Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Read online

  Making of a Scandal

  The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3

  Victoria Vale

  Copyright © 2020 by Victoria Vale

  Edited by AuthorsDesign

  Cover Art by Victoria Vale

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Making of a Scandal Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Making of a Scandal Playlist

  Book 4: Taming of the Rake

  The Gentleman Courtesans

  More by Victoria Vale

  About the Author

  Making of a Scandal Playlist

  Click to listen on Spotify!

  Strong as Glass by Goapele

  Crush by Yuna feat. Usher

  Summer Games by Drake

  If This is Love by Ruth B.

  Late Night Flex by Quincy

  Lend Me Your Love by Preston Hutto

  Into Orbit by Alex Isley

  I Want You Around by Snoh Aalegra

  Pigment by H.E.R.

  Japanese Denim by Daniel Caeser

  Like Summer by Kyan

  IMAGINATION by Adrian Marcel

  Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur

  It’s You by Henry

  Water & Air by Alex Isley

  Forget Me Not by HONNE

  Cut Me Down by rum.gold

  Lost In Japan by Shawn Mendes

  Fantasy by Black Atlass

  Always by Arin Ray feat. Babyface

  Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine

  Instead by Blake McGrath

  Fools In Love by Inara George

  Over and Over Again by Nathan Sykes and Ariana Grande

  He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat) by Jill Scott

  The End by SOSUPERSAM

  Say Yes by Floetry

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  Prologue

  London, 1819

  “Lucy … my love, open the door, please.”

  Benedict Sterling leaned against the wood-paneled wall in the corridor and watched his best friend rap on the locked door. On the other side was an anxious bride, one who had fallen into tears over some wedding-related matter. Benedict hadn’t really been paying attention, but whatever was happening would delay the ceremony if it wasn’t promptly resolved.

  Aubrey Drake, the groom, knocked a second time and heaved a sigh. His hands shook and his brow furrowed over dark, hooded eyes. He was the epitome of style in his wedding ensemble, ready to enter the carriage waiting outside. However, he had professed his intention to linger until he was certain the bride would follow.

  A distressed lady’s maid had come to inform them that the bride had received an upsetting message and was now in tears.

  “Aubrey?” said Lady Lucinda Bowery from the other side. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on your way to the church.”

  Aubrey huffed a laugh, though Benedict could hear the strain in it.

  “I could hardly leave without ensuring I wouldn’t be left at the altar with no bride.”

  “Oh, Aubrey, surely you did not think I wouldn’t come?”

  “If you aren’t having second thoughts, then what’s the matter?”

  “It’s my parents,” Lucinda replied, her voice hitching with a sob. “They aren’t coming.”

  Aubrey’s shoulders sagged, and he rested his forehead against the gleaming wood. “Oh, Lucy … I’m so sorry.”

  Benedict glanced to the other men hovering farther down the corridor. Hugh and David cast anxious stares his way, and Benedict gave them a nod of reassurance. They might be a little late, but the ceremony would go on. He had confidence in Aubrey and Lucinda’s union, and knew this was merely a small delay, not some calamitous ending.

  “I knew they disapproved of our engagement, but I thought once they came to London to meet you they’d come to love you as much as I do.”

  “Or at least tolerate you,” Benedict muttered under his breath.

  Aubrey’s jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. That Lucinda was in love with him meant little to her parents. She’d married for the first time at eighteen, going from life as a gentry chit in the country to a grand countess. Her earl had died, and no doubt her parents had aspired to another grand match. They had been clear in their disappointment that this second time around she’d chosen to marry a black linen-draper born in St. Giles. A university education and ownership of one of London’s most successful draperies could not change the fact that he was the descendant of slaves.

  “I thought we’d made progress after our last dinner with them,” Lucinda went on. “I hoped they would at least attend the wedding, and my father would walk me down the aisle. Now …”

  Benedict winced at the pain in her voice. He had some experience when it came to disappointment at the hands of one’s father.

  He took hold of Aubrey’s arm, easing him back from the door. “Let me talk to her. Lucy, it’s Ben. Let me in.”

  “Ben—”

  He held up a hand before Aubrey could push past him. “Let me help. I have a solution. Besides, you are not allowed to see the bride before the ceremony.”

  Aubrey ran a hand over his face and let out another exasperated sigh. He looked like he wanted to protest further but thought better of it.

  “You do realize you’re the only man I’d trust alone with my betrothed,” he muttered.

  Benedict chuckled. “A distinction I do not take lightly. Go away. Everything will be fine.”

  Aubrey gave him a look that clearly said composure wouldn’t be possible until the deed was done, but obediently made his retreat.

  Benedict tapped at the door.

  “Lucy, he’s gone. Open the door, please.”

  To his relief, she complied, swiftly shutting the door once he’d entered. He found her pressed against the panel, dressed in dove gray silk and silvery gauze, the cut of the gown a complement to her full figure and statuesque height. Honey-blonde hair was arranged in a soft coiffure dotted with white and blue flowers, and white gloves covered her hands. In sharp juxtaposition, her face was red and blotchy, tears welling in her bright blue eyes.

  “You look beautiful,” he ventured, aware he stood on dangerous ground. When a woman was weeping, the wrong turn of phrase could only make matters worse.

  With a sniffle, she accepted his proffered handkerchief. “I can see myself in the mirror behind you. My face looks a fright.”

  “It’ll right itself once you’ve calmed. Though, your groom is growing more anxious by the second, so we ought to hurry.”

  “I don’t mean to worry or upset him. Nothing will stop me from marrying Aubrey today. It’s just …”

  “I understand. Even once you’ve become a woman, your parents’ approval still means something to you.”

  “At le
ast their acceptance if not their approval. After two years of mourning and loneliness, I’m finally happy again and Aubrey is the cause. That should be enough.”

  Seeing she was about to lapse into tears again, Benedict crossed the room and took both her hands, his handkerchief pressed between her palm and his.

  “It’s enough for you, and that’s all that matters. You’ve given them every opportunity to get to know and appreciate Aubrey. That they haven’t learned to is a poor reflection on them, not you or him. You are getting married today, Lucy. Your family may not understand, but today you’re gaining a new family. A family that adores you and would never hurt you. That family includes me, if you’re interested to know.”

  She smiled, giving his hands a squeeze. “Is that so?”

  “Quite so. I despise my own family, so Aubrey has made me feel a part of his. He’s like my brother, so that makes you my sister … at least it will once you’ve spoken your vows.”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded, her tears finally receding. “You’re a good friend, Ben. Aubrey and I are lucky to have you.”

  “That you are,” he said with a wink. “Now, may I go tell the groom you are ready to depart?”

  “Yes. I suppose I’ll make my walk down the aisle alone.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  She paused before the vanity, a pot of rouge held in one hand. “I’m sorry?”

  Ben gave her a sheepish smile. “You don’t have to walk down the aisle alone if you don’t want to. I would be happy to escort you.”

  Her eyes flared wide with shock. “You would really do that for me?”

  “I would. No one should have to suffer a father’s abandonment. While I cannot replace him, perhaps I can make his absence a little less painful for you.”

  She smiled, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. “What a gem you are, Ben.”

  He chuckled. “Be sure to remind your husband and our friends of that the next time they complain that I’m too ruthless, reckless, or uncompromising.”

  “I most certainly will.”

  Benedict stepped into the corridor and found Aubrey hovering near the door with David and Hugh flanking him.

  “Well?” David prodded. “Is she coming? Do we need brandy?”

  “David, really,” Hugh huffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course she’s coming. She loves him.”

  “Weeping bride,” David muttered. “Never a good sign.”

  “She’s coming,” Benedict snapped with a glare at David. “The crisis has been averted. As Lucy’s father has neglected to make an appearance, I’ve offered to stand in as replacement.”

  Aubrey visibly calmed, though his relief was overshadowed by sudden confusion. “You can’t give Lucy away … you’re supposed to stand up with me.”

  “Sorry, friend, but I’ve been enlisted elsewhere. David, you’ve been promoted to best man.”

  David raised his eyebrows. “But, you’re his best friend. Surely he wouldn’t want—”

  “You’re as much my friend as Ben is,” Aubrey cut in. “I’d be honored if you’d stand up with me. If it will make Lucy feel better, then of course Ben should escort her down the aisle.”

  “Then it is settled,” Ben declared. “Hugh and David, you’ll ride in the carriage with Aubrey. Lucy and I will follow.”

  Hugh frowned. “Where’s Nick?”

  “He should have been here an hour ago,” David replied. “Don’t know what the devil is going on with him. He’s been acting so queer lately.”

  “Here! I’m here!”

  They swiveled to find Nick taking the stairs two at a time. He looked a fright as he bounded onto the landing—hair mussed, cravat askew, his bright green eyes rimmed with dark circles.

  “You look like hell,” David drawled.

  “Nice of you to finally join us,” Hugh muttered.

  “I’m sorry, Aubrey,” Nick murmured, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he jerked his ruined cravat loose and fumbled at it with unsteady hands. “You know I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

  “I know,” Aubrey replied, as magnanimous as always. “It’s all right.”

  He seemed to want to ask Nick what the matter was, but there was no time. Benedict gave the groom a little push toward the stairs. “Go. I’ll sort him out, and we’ll be there shortly. I have things well in hand.”

  The moment the front door echoed through the house with a resounding slam, Benedict turned on Dominick.

  “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” he growled. “You’re late and you look like you got dressed in the dark.”

  His friend merely stood there in silence as Benedict retied his ruined cravat. He inhaled, searching for the telltale odor of spirits coming off Dominick, but detected none. If the man hadn’t been out all night gambling and drinking, then there was only one reason for his current state.

  He was still moping over Miss Calliope Barrington.

  “Pull yourself together,” Ben said, his voice a low, grating whisper. “Today is about Aubrey and Lucinda and I won’t have you ruining that.”

  “You sound like a proper matron,” Dominick remarked, his voice hollow—as if he didn’t have the heart to put his usual irreverence behind the comment. “I thought you hated weddings.”

  “I do,” Benedict retorted, adjusting Nick’s lapels and smoothing the front of his coat. “But it’s Aubrey’s wedding so I’m pushing aside my hatred for the next few hours.”

  It was true that he’d avoided weddings for years, as every ceremony inevitably reminded him of the one that had ruined his life. Brides with bouquets walking toward waiting grooms called to mind things he’d rather not remember.

  Just now, however, he wasn’t thinking of weddings. He was thinking about the problem that was Dominick and Calliope. What was supposed to have been a simple arrangement in exchange for money had turned into something else entirely, and now the fool thought himself in love.

  “I hate weddings, too,” Dominick droned, leaning against the wall once Benedict was satisfied that the cravat was neatly tied. “I don’t think I’ll ever marry. Not that I wanted to until … well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  Benedict’s hackles sharply rose, and he fought the urge to shake some sense into his friend. “Nick, don’t.”

  Dominick scrubbed a hand over his face and grimaced. “I know … I know …”

  “We’ve been over this. You developed an infatuation for your keeper, but she put an end to it. I realize it hurts now, but I promise you, it will pass.”

  It had better, for Benedict couldn’t stand for the loss of another courtesan.

  He’d begun the agency of The Gentleman Courtesans nearly three years ago, along with his five closest friends. They’d started the venture in an act of desperation, never realizing just how lucrative such a business could be. As it turned out, the men of the ton weren’t the only ones who would pay good coin for the services of a courtesan.

  In the past year Benedict had added six new courtesans to their ranks in order to meet the demand. Of course, it seemed he was losing men as fast as he could recruit them.

  First Edward, then Hugh, then Aubrey.

  And now Dominick … fucking Dominick who’d always been a rake of the worst sort. A man as free with his cock as he was with his smiles, he was the last of the courtesans Benedict would have expected to fall prey to softer emotions.

  The door swung open and Lucinda appeared, a bouquet of white roses tied with blue ribbon held in one hand. The redness had faded from her face, and her cheeks and lips were a soft pink, her eyes bright and clear.

  “I am ready.”

  Benedict offered his arm as Dominick straightened and forced a pitiful attempt at a smile. “Lucinda, you are a vision. Aubrey will be enchanted.”

  “Indeed,” Benedict agreed. “You’ll ride with us to the church.”

  Dominick followed as Benedict led Lucinda down the stairs. Within moments they had left the house, Benedict handing Lucinda into
the carriage.

  He turned to find Dominick staring off across Berkley Square, his jaw clenched and his eyes unfocused. In the harsh light of day, he looked even more a fright, his face darkened by the whiskers that had sprouted overnight, his usually robust complexion pale and wan.

  With a snap of his fingers, Benedict drew the other man’s attention. “Dominick!”

  Nick blinked, his eyes haunted. “Ben, I think … I think I’m going to die. Or, I’m about to be very, very sick. I’m not sure which.”

  Taking hold of Dominick’s shoulders, Benedict shook him hard enough to rattle teeth and hopefully jolt his brain back into working order.

  “Snap out of it. We have a wedding to attend, and you will put all thought of that woman from your mind. Do you understand? You broke the cardinal rule of courtesans and fell in love, but she doesn’t want you. It is over.”

  Nick’s throat worked as he swallowed, blinking again as if awakening from a very lucid dream. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly snapped it shut. The confused muddle of emotions traversing his face melted away, replaced by a blank expression. “Right. Of course.”

  Benedict studied him closely; until he felt certain Dominick wouldn’t retch or collapse or run off and do something stupid. The day had only begun, and already he was exhausted. Between smoothing things over with Lucinda, reassuring Aubrey, and managing Dominick, he felt like a bloody nursemaid.

  As it turned out, Dominick did none of the things Benedict anticipated. Instead, he tugged the hem of his morning coat and squared his shoulders before approaching the carriage. As his friend climbed in to sit across from Lucinda, Benedict leaned against the side of the carriage and took a calming breath of his own. Running a hand through his hair, he growled, “Fucking weddings.”