Lord of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  The saucy little wench! He had absolutely no intention of accepting anything less than a full kiss from her lips. And eventually, he intended to collect more. Much more. Without a single bit of resistance.

  He gave her a withering look of disinterest. “In all honesty, I prefer the entire soufflé.”

  She lowered her hand and returned his withering look. “I knew you were a glutton. Inform Lord Caldwell that I am ready to receive him. Good day and good-bye.”

  With that, she returned to her desk, leaving him with the stark realization that his taste for pleasure had not disappeared from his blood at all. Despite all of his efforts to appear proper for the sake of his family, his old self was about to reemerge in the name of the greatest conquest he had ever embarked upon.

  He only hoped to God he could keep this from his family or he’d never hear the end of it. Then again, Lady Charlotte was well worth that risk. Which is why he intended to not only seize this tasty little challenge, but to do so with both hands. Not to mention the rest of his body.

  Lesson Seven

  While you fret and fuss over how to prepare for pleasure, simply remember, that the sole point of every sexual encounter is to measure, measure, measure.

  —The School of Gallantry

  11 Berwick Street

  Two days later

  Charlotte held up Lord Hawksford’s completed application and faced Madame de Maitenon once again in complete exasperation. “This is ridiculous, Madame! Considering all the men that have applied to this school, and the amount of men you are limiting us to during the first Season, why would you even bother accepting his application? The man isn’t looking for an education. He’s looking for entertainment.”

  Madame de Maitenon observed her from across the Greek-inspired parlor, remaining stoically seated upon the only piece of furniture to grace the room. “I agree that his aspirations could be somewhat corrupt, but it is imperative we involve him in the school for reasons I cannot go into. What is more, I know this young man. I once had the honor—and I do mean that—of pleasuring his father.” She eyed her. “And his mother. Though I ask that you keep that to yourself and not tell Maybelle or anyone else.” She winked mischievously and lowered her voice. “I was supposed to be in retirement, but the money was simply too good.”

  Stunned, Charlotte felt her cheeks flare. And she’d thought the woman was incapable of further astounding her. No wonder Lord Hawksford was naughty by nature! He’d inherited it from his parents.

  What was worse, if Madame de Maitenon accepted the man’s application, it was going to complicate every single aspect of her life. A harmonious, peaceful life which she’d just started to enjoy.

  For Alexander William Baxendale, the third Earl of Hawksford, who had obviously bedded nearly every woman in London—if not all—would come marching straight into the school looking to collect an endless array of self-loving pleasures. She certainly recognized the devious fire that lit his eyes. He would only stop once he had been sated. And what was even more terrible was that she wanted to submit to that devious fire. As if Chartwell hadn’t been enough of a lesson for her.

  Beyond frustrated, Charlotte tossed the application and let it float and whirl off to the side, toward the feet of one of her Greek male statues. “I see. You pleasured the father and the mother and now you wish to pleasure the son? Is that it?”

  Madame de Maitenon let out an unbridled laugh, throwing back her head as if to let it flow out all the better. She lowered her chin and shook her head. “Non. You misunderstand.”

  “Oh, do I?”

  “Mais oui.” The woman rose from her chair, her full, rose satin skirts rustling as they slid back down into place around her slippered feet. Her blue eyes were lit with an unusual amount of excitement. “You see, his father was very much like him. Wild. Forever obsessed with pleasuring not only himself, but women. He became known as the Lord of Pleasure due to his endless array of feisty dalliances. When he eventually married, some twenty years later, his lust had finally met its match. For Lady Hawksford, though much younger, was as naughty and wicked at heart as he. Theirs was not a love match. Non. ’Twas a lust match. And it is what ultimately led to their happiness.”

  A lust match? She’d never even heard of such a thing.

  Madame de Maitenon clasped her hands together. “What a scandalous pair the two made! Lord and Lady by day. Adam and Eve by night. Each allowing the other to explore their sexuality without limitations. Unheard of in London. And yet…they always maintained gracious appearances for the ton. Which was very, very wise on their part. For they attained the best of both worlds. Their son, who was a bit of a romantic, and nothing like them, eventually followed their lead after a beautiful femme, seven years his senior, wounded his young heart by refusing to marry him. She claimed that he was far too young to understand the needs and pleasures of a woman and further mocked him by taking on not one, but three other lovers.”

  Madame shrugged. “You can say he wanted to reclaim his pride by learning everything there was to know about pleasuring a woman. And learn he did.”

  Madame de Maitenon turned and sashayed her way toward the statues. She lowered herself gracefully down to the application on the floor and plucked it up, rising once again.

  Tilting her head, she perused Charlotte’s lengthy notes regarding Lord Hawksford. Upon reaching the bottom of the parchment, she glanced up, a look of sympathy pulling her features. “Then his father died. ’Twas sad, but expected. For he was not young. Lord Hawksford naturally inherited everything, including five younger sisters and a mother. To the disappointment of every woman in London, he also retired from his pleasure-seeking days and has not entertained a single femme since. Or so they say.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. Why did she feel as if she had stumbled upon a man that was best left alone? If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the man was looking to vent all of his sexual frustrations upon her.

  Madame de Maitenon knowingly smiled. “When I suggested Lord Caldwell bring him to the school, I was somewhat worried about the outcome. Clearly, I had nothing to worry about. Though I do wonder…Why would Lord Hawksford enroll?” She paused, then quirked a silver brow at her. “Something must have sparked his interest. And I know it was not my school.”

  Charlotte froze, knowing full well what Madame was insinuating. It seemed downright impossible. Impossible that out of all the women in London, she, a penniless widow tossed from the ranks of society, could magically resurrect a man’s need for pleasure. And that out of all the men that she could have possibly happened upon in her very last hour of need, it would have been none other than the Lord of Pleasure the second.

  Perhaps it was time she confessed to everything. Before it became any more complicated. After all, she’d only kissed him. Surely, Madame would forgive her for that. She hoped.

  “Madame.” Charlotte cleared her throat, an uncomfortable heat overtaking her body. “I am actually quite certain Lord Hawksford put in his application due to my involvement in the school. He and I had actually met on a previous occasion.”

  “Oh?”

  Oh, indeed. “’Twas brief, really. Nothing that ever led to anything. During my interview with him, however, I somehow lost sight of my duty toward the school and allowed him to kiss me.”

  Charlotte inwardly winced the moment her words came out and prayed that it wouldn’t result in her dismissal. Prayed that Madame would understand. And show mercy.

  Madame de Maitenon blinked then slowly grinned, her blue eyes practically sparkling. “The moment I first saw you with that iron poker in your hand, I knew you would be a valuable asset to this school. So. When will the rendezvous be? Hmm? And where?”

  When? Where? Oh, for heaven’s sake! “Whatever do you mean, when, where? You told me I wasn’t allowed to involve myself with any of the men that applied to this school. I thought you’d be upset.”

  “Upset? Pah.” She flitted the wrist of her hand back and forth. “There are always
exceptions to my rules, chérie. Especially when pleasure is involved. Now tell Madame. What are your plans with him thus far?”

  Plans? Oh, now this she most certainly had not expected. Though she supposed she should have. Her being the naughty, naughty thing that she was. “I don’t think you understand. I refused him.”

  Madame de Maitenon’s enthusiastic grin faded. She now lowered her chin in clear disapproval. “You refused him?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “Why?” Charlotte repeated. “Aside from the fact that you told me that I needed to maintain a sense of professionalism toward all your students? Perhaps it also has to do with what my husband did to me. I’ll not expose myself to harm. Which is why you cannot accept his application. You simply cannot.”

  A frown tugged at the woman’s lips. “Why can I not accept his application? It is my school. I can do whatever I please.”

  “Yes, I know, but I told him—thinking you would surely deny his ridiculous application—that if he was accepted into the school, I would personally call on you to ask for permission to involve myself with him. Which puts me in quite the dilemma.”

  Madame de Maitenon’s brows went up, her lips parting. She glanced at the application in her hand, then back up at Charlotte. “I see. And…you do not desire him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That is not the point. The man is only seeking sexual gratification.”

  “And that is a problem for you?”

  Why was she making this into more than it was? “Yes. As a matter of fact, it is a problem for me.”

  “Why? Is it because you are seeking marriage from him? I thought you were done with marriage.”

  Charlotte placed her hands on her hips, not in the least bit amused with the direction their conversation had taken. “I am done with marriage. But I still have a bit of respect for myself. I’ll have you know, that during our interview, Lord Hawksford admitted to bedding five women at once. Five. For all I know, I’d have to entertain more than just his lordship if I were to end up in his bed. And I am simply not that sort.” Realizing how utterly rude that must have sounded, she quickly added, “Not to offend you, of course.”

  Madame de Maitenon sighed rather dramatically and shook her head, her thick silver chignon wobbling from side to side. “I assure you, Lord Hawksford, though sometimes lacking in morals, is well worth your time. He will see to your pleasure, treat you beautifully, and when you both decide to part, there will be no complications. He prides himself on satisfying a woman completely.”

  So that was the look he had given her. Pride. How utterly grand.

  “If he wishes to pleasure you,” Madame de Maitenon went on, gesturing toward her, “allow yourself the freedom to take pride in it. Especially if you secretly desire it. After everything you have been through, you deserve as much. And as long as you do not involve your heart, chérie, it will be like drinking endless amounts of glorious champagne, but without the headache that usually comes with it in the morning.”

  Charlotte felt as though her throat was constricting. The woman was mad. Stark, raving mad. What sort of advice was that to give to another woman?

  As calmly as possible, for she knew if she allowed herself to give in to the hysteria of how she felt, she would be incapable of saying an intelligible word, Charlotte asked, “So you are going to accept his application? Despite my formal plea?” She hated how desperate she sounded, but the reality was, she was desperate. She didn’t want to face that man again. For she knew full well what it would lead to. And she was ruined enough!

  “Och, you do not understand, do you?” Madame de Maitenon went over to the chair placed in the middle of the room and set the application onto it before hurrying toward her with a look of genuine concern.

  The woman grasped Charlotte’s shoulders with both hands. “Why is it that men are allowed to seek out pleasure from us, yet we are not allowed to seek out pleasure from them? Although society chooses to purposefully destroy our pleasures using conventional means of guilt and religion, that does not mean we should accept it. Ask yourself this. Did you deny Lord Hawksford because of the prudishness instilled upon you by society? Or did you deny him because you did not find him attractive? There is a difference.”

  Charlotte’s chest squeezed as an odd sense of realization settled within her. The questions were simple at best. Ones she already had the answers to. But ones she had never truly taken the time to ask herself.

  “I denied him due to my prudishness,” she finally admitted in a broken whisper. “But foremost, Madame, I admit to fear. Surely you can understand my predicament. Chartwell took everything from me. My trust. My money. My dreams of ever having a family. And worst of all, he cost me the last moments I should have had with my mother.” Charlotte fought from releasing the tears that were now beginning to burn her eyes.

  “Which is why you cannot let him take anymore. Do not compare Chartwell to other men, chérie. It is too dangerous to your mind and to your heart. Not to mention your pleasure.” Madame de Maitenon’s voice was now a soft breath of a whisper. “I apologize, but I have no choice but to accept Lord Hawksford’s application. It involves an agreement I made with Lord Caldwell that I am not allowed to discuss. However, if my obligation to Lord Caldwell worries you, I can tell Lord Hawksford that there will be no rendezvous. Inform me if you feel otherwise. Now. I must bid you adieu. The pleasure room is in desperate need of more attention, and I have yet to find the right girls.” She shook her head. “Who knew a mere attic would be so complicated?”

  With that, Madame de Maitenon released her, turned and swept out of the room, heading toward the corridor and back to the school.

  Still in somewhat of a semi-philosophical daze, Charlotte slowly approached one of the Greek male statues before her, the one whose muscular arm held out the corset Alexander had given her.

  She fingered the smooth but stiff ends of the beautiful corset she had been unable to part with. A corset she had quietly donned on so many occasions in the confines of her bedroom. As a way of drawing him closer to her.

  Despite the way her marriage had ended, she had experienced physical pleasure at the hands of her husband and knew very well what was possible between a man and a woman.

  It wasn’t the pleasure, however, that she had sought. All she had truly ever wanted was the kind of genuine love her parents had once known. And a family of her own.

  Her mother had repeatedly warned her about Chartwell, had warned her of the rumors and his mistresses, yet his beautiful letters, the time he spent courting her, did not allow her foolish heart to see what he truly was until it was too late. And now that the man was gone, buried from both mind and sight, nothing stopped her from living the sort of life she truly wanted. And live it, she had sworn to herself, she would. In every possible way.

  So why was she hesitating? She supposed deep inside she knew why. Because she liked Alexander. More than she wanted to admit. Liked his charm. His wit. Admired how protective he was during times when he could have easily taken advantage of her.

  The man even conveniently came with five sisters and a mother. She could only imagine the sort of fun they always had as a family. The chatter, the laughter, and all the excitement that occurred from day to day.

  She sighed wistfully. Oh, to be part of a family again. A real family. It was something she’d always wanted with all her heart, but something she knew she would never be part of again. Ruined as she was. It was time to admit that her dreams needed to change and reflect the true realities at hand.

  Charlotte drew her hand away from the dangling corset and traced her gaze over each of her statues. Statues she had purchased as a playful nod to the School of Gallantry and a symbol of her triumph against a world of immovable, stonehearted men.

  She was no longer a naïve girl at a grave disadvantage. Unlike before, she understood the game. Understood what to expect and what not to expect from a man and could therefore orchestrate this entire situation in her f
avor.

  So. The Lord of Pleasure wanted to indulge in the offerings of her body, did he? Damn her own curiosity, but she actually wanted to know what that would entail.

  Charlotte hurried toward the parchment on the floor and snatched it up. She held it up before her, admiring Alexander’s full name.

  “Lord Hawksford,” she formally announced, her voice echoing around her. “Pleasure me. If you can.”

  Lesson Eight

  Congratulations. You have officially been accepted. The question is, is it what you had expected?

  —The School of Gallantry

  “Meeeeeeooowwww.”

  Alexander ignored the white, fluffy feline sitting on the edge of his oak desk and opened the leather-bound book on Roman history. At last. Uninterrupted quiet time for himself. He flipped toward the section he had last been reading. On weaponry.

  “Mrrrrreeeeooow.” The cat reached out and batted at the book in a clear protest that he was paying attention to it and not her.

  Women. Alexander eyed the cat that casually blinked back at him with large, innocent blue eyes. Fortunately, she was the only female bothering him at this particular moment. Though who knew how long that would last. He had snuck into the study two hours earlier than usual in the hope of catching up on some reading. “A little privacy, if you please?”

  This time the little tease bumped her furry head against his hand. And started purring. Clearly determined.

  Alexander leaned toward the cat, rubbing her affectionately behind the ears, and lowered his chin. “I’ll have you know, you furry petticoat, that if it weren’t for the Romans, you wouldn’t even be sitting on my desk. After all, they brought all of your ancestors over. Now show them a bit of respect and stop interrupting me.”

  The cat blinked, then lifted her paw and started licking the length of her limb. Showing him that respect was all a matter of opinion.