Benedict Abernathy peered into the blinding candlelight and handed the thick vellum invitation to the Charles Street butler. He held his breath, anxious that his visit might be part of some cruel jest by his friends. He wouldn’t put a trick like this past them.
Lately they had been making serious attempts to lift his spirits, but he wasn’t sure if even they had the power to provide this invitation. If tonight wasn’t a hoax, he would gain entry to an intimate evening with the elusive courtesan, Lottie Townsend. Such unexpected invitations were rare and when extended, highly envied.
Once his vision had adjusted from the gloom of London’s twilight, Benedict noticed the butler’s sharp-eyed assessment. The pause unnerved him, but the bewigged giant said nary a word as he ushered Benedict through the door and into the quiet sanctum of the infamous courtesan’s residence.
Given his expectations, Benedict was not disappointed. The large entrance hall spoke of refinement and taste, despite the butler’s jarring form. His presence confirmed that Lottie Townsend did not take chances with her safety and he had to respect her forward thinking. The courtesan’s servant looked as if he could rip a man’s head from his shoulders without breaking a sweat.
Benedict, directed to an intimate dining chamber, tried to control his anticipation while he waited, but his solitude did not last beyond a few moments. A door creaked to his right and he sucked in a tortured breath as Lottie herself swept into the room to greet him. Time stood still as he gazed at the bejeweled courtesan.
Rumors and innuendo did not do her justice. She glided toward him with smooth steps, the embodiment of sleek, dark-haired perfection. Benedict noticed the challenge in her eyes immediately, as if she expected something from him instead of the other way around. The second thing that drew his gaze was the way her gown floated about her in transparent drifts. He saw the delicate turn of her leg and the dipping curve of her waist as she passed before candlelight. Fire clawed in his blood. Up close, he glimpsed the peaks of her nipples thrust against the gauze of her gown, and he coughed lightly to cover a groan.
His self-imposed celibacy had definitely ended. He couldn’t wait to touch her.
Benedict dragged his gaze back to her eyes and caught amusement glittering there. Dark kohl outlined each lid, and white powder dusted her nose and upper face, making her age elusive, her true identity impossible to ascertain. That she wore paint surprised him. He had not heard a whisper of gossip about a disguise. His gaze fell to her lips. Naturally beguiling red, they were bare, and an amused smile tugged at them. How soon could he lay his against them and hear Lottie beg for his touch?
“I am very pleased you could join me this fine evening, Mr. Abernathy. Please, won’t you sit by me?” Lottie’s husky voice touched him as only one other before her had been able to do, and if she chose to look down she would see how affected he was. To his delight, she did.
“My dear Lottie, wild horses could not keep me away from your side.”
Her smile slipped a little as he offered his arm. Pleasure fizzled along his nerves and he forced his steps toward a table set for two before the open doors to her garden.
As she threw away convention and settled him in his chair, Benedict eyed the dishes already laid out and awaiting them. His anxiety rose at seeing food he likely couldn't dare eat.
A soft breath whispered over his ear. “There is nothing on my table to cause you harm.”
Benedict looked at her in surprise as she slid into the seat close beside his. “You have done research?”
“I assure you I have taken great pains to provide every comfort for you. Everything tonight is for your pleasure, and mine. Believe me; having one’s partner keel over at the dining table has never held an appeal.”
“That could present a difficulty.” Benedict grinned, deciding he liked this woman’s sense of humor. He let the tension leave his shoulders. At least he would not become ill and miss tasting Lottie.
“Would you care for a glass of wine?”
Benedict allowed his instinctive hesitation to slip away. He usually kept his wits about him when dining outside his own home, but tonight he chose to trust she would not harm him by accident. If she had taken the trouble to learn that the over application of nutmeg could have dire consequences, he imagined he could let down his guard enough to indulge in a glass of wine.
“Have a taste,” Lottie urged, lifting his fine glass and pressing the dark beverage to his lips. Up close, her direct, amber gaze heightened his desire and sparked his curiosity.
The deep red claret burst over his tongue and delighted his senses. Benedict breathed deep, keeping his eyes trained on Lottie’s face and not her cleavage. The courtesan smiled and toyed with the edge of her gown.
“Have you enjoyed your time in Town, Mr. Abernathy?”
Benedict smiled somewhat ruefully. “I have taken a ramshackle house for the season and installed my mother and sister in it. I suppose you expect me to say only good things about the experience.”
Lottie laughed, leaning sideways and allowing her gown to slip from her shoulder. The exposed skin quickened his breath. “Oh, no. There is no reason to play false with me. Any truths you wish to speak will remain within these walls. Despite the sad fact gossip flows about London as swiftly as money through a new bride’s fingers, I hold the rare opinion that a gentleman’s experience should become whatever he wishes after he has left these walls. A woman in my line of work can grow a sterling reputation from letting a gentleman proclaim his prowess in the bedroom to any who happens upon him.”
Benedict raked his gaze over the woman. He had heard a lot of outrageous gossip about Lottie’s services, but that one tidbit he’d never come across. Her past conquests were prone to boast though. Her eyes glittered with amusement. “So, what would be the highest number of times a man might receive pleasure in one long evening?” he asked. “I have heard reports of up to twenty.”
Lottie’s mischievous smile pulled at a place in his chest he’d long thought dead. He pushed aside the memory of another woman who’d meant the world to him. “I won’t deny any man’s claim, but you don’t believe me, do you?”
“I haven’t known you long enough to make a decision.”
“Well, that is neither here nor there. What you claim happens this evening will never be contradicted. Only time will prove my discretion.”
Lottie stretched as she served the meal. Her movements tightened the fabric across her breasts, displaying a firm high pair. “So, your family has enjoyed London?”
“Yes, my sister has partaken of every delight she could squeeze into her days. My mother has gossiped with old friends and I think she even has an admirer or two—much to her amazement.”
“Every woman deserves an honest admirer. She is hardly in the twilight of her life.”
Benedict glanced at Lottie’s face. “How did you know my mother is still young? Did you research my family too?”
A tenuous smile trembled on her lips a moment before she lifted an eyebrow. “From what little I have gleaned, she is very pretty. All my sources tell me so.”
Benedict frowned. He did not like the sound of her statement. Having a whore investigate him, and his family, smacked of a scam in the making. “Sources?”
Lottie threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, you look ready to strangle me. Be calm, Benedict. I only inquire into my guests’ love lives. My sources described your mother as youthful before we determined her identity. I do not care to interfere in known or clandestine attachments. I have no right to damage hearts.”
Benedict swallowed another mouthful. He already had a damaged heart. Did she know of his weakness? “And what did you determine about me?”
“All my sources claim you’re a fine gentleman with no current attachments. You beat neither servant nor family and treat animals well. Other than a sad tendency to ignore popular opinion and dance with out-of-favor debutants, you were free to be invited.”
Benedict sat back. Hearing his character distilled so succinctly unnerved him because she believed every word she said. Her eyes glowed with conviction as she gazed at him, an odd, almost worshipful gleam lighting them. She blinked and her zeal diminished, replaced by a guarded expression.
