A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man (40 page)

Some of the guests—Piper’s parents among them—turned and headed for the exit. Suddenly, an anonymous female voice rose above the din.

“Nobody’s going anywhere!” It was Claudia Harrington-Howell. The crowd parted for her. She marched back into the exhibit hall, chiffon billowing out behind her.

LaPaglia’s eyes bulged. “Er … ah … Claudia—”

“What idiot turned off the lights?”

“Please accept my sincerest apologies to your family and—”

“Oh, just shut the hell up and let’s get on with the show.” As Claudia adjusted her wire-rimmed eyeglasses, she accomplished what LaPaglia couldn’t—the crowd went silent.

Claudia glanced around the hall and waved her hands. “What is wrong with you people? I ran to the limo to get my spectacles—can’t see a damn thing without them.”

She peered at the guests until she found Piper off to the side, near the wall. “Come on up here, Miss Chase-Pierpont, and somebody, for God’s sake, turn on the damn lights!”

With a barely audible squeak, Piper stepped forward and went to stand near Claudia. Mick watched the two women square off, the high-heeled and elegant Piper nearly as tall as the statuesque silver-haired Claudia. Their eyes locked on to one another.

“I will tour the exhibit momentarily,” Claudia said, her eyes unflinching. “But right now, you are going to explain to me how you can possibly make such a claim about my ancestor.”

LaPaglia couldn’t keep quiet. “Ms. Harrington-Howell, on behalf of the museum trustees, staff, and donors, I want to express to you how profoundly sorry I am for—”

“Eee-nough!”
She snapped her head toward LaPaglia. Mick was afraid for the man—Claudia Harrington-Howell looked like she could kick his arse to kingdom come as an afterthought.

LaPaglia must have reached the same conclusion. “Of course,” he muttered, shuffling backward until he bumped into someone.

“How?” Claudia asked Piper.

“Uh,” Piper croaked, then cleared her throat and started over. “I found Ophelia Harrington’s diaries from the years she spent as a courtesan in London,” Piper said matter-of-factly. “They were hidden in a false bottom of a trunk.”

A collective gasp went up from the attendees.

Oddly enough, Claudia did not seem shocked. Mick detected the beginning of a smile at her lips. “Where are the diaries now?”

Piper gestured toward the exhibit entrance. “Under Plexiglas within the exhibit. I made a copy of the diaries for you as well.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” LaPaglia didn’t even bother to keep his voice down. “What diaries?”

Claudia nodded sharply. “What do the diaries reveal? Tell me. A snapshot will do for now.”

Piper chuckled nervously. Mick figured she was thinking the same thing he was—that distilling Ophelia’s story into a “snapshot” was damn near impossible. It had been hard enough to pare it down to a single museum installation.

He watched Piper search the crowd for her parents. She found them holding each other up near the exhibit hall exit, their faces ashen.

“The diaries tell the story of a young woman unwilling to stifle her spirit, her intellect, or her sexuality simply because it was expected of her.” Piper smiled sadly at her parents as she finished the sentence. Then she continued.

“Ophelia became a highly prized courtesan living outside the social norms of her time, and though it was a life of pleasure and adventure, it grew stale eventually. She longed for what many of us long for—meaningful work, a family of her own, and a life partnership based on love and mutual respect.”

No one breathed.

“And this?” Claudia gestured behind her to the life-sized image of Ophelia in chains. The older woman’s eyebrows arched dramatically on her forehead. “Explain this.”

Piper nodded. “My central question—and probably yours as well—was how did a London courtesan become a Boston abolitionist? And the answer is twofold.”

Piper reached for Claudia’s forearm and pulled her to the side so that she, and the rest of the assembled guests, could see the central display in all its glory.

She went on, looking at Claudia as she spoke. “Your great-great-grandmother possessed the courage to battle American slavery because her life as a courtesan gave her a taste of personal freedom. She came to believe that freedom was a God-given right that should be available to all human beings, including women and the enslaved.”

Piper paused, noting that several attendees had begun to nod in appreciation. “But that wasn’t the only reason,” she said. “There was a single defining moment in Ophelia’s life, a moment so horrifying, it changed her forever. And a seed of outrage was planted inside her that allowed her to blossom from courtesan to crusader.”

Claudia’s eyes shot to the image of Ophelia. “What happened to her?”

Piper nodded, and it looked to Mick as if she were steeling herself for the last bit. “Though it was only the barest taste of human bondage, Ophelia Harrington had been placed on the auction block herself, treated as an animal, or worse—a commodity—and sold to the highest bidder. It happened when she was taken to an orgy and sold as a sex slave.”

Piper’s mother fainted. A woman cried out. The murmurs grew into exclamations of shock and shouts of disbelief.

Piper craned her neck to make sure her mother got back on her feet. “Does anyone have a Three Musketeers bar?” she asked the crowd. “A Snickers?”

“I’ve got a Butterfinger, but it’s only Fun Size!” A man toward the back held up the telltale yellow wrapper.

“Thank you,” Piper said. “That’s just what we need right now—more fun.”

Thirty-eight

London

My gaze locked on Lord Malcolm’s even as my heart stumbled in its beating. He held my eyes with his as he continued.

“Lord B
____
blamed Miss Harrington for his inability to pay his debts with the money he was to get for selling her. I saw him enter Miss Harrington’s house well past midnight. I—I did not follow him inside until I heard her scream. Then I entered to find Lord B
____
standing above Miss Harrington with a knife in his hand. She lay insensible on the floor, having been most severely beaten.”

“Not unconscious,” I added. “Not quite yet.”

His eyes darkened. “It all happened so quickly,” he said softly.

“You could not have known,” I said. I turned to the judge. “Lord B
____
was preparing to slice my face to ribbons, my lord. I did not see who it was that pulled him away from me.” I let my eyes rest on Lord B
____
. “But I definitely recall that Lord B
____
ran from the room like the filthy coward he is, only brave enough to brutalize those weaker than himself.”

A growl began in the gallery, a sign that public opinion was about to turn against Lord B
____
forever.

From my place on the stand, I watched the bewildered green eyes of Miss Alice Wainwright as she heard her fiancé accused.
Don’t be a fool, Alice!

When I saw her confusion turn to stubborn denial, I had to speak. “My lords, whether or not I am declared innocent, I must do this.”

I turned to Alice. “
Run
. Run for your life from this man.” She drew back from my intensity. I gripped the railing until my knuckles paled. “Don’t you realize that you’re free? No matter the splitting of the inheritance, you are a wealthy woman in your own right.”

She bit her lip. I softened my voice. “I know you’re frightened. I know it’s terrifying to be alone. But please believe me, you are better off alone than with this man. Leave him. Take your father’s fortune. And
run.
”

I could not be sure that she heard me, but there was nothing else I could say to persuade her. I turned back to the judge. “You may continue with your sentencing now.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, thank you, Miss Harrington.”

We all waited. I could scarcely breathe. The judge raised his gavel.

“Stop!”

Thirty-nine

Boston

Though LaPaglia seemed dangerously close to a nervous breakdown while waiting for Piper and Claudia to complete their private tour, Mick noticed that not a single gala guest left the museum, not even Piper’s parents. They chatted excitedly, drained the bar dry, and consumed every single cheese puff and bacon-wrapped shrimp in the joint.

The break gave Mick a chance to get some air and think things through. He sat on the brick edging of a raised garden in the museum’s courtyard, watching the night clouds obscure the moon, and thought about Piper, how beautiful she looked that night, and how he’d mucked things up something awful.

“Mind if I join you?”

Mick looked up to find Brenna standing behind him, cool and ethereal in a silvery cocktail dress, her blond hair pulled back from her face. “Sure,” Mick said. “Grab a brick.”

Brenna did, settling down with a sigh. “Good of you to join us.”

Mick snorted. “Yes, I was a complete tool for going to L.A. I’m aware of that.”

Brenna smiled at him pleasantly and folded her hands in her lap. She was as cool a slice as ever, Mick decided, but she was a devoted friend to Piper, and for that he was grateful.

“Do you love her?”

Mick nearly choked at the bluntness of the question, but he supposed it was fair, considering his actions. “I do. I love that woman.”

“Good, because she deserves nothing less. She’s waited a long time for you.”

Mick sighed, letting that sink in. After a moment, he chuckled.

“Something funny?” she asked, looking at him sideways.

“You know, ever since I got on that damned plane I’ve been thinking how I don’t want to lose her. I can’t imagine my life without her now. I’m not even sure I want that stupid cable show if she isn’t in my life to share it with me.”

Brenna nodded.

“I want to marry her,” Mick said. It didn’t even surprise him to hear the words come from his mouth. They’d been forming in his brain since his talk with Cullen that morning. “I want all those things Piper just talked about—the love and mutual respect, the family, the meaningful work—and I know in my heart that I’m supposed to have them with her.”

Brenna raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who should be hearing this.”

Mick nodded. Brenna was right. “Do you think she’d say yes?”

She shrugged.

“I have half a mind to charge right in there and ask her in front of everybody.”

“Hmm,” Brenna said, looking him over from tip to toe. “I’m not sure you have what it takes for that.”

Mick laughed in surprise. “So you don’t think I have the balls, eh?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think you have the
ring
.”

Mick had no response for that.

“Here. If you’re serious, you can borrow this for the occasion.” Brenna tugged at her right hand, then dropped a delicate gold ring into his palm, its cluster of diamonds sparkling in the dark. Mick looked at her in shock.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Brenna laughed. “I’m sure you can borrow it for the occasion, yes, but are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Mick stood up. He pocketed the ring and offered his arm to Brenna. “I’m sure,” he said. “Shall we?”

Forty

London

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” I murmured at yet another interruption. We all turned to stare at the latest savior.

Miss Alice Wainwright stood slowly. From my vantage point I could see that she was shaking with nerves.

Lord B
____
looked wary. “My love—”

Alice took a single decisive step to the left, away from him, and lifted her chin. “I drop all charges!” She shot a look of loathing at Lord B
____
. “I just recalled that I was given that kitten in March, not May,” she snarled. “In May, you told me you hurt your hand when you were thrown from a horse.” Her eyes narrowed. “One of my
mother’s
horses, who are the most perfectly trained beasts in all of England!”

With that she turned her back on Lord B
____
and addressed the judge in a quavering voice that grew stronger with every word. “My father was a good and wise man. He believed Miss Harrington to be a trustworthy person. I intend to abide by his good opinion and withdraw the charges—which I didn’t truly wish to press, anyway. Without my charges, there is no case.” Another scathing glance at Lord B
____
. “And if my father was right about Miss Harrington, then it follows that he was right about Lord B
____
. I am officially breaking our engagement, my lord.”

Relief made me smile. Alice was going to be all right. I gazed at my attacker. “It looks like you’ll have to find another girl to believe your lies, my lord.”

Lord Malcolm Ashford folded his arms. “Actually, you’ll find that difficult to do in debtor’s prison, B
____
.”

Lord B
____
’s eyes widened. “But I—”

Lord Malcolm’s smile did not reach his eyes. “It seems that the man who bought up all your notes demands immediate payment of them. If you don’t have three thousand, two hundred and eighteen pounds in your pocket at this very moment, I’m afraid you’ll be accompanying these nice bailiffs across the street to Newgate in a few minutes.”

Lord B
____
backed away from the approaching bailiffs. “Who—”

“Who holds your vowels?” Malcolm casually straightened his cuffs. “Why, as of six o’clock this morning, that would be me.”

As Lord B
____
was led out of the Bailey, I called out to him. “Just grab the first pallet you see. No one will mind.”

The judge, being quite satisfied that he’d backed the right horse after all, smiled benevolently as he banged the gavel one last time.

“Case dismissed!”

Forty-one

Boston

Piper felt giddy by the time she and Claudia finished their walk-through. She’d asked Piper dozens of questions and admitted that she was secretly thrilled that the whispers passed down in her family about Ophelia’s wild past had been true after all.