The Illicit Love of a Courtesan. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ demure garment hung to her ankles, with double breasted buttons across her chest, and an upturned fox fur collar framed her beautiful neck and face. Her hands were within a matching fox fur muff at her waist. The dark navy hat, sitting high on her ebony hair, was decorated with jay’s feathers that swept up from the brim above her left ear. A narrow, navy veil, woven in a fine net, was drawn down over her eyes and nose.

      His hands curled into fists inside the pockets of his thick, many-caped greatcoat as he watched her, waiting for her to notice him.

      She had thought to hide herself, he guessed, but he would know the curve of her jaw, that mouth, the column of her neck, anywhere, even within a crowd. He had committed it to memory half a dozen times in recent weeks and lain awake night after night recalling every detail.

      She looked over her shoulder, glancing back up the street, as if she half expected to be followed. Then she looked to the traffic in the road, waiting until it was clear before she crossed to the park gates. She’d still not seen him.

      Within her muff he imagined her hands clasped together, her thumbs circling one another. He’d seen her tendency to fiddle when she stood at Gainsborough’s back. She was forever twisting and turning her fan; never comfortable, nor secure. The other courtesans he’d seen in London were women of excessive confidence, bold, never meek and maidenly in their manner as Ellen always seemed. With Ellen he could not even lay her lack of confidence at the door of her age. She was older than him, and yet her nervous behaviour made her seem half a dozen years younger.

      She was on the path some distance before him now, her short, quick strides slicing at the skirt of her pelisse. Her gaze was on the pavement ahead of her, oblivious to the men who passed her and looked back, as nearly every man did, even with her beauty covered by a veil.

      She looked up.

      The moment she saw him, he could tell she’d not thought he would come. It was in the sudden drop of tenseness in her shoulders and the smile opening her mouth as if she would speak and acknowledge him from afar. But such an outburst would be folly, even though he had come as asked without acquaintance or equipage, someone may know him. Her mouth closed on the exclamation as she increased her pace, weaving through people walking the other way.

      He silently cursed every man who looked at her twice. But then she was clearly a woman of standing, walking alone, the conclusion was obvious. A protective wave of masculine hormones ran through his blood, an instinctive need to defend his territory.

      Angry at himself he turned to walk through the gates of the park, sensing her follow him. Fool, she isn’t yours. She was Gainsborough’s, and when he spoke to her he must not forget it.

      He’d walked nearly two hundred yards before she drew alongside, and when she spoke her voice was breathless but full of joy he’d not heard in it before. “You came. I didn’t think you would.”

      A vice like grip contracted tightly about his heart as his senses were filled with the scent of her, the sound of her. “You had no need to be in any doubt. My feelings are unchanged, Ellen.” His voice was harsher than he intended in response to the need and longing ripping through his chest.

      “You are angry though?”

      He’d chased away the pleasure from her voice. “No,” he answered, smiling, looking sideways at her, “just desperate to be alone with you.”

      He ached to reach for her hand but made no move to touch her, following her lead. It was hardly the fashionable hour and a less frequented park so they would be unlikely to meet anyone he knew, but even so he was aware of her concern for caution.

      She held herself slightly away from him while they walked along a path on the edge of the open grass. To their left was a dense shrubbery of evergreens. Ahead of them other couples laughed in flirtatious conversation.

      “I thought because you have stopped coming to Madam’s…” her words trailed off.

      “Because I cannot bear to watch you with him, that’s why. I was beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind.”

      Stopping suddenly, she turned and met his gaze for a moment before looking away to watch a couple further on, as though unable to accept his observation. “This has been the first opportunity. He’s gone for several days.”

      She started walking again, a little ahead of him, her eyes fixed on the distance where the white winter sky met the horizon of the city’s park.

      He felt the meaning of her statement hanging in the air between them. He began walking too. She was so uncertain of herself, he realised, she didn’t even dare presume he would wish to see her more than once, despite the fact he had only a moment ago declared his feelings were unchanged.

      He followed her, a step behind, his open hand hovering at her back, not touching, as if to protect her from what the world had thrust upon such slim and unsubstantial shoulders.

      That living this life was not her choice, couldn’t be in doubt.

      “How long do we have?”

      “I must be back before dark. If I am not, the servants may tell tales.”

      “But then we have a couple of hours.”

      He caught her elbow and gently drew her aside into the privacy of the less dense branches of a large rhododendron bush. Inside the cavity, surrounded by its evergreen leaves, they were at least afforded some privacy. He lifted her veil, tipping it upwards over the rim of her hat. No make-up. No bruises. Only beauty. More than beauty, magnificent perfection.

      His head bent and he kissed her, a kiss she freely gave. His hands settled on the curves of her hips, drawing her body closer. Already his groin was aching, heavy with the weight of his need for her.

      “Ellen.” His voice was breathless as he rested his forehead against hers. “God, I’ve missed you. I can think of nothing else but where you are, what you are doing. I think I’m going mad.”

      She smiled, a hesitant look, suggesting she was as much affected by him as he was by her. One hand left her muff and her fingers traced the line of his jaw then settled on his lips. She was thinking something, but she did not speak. Her hand fell.

      “We could go to an inn, find a room?” For all his confidence and authority he felt like a child begging for a treat.

      She nodded. He bestowed another brief kiss on her lips, took her hand in his and squeezed, then let go. “You go first.” He held out his hand. “I will follow and meet you at the gate. But you will have to take my arm from there. I will not leave you walking through the streets alone.”

      An overwhelming rush of warmth raced through Ellen. He was everything her imagination had hoped; concerned and considerate. She walked from the cover of the branches before him and made a path directly to the gate. But when she crossed the road she felt his fingers touch her elbow. On the opposite path she slipped her fingers from the muff and laid her gloved hand on his arm. It felt good, normal, like any other couple in the street.

      They walked at least a dozen streets before he finally turned into the doorway of an inn.

      Inside she stood watching, her hands clasped within her muff, while Edward leaned to the landlord’s ear and money exchanged hands. Then she caught the landlord’s sideways glance at her. It was swift, narrow-eyed and presumptuous, obviously judging her a СКАЧАТЬ