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Book: A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man by Susan Donovan, Celeste Bradley
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Authors: Susan Donovan, Celeste Bradley
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loitered an hour before a very distinctive carriage pulled to a stop before the boutique entrance. Who but the notorious Swan would ride about town in a dainty white-lacquered carriage emblazoned with a graceful golden swan upon the door? I was in awe at the flagrant lack of discretion. The Swan was a woman after my own heart.
I fear I followed her directly into the shop, like a hound upon her heels. The elegant fellow who held the door gazed at me curiously but I merely lifted my chin and strode into the establishment as if I had every right to be there. The Swan shot a single startled glance over her shoulder, then pointedly looked away from me.
Another pair of ladies stood in the elegant receiving room. They eyed the Swan with regal disdain, yet they did acknowledge her presence with cool nods. The Swan dipped a gracious but impenitent curtsy back. I copied her motion out of pure instinct and their narrowed gazes shot to me. The Swan stepped away from me and moved to the grand window, leaving me standing quite alone. Disregarding the watching ladies, I scurried after the Swan.
“Madam, I must speak with you,” I whispered. “It is a matter of the direst urgency!”
She turned her shoulder to me and pretended to examine the draperies. Unwilling to admit defeat, I presumed to reach my hand to pluck at her sleeve. When I heard a hiss and then an astonished giggle from the elegant pair lingering in the receiving room, I saw the Swan twitch with annoyance.
Then I noted the twin blotches of color staining her elegant cheekbones and realized that I was wreaking some sort of damage to her graceful dignity. I thrust my hands behind my back and clenched them there, but I did not move from her side.
The beautiful boy returned and bowed the other ladies from the chamber and into their ostentatious carriage outside. When he returned, he began to approach us. I glared him away with every ounce of desperation I possessed. I can be quite intimidating when I choose to be, though I stand less than five and one half feet. His eyes widened and his gaze flicked between myself and the Swan. I added a scowl from my arsenal. His eyes narrowed and his suspicion grew very apparent, but he turned to retire into another chamber.
The moment he disappeared, the Swan turned to me with her blue eyes blazing with fury. Beautifully, of course.
“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed. “Who are you?”
I had prepared quite an earnest and poetic plea for this moment. However, in the urgency of my need, I quite forgot it. “I want to be a courtesan!” I blurted.
The Swan drew back in surprise. Despite my desperation, a part of my mind took the time to sigh over the perfect symmetry of her features, even when blank with shock. Admiration aside, however, I was never one to pass up someone else’s silence.
“I am being forced to wed a loathsome fellow,” I continued, my words firing at her like bullets. “I have no recourse but complete ruination!”
She narrowed her gaze at me. “Then go ruin yourself on some hapless horse groom and leave me out of it.” She began to turn away.
I grabbed her hand in desperation. “My relations would only conceal it and sell me off anyway! You have no idea of the power of their ambitions!”
She hesitated. “Sell you?”
I swallowed. “I am naught but a transaction, ” I said bitterly. Though I was prepared to endow my performance with further theatrics, it turned out to be unnecessary. My voice broke down entirely as my throat closed tight. Hot tears threatened and I thought I might wish to vomit soon.
Until that moment I had hidden my true grief from even myself.
The Swan withdrew her hand gently from my grasp, but she did not turn away again. “This loathsome fellow—who is he?”
I wrapped my arms about my belly. Only with such firm support could I still my trembling enough to speak again. “I am to wed Lord Malcolm Ashford.”
“Ah. Malcolm.” Her brows rose and her lips pursed.
I fear I followed her directly into the shop, like a hound upon her heels. The elegant fellow who held the door gazed at me curiously but I merely lifted my chin and strode into the establishment as if I had every right to be there. The Swan shot a single startled glance over her shoulder, then pointedly looked away from me.
Another pair of ladies stood in the elegant receiving room. They eyed the Swan with regal disdain, yet they did acknowledge her presence with cool nods. The Swan dipped a gracious but impenitent curtsy back. I copied her motion out of pure instinct and their narrowed gazes shot to me. The Swan stepped away from me and moved to the grand window, leaving me standing quite alone. Disregarding the watching ladies, I scurried after the Swan.
“Madam, I must speak with you,” I whispered. “It is a matter of the direst urgency!”
She turned her shoulder to me and pretended to examine the draperies. Unwilling to admit defeat, I presumed to reach my hand to pluck at her sleeve. When I heard a hiss and then an astonished giggle from the elegant pair lingering in the receiving room, I saw the Swan twitch with annoyance.
Then I noted the twin blotches of color staining her elegant cheekbones and realized that I was wreaking some sort of damage to her graceful dignity. I thrust my hands behind my back and clenched them there, but I did not move from her side.
The beautiful boy returned and bowed the other ladies from the chamber and into their ostentatious carriage outside. When he returned, he began to approach us. I glared him away with every ounce of desperation I possessed. I can be quite intimidating when I choose to be, though I stand less than five and one half feet. His eyes widened and his gaze flicked between myself and the Swan. I added a scowl from my arsenal. His eyes narrowed and his suspicion grew very apparent, but he turned to retire into another chamber.
The moment he disappeared, the Swan turned to me with her blue eyes blazing with fury. Beautifully, of course.
“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed. “Who are you?”
I had prepared quite an earnest and poetic plea for this moment. However, in the urgency of my need, I quite forgot it. “I want to be a courtesan!” I blurted.
The Swan drew back in surprise. Despite my desperation, a part of my mind took the time to sigh over the perfect symmetry of her features, even when blank with shock. Admiration aside, however, I was never one to pass up someone else’s silence.
“I am being forced to wed a loathsome fellow,” I continued, my words firing at her like bullets. “I have no recourse but complete ruination!”
She narrowed her gaze at me. “Then go ruin yourself on some hapless horse groom and leave me out of it.” She began to turn away.
I grabbed her hand in desperation. “My relations would only conceal it and sell me off anyway! You have no idea of the power of their ambitions!”
She hesitated. “Sell you?”
I swallowed. “I am naught but a transaction, ” I said bitterly. Though I was prepared to endow my performance with further theatrics, it turned out to be unnecessary. My voice broke down entirely as my throat closed tight. Hot tears threatened and I thought I might wish to vomit soon.
Until that moment I had hidden my true grief from even myself.
The Swan withdrew her hand gently from my grasp, but she did not turn away again. “This loathsome fellow—who is he?”
I wrapped my arms about my belly. Only with such firm support could I still my trembling enough to speak again. “I am to wed Lord Malcolm Ashford.”
“Ah. Malcolm.” Her brows rose and her lips pursed.
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