His Party Guest: Rakes of Mayfair Book Five

by Barron, Melinda

  His words seemed a little strange to her, but she let them flow over her. When they were in their seats, Clarissa enjoyed the first part of the play. It was a performance of some French play, with a name she couldn’t remember. All she could think about, really, was the fact that they were out, with all of his friends, enjoying their time together.

  They laughed at the jokes and Clarissa giggled when Andrew stroked her arm, or kissed her cheek. When it came time for intermission, they once again went through a gauntlet of people who professed that it was wonderful to see the two of them out and about after their harrowing activities.

  Many people asked if the robbers had been caught. One man whose name Clarissa didn’t catch wanted to know what they were after.

  “I heard they were taking the whole lot,” he said. “Seems rather ambitious for thieves.”

  The inference was clear—Clarissa and Andrew had been transporting something that was illegal, and someone wanted their ill-gotten gains.

  “Perhaps they knew the duchess had many valuable things that she was transferring from her Bath house to Park Lane,” Andrew said. “She has a great deal of expensive items.”

  The man’s eyes had narrowed, and Clarissa could see that he didn’t quite believe Andrew’s words.

  “Who was that?” she asked Andrew as they went back to their seats.

  “His name is Parker Mills,” he said. “He’s a reporter for the London Times. He was sniffing around after the attempted robbery, and got nowhere. I would say he is still trying to sniff out the truth.”

  “Maybe he could help find Neill Marks,” she said.

  “Perhaps, but we don’t really trust him,” Andrew said.

  “Because he is a working class man?”

  “Because none of us know him,” Andrew said. They were back in the box now.

  “Does Lady McIntyre not own a newspaper?” Clarissa whispered in his ear. “Does she not know him?”

  “Why are you interested in this man?” Andrew asked, sharply. “Are you attracted to him?”

  “Not in the least,” Clarissa said. “What I am attracted to is finding out the truth, to getting to the bottom of things, as we’ve said. If this man has been asking questions, what are the chances that he might actually know something; that he might have information we can use?”

  “You are too smart for your own good, Clarissa,” Andrew said. “We can discuss it later. Right now I’d like to enjoy the rest of the play.”

  “You sound angry,” Clarissa said. “Why? I just thought he could help us get to the bottom of things.”

  When he didn’t answer, Clarissa decided it would be good for her to discuss it with Lady McIntyre, better known as Gabby. She hadn’t yet had a conversation with the lady, but this would be as good a place as any to start.

  “It’s time to go back,” Andrew said. His voice had changed in tone, and she knew he really did think she was attracted to Parker Mills. When they reached the door to the box, Clarissa put her hand on Gabby’s arm.

  “I’d like to speak with you. Might we have tea tomorrow?”

  “I would love it,” Gabby said.

  Clarissa told her to come to the house, and then, as Andrew prodded her forward, she wondered once again about why this bothered him so. She made a mental note to ask him about it later tonight, after they’d made love.

  When they were settled in the box she put her hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. The look he gave her was one of pure lust, and it made her body quiver. She wanted him to kiss her so badly, but she knew now was not the time. The play started, and after a few moments, Andrew leaned over and whispered in her ear.

  “Come with me, Duchess.”

  “Where?”

  “Shush. Just come.”

  He nodded at Buxton, who grinned at them as they left. When they were in the hallway, Andrew led her toward a winding stairwell that led to an upper floor.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Up to a very private box,” Andrew said. “It belongs to Buxton. He doesn’t use it very often. It has a great view, but keeps the users from being seen by those in the lower portion of the theater.”

  Clarissa grinned at him. “And what, exactly, are you planning on doing up here?”

  “Why make love, of course.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t object, Clarissa,” he said. “I know you want me as much as I do you.”

  Those were truthful words, but… “We can’t do it here.”

  “We can, and we will,” he said. They’d entered the box now. It was smaller than the one under them, with only four seats, all of them right in front of the edge, where Clarissa crossed over to and looked down. The room seemed to swirl under her.

  “It’s quite a ways up,” she said.

  “You’re just excited about the idea of being fucked,” he said.

  Shivers racked her body, and she hated to admit that he was right. “Such a nasty word.”

  “You’ll learn to say it,” he whispered in her ear. “At the same time you learn the others, which are?”

  “Manhood,” she said, glad she was facing away so that he wouldn’t see her smile.

  “We’ll see about that,” he responded. “Now, sweet Clarissa, put your hands on the edge and bend over slightly. To anyone who glances up it will look like you’re enthralled by the play.”

  It had been so long since she’d had him inside her, but that wasn’t what was making her insides wet right now. The thought of being taken in a room full of people was exciting—it stimulated her senses and made her wonder.

  “But the sound!’ She turned to him. “What if someone hears?”

  “From up here?” His look told her what he thought of that argument. “Come, Clarissa, do as I say.”

  She didn’t argue anymore; instead she put her hands on the railing and looked down. Once again the room spun under her, but she was sure it was from the fact that Andrew was now lifting her skirts up over her behind. Now she knew why he didn’t want her to wear anything but her petticoats under her skirts tonight.

  “You are wicked,” she said.

  “My darling, I haven’t half begun with you.” He caressed her and Clarissa bit back a moan of delight. “After we’re married, and we don’t have to worry about people knowing I am staying at your home, I’m going to teach you things that will make you wonder how you ever lived without me.”

  She felt that way right now, but she didn’t want to tell him that, fearing he would not teach her the things that he promised, like using words she never thought she would, words that she still didn’t think she could say out loud.

  Clarissa breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to control the feelings of need spreading through her as Andrew ran his hand over her buttocks. He gently tapped them, and she said, “No, no noise.” She glanced around to see if there were other boxes this far up. This one seemed very isolated, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others. There weren’t many lamps on this level of the theater and she fervently hoped that no one would see her up here, away from the box she’d been sitting in all night.

  As Andrew parted her folds and ran his fingers through her wetness, she focused on the boxes across from her; she saw two, but they seemed to be empty. She had known nothing about things this far up in the theater.

  Andrew pushed two fingers inside her and she gasped and said, “Andrew, oh yes, Andrew.” Thinking of what he wanted her to say made those words seem lame. He thrust his fingers in and out, and below them the audience clapped. Clarissa closed her eyes and dreamed that they were clapping for them, encouraging them in their lovemaking.

  “Inside me,” she said. “Please, inside me.”

  Andrew didn’t move to follow her directions. Instead he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of her, and when he did take them out, as applause rang up from below, he slapped her bottom.

  Her gasp was much louder than it had been before, and he slapped her bottom again. She should h
ave been angry that he was hitting her bottom, but instead she was fascinated, and wanted to beg for more, which she tried to do, but instead she just groaned louder than before.

  “Don’t cry out,” he said. “That will most certainly call attention to us.”

  Loud applause and laughter came from the lower portion of the theater and Andrew’s next swat landed harder. Clarissa worked hard to concentrate on keeping herself quiet. Her desire threatened to make her scream, and when she felt Andrew step behind her. It was a tight fit, and she felt as if she might tumble over the edge. The pressure she felt when he pressed against her was gone, and she looked back to see him sitting in a chair, undoing his trousers.

  She wondered if he’d planned this, or if it had been something he’d thought of at the last moment. But of course he’d planned it, possibly before this afternoon when he’d told her they would be making love that evening. He just hadn’t planned on waiting until they returned to her home.

  “Andrew,” she managed to croak out.

  “Shush, Duchess. Catch your breath.” He stroked her bottom. “Keep your skirts lifted and move back onto my lap. Put your legs on either side of me.” He had his hands on her hips now. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

  As she moved into place, she felt his manhood push at her opening. She started to pull away but he tugged her backward and she took him deeply inside her.

  “Andrew.” She closed her eyes and wiggled her hips on him.

  “I’m not going to have to teach you much, am I, sweet one?” He thrust up into her and Clarissa understood the instructions. She moved up and down, closing her eyes and giving herself over to the pleasure. Andrew guided her, one hand on her hip. The other snaked around her and found her hard bud.

  He stroked and pinched, and as Clarissa rode him she knew what was about to happen. It was shocking to her that, when she came and tightened around him, she felt the warmth of his seed spread inside her.

  She crumpled back into him and he held her close. Had she become some sort of wicked woman who did things like this in public? Was this part of their Club? Did all of the members who now sat a floor beneath them know what was happening? Something told her they did, or at least most of them did.

  “You’re turning me into a—a whore.”

  “My whore,” he whispered in her ear. “Would you rather be a nice, polite woman who minded her manners and never had any fun? Or do you want to learn from me, have a climax like the one you just experienced?”

  “I want the climax,” she said without thinking.

  “Then stop berating yourself for having fun,” he said. “Think about talking to the ladies downstairs, those who close their eyes and look away and pray for it to be over when their husbands take them. Giggle when they ask you why you’re flushed. It will make you remember how it felt to be fucked just above them, without them knowing.

  Clarissa was flushed, and his words made the heat increase inside her body. She wanted to do it again, wanted him to be hard enough so they could—fuck.

  A rustle behind them caught her attention and she jerked her head to look back. Buxton stood in the doorway.

  “The play is over, in case you hadn’t noticed. Are you coming?”

  “I think we already have,” Andrew said. Clarissa couldn’t help herself. When the men laughed she did so, too.

  Chapter 11

  “I should have told Andrew,” Clarissa said as the carriage in which she was riding made its way toward the newspaper Gabby McIntyre owned and operated. Charlotte sat across from her, and when Clarissa looked at her friend, she could see her friend was frowning.

  “I’m of two mindsets on that,” Charlotte said. “One, I think honesty is the best thing in a relationship. Dalton and I tell each other everything, or at least I think we do. I know it is right on my part. I don’t know if he keeps things from me, but I like to think he doesn’t.”

  “And the other side?” Clarissa asked.

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Charlotte said.

  “He will figure it out.” Clarissa looked out the window. “It doesn’t feel right lying to him.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “Dalton and I practice spankings on a regular basis. I lie sometimes just to get myself in trouble.”

  Somehow Clarissa was not surprised by that news. Nothing about her new circle of friends would surprise her, actually.

  “I still think I should have told him I was going to meet with Parker Mills,” she said. “He has the right to know where the investigation is going.”

  “He would not tell you,” Charlotte said. “He wants to keep you safe. Do you think he has been telling you everything about what they’ve done, about what they’ve found out at White’s?”

  Clarissa turned her gaze toward Charlotte. “What are you telling me?”

  “That the men have been questioning people at their gentlemen’s club.”

  “Which I know,” Clarissa said. “They have found nothing.”

  “Then you know nothing,” Charlotte said. “When next you see Andrew ask him about information they have uncovered about Neill Marks. Or perhaps you will uncover it today, while we’re speaking with Parker Mills.”

  Doubt formed in the pit of her stomach. She knew Andrew wanted to protect her, but was he truly keeping things from her? If so it made her angry, and she didn’t care that she was meeting with Parker Mills behind Andrew’s back.

  The carriage pulled up in front of the London Journal and the driver got down to open the door. He helped the ladies to alight and Clarissa looked up at the edifice. What would it be like to take a job meant for a man? She’d never had any sort of desire to be a newspaper reporter, or any other sort of position. She’d only been to finishing school, and then married to be a duchess.

  It was the middle part of the day, a time picked by Gabby. She said the morning edition would be out, and the evening one would be on its way to completion. “I can trust my staff to get things done while we talk,” she’d said.

  They climbed the stairs, and the first thing that Clarissa saw at the top was Andrew, standing by a door that obviously led to an office. It was hard to read the look on his face. It seemed to be a mixture of pain, anger, and resentment.

  “Oh dear,” Charlotte said from behind her. “I do wish Gabby would have warned us of this development.”

  Dalton stepped up next to Andrew, and the look on his face was easy to read—pure anger.

  “Clarissa,” Andrew said. “Gabby has set up tea in a larger room, since there are more of us than expected. We’ll go in and wait for Mills.”

  He left without offering her his arm and Clarissa knew that was not a good sign.

  When he was gone, followed by Dalton, Gabby hurried over to them. “I’m so sorry; they showed up here just moments ago. I have no clue how they found out about this meeting.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Clarissa said. “I think this will be for the best in the long run.”

  “She was already feeling guilt and would have told him,” Charlotte said. “So would I, but I would have done it for a different reason.” She giggled, but Clarissa didn’t see the humor in the situation. She went into the room where Andrew had disappeared. Once inside she took off her wrap and sat down next to him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why did I do it?”

  “Why are you sorry, because I found out, or because you lied to me?”

  “A lie of omission,” she said.

  Before she could continue he said, “If you say you did it because I’ve been ill I might knock a chair against the wall.”

  “I did it because you don’t like Parker Mills, and I was afraid it would bring a bad air to the conversation.”

  He was quiet for a few moments, but then he said, “I can understand that.”

  “While we’re on the subject of lying, why don’t you tell me what you and your friends have found out at White’s?” She kept the tone of
her voice hard, and when he didn’t answer she knew she’d caught him out.

  “We’ve found out that Neill Marks is back in London,” Andrew said.

  “And you didn’t see fit to tell me?” Now, it was Clarissa’s turn to be angry.

  “Not until we spoke with him, and we’ve been unable to find him,” Andrew said.

  “If you’ve been withholding information from me, don’t you dare be angry about today.”

  “Arguing like an old married couple,” Essex said as he sat down opposite them. “You should put up a united front before Mills gets here.”

  Clarissa smoothed down her skirts. He was right, of course, and she said so.

  “We’ll discuss it later,” Andrew said.

  “Just like an old married couple,” Essex repeated.

  Clarissa opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his opinions when Fergus escorted Parker Mills into the room. Gabby was behind him and she closed the door.

  “Crowded today,” Parker said as he looked around the room. “Your Grace.” He bowed in Clarissa’s direction. “Hello to the rest of you.”

  “Wonderful to see you, too,” Andrew said. “Let’s get on with it. Why have you been asking about Neill Marks?”

  Parker took a seat and then made a show of pouring himself a cup of tea. After he’d taken a sip he said, “He’s wanted for questioning by Scotland Yard. They won’t say why, but my sources tell me it has to do with the attack on the Bath road. I wanted to give him a chance to defend himself.”

  “More like you want to stick your nose into places where it doesn’t belong,” Andrew said.

  “A professional habit,” Parker retorted. “Of course, you lot could tell me what happened that day, and why Scotland Yard wants to speak with him.”

  “None of us are associated with Scotland Yard,” Clarissa said. “You don’t mind me saying, Mr. Mills, that your excuse seems to be just that—an excuse. What is your real reason for wanting to speak with Marks?”

  Mills glared at her, and then allowed his less than polite gaze to wander around the table. “Because he needs to pay for what he did, just like my father had to pay.”