Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You are late.”
Alexander grinned at the man who had just stepped through the doors of White’s gentleman’s club, rain droplets dripping from his top hat and being shaken from his face.
Luke, Marquis of Dewsbury, strode forward with a returning smile. “And you do not seem particularly upset about it, Caershire, which is even more surprising.”
Alexander shrugged, and caught the eye of a servant who glided over to take the order. “Absolutely your best steak for my good friend here, and – ”
“A bottle of claret, and two cigars,” Luke interjected. “On Caershire’s tab, if you do not mind.”
Attempting not to roll his eyes, Alexander nodded at the servant who dashed away. When he was quite out of earshot, he muttered, “You are quite wealthy enough to pay for your own claret, Dewsbury.”
Luke threw him a wolfish grin. “Perhaps. Perhaps not; perhaps my family is collapsing in on itself, and I am too proud to tell you.”
Alexander rolled his eyes. It had not been his idea to meet at White’s for dinner, two days after that incredible night with Teresa, but Luke was his closest friend. If he could not tell him what had occurred within these leather-lined and secretive walls, who could he confide in?
“You said you had news,” Luke said with a questioning eyebrow, as the bottle of claret and two large glasses were brought over. “Not Miss Layland, surely?”
Alexander blinked. “Miss Layland?”
His companion chortled as he poured the drinks, waving away the waiter. “But two days ago, you were rigid with rage that Miss Layland would not agree to dance with you at Almacks, and now you cannot even remember who she is? My word, who is the woman who has completely driven you mad?”
Luke laughed as he handed over the glass of deep red, but it faltered as he saw his face.
“No,” he whispered.
Alexander nodded. “Yes, I have met someone – someone who I think you will disapprove of, perhaps. I am not sure.”
Luke’s face broke into a smile. “You dog, you kept that quiet! And here I was, hoping to be able to introduce you to – ”
“No need,” Alexander interrupted triumphantly. “In fact, it was that very night that I met her.”
His friend leaned back in his green leather chair, and surveyed him. “My word. You, and a woman. An actual woman.”
Alexander laughed. “You do not have to sound so surprised!”
“Not surprised, exactly,” Luke shrugged. “Just . . . well, after your most recent outburst, I assumed that I would be burying you alone – ouch!”
He rubbed his arm where Alexander had not-so-gently punched him.
“I am not going to be buried by you, though I do think you will outlive us all,” Alexander said genially. It was difficult to become truly angry at Luke at the best of times, and now that there was so much joy rushing through his heart, it was even more difficult.
“My dear Caershire,” said Luke smoothly, nodding at the servant who brought over their food, “I intend to live forever. Now, tell me about this girl – titled?”
Alexander swallowed. He had promised himself that he would tell his friend the truth – the entire truth, and nothing else. After all, if Teresa was going to become a permanent part of his life, then this was a conversation that he was going to have to get used to.
And yet it was not easy. Was he ashamed of her? No: it was more that he knew society’s opinion of women like her.
“Well,” he said with a sigh. “I think it all started when I rescued her from drowning.”
Luke spat out a very large gulp of expensive claret over the steak that had just been placed before him. “What?”
Alexander laughed quietly, but gave apologetic nods to the men around them who were eating in comparable silence, albeit with disapproving shakes of the head.
“If you do not control yourself, Dewsbury, we shall be thrown out,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Drowning?”
“Drowning,” Alexander confirmed. “Much like you are doing with that nice claret.”
Luke took a large breath, and then hissed, “What do you think you were doing, rescuing women from drowning?”
“What? You think you could have passed by and allowed the Thames to swallow her up?”
Luke shuddered. “No, I suppose not. God’s teeth, what a way to go.”
“Well, she did not,” said Alexander firmly, the memory of her standing by the river Thames in his mind, all shining hair and clinging gown. “I pulled her out, and – Luke, she was absolutely beautiful. I mean, not like any of the young ladies we know.”
His companion arched an eyebrow as he swallowed a bite from his steak. “Caershire, do I detect a hint of love in the air?”
Alexander grinned, he could not help it. “Maybe. Anyway, she and I were both soaked through, absolutely drenched, and after she twisted her ankle, I helped her home.”
“Nice place?”
Alexander hesitated once more. Sooner or later in this story, he would have to tell him. Why not now?
“No,” he said reluctantly. “Quite the opposite, in fact. Dewsbury, I hope you are not easily shocked.”
Luke raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Ah, now this I have to hear.”
Alexander swallowed. It was now or never, and there was no one that he trusted more to consider his story seriously than Luke. My, he practically wrote the book on being a radical within the confines of a title.
“She is a courtesan,” he said in a rush.
Luke stared at him, and Alexander stared back, trying to discern any emotion or opinion in that blank face. But there was nothing; it was as though Luke had become frozen in time.
“Dewsbury?” He said, after waiting a full minute.
Luke coughed, shook his head as though he was wringing water from his ears, and then nodded. “Courtesan. Right then; continue with your story, Caershire.”
Alexander said hesitantly, “You are shocked.”
It was not a question, and Luke did not treat it as such. “Only because it is you, Caershire. After the year that you have just had, attempting to repair your honour . . . it just surprised me, that was all. Please, continue.”
“Well, at its very basic level, I am sure that you can – can guess what happened,” Alexander said slowly, unconsciously lowering his voice.
“But Dewsbury, she is incredible, an incredible woman. We talked for hours before we – and we have so much in common, there was such a connection between us, and – ”
“Caershire,” said Luke slowly, and Alexander saw the kind look on his face falter slightly. “Caershire, that is what they do. That is what a courtesan is, a soft and kind ear along with a delectable body.”
“This was different,” Alexander said determinedly. His memory took him back to that laugh Teresa gave when she had caught him out in something ridiculous, that arch of her back as she leaned forward to pass him the tea, the confidences that they shared in that little room.
Only Luke’s voice could have brought him back to the present.
“. . . anyone else,” he was saying. “I hate to say it, you know that I do, but I just do not see how you can assume that – ”
“We made love, Dewsbury.” Alexander smiled gently. “‘Twas no transaction: no money changed hands, there was no expectation of such. By God, she invited me to her bed, she and I – we shared words of such . . .”
His voice trailed away as the smile deepened.
Luke’s eyes were wide. “You truly think that you care for this woman.”
“And she me,” Alexander said fiercely. “You know, I truly think that Teresa and I – ”
“Teresa!” All the colour had drained from Luke’s face, and he stared at his friend in horror. “Do not tell me: Teresa Metcalfe.”
It was as though the world had stopped spinning, and only he had noticed it. Alexander stared at his friend in horror. This could only mean one thing, surely. What had Teresa said?
“Dukes, earls, lords of all descriptions. If they have a title, they generally come to me, not one of the street riff raff.”
“I have not known her like that,” Luke said hurriedly, actually raising his hands in mock surrender as he beheld the look on his friend’s face.
“I swear it, Caershire, I have not been with her. But – well, she is not unknown to me. I met her through a mutual acquaintance, and I have . . . well, I recommended my brother to her but two days ago.”
“Two days ago?” Alexander tried to breathe, but there seemed to be something wrong with his lungs. “She said – Teresa said that she had to meet Lord George Northmere – that was – ”
“But they never did meet,” Luke said quietly, putting down his knife and fork and leaning back in his chair. “He never found her. He assumed that she had found another client – more profitable. ‘Tis the strangest story, actually: the woman he ended up meeting – ”
“But then, do you not see?” Alexander said excitedly.
“Teresa did not meet your brother because she was with me. We lost track of time, I suppose, and once we had cast caution to the winds – oh, Dewsbury, I wish that you could have met her, I do not know a soul more perfectly created for me than she!”
“You think so?”
Alexander nodded. “I would stake my life on it. I-I honestly think that I could marry her – marry her and be happy, and that is more than most of our station can claim.”
For a long minute, Alexander did not know what his friend was thinking. Luke was giving him a scrutinising gaze unlike any other that he had ever seen, but he did not interrupt. This felt important.
Finally, Luke sighed. “Caershire, you know that I dare not attempt to dissuade you. You know your own mind, you are a grown man. But I ask you this: have you told Teresa this? When you went back to see her, yesterday, what did you promise her?”
Alexander shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. “I did not go back to see her yesterday?”
Luke froze. “You did not? Why in heaven’s name not?”