The Virtuous Courtesan. Mary Brendan

innocent of any hand in the scheme, and had meant what she said about forgoing her meal ticket, or she was a damn fine actress. For a man who had never experienced any difficulty in the art of seduction, that notion brought with it a crushing conclusion. There was a courtesan who might seriously choose to starve rather than sleep with him. Whereas he, if he were to be honest and circumstances had been different, would have sought to proposition her. She was one of the most divine-looking women he had ever met. And Heaven only knew he had enjoyed the company of quite a few alluring females. Why such a jewel was not dazzling the ton in Mayfair was as mystifying as why she had been attracted to Edward in the first place. An irritable sigh escaped Gavin. But nothing was as damnably vexing as his brother’s decision to attach such bizarre terms to his inheritance.

      If Edward had wanted his mistress to continue living in comfort on his death, why on earth had he not simply left her a tidy sum? She might be young, but she’d looked and sounded intelligent enough to manage her money. Or had Edward known his mistress to be an incorrigible spendthrift who might quickly run through her pension?

      A rueful twitch lifted a corner of Gavin’s mouth as he considered the possibility. Expensive mistresses were an enduring worry of which he had first-hand knowledge. Half his present financial problems had resulted from his current paramour’s profligacy. The amount Elizabeth frittered on shoes alone would keep a family in modest comfort for several months of the year. Charitably he allowed that the blame for the other half of the pecuniary crisis in which he found himself fell squarely on his own shoulders. Gaming, horseflesh, two new vehicles delivered to his mansion in Lansdowne Crescent in as many months.…

      But even the memory of his luxury purchases, and his wanton lover, could not keep his mind long in Mayfair.

      The knowledge that his brother had kept an exquisitely beautiful woman was stirring a very unwelcome feeling in Gavin. He had not imagined Edward lived like a monk simply because he resided in the sticks and liked to moralise, but neither would he have imagined Edward capable of attracting such a gem. He swiftly banished the ridiculous idea that he might be jealous. Sibling rivalry between them had died with childhood and scraps over toys. As adults they had always been too different in character to covet what the other had. Or so he’d thought.

      ‘Have you decided to return to London and give up your brother’s bequest?’ The lawyer interrupted Gavin’s concentration with a doleful tone and a cautionary shake of the head. ‘There is much at stake, you know: several fine properties and almost three thousand pounds annual income from the Willowdene estate. Then there is a not inconsiderable sum of cash in the bank and bonds—’

      ‘I know I stand to lose a lot,’ Gavin tetchily curtailed him.

      ‘Indeed so, sir! A terrible waste it would be if it is taken by the Crown.’ He tapped the document, inviting Gavin to check the threat. ‘And you could put the funds to good use, I’m sure.’

      Gavin shot a look at the smug fellow. So Joseph Pratt knew he spent beyond his means. But then, as Edward’s man of business, he would naturally know that Edward had loaned him money, at an extortionate rate, once or twice.

      ‘Does Miss Marchant have adequate private means or was she wholly dependent on my brother?’

      ‘I’m not sure, sir,’ Joseph answered with a frown. ‘But I’ve always imagined her relationship with Mr Edward Stone was borne of necessity,’ he added a mite too truthfully.

      Gavin’s cynical expression became more pronounced. ‘Has she family hereabouts who might help her?’ He didn’t want it on his conscience that the chit might end up in the workhouse.

      ‘I’ve not heard of any kith or kin. She has a couple of loyal old retainers who came from London with her. Due to the…arrangement between her and your brother, she naturally did not socialise with other ladies in town. For a while their relationship stirred much gossip, but that died away some time ago.’

      ‘How long ago?’ Gavin asked. He had judged her to be of tender age and had deduced that Edward must have quite recently taken up with her. Or perhaps she was blessed with more youthful looks than her years warranted.

      Joseph sucked his teeth as he made a mental calculation. ‘Oh, I should say it all started about three or four years ago now.’ He gave Gavin a shrewd glance. The fellow’s anger seemed to have been overtaken by a growing interest in Miss Marchant. ‘Her young age gave rise to the worst of the chatter. But a lot of females are wed before they turn sixteen. And Sarah Marchant had already reached that very age by all accounts.’

      Gavin’s expression barely changed. But a sweeping look arced up and over the ceiling, displaying his disgust at what he’d just heard. Gavin had not bedded a woman that young since he was a teenager himself. But what really rankled was Edward’s hypocrisy. His brother had readily given him the mantle of black sheep of the family despite having seduced a girl barely out of the schoolroom. The fact that Miss Marchant looked delectable enough to tempt a saint was hardly an excuse for such behaviour.

      ‘Where does she presently reside?’ Gavin asked abruptly.

      ‘At Elm Lodge. It is one of the properties you now own, or will own if…’ Joseph’s voice faded and he gestured pointedly at the document in front of him. ‘The Lodge is situated on the edge of the Willowdene estate by the woods.’ After a few silent moments, when it seemed Gavin had plunged deep into thought, Joseph probed, ‘It is almost a half-past three. Will you journey back to London today?’

      Gavin cast a frown at the clock. He had quite forgotten that it had been his intention to rush back to Mayfair. It was now unthinkable to head home without seeing Sarah Marchant again. The need to stay was not just to do with securing his inheritance, though he needed the money. A quite vulgar curiosity about her was bedevilling him. He wanted to find out more about her; especially why she had slept with his dull brother to earn her keep.

      ‘As you say,’ he replied coolly, ‘it is sensible that a solution of sorts be found. I shall remain at the Red Lion tonight and will contact you again regarding this vexing matter.’

      ‘Why do you not stay at Willowdene Manor?’ Joseph asked quickly as Gavin made to exit the room. ‘I do not think any risk of infection lingers,’ he reassured him. ‘Edward was interred immediately and none of the staff succumbed.’

      ‘It is not that. I’d sooner stay at the Red Lion as my time here is to be brief.’ The excuse was valid, but only part of the reason for staying away from his brother’s home. Gavin anticipated many questions from the staff at The Manor. Quite rightly they would be concerned for their jobs and pay until a new master took over and things were back to normal. At the moment he had no answers to give them. With a brusque nod for the lawyer, he ducked beneath the low beam and quit the room.

      From the window Joseph Pratt watched the tall figure of Gavin Stone striding away. He noticed that minx Molly from the Red Lion giving him quite a bold smile and calling out to him before huddling, giggling, against her friend. Both girls turned to ogle as he strode past.

      Joseph felt a prickle of envy. Gavin Stone was too damned handsome for his own good. That irritation apart, he oddly felt a sense of unease at what had occurred in his office this afternoon. He had relished the drama, but he certainly did not relish the possible outcome. Apart from other considerations, it would do his professional reputation no good. It might be construed that the Stone inheritance had been snatched away by the Crown because his good advice had been lacking rather than his late client’s benevolence.

      He had no real desire to see Gavin’s fortune in jeopardy or Sarah made homeless. But then Joseph was sure, once her pride had been salved, that the young woman would come to her senses. It was a shame her lover had died, but unfortunate things occurred in life. Kept women were usually of a practical nature and accepted they must transfer their affections from time to time.

      Miss Marchant had always seemed to him pleasant and polite and, of course, like any man, he could not fail to be smitten by her loveliness. In fact, he thought with a flash of inspiration, should Gavin Stone have spoiled his chances by being rude to her, perhaps a humble solicitor might wangle his