His Courtesan Bride (Brides of Mayfair 3) by Michelle McMaster Page B
Authors: Michelle McMaster
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Adult, Regency, England, 19th century, Bachelor, Victorian, destiny, Britain, second chances, Forever Love, Single Woman, Hearts Desire, London Society, Years Later, Mayfair Ball, Scandalous Embrace, Reputation, Courtesan Club, Pledged To Another, Exclusive Courtesan
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ivory linen envelope. She saw her name written upon it.
“Thank you, Mansfield,” she said.
He bowed in his customary way and exited the room without so much as a glance toward her half-naked bosom.
She tore open the envelope and quickly scanned its contents.
Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped.
Darius had made her an impressive offer. Very impressive indeed. Her heart sank, for it easily exceeded the duke’s.
Balfour had promised her a yearly annuity and the use of his rented London townhouse, several items of jewelry, a luxurious coach at her disposal, and accounts with London’s finest seamstress and milliner in Bond Street.
All in exchange for the pleasure of her company.
Darius had offered her a larger annuity, a luxurious London townhouse—to be fully deeded to Serena at the end of their contract—as well as the services of a personal seamstress and milliner who were to be kept at her exclusive disposal, her own personal solicitor, as well as a landau with horses, to be housed in her own stable.
The list of jewelry took up a separate page altogether. Those pieces would also become her personal property after their contract expired.
Instead of being overjoyed at such a splendid offer, Serena found herself fuming. Darius knew full well that he could outbid the duke. And perhaps any other courtesan would rush to accept him as her protector, past history or no. But Serena would rather die than become Darius Manning’s plaything, even if it was the most lucrative offer she was likely to receive.
Lady Devlyn would be shocked, and more than a little disappointed in her protégée. Felicity and Bliss would most likely echo the sentiment. For everything they had been taught by Lady Devlyn flew in the face of what Serena was contemplating. She was letting her emotions affect what should have been a simple professional decision.
But how could Serena, in all honesty, become courtesan to a man she despised?
Clenching her teeth in frustration, she crumpled the papers and threw them on the floor.
She didn’t care what anyone thought. She was mistress of her own future now, and she would not accept Darius as her lover, not even if her life depended upon it.
Serena circled the room before finally plunking herself down on the plush velvet sofa, struggling to catch her breath. Somehow, the aftermath of her meeting with Darius had left her with a racing pulse and a dizzy head.
Was it anger that caused such a reaction? Or was it something else? Something she preferred not to think about?
One thing was certain. Darius was the Devil incarnate. He had already ruined Serena’s reputation and irreparably changed the course of her life. What more did he want from her?
Gingerly, she raised her fingers to her mouth, touching the tender skin there. Her determination to refuse Darius should have left her elated, but instead, she struggled with an unsettling thought. For even through all her declarations of refusal, the fact remained that her lips still burned—most exquisitely so—from his kiss.
And that knowledge frightened Serena more than she cared to admit.
Lady Devlyn had taught them many secrets about being a successful courtesan. One of them was that no matter what fiction you presented to a man, the consummate courtesan always knew the truth of the situation, inside herself.
That was what scared Serena.
The ugly truth.
Darius was a man who could tempt the Saints in heaven to trade in their wings, if only for one night in his sinful arms. And Serena knew exactly how wonderful those wicked arms felt as they held her close.
That was why she didn’t want to become Darius`s courtesan.
She didn’t know if she had the strength to endure such wicked torture again.
Chapter 4
“ In many ways, the true skill of the courtesan is not seen in the act of passion itself, but in everything that leads up to it. The most potent aphrodisiac is not perfume, or wine, but in the delay of pleasure. Make them
“Thank you, Mansfield,” she said.
He bowed in his customary way and exited the room without so much as a glance toward her half-naked bosom.
She tore open the envelope and quickly scanned its contents.
Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped.
Darius had made her an impressive offer. Very impressive indeed. Her heart sank, for it easily exceeded the duke’s.
Balfour had promised her a yearly annuity and the use of his rented London townhouse, several items of jewelry, a luxurious coach at her disposal, and accounts with London’s finest seamstress and milliner in Bond Street.
All in exchange for the pleasure of her company.
Darius had offered her a larger annuity, a luxurious London townhouse—to be fully deeded to Serena at the end of their contract—as well as the services of a personal seamstress and milliner who were to be kept at her exclusive disposal, her own personal solicitor, as well as a landau with horses, to be housed in her own stable.
The list of jewelry took up a separate page altogether. Those pieces would also become her personal property after their contract expired.
Instead of being overjoyed at such a splendid offer, Serena found herself fuming. Darius knew full well that he could outbid the duke. And perhaps any other courtesan would rush to accept him as her protector, past history or no. But Serena would rather die than become Darius Manning’s plaything, even if it was the most lucrative offer she was likely to receive.
Lady Devlyn would be shocked, and more than a little disappointed in her protégée. Felicity and Bliss would most likely echo the sentiment. For everything they had been taught by Lady Devlyn flew in the face of what Serena was contemplating. She was letting her emotions affect what should have been a simple professional decision.
But how could Serena, in all honesty, become courtesan to a man she despised?
Clenching her teeth in frustration, she crumpled the papers and threw them on the floor.
She didn’t care what anyone thought. She was mistress of her own future now, and she would not accept Darius as her lover, not even if her life depended upon it.
Serena circled the room before finally plunking herself down on the plush velvet sofa, struggling to catch her breath. Somehow, the aftermath of her meeting with Darius had left her with a racing pulse and a dizzy head.
Was it anger that caused such a reaction? Or was it something else? Something she preferred not to think about?
One thing was certain. Darius was the Devil incarnate. He had already ruined Serena’s reputation and irreparably changed the course of her life. What more did he want from her?
Gingerly, she raised her fingers to her mouth, touching the tender skin there. Her determination to refuse Darius should have left her elated, but instead, she struggled with an unsettling thought. For even through all her declarations of refusal, the fact remained that her lips still burned—most exquisitely so—from his kiss.
And that knowledge frightened Serena more than she cared to admit.
Lady Devlyn had taught them many secrets about being a successful courtesan. One of them was that no matter what fiction you presented to a man, the consummate courtesan always knew the truth of the situation, inside herself.
That was what scared Serena.
The ugly truth.
Darius was a man who could tempt the Saints in heaven to trade in their wings, if only for one night in his sinful arms. And Serena knew exactly how wonderful those wicked arms felt as they held her close.
That was why she didn’t want to become Darius`s courtesan.
She didn’t know if she had the strength to endure such wicked torture again.
Chapter 4
“ In many ways, the true skill of the courtesan is not seen in the act of passion itself, but in everything that leads up to it. The most potent aphrodisiac is not perfume, or wine, but in the delay of pleasure. Make them
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