A Regency era courtesan gives up her empire for love and discovers how binding her connections truly are to the noblemen she used to serve.
*****
In the sequel to Courte...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~ Wednesday May 12, 1813 ~
The sun shone on a wholly different world when I threw open the drapes to greet the morning. I had birth parents I could put a name to. I, Rosalind Hayes, was the offspring of a general's daughter and a nobleman. The thought had a lovely ring to it now that my mind was not battling fatigue. And, what's more, the nobleman wasn't a self-centered arse.
I should have known those lovely thoughts would be challenged the moment I met the duke in the dining room. He sat behind the newspaper, The Times, if I wasn't mistaken, and spoke around it as I took my seat.
"Good morning, Rose. I hope you slept well."
"I did, thank you." I eyed him suspiciously as Clara bustled into the room with a serving tray.
"Mistress Hayes. I heard you've been promoted to the title of lady." She smiled as she set down a plate of toast and pushed a jar of marmalade toward me.
"Don't be silly, Clara. Only my father is a nobleman, and he was not a reigning monarch at the time of my conception. So, I have no rights to his estate."
She glanced at the duke, who remained hidden. "Only technicalities. We have always thought of you as a lady around here."
She slipped out of the room, and I addressed the duke as I served myself toast. "Don't think I haven't noticed you smirking behind the newsprint, your grace. Hurry and tell me what The Times has printed about me so I can go about my meal in peace."
"I don't know what you mean. The Times was complimentary, if not a bit presumptuous."
"Presumptuous how?" I spread the marmalade liberally in spite of my conscience telling me to do otherwise.
He set the paper aside and became interested in his half-eaten breakfast. "Despite their tendency to print hearsay, our modern news presses have the ability to secure documentation from reliable sources. In your case, Scots Law as it relates to the illegitimate offspring of nobility. Have you ever heard of the term truncated inheritance?"
While I fancied myself an educated woman, I was not well read in the area of Scots Law. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage there."
I knew it pleased Philip when he could assert his aptitudes over mine, and I saw him smile above his plate. "According to Scots Law, the illegitimate child of a Scottish monarch is entitled to a portion of their noble parent's estate through truncated inheritance."
"Is that so?" I took a bite of toast as I pondered the implications of this law. "And The Times printed that bit?"
"Indeed, they did." He lifted his gaze to capture mine, and it took me only a moment for the implications to become clear.
"Oh, bother. I expect I will have every charity and poor house soliciting me from here forward."
