Regency High Society Vol 7: A Reputable Rake / The Heart's Wager / The Venetian's Mistress / The Gambler's Heart

Chapter Ten

If Sloane had led a double life in the past, he now had tripled himself. He continued to play the gentleman for the ton, the possible suitor for Lady Hannah, the wealthy fellow who put in appearances at White’s and talked politics with the Marquess of Heronvale. At night, after the ton’s elegant routs and balls, he slipped into the shadows, returning often to Mrs Rice’s glove shop, keeping his eyes and ears open to possible danger from that quarter. To Mrs Rice’s mounting rage, her lackeys had made no progress in finding her missing girls or in discovering the ladylike woman who had snatched the pretty maid from her grasp. Sloane would remain watchful, however, just in case.

During these past three weeks it had also become his practice to often look in on the courtesan school. He kept an eye on Penny, lest she be tempted to go back on her word not to exploit Morgana. He imposed his intimidating presence on the taciturn Cripps, to ensure the butler kept the servants in line. Sloane watched Morgana as well, in case he need rein her in from some risky exploit that might expose the whole affair.

It had become his habit to breakfast with Morgana and her girls, the most pleasant part of his day. The courtesan school, scandalous as it might be, was a relief from the crushing boredom that permeated the rest of his time. Sometimes Elliot joined him at Morgana’s, as he did this day. Penny had requested they both assist the girls in her special dancing lessons. Both men slipped through the gap in the garden wall and entered Morgana’s house unseen.

The formality of being announced long abandoned, they made their way straight to the dining parlour and entered to a chorus of good mornings. Morgana’s grandmother’s eyes lit up. ‘How lovely of you to call.’

‘Men at last,’ exclaimed Katy, who nearly thrust her chest under Elliot’s nose before Miss Moore pulled her into a chair.

Katy complained loudly. ‘I’m tired of seeing only old Cripps. He’s given the footmen such a lecture they run and hide when they see us!’

Sloane was greatly heartened that Cripps had been so cruel to poor Katy.

‘You must remember, men are to throw themselves at you, not you at them,’ Miss Moore told her. ‘You are better than that, Miss Green.’

Sloane frowned as he and Elliot filled their plates. Morgana often said those words to the girls. You are better than that. For all Morgana’s wide-eyed plans, he knew too well the world would not treat them so.

Elliot chose a chair at the far end of the table where Lucy, who still considered herself of the servant class, always retreated. Sloane sat next to Morgana.

She poured him a cup of tea, fixing it just as he liked. ‘It is so good of you and Mr Elliot to volunteer to be dance partners.’

He smiled at her. ‘I would not exactly say Elliot volunteered, but he is excellent at following orders.’

Her brow wrinkled. ‘Is it against his scruples? I would not impose upon anyone who objected to it.’

He glanced at Elliot, who was engaged in a quiet conversation with Lucy. ‘He is shy around women, I believe.’

Her expressive eyes glanced in the same direction. ‘Katy must frighten the wits out of him, then. Lucy is shy, too, but they seem to get on together.’

‘They talk of plants, I believe.’

Morgana asked his opinion of Naldi’s performance as Figaro at the opera the previous evening. Lady Hannah had fished for an invitation and Sloane had obliged, including her parents and Morgana in the party.

He gave a dry laugh. ‘Surely you know I find every opera a dead bore.’

She rolled her eyes at his comment, but went on, ‘Well, I was not impressed. Naldi speaks as often as he sings, and often off key.’

Sloane had known without her saying so that she had not been impressed. While Lady Hannah spent the evening searching for her friends among the audience, he’d watched Morgana and had seen her opinion of the opera written on her face.

‘I do wish I could have talked with Harriette Wilson,’ she added. ‘She could have answered so many questions.’

What a silent argument they’d had over the infamous courtesan. Morgana had given Sloane a hopeful glance when Harriette appeared in her opera box, and he’d returned it with a censorious grimace. She’d replied with a thinning of her lips and he’d countered with a pointed shrug.

‘Do not act the fool, Morgana. You know you could not speak with her.’

She sighed. ‘I know. I know. My reputation would be ruined.’ She said this with exaggerated drama.

He put a stilling hand on her arm. ‘You have no notion what ruin would mean, but, I assure you, I do.’

Her ginger eyes turned warm with sympathy.

Damnation. Such moments between them only complicated matters. He did not need her sympathy, nor her interest in his well-being. It only pulled at his baser urges. He’d thus far avoided playing the rake with her, but who knew how long he could last? He looked away and attacked his slice of ham.

A few minutes later Miss Moore announced it was time for the girls’ lessons and helped Lady Hart to her feet. As Rose, Katy and Mary filed out of the room ahead of them, Miss Moore asked, ‘Are you coming, Morgana?’

Morgana looked up at her. ‘I shall be in shortly.’

Elliot left his half-eaten breakfast and followed Lucy, who paused uncertainly by Morgana.

‘What is it, Lucy?’ Morgana asked.

Lucy hesitated, and glanced shyly at Elliot. ‘Mr Elliot and I were talking of how the primrose is in bloom, miss. May I show him in the garden?’

‘Of course,’ Morgana said gently.

Sloane peered at Elliot. Was his secretary attempting to make a conquest of Lucy? Lucy could do much worse than a liaison with a fine young man such as Elliot, so why did he feel he ought to cuff Elliot’s ears?

Lucy curtsied more like a maid than a courtesan and she and Elliot hurried out.

Morgana turned to Sloane. ‘Is that not remarkable?’

‘What?’

‘Lucy and Mr Elliot. She seems to blossom around him, like one of her flowers.’ With a dreamy expression, she gazed at the door through which Elliot and Lucy had departed.

Sloane put down his fork. ‘Do not make this into some Minerva Press novel, Morgana.’

She raised an indignant eyebrow. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

He looked directly in her eyes. ‘Those are not two innocents. It is not a flower bed they are in search of, but the other kind of bed.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Do not be vulgar, Sloane.’

‘Then do not you be missish.’ He made sure she listened. ‘How much do you wish to wager on it? Elliot and Lucy are bound to engage in more than a waltz soon enough?’

‘I do not wish to wager at all,’ she said in a huff, but she glanced back at the door with a pensive expression. ‘It is precisely what I am training her for, is it not? I dislike thinking on it.’

He made no effort to relieve her tension. ‘You ought to think on it. You’d best realise what sort of life you are handing these young women.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘I suspect you are about to tell me.’

Her sarcasm set him off. ‘If they are lucky they will attract men of means. They will be selling themselves to the highest bidder. The man may be short or tall, fat or skinny. He may smell. He may be cruel. But one thing is for certain.’ He paused so that she would be sure to pay him heed. ‘To the man she will be a mere ornament and bed partner. That is all. And she will be at his mercy for the food she eats and the roof that shelters her.’

Her colour heightened. ‘Will it be so different when you choose a wife, Sloane?’ She took an angry breath, and Sloane did not miss the tantalising rise of her chest. ‘Do you not seek a wife other men will consider beautiful? Will you not wish for the pleasure of her bed? I assure you, she will be at your mercy for her food and her shelter. At least my girls will not be tied to one man for life, if they do not wish to be.’

He’d be damned if he’d allow her to know she’d struck a truthful chord. ‘Spare me this Wollstonecraft recitation. Next you will be penning A Vindication of the Rights of Doxies and Harlots.’

For a second he thought she would slap him across the face, which he surely deserved. Her eyes flamed and flashed with pain. She gripped the edge of the cloth on the table. But he suffered worse than the sting of her hand. He watched as she blinked, straightened her spine and erased all expression from her face.

How many times in front of his father had he done the very same thing?

He could barely make himself speak. ‘Do not do that, Morgana. Please God, do not do that.’

‘Do what?’ she responded, eyes bland.

‘Pretend I did not wound you.’ His voice was a mere whisper. ‘I wish to God I had not said that to you.’

She remained stiff and distant. ‘It is of no consequence. My unguarded tongue.’ She waved her hand dismissively.

He caught it in his. ‘I fear I spoke like—in a manner I regret.’ Like his father, he almost said.

She pulled her hand away, and he snatched it back again. ‘You were correct, Morgana, about my marital desires. I do wish a beautiful wife and… the rest. It is the way of the respectable world, is it not?’

She darted a glance at their clasped hands. ‘The way for you, perhaps.’

He rubbed her palm with the pad of his thumb. ‘And for you?’

She again pulled loose of his grasp. ‘If there exists a man who could consider me an ornament, with my outspoken nature, I am certain he would soon fail to find me decorative.’ She let slip a fleeting glimpse of pain. ‘So your assessment of me was not far off the mark.’

Did she not know her appeal partly lay in her outspokenness? No pretence, no coy flirtations. He put his fingers under her chin and turned her face towards him, forcing her to look at him.

Her eyes glittered like topaz, and their gazes held until he felt like walls were cracking inside him, walls that held back his own pain, the pain he’d fended off almost since birth.

He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, touching the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. ‘Morgana—’ he murmured.

Katy’s voice sounded outside the door and they broke apart just in time before she burst in.

‘Make haste!’ Katy cried. ‘Madame Bisou has arrived and says you must come for the dance lessons.’ She did not wait to see if they would follow her. Heading back out the door, she laughed. ‘You ought to see the fribble she’s brought with her.’

‘Well.’ Morgana stood. ‘I suppose we ought to join them.’

Sloane’s brow knit in worry. Who had Penny brought with her? There were already too many people who might leak information about Morgana’s outrageous courtesan school.

He offered Morgana his arm and they walked to the library, where the lessons were to take place. When they neared the door, he stopped her. ‘Forgive me?’ He brushed her cheek lightly.

Her smile held a hint of sadness, but it heartened him that it was a smile none the less. ‘Why the devil not?’

He squeezed her cheek playfully. ‘Hoyden.’

She grinned this time. ‘Rake.’

Katy came to the doorway. ‘What keeps you? Come on. We are waiting.’

They obliged her, entering the room where all the furniture except the pianoforte and two chairs had been removed and the carpet rolled up. Miss Moore had settled Lady Hart in one of the chairs and she sat in the other that was placed at the keyboard of the pianoforte.

‘Oh, lovely to see you!’ exclaimed Lady Hart, catching sight of them.

Madame Bisou stood next to a young gentleman. ‘Miss Hart, I have brought my friend Robert. Allow me to present him to you.’ She used her French accent this morning. ‘We need more gentlemen. Cyprian, you were to have brought your secretary.’

‘I did bring him, Penny.’

Her eyes narrowed.

Katy gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Lucy is pulling weeds with him, no doubt. I shall go after them again.’

But there was no need to do so, because Elliot and Lucy appeared.

‘Excellent!’ cried the madam. ‘We shall have nearly enough gentlemen to go around.’

‘I… I could sit out,’ murmured Mary.

Madame Bisou poo-pooed the idea. ‘Nonsense, my dear. We will take turns. One may learn by observing as well as by doing.’

Sloane watched as Madame Bisou more formally introduced her friend, Robert Duprey, to Morgana. Why the devil had she brought that fellow? Duprey was not only a very foolish dandy, he was also brother to the woman over whom Sloane lost his wagers at Bisou’s gaming house. He had always been a favourite of Penny’s, though it foxed Sloane why.

Madame Bisou raised her voice. ‘Now, you will think you already know how to do the dances, but you will be wrong, ladies. I will teach you that the dance involves not only the feet, but also the eyes and the hands. I will teach you what to do with each.’

As she went on, Sloane sauntered up to Robert Duprey.

‘G’day, Sloane.’ Duprey’s voice cracked. ‘Didn’t know you’d be here. Been an age. Not at Bisou’s these days?’

Duprey not only wore the dandy’s tight pantaloons, high collar points and elaborately tied neckcloth, but he also affected their irritating style of speech.

‘I am not pleased to see you here, Duprey,’ Sloane said fiercely.

The young man shifted from foot to foot.

Sloane glared at him. ‘If I discover you have said one word about this lady’s house and what happens here, I will personally come after you. You’ve heard rumours of how dangerous I can be, have you not?’

‘Eep!’ Duprey cried. ‘Won’t say a thing. Mum’s the word. Swear it.’

‘You had better swear it.’ For good measure he gave the terrified fellow another menacing look before walking back to Morgana’s side.

Miss Moore began to play, and Sloane was first paired with Katy. He could handle her. He knew her type, trying to act so self-assured, pushing herself forward lest she be forgotten entirely. He’d done likewise many a time.

Katy enthusiastically embraced Madame Bisou’s lessons, fluttering her lashes at him, touching him wherever she could reach. She even added a few moves not in the lecture, such as making sure he could look straight down her dress. It was a relief to next be partnered with the beautiful Rose, who was more subtle and easier on the eye.

They completed the drill on country dancing. Sloane glanced at Elliot, who stood next to Lucy, talking quietly to her. Duprey had finished dancing with Mary, whose complexion was flushed rather prettily. Duprey pulled at his collar. Morgana stood near her grandmother, looking almost as if she were recovered from his hurtful words.

‘Now what you have been waiting for. The waltz,’ Madame Bisou announced.

‘Gracious, I don’t know that one,’ cried Katy.

Lucy said quietly, ‘I don’t either.’

‘Not know the waltz?’ Madame Bisou trilled with laughter. ‘We shall teach you then.’ She pointed to Sloane. ‘Cyprian, you must demonstrate with Miss Hart.’

He had waltzed with Morgana on several occasions at Almack’s and other balls, but not in such a relaxed, friendly, seductive atmosphere.

He took her hand and led her out to the middle of the bare floor. He put his other hand to her waist and she put hers on his arm. Miss Moore began to play.

Their steps were awkward at first, perhaps from being observed, but soon the music caught hold.

‘Look at each other!’ commanded Madame Bisou.

Morgana lifted her eyes, like amber jewels, to his.

‘Make him hold you closer!’ Madame Bisou said, and Morgana moved towards him. He bent down, his face inches from hers, and gathered her to him. As they twirled around the room, he held her so close their bodies touched and their legs moved as one.

Too soon the music stopped. He forced himself to let go.

‘That was excellent, Cyprian.’ Penny’s voice broke in. They started to move away from each other. ‘Stay there,’ Penny ordered. ‘We are not done. Put your arms around each other again.’ She made her voice louder. ‘Everyone! Pretend the music has just stopped.’

Miss Moore replayed the final chord.

‘Now, Miss Hart,’ Penny instructed. ‘What you must do now is stand on tiptoe and kiss him.’

‘That’s the thing!’ cried Katy.

Morgana gave Bisou a startled look, but turned back to face Sloane. With her golden eyes wide, she rose on her toes while he lowered his head.

When her lips touched his, he felt his whole body flare with arousal and, all reserve gone, he put his arm around her, deepening the kiss, tasting her sweet, unschooled mouth at long last. His body craved more. Much more.

‘That’s enough,’ called Penny as the room burst into applause and giggles. ‘You did very well.’

He released Morgana, who looked as dazed as he felt.

Katy was his partner for the next waltz. She soon mastered the steps. At the end, her lips were more enthusiastic, more practised, and more frankly sexual, but it was Morgana’s kiss that lingered.

Morgana rested her hand on the back of her grandmother’s chair, pretending to watch the dancing. Instead she relived Sloane’s kiss, the feel of his lips against hers. She resisted the urge to touch her mouth with her fingers.

When she’d been younger, before she realised no man would want to marry her, she used to dream of her first kiss. How glad she was that it had been with Sloane.

She shook herself, regretting what she had said about his intention to marry. She’d given in to her envy of her cousin, who would be Sloane’s ornament and bed partner. That was not well done of her.

She glanced up and saw him smoothly guide Rose around the room. It was not Sloane who was out of step, but she. He was deftly making his place in society, with the same ease as he moved through the steps of the waltz. She was the one who did not fit.

After the dancing, they all went to the front drawing room for refreshment so that the footmen could return the library to its former state. Hungry and thirsty from the morning’s exertion, they eagerly consumed the lemonade and biscuits Cripps served, the butler revealing nothing of his thoughts of the morning’s activities. There was much laughter. Even Lucy laughed aloud at something Mr Elliot said to her.

Madame Bisou’s carriage soon arrived and she had to drag her friend Robert away from the book he and Mary had their noses in. After they left, Morgana glanced over to where Katy and Rose practised flirting with Sloane. He looked up at the same time and caught her watching him.

It was almost as if she could feel his lips on hers once more.

Lucy appeared next to her, Mr Elliot standing behind. ‘Beg pardon, Miss Hart, may Mr Elliot and I return to the garden? I had not finished showing him some of the plants.’

Morgana could not help but give the girl a quizzical look, but she said, ‘Of course you may, Lucy.’ Were they really sneaking away to bed?

The idea did not shock her at this moment. She touched her lips where Sloane had kissed and wondered what other thrills existed between men and women, matters Madame Bisou implied in every lesson. Until the feel of Sloane’s arms around her and his achingly tender, then eager, kiss, Morgana had not quite grasped the madam’s meaning.

Another carriage rumbled to a stop out in the street. Morgana wandered over to the window to see who it was. The blood drained from her face as she watched her aunt and cousin assisted from the carriage. ‘It is Aunt Winnie and Hannah.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Miss Moore wrung her hands.

‘How lovely,’ her grandmother said.

Morgana heard the knock at the door and Cripps open it. ‘It is too late to hide in the library.’ They would be seen from the hall. She turned to the girls. ‘You are Miss Moore’s nieces, remember. You know precisely how to behave.’

Cripps came to announce the visitors. Miss Moore whispered, ‘Katy, remember to be quiet and ladylike.’

Katy nodded, clamping her mouth shut.

Her aunt and cousin were the last people Morgana would wish to call upon her, especially with Sloane present, but she stood ready to face them. All the others rose from their chairs as well, standing like a line of soldiers behind their captain. Only her grandmother remained seated. Morgana patted her hair quickly and tried to tuck up the strands that had come loose during the waltz.

Her aunt and Hannah entered. Morgana smiled. ‘Why, Aunt Winnie, Hannah, how lovely to see you.’

‘Lovely to see you,’ Lady Hart parroted.

Her aunt looked perplexed at the room full of women. Hannah’s eyes landed directly on Sloane, though they narrowed considerably when she saw him standing between one pretty girl and one beautiful one.

‘Come, meet Miss Moore’s nieces.’ Morgana kept her voice light. ‘Remember, I told you they were visiting, and look who else has come to call—Mr Sloane.’