He reflected back to their conversation last night.He had told her that he had yet to meet a woman who inspired him to change his life in the slightest.Or, rather, when she had said those words about her own feelings for her lovers, he had felt like they originated from within his own soul.What irony that now, for the first time, he found himself willing to change for a woman.
“Fine.Very well,” she said.“If you will pay me double.And we will—we will do other things.Than what we did last night.”
He exhaled.Relief coursed through him, a dam of panic breaking.
“Thank you.”He was finally able to take a sip of his coffee and he did so.“What would you like to do today?”
Their eyes met again over the table.She gave him a little smile and, without saying it, he knew what she was thinking.
But she took mercy on him.
“I want to go to Vauxhall.”
He nodded vigorously.He hated Vauxhall.
Absolutely abhorred it.
It was his nightmare.
And he could deliver it.
“Absolutely,” he found himself saying.“Whatever you wish.”
Chapter Seventeen
Beatrice hardly knewwhat to think.
It had occurred to her that Lord Leith—Thomas, she supposed, as he insisted upon being called—would have tried to demand she stay on her previous terms.She had agreed to those terms, after all, and it made sense he would try to hold her to them.
She had not expected that he would offer to pay her double.Or to learn fromherin the bedchamber.
Beatrice still felt perturbed that her time with Lord Leith was not going according to her plans.She had had a set notion of what would transpire between them.She would have a pleasant time learning what he had to teach and then leave, knowledge enhanced, to become the true mistress of another rich gentleman.Now she was not at all sure what she was doing with him, whenshewas the one doing the teaching.
But she supposed that it didn’t matter.Even if she learned nothing from their time together when it came to her erotic skills, perhaps the next man would be just as odd and idiosyncratic as this one.She had come to London to make money as a courtesan and, with Lord Leith, that was what she was doing.One thousand pounds was a sum that she simply couldn’t turn down.If a future protector was unhappy with her lack of specialized skills, then he would just have to teach her himself.Perhaps Lord Leith was right and there were more wealthy London gentlemen looking for a mundane or, at least, not relatively specialized, experience in the bedchamber than she thought.
And he had asked her to stay, nearly begged her, so sweetly, that she found herself unable to say no.After all, it was not as if her experience with him had been truly bad.Only strange.He was clearly a passionate man who, for reasons that remained unclear to her, had gotten stuck in rigid patterns.
Furthermore, the prospect of turning to a Stratton or a Pennington held no appeal—she would much prefer Lord Leith, for all his foibles.And while she could have bought time throwing herself and Sally on the kindness of Lord Montaigne, that hardly seemed an attractive option either.
No, she had resolved, she would go forward with Lord Leith.Whatever happened, at least she would have one thousand pounds at the end of it.It was roughly a tenth of what she owed her father’s creditor, after all.Even if he had proposed no alteration to their erotic relationship, it would have been unwise to refuse.
Thus, now she found herself on the boat to Vauxhall with Leith, his footman, Charles, and Sally.
The truth was that Beatrice was not that curious about Vauxhall.
But Sally had been dying to go.It was the one thing she wanted to experience in London.Beatrice had promised her that they would find a way to see Vauxhall, but she was uncertain of when or how she would manage it.
So, when he had asked her, after already giving her so much, what she wanted, this answer had popped out of her mouth.
He hadn’t seemed surprised, which made her think that he had heard the request before from his mistresses.
But, gazing out at Vauxhall now, as their boat approached the shore, Beatrice could not imagine that Lord Leith—Thomas—liked Vauxhall.
The grim set of his mouth confirmed her suspicion.
She sighed.She still found the man very handsome, even when he was glowering in his dark evening suit, clearly irritated by his current situation.
His countenance formed a ridiculous contrast to the expression of absolute glee on Sally’s face.She literally had her hands clasped together and was barely containing what Beatrice knew to be her signature squeal of delight.
