager to hold. His mouth on hers had been insistent, wanting to plunder her.

She blinked, surprised to find that she was rubbing at her bottom lip as she thought of the sensation of his mouth pressing on hers, his tongue questing for entry. Her body felt soft and pliable, eager to be molded. She gasped and squirmed, feeling pinpricks of discomfort as if her body craved something that was missing, some satisfaction that she did not know how to give it.

What if I do the same as Thomas? Try the opposite of what I have been told all my life? Chase after pleasure with no regard for consequences?