by Jenna Jaxon
“Whoa there, lad.” Jack looked up and into the sleepy eyes of an enchantingly exotic looking black-haired woman following in the boy’s wake. He swallowed hard.
“Here she is, milord. This is Jenny. She’s in charge when the madame’s away.”
The fair-skinned woman smiled, a slow, sultry movement of her lips that stopped Jack’s breath. Her blue oriental silk brocade robe, tied very loosely and so slipping from her shoulder, revealed an expanse of pale white skin that sent a throb of lust to his groin.
“Willie tells me you want an appointment this afternoon.” The high, sweet pitch of her voice fell as pleasantly on Jack’s ears as any siren’s song.
“I…I’d been told to ask for Madame Vestry,” Jack whispered, then cleared his throat. “At the Marquess of Dalbury’s suggestion.” Perhaps this woman would do as well as Vestry. The stirring in his cock certainly persuaded him so.
“Oooh, one o’ the special coves, he is,” Willie piped up.
“Shut yer gob, Willie.” The cook grabbed the waif by the arm. “Come in here and leave them be, or you’ll get sacked for sure.” They darted into a doorway to the left, leaving Jack’s full attention on the temptress before him.
Tall, with a lusciously curved body, Jenny was at once a beautiful woman and a dangerous predator. Her gaze took him in head to boot, assessing at a glance his appearance and his pocketbook. “What can I do for you, my lord?”
“I need…” He glanced around, very aware of the silent couple in the kitchen, probably hanging on his every word.
“Privacy, first of all.” Smiling indulgently, Jenny motioned him to follow her down the corridor. “I can assure you of my discretion, my lord. If you are one of Amorina’s special customers, your identity is safe here.” She indicated an open doorway and Jack stepped into a light blue room, furnished sparely with the bare necessities for the house: a chair, a wash stand, and a massive, looming bed.
The fire had burned to ashes, giving the room a dead, smoky smell. But Jenny stooped, stirred the ashes, and in minutes had a fire crackling in the grate. “Please have a seat, my lord.”
The only chair was wide and armless, covered in well worn, blue and cream brocade. He sat gingerly, suddenly uncomfortably aware of all the other men who had sat in that very spot.
From beneath the washstand, Jenny brought out a bowl of water and set it atop the stand. Several long, flat, white objects floated there.
Puzzled, Jack peered first at them, then at Jenny.
“French letters, my lord. If you wish to avail yourself of them.”
Christ. Dalbury had told him about these and their ability to spare him from the pox. He stared silently at Jenny, who smiled back. “What pleasure may I give you this afternoon, my lord?” Her full red lips fell into a pretty pout. “I know Amorina’s special customers often have special tastes.” She pulled the tie of her robe and the garment slipped from her shoulders to the floor, leaving the woman completely naked before him.
Her soft, smooth body glowed with the pale light of afternoon sun streaming into the room. Large, round breasts with extremely dark nipples jutted at him, the tips pert in the cool air.
The stirring below became a hard reality. His shaft strained against his breeches, pulsing with each beat of his heart. His gaze strayed lower, over rounded hips and smooth stomach, to her navel. Breathing harder than before, Jack stared at the little indentation. What would it be like to slide his tongue into that tiny cup? The ache in his groin increased.
At last he allowed his gaze to slide down to the downy black triangle of curls covering the apex of her thighs. He licked his lips and her long, shapely legs opened invitingly.
“Would you like to taste me?”
* * * *
The clock on the mantel chimed two o’clock as Alethea poured more tea for herself and Violet, Lady Trevor. For the past hour, they had talked and talked, each with a story to tell. Alethea had blanched at her friend’s tale of desperation, how she had met Lord Trevor, and their rocky and scandalous road to marital bliss.
“I assure you, my dear,” Alethea said, handing her another cup of tea, “you would have been more than welcome at Braeton’s had I known the straits to which you had been reduced. Why did you not contact me?”
Her friend blushed and sipped her tea. “I returned from the house party in Kent at the end of August to find myself destitute, out in the street with only one bag of belongings. I had no way of contacting you in Kent, nor any way to know when you would return to London.” Violet set her cup down, head lowered.
“Still, my dear, you should never have been put in such a position of need. I do wish I could have helped you.” Although her aid might not have been possible. She’d been in Hertfordshire since September and the Hunt Ball. The Braetons hadn’t returned to Town until the beginning of December.
“I know I was wrong not to do so, Alethea, but I felt so inadequate by then. So utterly hopeless that I saw it as my punishment for being unable to secure a husband.” Violet gave a little rueful laugh. “And what did I do, but find a husband there.”
“The workings of fate are sometimes strange,” Alethea agreed, thinking of Jack.
“Yes. I am convinced had I not gone to Madame Vestry I would not have found the love of my life.”
“I am certain he is perfect for you in every way, Violet. One only has to see how well you look, blooming I would say, to see you are happiness itself.” Indeed, her friend was more in looks than Alethea had ever seen her. Her glossy chestnut hair was swept up in the latest style. The purple and green print gown she wore the latest fashion. In fact her overall attitude had altered from shy and retiring into a poised, confident, bubbling, young woman transformed by the love of one remarkable man.
“Well, my circumstances have surely changed me, my dear, but that is not the only thing to account for my current joy.” She set her cup down and grasped Alethea’s hands. “There is an additional reason for my happiness.”
Gripping her friend’s hands, Alethea braced herself for the news she was sure would be forthcoming. No young bride was ever more eager than when she could announce these particular glad tidings. One that Alethea would never enjoy if her husband continued to refuse her bed. “What is it?”
“I am increasing.” Violet squeezed her hands then let her go and embraced her. “I am almost certain of it. We have only been married since the middle of January, so it must have happened quite quickly.”
“Yes, it sounds as if it must. Of course, it only takes once, sometimes.” Alethea looked away, hiding tears.
“Alethea, what is wrong? Are you not happy for me?” The smiles that had wreathed her friend’s face slowly dissolved.
“Yes, my dear, of course I am happy—wildly happy for you and Lord Trevor. You have been through so much you truly deserve this most blessed of events.” Much as she fought against them, tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Alethea, what is it? Do not cry.” Hugging her fiercely, Violet settled beside her onto the chaise. “You will find this same happiness as soon as you and dear Lord Manning—”
“That is the problem, Violet,” Alethea wailed, unable to stop herself. “I may never be able to have Lord Manning’s child.”
Gathering her friend into her arms, Violet rocked her back and forth, murmuring and soothing her. “Why would you say such a thing, Alethea? You have been married only a little longer than I have. Sometimes I understand it takes a while for it to happen.”
Forcing herself to stop sobbing and catch her breath, Alethea sat back, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Two very good reasons. First, a little over six weeks ago I lost a child.”
Violet’s face froze, horror in her wide eyes. “Oh, Alethea. I am so very sorry. How unspeakably devastating for you.”
“It was God’s will and perhaps a punishment because the child was not Lord Manning’s.” Alethea met Viole
t’s now shocked face, brows raised, jaw slack. “I, too, have had a hard time of it this past autumn.”
Pushing onward, she told her friend everything to do with her folly, her indiscretion, and her proposal to Jack. “He shouldn’t even be married to me, Violet. He should be married to you.”
“Yes. Lord Trevor informed me of your marriage to Lord Manning shortly after we were married. I believe Dalbury told him when he came for the wedding and the duel.”
“A wedding and a duel? My goodness, Violet. How did you bear the fear during the duel?” Alethea shuddered to think of it.
“I was there for some of it. Fortunately it turned out well for my husband. Not so well for his opponent.” A smile lit her face.
“Lord Trevor killed him?” Jack had not informed her about the results of the duel she’d made him miss.
“No, but he lies very ill of his wounds and may yet die.” Her friend shook out her skirts and settled on the chaise again. “I would not cry many tears if he did not recover.” She patted Alethea’s hands. “We are married to men who value honor above all. Much as I hate to say it, I doubt this will be Lord Trevor’s last duel. So we wives must bear the strain as best we can.”
“I pray I will not have to bear that particular load.” If she could only keep her seducer’s name a secret, she likely would not have to.
“But as for my marrying Lord Manning, as you suggested, I was glad when he told me there was an impediment to the scheme.” Violet gazed into the fire with unseeing eyes. “I truly loved Lord Trevor and did not wish to wed anyone but him. If his betrothal had not been broken, I doubt I could have brought myself to marry another man. I am so happy that you have married Lord Manning, Alethea. I remember the regard you had for him all during the Season.”
Alethea chuckled. “At the time I proposed to him, I thought him false, telling me he was betrothed only as an excuse to refuse me.” Always an honorable man. How could she have doubted him?
“Oh, no. We were engaged for all of about thirteen hours.” Violet laughed, causing Alethea join in with her. “I assure you, you need have no fear of me. I fell in love with Lord Trevor almost from the moment we met. I believe Lord Manning realized this and decided to champion you instead. He loves you.”
The moment of happiness turned to sand in the blink of an eye. “I fear not, Violet. That is the second reason I do not believe I shall ever bear his child. He won’t…he will not come to my bed.”
“What?” Violet jerked upright. “You’ve been married how long and he hasn’t touched you?”
“Three months. We married the day after the new year.”
“And you haven’t…not at all?”
“Not once.” Alethea burst into tears. How humiliating to have to admit this to her friend. “We speak and flirt and sometimes he looks at me so longingly, but whenever I approach him, he shies away. We kissed last night.”
“And?”
“We set the table afire.”
“Goodness!” Violet’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “And then what happened?”
“Nothing. He escorted me to my chamber.”
“Well, there seems to be more than a spark between you. Perhaps he just needs a little more encouragement. Hmmm.” Raising her cup again to her lips, Violet furrowed her brows.
Alethea blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She despised watering pots and refused to become one.
“Have you heard of Madame Angelique, the mantua maker?” Violet slid closer to her friend.
“No. Eithne and I use Mademoiselle Carlotta in George Street.” Alethea poured them more tea, though the pot had grown cold.
“Then come with me to Fleet Street.” Violet rose, determination in every line of her.
“Is she the modiste I have heard makes the most scandalous creations?” She had heard of this woman before.
“Yes, so you must come straight away with me.” Clasping her hands around Alethea’s, Violet tugged her off the chaise. “For special customers, Madame Angelique has a collection of very beautiful, very wicked nightgowns.”
“And you are a special customer?”
“My husband is.” Violet’s smile spoke of how special he was. “He was not always a saint when it came to women, but I have reaped the benefit of his sin in many different ways.” She giggled. “Come. We will visit madame this afternoon and you must bring home one of these scandalous creations for Lord Manning to see. If that does not get a rise out of him, he must be dead to the world.”
Both women went off into peals of laughter.
“Do you have one of these creations, Violet?” Alethea couldn’t help but ask.
“Four.” She smiled as they made their way out of the drawing room.
“Four? Why so many?” Anticipation to see what must surely be very indecent garments swelled.
“One for each week of the month,” Violet said, a twinkle in her eyes. “Tristan likes variety, he says. And I do believe the one for week three, the blue and green gown, helped get me with child.” Her grin widened.
“Then I can only hope Madame Angelique can make another one in my size. You are quite a bit shorter than I am, Violet.” If this was what it took to get Jack in her bedroom, she’d wear the gown halfway up her shins.
That set Violet off into fresh peals of laughter. “The point of these gowns is to uncover as much as possible while still hiding the essential parts of a woman’s body. You could wear mine, if Tris hadn’t ripped it to shreds already.”
Gaping at her friend, Alethea stood a moment to collect herself, then grabbed Violet’s arm and started down the stairs. “Pray to God Madame Angelique has more blue and green fabric.”
Chapter 22
“If this confection does not entice madame’s husband into her bed, I will close my shop and become a street sweeper.” Madame Angelique finished tying up the parcel with string and gave it a loving pat. “This one is my best design. I have heard nothing but compliments from satisfied customers and their lovers.”
Alethea took the box from the modiste, trying not to blush and failing miserably. She and Violet had spent over an hour trying on the scandalous nightwear. Violet had been absolutely correct. The garment covered what was necessary and only what was necessary, barely hiding anything at all. Afterward, her chemise felt like a suit of armor. “Thank you so much, Madame. I hope I will join the ranks of those customers very soon.”
“Tonight, did you not say, Lady Manning?” Violet cocked her head expectantly.
“Perhaps tonight.” If she could get up the courage to actually wear this before her husband.
“Then all is well, madame.” Angelique smiled as she opened the door for them.
“Lady Trevor!” The astonished look on Lord Trevor’s handsome face made her giggle. “What are you doing here? I thought you were out to lunch with—” His gaze swept past his wife to Alethea. “Good afternoon, Lady Manning.” He bowed, but his gaze remained hungrily on his wife. “I had no idea you were going shopping, my dear. Now you have spoiled my surprise.”
“Your surprise, Trevor?” Violet’s eyebrows arched as she stepped closer to her husband. “What kind of surprise would that be?”
A flicker of fire in his deep blue eyes told Alethea the kind without a doubt.
“I came to pick up one of those gowns you love to wear so much.” The flicker grew to a flame. “Madame Angelique assures me there is a new color that will delight us both.”
The shop had become incredibly hot in the span of minutes since Lord Trevor had arrived. Violet’s cheeks bloomed like roses in the springtime and Alethea wished for a cold downpour to commence immediately to quench the fire in her face. Lord Trevor surely spoke of one of the gowns she now held in her hand, hidden only by the brown paper with which it was wrapped.
“Well, my dear.” Violet turned back to Madame Angelique’s counter, the others crowding a
round her. “I am sorry to have spoiled your fun, but I simply had to introduce Lady Manning to Madame Angelique. She has been ordering—”
“A new gown, my lord,” Alethea said. “Last evening Lord Manning and I were discussing an entertainment we wished to give during the early part of the Season. I wanted to order my gown well in advance of the crush.”
“And you found something else while you were here?” With a mischievous smile Lord Trevor nodded to the parcel in her hand.
Oh, how she wanted to die on the spot. The man had to know what lay within the crackling brown paper.
“A fichu, my lord.” Blessedly, her friend rushed to her rescue. “Lady Manning saw the most elegant fichu. Perfect for her vermillion and gold gown, wasn’t it my dear?”
“Yes, the very gown.” Relief swept through Alethea, although she feared her cheeks were still pink.
Violet gave Lord Trevor an arch look. “You of all people know you should strike while the iron is hot. That beautiful object might not be here tomorrow.”
Her husband seemed to sober a bit, then ran a finger along her cheek. “Minx. So will you stay and try on your new gown, since I have no other surprise for you?”
“Lady Manning,” Violet began, but Alethea held up her hand, even as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders.
“Please, Lady Trevor. My carriage is just outside. Stay with Lord Trevor. I wouldn’t want all of his surprise to be spoiled.”
Eyes sparkling, Violet bussed her friend’s cheeks. “Thank you, Alethea. We shall meet as soon as we can and you must tell me of your success.”
“You as well,” Alethea whispered back, stealing a glance at Lord Trevor’s smug smile. “I hope I have as much success as you.” She straightened, bowed to Lord Trevor, and left Madame Angelique’s breathing a sigh of relief.
Not two feet from the curb, her carriage waited. She clambered toward it, package firmly in hand. “James, take this for me.” She thrust the precious parcel into the footman’s hands then turned back toward the shop across the alley from Madame Angelique’s, a draper she had not used before. She’d never shopped in the Covent Garden area either. Eithne deemed it too dangerous, but if Violet gave these shops her custom, it couldn’t be very bad.
