The Courtesan Duchess Read Online Free Page B
Author: Joanna Shupe
the printmakers once you assumed the title.” His voice lowered. “But Colt, we both know the true circumstances behind your brother’s death.”
And I bear the guilt of those circumstances every single day. “It doesn’t change a thing. Not to mention, as long as my mother draws breath, you are wasting yours.”
The dowager duchess deserved as much—if not more—of Nick’s anger than anyone else. After all, it was she who ensured the governess brought only his brother to the drawing room for his parents’ daily inspection. Nicholas is ill-mannered and completely unworthy of the Seaton name. Only Harry may come down at the requested hour. No one else.
From that moment on, Nick had decided he didn’t need his family. And inheriting the title hadn’t changed a thing.
“Animals who eat their young have more maternal instinct than that woman,” Winchester muttered. “I saw her recently. Gave me the dragon’s stare from across a crowded ballroom.”
“Disapproval, no doubt, of our lasting friendship, when almost everyone else had the good sense to cut me. Pray fabricate the most horrifically sensational stories about me and be sure to relay them to the dowager duchess the next time you see her. I fear my current location is too far from London for my salaciousness to reach her ears otherwise.”
“About this salaciousness,” Winchester drawled. “If things progress with Juliet, you’ll be . . . careful with her, won’t you?”
“Careful?” Nick frowned. What, precisely, was Winchester worried about? If Mrs. Leighton was as talented as the rumors suggested, he suspected she could easily hold her own against any man.
Winchester waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I haven’t a bloody clue what you mean.”
“She may seem . . . worldly. But she’s a good actress. All women in her position are, really,” he amended. “I shouldn’t want to see her hurt.”
Something was off. Nick could feel it in his gut. Perhaps Winchester really did have feelings for Juliet—feelings Mrs. Leighton did not reciprocate. After all, his friend wouldn’t be the first man to fall in love with a courtesan. Just look at Fox and his Mrs. Armistead. “If you would rather I did not—”
“No,” Winchester interrupted. “I merely want her next protector to be as . . . generous with her as I have been.”
“You’ve nothing to fear, then. I shall be all that is kind and generous, if she’ll have me.”
“I’ve yet to meet a woman who could resist you, Colt—even before you became a duke. But Mrs. Leighton will decide for herself.”
The following night, Julia and Simon entered the duke’s box at La Fenice. The interior of the opera house, with its noble yet simple architecture, was luxurious. Rows of private boxes surrounded the gilded interior for the wealthiest of patrons, while the floor provided ample space for those of lesser means.
Colton’s large box was crowded, with at least six men and an equal number of women. The need to search for her husband, however, was rendered unnecessary as he immediately appeared at her side.
“Mrs. Leighton,” the duke greeted as she curtsied. He took in her embroidered white satin dress with its silver bandeau and accompanying emerald green robe. “How stunning you look this evening.”
She could say the same about him. The duke wore a fitted black tailcoat and breeches over a single-breasted white waistcoat, which emphasized his lean torso. His snowy cravat, folded in a complicated array of knots under his clean-shaven chin, proved a stark contrast to his dark features. When he noticed her staring, he gifted her with a smile both intimate and sly, almost as if the two of them shared a private joke. Her breath came a bit faster despite her resolution to remain unaffected. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
Nick greeted Simon and then introduced the rest of the party. There were two ambassadors—one former and one current—as well as
And I bear the guilt of those circumstances every single day. “It doesn’t change a thing. Not to mention, as long as my mother draws breath, you are wasting yours.”
The dowager duchess deserved as much—if not more—of Nick’s anger than anyone else. After all, it was she who ensured the governess brought only his brother to the drawing room for his parents’ daily inspection. Nicholas is ill-mannered and completely unworthy of the Seaton name. Only Harry may come down at the requested hour. No one else.
From that moment on, Nick had decided he didn’t need his family. And inheriting the title hadn’t changed a thing.
“Animals who eat their young have more maternal instinct than that woman,” Winchester muttered. “I saw her recently. Gave me the dragon’s stare from across a crowded ballroom.”
“Disapproval, no doubt, of our lasting friendship, when almost everyone else had the good sense to cut me. Pray fabricate the most horrifically sensational stories about me and be sure to relay them to the dowager duchess the next time you see her. I fear my current location is too far from London for my salaciousness to reach her ears otherwise.”
“About this salaciousness,” Winchester drawled. “If things progress with Juliet, you’ll be . . . careful with her, won’t you?”
“Careful?” Nick frowned. What, precisely, was Winchester worried about? If Mrs. Leighton was as talented as the rumors suggested, he suspected she could easily hold her own against any man.
Winchester waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I haven’t a bloody clue what you mean.”
“She may seem . . . worldly. But she’s a good actress. All women in her position are, really,” he amended. “I shouldn’t want to see her hurt.”
Something was off. Nick could feel it in his gut. Perhaps Winchester really did have feelings for Juliet—feelings Mrs. Leighton did not reciprocate. After all, his friend wouldn’t be the first man to fall in love with a courtesan. Just look at Fox and his Mrs. Armistead. “If you would rather I did not—”
“No,” Winchester interrupted. “I merely want her next protector to be as . . . generous with her as I have been.”
“You’ve nothing to fear, then. I shall be all that is kind and generous, if she’ll have me.”
“I’ve yet to meet a woman who could resist you, Colt—even before you became a duke. But Mrs. Leighton will decide for herself.”
The following night, Julia and Simon entered the duke’s box at La Fenice. The interior of the opera house, with its noble yet simple architecture, was luxurious. Rows of private boxes surrounded the gilded interior for the wealthiest of patrons, while the floor provided ample space for those of lesser means.
Colton’s large box was crowded, with at least six men and an equal number of women. The need to search for her husband, however, was rendered unnecessary as he immediately appeared at her side.
“Mrs. Leighton,” the duke greeted as she curtsied. He took in her embroidered white satin dress with its silver bandeau and accompanying emerald green robe. “How stunning you look this evening.”
She could say the same about him. The duke wore a fitted black tailcoat and breeches over a single-breasted white waistcoat, which emphasized his lean torso. His snowy cravat, folded in a complicated array of knots under his clean-shaven chin, proved a stark contrast to his dark features. When he noticed her staring, he gifted her with a smile both intimate and sly, almost as if the two of them shared a private joke. Her breath came a bit faster despite her resolution to remain unaffected. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
Nick greeted Simon and then introduced the rest of the party. There were two ambassadors—one former and one current—as well as