Chapter Thirteen

 

Blair strode into the bar and sat down beside Horace. “Well, it’s done,” he said.

Horace ordered another glass of wine from the waiter. He looked at Blair. “So, you’ve bedded her then.”

Blair shook his head. “No. She’s now ensconced in the apartment. I’m returning to dine there.”

Horace raised sandy brows. “You had her there alone and willing, and you didn’t make the beast with two backs?”

Blair grimaced at Horace’s unromantic quoting of Shakespeare. “No. To tell the truth, I’m a bit perturbed. I suspect Gina might be an innocent.”

“An artist’s model and a music hall dancer? I don’t think so.”

“I guess not, but….”

Horace laughed. “She’s an actress. You should be grateful. It all helps with the mood.”

“At one stage I did judge her to be decent,” Blair said thoughtfully.

“Decent girls don’t shed their clothes for a painter.”

“Russo was her step-father.”

“Decent girls don’t work at the Folly. And they don’t become mistresses.”

Blair took the glass of wine from the waiter. “You’re probably right.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “But she’s so sweet.”

“Sweet? You wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall in love with this painted lady, would you?”

“No,” Blair said uneasily. He only knew he wanted Gina at any cost.

Horace clinked his glass against Blair’s. “To your night of love-making, whether it be a night of instruction in its fine arts or a night of combined experience, matters not, my friend.”

Blair gazed into his glass and took a deep drink.

“I’d get back there soon if I were you,” Horace said. “It will be a great shame if you don’t remember the experience.”

Blair laughed. “Thanks for the advice, Horace.” But he was surprised to find he needed a bit of Dutch courage. Something quite new to him.

An hour later, Blair returned to the apartment to find the gaslights turned low. The crystal glassware and the silverware glowed in the light of a guttering branch of candles. Now past nine o’clock, he was aware that the servants hovered, waiting to serve dinner. He had drunk more than he intended, but was still clear headed and nowhere near foxed.

At his entrance, the door to the bedchamber opened. He halted half-way across the room as a cool, elegant woman emerged, wearing a peach satin gown with a beaded, low-cut bodice, her golden-blonde hair curled around her brow, the rest drawn into a fashionable knot. The pearl earrings he’d bought her, with the promise of something finer, dangled from her ears. The lively girl in the cheap gown had vanished and in her place stood a self-assured young woman.

“Gina.” Blair nodded taken aback. He had transformed her from a passionate firebrand of a girl into a woman like one of his own class, seemingly cool and untouchable. When he removed the expensive clothes, would the Gina he found so charming emerge?

“Good evening, Blair.”

His thoughts continued to their logical conclusion. Gina, lying naked on his bed. “You look lovely tonight,” he said, his voice tight.

“Thank you. May we have dinner now? I’m very hungry.”

“Of course. You would not be used to dining so late. I do apologize.” He rang the bell.

At the first ring, the butler entered, and the first course was served.

Gina picked up her spoon and began to eat. “Did you have a pleasant evening?” she asked politely.

“I did. And you?”

“Most enjoyable, thank you. I unpacked.”

“You have a maid for that, Gina.”

“I enjoy housework. I can unpack for you if you’d like.”

“I won’t keep much here. I have my own house as you know.”

“Oh.”

“I suppose you enjoy needlework?” he asked wondering what she would do when he was gone.

“Bah!”

Blair couldn’t help smiling. “I take it that means no?”

Gina’s breasts bounced invitingly with her sharp intake of breath. “I sew because I cannot afford store-bought clothes. Not because I like it. There are much better things to do.”

“I’m sure there are,” Blair said in a conciliatory tone.

“This tastes nice, what is it?”

“Turtle soup.”

“You’ll find I’m an excellent cook. My mother taught me. Do you like Italian food?”

“Yes, but that is not one of your duties.”

Gina put down her spoon. “You didn’t tell me what my duties were, apart from, you know…….” She shrugged her slim shoulders.

Blair’s lips twitched. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

She reached for a bread roll and buttered it. “No, of course not. Shouldn’t I have said it?”

Blair choked back a laugh. “No. You should be more discreet.”

She took a bite of the roll with even, white teeth. “Milo always told me to call a spade a spade.”

“Milo, God rest his soul, may not have been the best person to teach you etiquette.”

Gina’s eyes flashed. “I suppose not, but he was honest. I’m not sure I can adopt your ways.”

Blair pushed his plate away. “Gina, if you have something you want to say to me then say it.”

“I wouldn’t wish to spoil your dinner.”

“Rest assured that you won’t.”

“I’ve heard people put quite a high price on turtle soup,” Gina said inconsequentially, “but to me, it’s like brown salty water. I make a hearty bean soup; it sticks to the ribs....”

“Gina?”

“Yes?”

Blair sighed. “You are being deliberately provocative. Why?”

Gina pushed back her chair, her eyes flashing. “You say you want me, then you go and leave me for hours and hours, and then when you return, I find you’ve been drinking.” She turned and ran into the bedroom.

Blair followed, finding her lying curled up on the bed. He sat beside her, stroking her hair, his fingers trailing down over the velvety skin to the tendrils of golden hair at her nape. He held his breath. She was just perfect.

“I’m sorry,” she said in small voice. “I must be tired. I’ll be more like you want, I promise.” She looked up at him and a tear sparkled in the corner of her eye. He wasn’t sure if it was from sorrow or anger.

Blair felt that now familiar twist in his gut. He could get in far too deep with this young woman. He took her hands and pulled her up. “I want you to be you,” he said lightly. “Come and finish your dinner.”

They ate the roast fillet of beef, asparagus, and a dish of vegetables, almost in silence, maybe she thought of what followed. He certainly did, his fingers itched to slip that gown from her shoulders.

Gina exclaimed in delight as the butler served an elaborate confectionary made with ice cream in the shape of a fruit basket.

Blair sipped his coffee as Gina ate two helpings. When she licked her full bottom lip with her tongue and sighed in ecstasy, his body hardened, and it was all he could do to stay at the table and not pick her up and carry her to the bedroom.

Finally, the servants had been dispatched for the night. Gina excused herself and disappeared into the bedchamber. Blair sat and smoked a cigar, deciding it would be wise to forego his usual brandy. When she called him, he stubbed out his cigar and walked quickly to the door.

Gina stood dressed in a garish, red chemise, trimmed with cheap, purple lace. Nothing he had bought her. Her full breasts pushed against the thin fabric and her blonde tresses, released from the pins, swung to her waist.

Black stockings adorned long, shapely legs. Blair’s mouth went dry. Despite the appalling outfit, she was magnificent. The tasteless chemise hid little of her lovely body. He longed to taste her strawberry nipples where they thrust through the material. The cheap clothes sullied her beauty. His body tightened, and his breath shortened. “Take that off,” he growled.

“You do not like it?” Gina’s hands fluttered up to cover her bosom.

“I’m damned sure we didn’t buy that today.”

“It was a gift from my friend, Mabel. She’s a dancer in the theater.”

Blair couldn’t contain himself, why did he feel guilty, and ashamed? “That’s where it belongs, Gina!” He didn’t trust himself to touch her. His fingers itched to tear them off. “Remove them at once.”

Gina hesitated. “Here, now, in front of you?”

Something was wrong here. He wished he hadn’t had that last brandy. Ridiculous to find he was wrestling with his conscience. “Off. Or I will.”

Gazing into his eyes, Gina shivered slightly at his determined expression. “No. I’ll do it.” She placed one foot on a chair and removed a stocking, rolling it slowly down. She shook it and hung it over the chair, then did the same with the next. Then she approached Blair with the stocking in her hand, winding it around his neck coquettishly. He reached out and brushed one nipple with his thumb and she laughed and darted out of his grasp.

What was she playing at? Despite himself, Blair leaned against the bed post, marveling at the grace of her movements and her lush body.

She peeled down the straps of the camisole. As the thin fabric fell away, she paused, and her eyes sought his. He saw doubt there.

“Wait!” His voice sounded cold and indifferent as he fought against his pounding pulse and the urging of his body.

Gina flushed and held the chemise against her chest in a defensive gesture.

“Who taught you to do this?” Blair asked.

Gina lifted her chin. “My friend, Mabel.”

“Have you ever performed this for another man?”

She hesitated, before giving a quick nod.

Blair crossed the room in two strides. He took her shoulders and drew her to him.

She raised her face for him to kiss, and breathing heavily, his lips plundered hers, probing in the cavern of her mouth with his tongue. Gina’s eyes flew open with shock.

Blair groaned, she was so sweet, and she was also what he had feared, an innocent. With every ounce of his strength, he drew away, holding her at arm’s length, and gazed down into her face. “Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we, Gina? Are you a virgin?”

“All right. Yes,” she threw at him and scurried over to grab a dressing gown. She wrapped it around herself, denying him her lovely body. “It was just a tiny lie. Does it matter so much? I am quick to learn.”

Still breathing heavily, he took a step back to distance himself from her. “I’m not in the habit of deflowering virgins. Do you really know what all of this means?” His gesture took in the entire apartment. “You must have had such advances from men before.”

She nodded.

“I was about to return to Ireland when you came to see me. It’s where I spend most of the year. If you stay with me, you will be marked as my mistress. Eventually, I suppose, although you will be handsomely compensated, I’ll choose to remain there with my family. Do you understand that? Do you, Gina?” he added softly.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Gina said simply. “I’m prepared to do my part.”

“I know you are,” he said softly. He wished the pounding of his blood would subside. He couldn’t take advantage of her innocence, for what would it make him? Suddenly everything fitted into place. He hadn’t wanted a mistress which was probably the reason he hadn’t found one before now. He wanted to love and honor a wife. With Cathleen, there would be little adjustment, no fights, no…passion. If he’d searched the earth, he could not have found two more different women than Gina and Cathleen.

“I think we should leave this until I return from Ireland.” He turned away to avoid the shocked and dismayed expression in Gina’s eyes. “I’ll be back in a few weeks. You will be comfortable here. I’ll leave enough money for all your needs. We’ll find a way to sort out any problems then. Will you be all right?”

Gina raised her chin. “Of course.”

“You must be tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll sleep in my dressing room tonight.”

When she heard the door close, Gina pulled off the hateful chemise and threw it into a corner. She crept under the bedcovers and lay awake for hours. Finally, as dawn broke, she fell into an exhausted, deep sleep.

When she awoke, it was broad daylight and Blair had gone.

* * *

 

Blair found his compartment on the train and threw himself down on the leather seat, his mind in turmoil. The whistle blew, and the train chugged out of the station building up speed, too late now to change his mind and give in to the war raging within him.

During the night, he had tossed about on the cot in his dressing room, fighting the urge to go to her. In the morning, before he left, he opened her door. If she’d smiled at him, he would have been lost, but he found her sleeping deeply, her glorious hair tangled over the pillow, a hand clasped against her dewy cheek.

He had to get away. He’d turned and hurried out, aware that he’d almost made the most serious mistake of his life.

He tried to read the newspaper but instead, gazed out of the window as the outskirts of London were replaced with green fields and hedgerows, placing distance between them. Maybe from a distance, he might be able to think clearly about how to help her. Instead of giving in to his own selfish needs.