The Illicit Love of a Courtesan. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ longed to slap him. He made what she’d seen as beautiful seem suddenly sordid. She was not normal. She wasn’t a lady with her beau. What she was, was a whore about to be bedded. There was nothing romantic in this. Whether it was Gainsborough or Edward, the outcome and the position were the same. She’d been stupid imaging it as anything else—painting this affair as a picture of love and devotion. It was not that, no matter what Edward said or what she thought, he could not rescue her from this life and nor could he take back the intervening years of pain. She had better learn to accept this for what it was, a brief opportunity for escape, an interlude, not an affair.

      Edward took her elbow, his fingers as gentle as ever, unaware of her change of heart. “I ordered food, I didn’t know if you’d already eaten. I thought just bread and cheese, and ale. I’m sorry the place is humble, but it seems clean. I didn’t think you would wish to risk looking for anywhere more luxurious. We are certain to meet no one who would recognise us here.”

      She nodded.

      His fingers at her elbow, he guided her into a dingy hall and led her upstairs. The paint was tarnished and chipped in places, but he was right, it was clean.

      Edward stopped at the second door and bent to set a key in the lock. The door creaked as he pushed it open and then he stood back and held out his hand, encouraging her to pass.

      Her breath caught in her lungs as she stepped inside, remembering what they had done before.

      A single tall, thin, window in the far wall let in light and the muted sounds of the street. The room was still grey though, as the day was cloudy. It smelt a little of stale tobacco and was simply furnished, but she had hardly expected a palace. The narrow double bed stood against the back wall. In the opposite corner a single wooden chair faced a small square table, which from the ingrained ink stains, had often served as a desk. A flat topped wooden chest stood at the end of the bed. She crossed the room pulling her hands from the fur muff, discarded it on the desk and walked to look from the window, down onto the busy pavement and street below.

      She felt Edward’s hand rest on her waist, his fingers urging her to turn to him. She did, her hands lifting to his shoulders as his head lowered and his lips found hers.

      His hand slipped from her waist and splayed at the small of her back, while his other settled on her side, the heel of his palm resting at the edge of her breast, his fingers curving about her ribs.

      All self-pitying thoughts over the inadequacy of their surroundings, or the opinion of the landlord, vanished, absorbed and diminished by his kiss. As long as she was with Edward, in whatever capacity, she found she didn’t care. Her lips parted for his tongue and her fingers gripped his hair as his hand slid between the two of them, searching for the buttons of her pelisse. His leather clad fingers were cold as they skimmed the curve of her breast which swelled above the square neck of her gown. He broke the kiss, smiled and looked down at the front fastening of her dress. Then he bit one finger of his glove, tugged it off and tossed it onto the desk.

      She laughed at the roguish smile he cast her before returning his concentration to the buttons of her bodice. Once they were free he recommenced their kiss and slipped his fingers into her bodice. A rush of desire slid through her stomach.

      A hard knock struck the bedroom door, then without bidding she heard the sharp, sudden creak as it opened.

      Edward broke the kiss abruptly and turned, setting his body between her and the door.

      Her fingers touched her lips and looking down she saw the milk white skin of her breast as a stark contrast to the dark navy of her pelisse and day dress, she felt like a whore again—I don’t care.

      “Set it down and go!”

      “Sir, as you wish,” the gruff landlord answered in a mocking tone.

      Undoubtedly the man had deliberately entered to see more. When the door shut Edward crossed the room and turned the key in the lock, then he collected the tray and set it down on the chest.

      Ellen’s shaking fingers withdrew her hatpin and removed her hat. She set it down by her muff, then pulled off her gloves and set them down too. Next she slid off her pelisse while he poured two mugs of ale and moved to light a fire in the hearth.

      This situation was dream like. She did not feel like herself at all. Laying her folded pelisse over the back of the single chair, Ellen watched the flames catch the wood in the hearth. She was reminded for a moment of nights beneath the stars with Paul, around an open campfire. Life had seemed so simple then, despite their poverty and the hardship they’d endured daily. She had felt like a queen because Paul loved her, all else, all other worries, had paled into insignificance. And now?

      Edward’s task complete, she watched him rise from his haunches and shrug off his heavy wool greatcoat. It was the height of male fashion. On Gainsborough it looked rather ridiculous, on Edward it extolled his muscular physique.

      Discarding his other glove with hers, he then laid his coat over her pelisse before rubbing his hands together, warming his fingers.

      “Had you been waiting for me long at the park?”

      “No.” He smiled, clearly offering reassurance. “Have I been waiting for you for long before the park? Yes, all my life.” He let the statement fall as though it meant nothing, as though it was a joke at his own expense, but his tone implied it was more than that. Then, as if regretting his revealing jest, he immediately crossed to the tray, offering to cut her a slice of the sweet scented fresh bread. She accepted and watched him cut some bread and cheese and set it on a plate with a spoonful of plum chutney.

      Could she really believe he had stronger feelings for her too?

      “Thank you.” She took the plate from his hands and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, hitching up her dress a little so she could rest one knee on the mattress and face him, while her other foot dangled to the floor.

      He filled a plate for himself, came around the other side of the bed and lay down on his side. His booted feet hanging over the edge of the bed, he bent his elbow and rested his head in the palm of one hand.

      The pose was boyish.

      A sharp pain struck her chest, running into her breast as she thought of John. Her secret. But blinking away tears she continued eating, hiding her reaction.

      “How did you end up with Gainsborough?” His question was nonchalantly put, but she could see the tension in his jaw suggesting it was something he’d applied considerable thought to. It was a question she had dreaded from his lips. She could not answer it, not yet, perhaps not ever. She would have to be certain of his loyalty first.

      “I’d rather not speak of it.” She closed that conversation down and in return, picked the only thing she knew about him to change the subject. “Is your brother glad to be home?”.

      “And there you choose my sensitive subject.” He sat up, finishing off his slice of bread, and brushed the crumbs from his morning coat. “I believe Robert is not thrilled with the prospect of knuckling down to life as an Earl, but he hardly has a choice. As for his skill? That is my issue. Or rather Robert’s lack of skill. But then he has the knowledge of his steward so he does not need mine. Although I admit he did write to call me back to Farnborough this week, but I believe it was more to sooth my vanity than from any real need. And no, Ellen, I do not intend to go.” His fingers covered hers on the bed as he answered the unspoken question he must have seen in her eyes.

      “Would СКАЧАТЬ