“Very well. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
They all came to their feet at once, and David turned to Beatrice. Taking her hand, he bent to kiss her knuckles.
“I’ll return immediately after, my little honey Bea.”
Roger rolled his eyes as his cousin giggled and patted David’s cheek affectionately. “I’ll be waiting.”
Seeming unembarrassed at such displays of affection in front of a stranger, David led him from the room.
“We’ll take my phaeton,” he declared. “He doesn’t live far from here.”
A groom came from the mews with the vehicle a few minutes later. In short order, Roger was seated on the perch beside David, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he tried to convince himself he’d made the right decision. For better or worse, he had set his feet upon a path that would either solve all his problems or see him ruined.
One thing was certain; it would be easy to go about undetected, as no one acquainted with Roger would ever believe him to be a courtesan. He supposed a reputation as a quiet, albeit boring, gentleman of good family would work to his advantage.
They arrived at a townhouse in Berkeley Square in short order and were admitted into a study by a long-faced butler. Once ensconced within the room, he was introduced to a man whose reputation preceded him.
The Honourable Mr. Benedict Sterling was whispered about in elevated circles for his scandalous lifestyle. The son of a viscount, he flaunted his mistress without shame, competed in bare-knuckle pugilist matches—which he seldom ever lost—and generally acted as if he didn’t give a damn about the opinions of society. That he was the mysterious proprietor of The Gentleman Courtesans should come as no surprise.
Once the introductions had been made, Mr. Sterling studied Roger with sharp blue eyes and a mouth pinched tight. He was a large man—an inch taller than Roger and so wide through the shoulders and chest that he strained the seams of his coat. He looked more like the champion pugilist he was, and less like a man who moonlighted as a cock-bawd. It would seem Roger wasn’t the only one who didn’t appear, on the surface, to be cut out for this business.
“Have a seat, Mr. Thornton,” he commanded in a gravelly voice, waving a hand at the twin armchairs facing his desk.
“I’ll leave you to it,” David said, already heading for the door. “Thornton, I will wait to carry you home once you’ve finished.”
They were alone then, Roger trying not to fidget as Mr. Sterling took his place behind the desk and went on staring at him as if trying to take his measure.
“David assures me you will be discreet, whether you go through with this or not,” he said.
“Of course,” Roger replied. “Before we begin, there is something you should know.”
Sterling raised one blond eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
Roger swallowed, preparing to be laughed out of the room. He hadn’t had the bollocks to tell David, but if Sterling was going to arrange for him to take a lover, he needed to know everything.
“I am not … that is, I may not be suited for …”
Roger cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He felt himself on the verge of stammering, and this would be embarrassing enough without revealing his other little foible.
“For being a courtesan?” Sterling prodded. “Most men believe the same, though find themselves … up to the task readily enough.”
The other man’s lips quivered at the double entendre in his own words. It only made Roger’s throat burn with bile.
“That may be so,” he replied, measuring each word and taking care with his speech. “But you should hear me out before deciding to accept me.”
Sterling gave him a nod, prompting Roger to go on.
“You see, I … while having some knowledge about how things are done, I’ve never actually … been with a woman.”
The most surprising thing happened then. Sterling didn’t laugh. His eyes didn’t widen with shock, and he didn’t stand and demand Roger get out of his sight.
Instead, his mouth spread into a wide, cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. He leaned forward, eyes glittering as if he’d just discovered a bit of buried treasure.
“Thornton … are you telling me you’re a virgin?”
Roger’s face heated, but he maintained his hold on dignity. Raising his chin, he narrowed his eyes and all but dare the man to laugh at him. “Yes.”
Sterling’s smile widened as he sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers before him and staring at Roger over them. “Excellent.”
Chapter 3
Two days after agreeing to investigate the existence of the Gentleman Courtesans, Miranda was ushered into a back room of Madame Hernshaw’s dress shop in Cavendish Square. After following Joan’s instructions to the letter, she received entrée into an exclusive, secretive world. The modiste introduced her to a Mr. Benedict Sterling, who then asked her a round of invasive but pertinent questions.
The inside of his office had been designed for feminine comfort—in shades of mauve and soft pink, and graced with plush, overstuffed furniture. She sipped the sherry he offered her while listening to the terms of a standard contract, learning that the cost of a courtesan depended upon what a client might be looking for.
Miranda took this all in with rapt fascination. She wasn’t certain what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t such a thoughtful, well-organized operation such as this. During Mr. Sterling’s speech, she’d been so busy noting every detail to report back to her friends she wasn’t prepared when he asked her a very pointed question.
“What are you looking for, Mrs. Hughes?”
This query startled her, and she was uncertain how to answer. In truth, Miranda had not decided whether to go through with hiring a courtesan. The idea was a titillating one, to be sure, but uncertainty had her hesitant to go through with it. There had been no man before or after Lord Hughes. With him, a level of comfort and knowledge had made things easy. He knew what Miranda liked, and she understood him in the same way. The idea of opening herself up to someone new, a virtual stranger, made a sudden fluttering erupt in her belly. She couldn’t decide if it was because of nervousness or excitement.
“I … I have been a widow for a few years now,” she began, thinking over each word before letting them fall from her lips. “Before my marriage I was raised much like other young girls of the ton. While I do mourn the loss of Lord Hughes, I must confess to a certain … void, that has become more apparent the longer he is gone.”
Mr. Sterling nodded, eying her thoughtfully. “I hear this often, and I understand. You wish to recapture that most enjoyable aspect of marriage without taking a second husband.”
“Precisely.”
Not that Miranda was averse to another marriage. However, if she were to wed again, it wouldn’t be for practical reasons. She wouldn’t choose a husband based on a title, social standing, or the wishes of her parents. If the man asking for Miranda’s hand didn’t capture her heart and her mind while appealing to her body, she wouldn’t want him.
Mr. Sterling smiled, the expression clashing with the clear calculation in his eyes. “I think I have just the man for you. Mind you, he will come quite dear, as he is most special among courtesans. So rare, that if you do not snap him up, a bidding war will ensue once I spread the word of his availability.”