A Lord’s Desperate Love Part Six ~ A Historical Romance Story

Before I share the next part of Geoff’s and Violet’s story, I just want to say, “Thank you.” to anyone who bought The Illicit Love of a Courtesan this week, or ever left a review, because those two elements were the things that saw it rocketing up the US Kindle chart this week, it hit number 22 and became the No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America for three days. An amazing experience, to see that happen, having worked so hard for the last few years. “Thank you!”

But anyway. Forget that. Now it’s time so share the next chapter in A Lord’s Desperate Love. 🙂

A Lord’s Desperate Love

A Historical Romance Story

Part Six

It meant another restless night in the inn. Yet his heart suddenly flared with warmth as hope surged in – he’d see her tomorrow. Tomorrow. If this woman was her?

It had to be her.

Mayer? He was sure the name had some connection to her. He knew it for some reason. But why would she change her name, and why go by Mrs and not by her title?

What or who was she running or hiding from? Him?

All he felt inside was confusion.

His boot slipped on the cobble, making him stumble, but he didn’t fall. He slowed his pace. The mist was clinging to his coat and in his hair. All he could really see was the ground beneath his boots and an eerie glow reaching through the murky grey from any lights burning in the shop windows as he walked further up Queen St. He turned into Quiet St, his hands curling into fists in his now damp greatcoat. Lamplight shone through the grey, drawing his eyes to a small jewellers shop on the left. The shop attendant was busy lifting trays of rings from the window.

A deep seated need pulled Geoff toward it and he pushed the door open. A bell rang above it. The shop assistant, who was leaning over slipping trays into drawers, looked up sharply, then straightened. “We are just closing, sir.”

“My Lord,” Geoff corrected, “and I am just going to make a purchase. You’ll stay open. I want a ring, an engagement ring.” When he found Violet, he was not letting her escape again. She would know how he felt if he had already thought of this.

“My Lord,” the man acknowledged bowing slightly, and then he bent down again and lifted a tray from below then placed it on the shop counter.

“I want sapphires. She has blue eyes. Sapphires and diamonds.”

The shop assistant lifted one eyebrow but bent again, then set another tray beside the other. “Their maybe something here you like, my Lord.”

Geoff scanned the rings nestled in midnight blue velvet. They glinted at him all calling to be picked. Ruby, emerald… Sapphire. He knew most of Violet’s jewellery was sapphires. Sapphires must be her preference.

A ring stood out. The gold was woven like threads with blue and clear stones shining from between the strands. Sapphires and diamonds. He picked it up. It was tiny to his large hand.

A memory of once playing with one of her rings, crept into his thoughts. It had been a long time ago, just after he’d met her, when she’d seemed like an ethereal being, all testing, brash confidence and beauty.

He slipped the ring onto the tip of his little finger and tried to visualise the comparison to when he had done the same with one of her rings. It seemed a similar size.

It had to be the choice. The one meant for her. It would fit perfectly.

“I’ll take this one.”

The attendant set it in a velvet bed, in a leather box, and passed it to Geoff as Geoff handed him the money.

The shop bell rang again as Geoff left.

When he’d tried one of Violet’s rings on, it had been the first night he’d slept with her. He walked back to the inn through the mist, remembering that night.

She’d propositioned him. He’d been looking. But she’d spoken.

She had walked past him and run her fingertips across his midriff. Then across the room she’d fluttered her fan and looked over the top as he’d stood transfixed for an age.

She was stunningly beautiful.

When he’d made no move after an hour she’d worked her way about the room, stopping here and there talking and laughing, and then she had walked up to him.

Her fan had snapped shut and then she had tapped his arm, and she’d said with a seductive smile and a glint in her eyes, “You look like a man who enjoys his entertainment, Sparks. I bet you play a good hand. Do you fancy a game?” Of course she had not been speaking of cards.

His heart had thumped as he’d answered. “Where?”

“My house I think. I do not fancy your bachelor apartments.”

God he could still remember the sudden heat which had burned in his veins and the weight in his groin at the very idea.

She was bold and domineering, and he had been bloody devoted.

In the carriage she had not let him touch her or kiss her, all the time building a burning tension between them.

He’d been constantly aware of where her hands were. When they’d brushed the fabric of her dress he’d felt a tremor run through him.

He’d been even more aware of the lift and fall of her bodice as she’d breathed, while she laid out the rules. “You are not to read any favour into it, Sparks, you understand…”

He’d nodded, not giving a damn, just thinking of lifting her bloody skirt. He’d heard how good she was, rumours about her had circulated men’s clubs. He knew others she’d been with, and no one ever complained about her rules.

“I wish to be treated well, Sparks. I do not expect to be looked at as if I am your discarded linen after this.”

He could remember smiling at that. She could hardly be compared to dirty linen, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes on.

“We are equals in this, I do not wish you plying me with prose or…”

She had rambled on the whole way, drawing lines in the sand he wasn’t supposed to cross. When they’d reached her house he’d climbed down first and offered his hand. She’d accepted it, her small fingers clutching his. They were so delicate.

They’d had a nightcap and then he’d thought it time to take the reins from her hands. He’d lifted her glass from her fingers and covered her mouth with his to shut her up. Violet. He ached to kiss her now as he remembered.

That first time had been sheer bliss. It had never been the same with other women, and he’d had other women before and after. There had been several casual liaisons since, but none quite like the first. She had been fire and ice, and earth and wind that night.

The first time he’d taken her had been on the floor in her drawing-room, with a fire blazing beside them, its light warming her skin and turning it amber. But before he’d got that far she had been on her knees worshipping him in a way a decent woman should not, her fingers running over his torso and brushing over the hairs on his thighs like she simply could not get enough of him.

When he’d pressed into her heat, an uncontrollable hunger had ripped through him, and he couldn’t get deep enough or work fast enough. It had been excruciating, delicious, blissful pleasure. He’d driven into her like an unleashed animal and she’d cried out as her fingernails clawed into his skin. He’d made her break numerous times, with her thighs gripping his hips and the breath of her cries caressing his neck.

His coming had been something monumental but not the end of their first night. Their second encounter had come after half a bottle of wine, which they’d shared lying naked before the fire. It had been in a chair. He could still feel her sitting astride him and undulating in a rhythm which had enthralled. His fingertips had pressed into her thighs, while she had bitten his neck.

There had been a third time. In the morning. In her bed. That time had been achingly slow and beautiful and he’d felt the tremors of her pleasure racing through her body as he’d touched the skin covering her ribs and seen in the daylight just how beautiful the magnificent woman was.

She’d bathed while he’d languished in her bed, watching, mesmerised by her lack of care for others opinions. Her maid and the footmen had come and gone, filling a bath for her, while he’d remained in her bed.

Before she’d got into the tub, she’d taken off the rings which she’d worn the night before and left them on the chest beside her bed. He’d picked one up, surprised by just how tiny it was and played with it while she talked, laughing at him from her relaxed pose in the water.

Even then he’d known what a precious thing he’d found.

A Lord’s Desperate Love is the story of two of the characters from the 2nd book in the Marlow Intrigues Series ~ ‘The Passionate Love of a Rake’.

The true story of a courtesan, who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan, which I’ve been telling every Sunday, will continue alongside this.

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.

Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

A Courtesan deserted – Fanny’s break-up with Colonel Parker

I am slipping backwards in Harriette’s story today. What I didn’t share, because I didn’t want to break up the elements of her story with Meyler and their inconstancy agreement; was that before Harriette headed off to Paris, her sister had a disappointment that delayed Harriette’s journey…

But before I tell you Fanny’s story, as always, here’s the quick recap of the history of this series of posts for anyone joining today. If you’ve already read it, then skip to the end of the italics.

In 1825 Harriette Wilson, a courtesan, published a series of stories as her memoirs in a British broad sheet paper. The Regency gentleman’s clubs were a buzz, waiting to see the next names mentioned each week. While barriers had to be set up outside the shop of her publisher, Stockdale, to hold back the disapproving mob.

Harriette was born Harriette Debochet, she chose the name Harriette Wilson as her professional name, in the same way Emma Hart, who I’ve blogged about previously, had changed her name. Unlike Emma, it isn’t known why or when Harriette changed her name.

She was one of nine surviving children. Her father was a watchmaker and her mother a stocking repairer, and both were believed to be from illegitimate origin.

Three of Harriette’s sisters also became courtesans. Amy, Fanny and Sophia (who I have written about before). So the tales I am about to begin in my blogs will include some elements from their lives too.

For a start you’ll need to understand the world of the 19^th Century Courtesan. It was all about show and not just about sex. The idle rich of the upper class aspired to spending time in the company of courtesans, it was fashionable, the thing to do.

You were envied if you were linked to one of the most popular courtesans or you discovered a new unknown beauty to be admired by others.

Courtesans were also part of the competitive nature of the regency period too, gambling was a large element of the life of the idle rich and courtesans were won and lost and bartered and fought for.

So courtesans obviously aspired to be one of the most popular, and to achieve it they learnt how to play music, read widely, so they could debate, and tried to shine in personality too. They wanted to be a favoured ’original’.

The eccentric and outspoken was admired by gentlemen who liked to consort with boxers and jockeys, and coachmen, so courtesans did not aim for placid but were quite happy to insult and mock men who courted them, and demand money for any small favour.

Harriette’s favourite sister, Fanny, had been in a relationship with Colonel Parker for years. She’d borne him one child, and gone by the name Mrs Parker for a very a long time, as he had supported her even when he was abroad for months at a time, fighting during the Peninsular War. But now the Peninsular War was over, and Colonel Parker had been back in England for a few weeks, living with Fanny.

‘Colonel Parker, being one of those sort of animals whose constitution requires variety, had been, of late, cooling towards Fanny, his amiable, and I will swear, most faithful companion, the mother of his child, too, and merely because he had been in possession of her person too many months for his habit of variety.’

He told Fanny he was going to visit a female cousin, and Harriette says that Fanny joked, ‘he should not make love to her…’

‘Love to her!’ exclaimed Parker, ‘she is the greatest fright imaginable. I wish you could once see her. It would set your mind at rest for the remainder of your life, on that head at least.’

Colonel Parker promised to return to Fanny in a week, but two weeks passed and he did not return, and nor did she hear anything. Fanny grew more and more concerned as each day passed and she heard nothing. Then… ‘somebody told her that he was in town, and residing at a hotel in Vere Street. Fanny set off that very instant, by herself, and on foot, to the hotel, declaring her conviction of its utter impossibility.’

But he was there…

Fanny, ‘met Parker on the steps of the hotel, and placed her hand upon his arm, absolutely breathless and speechless.

‘Fanny,’ said Parker, ‘you are, no doubt, surprised that I did not either go to you, or inform you of my arrival in town… but’ continued Parker—and he hesitated.

‘Pray, speak,’ said Fanny.’ She was feeling ill.

‘I have bad news for you,’ said Parker, rather confused than agitated. ‘I am going to be married,’ he continued, observing that Fanny could not speak.

Fanny was so shocked by the news, that Colonel Parker, finally expressed some concern for her, and hired a Hackney to bring her home, accompanying her on the journey.

Harriette claims she was calling on her friend Julia, who Fanny was sharing a house with at the time, when Fanny and Colonel Parker returned home.

‘The little sitting-room, which Fanny had furnished and fitted up for herself, was a back parlour, looking into the garden. Her veil was down, when she descended from the coach, and, though we expected they would have come upstairs (sitting-rooms were more often upstairs in the regency period) Julia and I determined not to interrupt them. I was to pass the day with Julia: and, when the dinner was on the table, the servant was desired to knock at Fanny’s door, and inform Colonel and Mrs Parker, that we were waiting. The servant brought us word that they must beg to be excused. I became uneasy, and, without knocking, or any further ceremony, entered the room. Fanny was sitting on the sofa, with her head reclined on the pillow. She was not in tears, and did not appear to have been shedding any; but her face, ears, and throat were visibly swollen, and her whole appearance so changed that I was frightened.

‘My dear, Fanny, what is the matter?’

Fanny did not even lift her eyes from their fixed gaze on the ground.

‘Colonel Parker,’ said I, ‘for God’s sake, tell me what has happened.’

‘She heard some unpleasant news, too abruptly,’ said Colonel Parker (so caring )

‘I implore you not to inquire,’ said Fanny, speaking with evident difficulty. ‘I would not be left alone, this night, and I have been on my knees, to entreat Parker to remain with me. He refuses.’

‘Surely you do not mean to leave her in this state!’ said I, addressing Parker.

‘I can do her no good. It is all too late: since my word is passed, and, in ten days, I shall be the husband of another. My presence only irritates her, and does her harm.’

‘Fanny, my dear, Fanny,’ said I, ‘can you make yourself so completely wretched, for a man who acts without common humanity towards you?’

‘Pray, pray, never expect to console me, in this way,’ said Fanny impatiently, ‘I derive no consolation from thinking ill of the father of my dear child.’

‘Come to bed, dear Fanny,’ said I, taking hold of her burning hand.

‘Yes, I shall be better in bed.’

Harriette and Parker helped her upstairs, and then at one o’clock, Parker left.

Harriettes says, that Fanny was stupefied by her loss and sadness, she could not cry, but she stayed in bed to mourn her lover for two days. Then on the third when she rose she said, ‘All I entreat of you, is to keep secret from me the day of their marriage, and everything connected with it.’

Unfortunately for Fanny, as she tried to return to a life of merriment to hide her pain, a man she had rejected in favour of Colonel Parker in the past, was not going to respect her desire to think nothing more of Colonel Parker. He not only told her the day and hour, and place, of Colonel Parker’s wedding, he brought Fanny as piece of Colonel Parker’s wedding cake.

Again, Fanny retired to her room, to deal with her pain. But after a day, she came out and continued on with her life, having lost the stable relationship she’d had for years, and thought would last… Harriette says, after this Fanny was much altered. She was ill often, and changed, ‘from gay to serious.’

So many of the courtesan’s had sad heartbroken endings, as the men they’d committed to walked away from them to continue a respectable life, or a new relationship with a younger, prettier, or just different lover. When the courtesan’s were young and at their peak, they must have felt that all the power was in their hands as they picked out the men they favoured, and absorbed all the courtship and adoration, but then… When they grew older… They were left alone with very few choices of how they could live…

Back to Harriette’s story next week…

Jane’s contemporary story ‘I Found You’ is still 99p on Amazon in the UK until midnight today!

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories.

Why not also read A Lord’s Desperate Love the story of two of the characters from The Passionate Love of a rake which Jane is telling for free here, access each part on the index of posts.