To Bed a Beaty

Knotting his jaw, he strode from the library, making for his carriage. Yet he couldn’t dismiss the cold, coiling snake of fear in his gut, telling him that he was already too late.

Chapter Eighteen

The sad tale of Sir Rupert and Constance only convinces me further that gentlemen love their mistresses more readily than their wives.

– Roslyn to Fanny

“Fanny!” Roslyn said in surprise two mornings later when her friend swept into the Danvers Hall library. “I didn’t expect you to call on me this week. I wrote to you yesterday-”

“I know,” Fanny said, waving Roslyn’s letter at her. “That is why I have come, my dear-to discover if you have lost your senses.”

“Lost my senses?” Roslyn repeated, closing the book she was reading.

“I think perhaps you must have done so if you broke off your betrothal to the Duke of Arden.”

Roslyn made no reply, merely waited as Fanny settled herself in a chair and continued.

“I admit I was shocked, Roslyn, that you would throw away the chance to become a duchess and enjoy a lifetime of ease and privilege.”

“You know I don’t care for such trappings,” she said finally as she moved to sit across from Fanny.

“I do know. You want to find true love. But it is just as easy to love a rich lord as a poor nobody.”

“No, it is not, Fanny. And I expected you of all people to understand me. You forsook a genteel future for a life of excitement and passion.”

Fanny made a face. “What I believed at sixteen and what I know at four-and-twenty are two entirely different things. I am far more mature and experienced now, and much wiser. The life I craved then is not the life I want now.”

Roslyn’s brows drew together. Never once had she heard Fanny question the choices she’d made in her admittedly colorful life. It was not comfortable, however, Roslyn reflected, to have her own choices questioned, even by her good friend. “Must we discuss this now, Fanny?”

Her friend frowned. “I suppose not, but you don’t look well, Rose. There are shadows under your eyes, and your complexion is pale as wax. Hardly the symptoms of a woman happy with her decision.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Roslyn insisted, despite knowing her assertion was a bald lie. She hadn’t slept well since breaking off with Drew, nor had she eaten much.

Absently she pressed a hand to her breastbone, aware of the quiet ache that burned there-and fully aware of the cause.

She felt a profound emptiness without Drew. A feeling similar to the sick, hollow sensation she’d experienced at losing her mother, when Victoria had abandoned her daughters and fled the country with her lover. The same sick feeling as when she’d learned her father had died needlessly, killed in a senseless duel over one of his inamoratas.

But she didn’t want to dwell on her problems. “Did you come here merely to scold me about my broken betrothal?”

“No.” Her expression softening, Fanny forced a smile. “Scolding you was my prime reason, but I also wanted to report on my inquiries regarding Sir Rupert and Constance Baines. Regrettably I could learn nothing whatsoever about their relationship. If she was his mistress and bore him three children, they were exceedingly discreet about it.”

Roslyn pursed her lips. “It doesn’t surprise me that they kept their association a close secret. I like to think it was because Sir Rupert was trying to spare Winifred’s feelings, not merely to deceive her since she controlled the purse strings.”

“Well, if Constance has disappeared, you may never find her. It is the sad fate of mistresses when their protector dies or casts them off, especially if they have children. Their future is dubious at best.”

“I can only imagine,” Roslyn murmured. “If Sir Rupert loved Constance, as Winifred believes, he would surely have provided an income for his family in the event of his death. But Drew…Arden thinks Sir Rupert’s solicitor may have been unscrupulous.”

Fanny nodded sagely. “Constance would have been completely vulnerable to being swindled, with no legal recourse. So have you heard from Arden yet about Bow Street’s investigation?”

“Not yet. I hope to soon.”

Hesitating, Fanny searched her face intently before saying, “I won’t scold you any further, but are you certain you are making the right decision? It probably isn’t too late to change your mind.”

Roslyn glanced away, feeling the tightness in her chest intensify. The notice announcing the termination of their betrothal had not appeared in the papers, but that was a very small matter compared to the larger issue. “It is pointless to continue our betrothal, Fanny. I could never marry Arden.”

“Because you had a simple argument with him?”

Her gaze snapped back. “It was not merely a simple argument. It was practically a brawl. We shouted at each other.”

Fanny’s mouth curved in a smile. “Not all brawls are bad…and most are never as destructive as your parents’ were. Sometimes they can serve a useful purpose.”

Roslyn eyed her with incredulity. “What purpose?”

“A good brawl now and then makes you feel alive, darling. It spurs the blood, rouses the passions. Brawling has little to do with love, yet even dark emotions are part of loving, Roslyn. Couples fight even if they love each other.”

She was silent for a long moment. “Well, Drew and I do not love each other. We let passion sway us, nothing more.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t eventually come to love you.”

“But it’s highly doubtful,” Roslyn retorted. “He certainly never wanted to wed me. I expect he’s vastly relieved to be free of our engagement.”

“Why do you say so?”

“If he wanted to continue our betrothal, I think he would have made an effort to persuade me. But I have had no word from him in two days, since I ordered him from the house.”

Fanny looked skeptical, but at least she didn’t press.

“So how is Lily doing?” Roslyn asked, pointedly changing the subject.

Her question brought a genuine smile to Fanny’s lips. “Amazingly well. I never expected an academy for courtesans to be so successful. Indeed, when Lily first proposed the idea, I thought she had gone a little daft. But she is so passionate about this endeavor, and Tess seems just as committed-training our boarders to attract a higher-class clientele so they can have better futures. The girls are avid pupils…and so enthusiastic about it that several of their colleagues have asked to join in. They spend every afternoon being tutored in elocution, poise and grace, how to serve tea, proper manners…”

Roslyn couldn’t help but laugh. “All subjects that Lily deplores. She would much rather teach riding or driving or archery. But it’s good that the skills she learned instructing at our young ladies’ academy are serving her so well.”

Simpkin appeared at the library door just then and waited until Roslyn acknowledged him.

“A message was just delivered for you, Miss Roslyn, from the Duke of Arden.”

Deplorably, her heart started beating harder at just the mention of Drew’s name, but she tried to quell it as she broke the wax seal and read his bold script.

Constance Baines has been located. I will send my carriage for you at one o’clock this afternoon, if that is convenient.

It was signed merely, Arden.

Roslyn glanced up at the butler. “Please reply that the time should present no problem, Simpkin.”

“As you wish, Miss Roslyn.” With a bow, Simpkin withdrew.