The Viscount's Pleasure House (Irresistible Aristocrats Book 1)

by Suzi Love

  At that moment, Justin pitied his intruder. There was something in her eyes, a weariness that matched his own, and for a split second she’d looked as weighed down with worry as he felt. As if, despite her head making a decision to leave, her body hadn’t agreed and kept her feet nailed to his floor. A lion cub hovering near the shelter of its den while it summoned up the courage to venture into the unknown. Nevertheless, her standoffish attitude had far out- lasted his small store of patience.

  He stepped closer and in reaction she moved back. As if remembering her reasons for coming, she shook her head and moved that same pace forward. Not as close as before, yet near enough to appear fearless. He sighed, and rubbed a fist across his aching eyes. “I’m fatigued, out of sorts, and my friends and I have business to conduct. Either join in, or leave.”

  He waved toward the door, hoping she’d walk out and leave him in peace, but also hoping, ridiculously, that she’d unveil, undress, and stay. Because something about this particular woman was different. Something about her stirred his first true sexual interest in many months.

  He smiled a little. “I’d still like to see a little more of you. I can’t even see the color of your hair.” He pointed toward her groin. “Top or bottom. Here, let me unbutton you,” he said, his fingers set to work on her top button, brushing the soft skin of her nape as he did so.

  She flinched and held tight to the gaping neck of her dress with clenched fists. “Please. Listen to me. I’m not seeking employment.”

  “Ah, then you’re simply a bitch in heat like all the others. Wanting a lusty tale to recount to your upper- class friends over tea and cake. Perhaps compare notes on Viscount Hawkesbury’s infamous prowess.”

  Her quick series of breaths hissed and sizzled like water spitting on hot coals. He heard the girls tut-tutting nearby, but taunting, teasing, and arousing the lioness who’d dared brave his den so late at night had proved too delicious a temptation to resist. Only one more jest at her expense and then he’d summon the butler and a couple of strong footmen, and bid her farewell.

  He turned, slowly and deliberately, and spoke to his two friends. “Gentlemen, which of you is capable of keeping your prick upright long enough to provide such a lusty lady with the thrill she so clearly came to my house seeking?”

  Justin knew that in their heightened state of inebriation, neither Bart nor Thomas would be capable of servicing any girl tonight. And the Virile Viscount had given up such jaunts. The only business he involved himself in now was the palace and even then he kept a very low profile. By next month, he’d no longer own that either. His pleasuring days were finished. Investing in the rapidly expanding railway tracks and steam engines was far more profitable, and respectable, for a man who hoped to bring his mother and sisters home to live with him.

  Thomas, red-faced, lurched to his feet. “I say, Justin, she seems like a lady.”

  “Thomas, you should know by now, on the outside they’re all ladies. However, underneath they all seek the same thing.”

  The woman flinched. Justin yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, and then collapsed back into his armchair. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he laughed. “My love, if you’ve better to show me than them, do as I’ve asked. Undress!”

  She muttered something that sounded like, “Rude swine.”

  He laughed and indicated the empty space on the chaise longue beside Bart. “If you’re suffering personal timidity, at least take a seat and watch. Give the girls your opinion on what tricks attract gentlemen the fastest. What do you do to entice a man?”

  Her hands fisted at her sides but she stood her ground. “I realize you’re amusing yourself at my expense, but I give you fair warning, my lord. If you continue with these childish taunts and force me to leave without letting me speak to you, in private, you’ll regret it later.”

  He pointed to the door. “And I’m also issuing a warning. Join in or leave. Perkins will show you out. I’ve run out of patience with the so- called weaker sex and the schemes and lies that women seem to delight in bringing to my door.”

  Bart spat out an uncouth curse while Thomas muttered under his breath, both scolding him for his rudeness. Disgust suddenly flooded Justin’s body and the heart he’d assumed was frozen in his chest clenched, hard. Despite being forced into unseemly money-making ventures, the three of them had vowed to remain, at heart at least, gentlemen. They all needed to take their places in society, which was why Justin never usually entertained this sort of female at his house. Too many watching neighbors and too many wagging tongues in this respectable neighborhood.

  Had he now passed the point of no return? Had the indecent acts he’d committed, all to either survive or earn his some of the ready, tainted his thinking to this extent? It terrified him that his morals were as lost as those idiots who assumed a title and riches gave a man leeway to be rude, arrogant, and even to inflict pain on those they considered inferior.

  He’d picked out this woman and had intended on using her as an example, encouraging her to pass along his message to the long line of societal whores who would continue to plague him. He wanted to stand in the street and scream and yell, “The Virile Viscount is finished!”

  Behavior such as his here showed the arrogance he’d always deplored. Rude attacks on a woman were despicable, and it was especially ill-bred of him to tease and taunt what he now suspected was a well-bred lady. But he’d underestimated the woman’s pluck, or perhaps her determination to make herself heard.

  “Be warned, my lord, I shall return. Tomorrow. Early. Very early. And if you refuse to speak with me, I’ll haunt your house until you are prepared to listen to me.”

  Her ferocious expression made him burst out laughing again. Bart wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and held out his hand to encourage the woman to take a seat on the thigh of the woman he still held.

  “I like her, Justin. Can I have her?”

  “Feel free, Bart. If you dare! Though I suspect Thomas is correct. I’ve come to the unwilling, and unfortunate, conclusion that she’s not here to audition for the Harem.”

  “Certainly not.” Her tone was icy. “I’m offering you an exchange. Your skill in tutoring my friends in return for information.”

  “Regrettably, my services are no longer for hire.”

  She inhaled so sharply he swore her ribs vibrated. Then she made her announcement. “If I leave this room, I’ll take with me what may be your last chance to see your mother. Alive, at any rate.”

  Justin felt the air suck out of the room. Movements ceased, breaths held, no one spoke. Every person in the room, including the courtesans, was aware of the reason he’d spent four years debasing himself before the wealthiest members of the ton. The reason he forced himself to get out of bed each day, to place one foot in front of the other and go through the rituals, the pretense of living a normal life. Why he arranged wild bedroom antics for women and men that he barely knew and certainly didn’t like or respect. His guilt festered like an open wound and the pain never lessened. His obsession was to locate his mother and two sisters, to bring them home, and try to make amends for his absence at the time his deranged father had evicted them.

  Unable to reply, he shook his head, robbed of coherent thought, unable to believe her declaration. Unable to convince himself it wasn’t another misery-causing lie. Unable to gather the energy to conclude his night’s business. Nothing mattered above the bait she dangled before his nose, the thing he yearned for more than any other—to bring his family back to him. This tiny despot had forced him into negotiating with her.

  “Bart, Thomas. I ask you to leave me to my visitor. Then I’m off to find my bed.”

  The busty redhead jumped to her feet, leaned her lush body down his side, and rubbed the enormous mounds of her breasts against his shirt. “Oh no, my handsome one. I made you a promise.” She grinned, exposing wide gaps in her teeth. “To please you all night, remember?”

  He pulled some coins from his pocket and pressed
them into her hand, calling Perkins as he did so. With a wet kiss to her pouty lips, he tugged together her gaping bodice. “Perkins, please see my guests out. Also, call the carriages to drive the girls to their lodgings. We’ll conclude our transactions tomorrow, when I’m more awake.”

  Amid good-natured ribbing and backslapping, his friends departed. The girls complained, disappointed not to have confirmation of their positions in his harem. Several made brazen offers, with lurid descriptions of their favored activities, if allowed to spend the night.

  With a husky laugh, a pat on a bottom, or a caress of a breast, he dispatched them, one by one.

  Chapter Two

  Justin leaned against his mantelpiece, stared down at the diminishing fire, and took stock. Ironic that when he reached out to touch his craved return to normal life, almost held it in his hands, something—or, rather, someone—arrived to shatter the fragile harmony. Women had tried to feed him the same falsehoods she offered too many times before, and always for the same reason. His gullibility astounded him, each and every time, but desperation invariably blanked out reason.

  “Why don’t you be a good girl and go? Just go!” he called over his shoulder. “And please, I beg you, tell your friends the Virile Viscount no longer exists.” When she didn’t move, he peered over his shoulder and saw her puzzled frown. “You, my dear, have obviously been in the country.”

  “How … how did you know that?”

  He laughed, a dry hollow sound. “If you’d visited any tonnish house in London during the past week, you’d have heard my comic situation discussed and know that some of my previous customers are incensed that I’ve announced my retirement.”

  When she gave him another uncomprehending look, he shook his head and sighed. “My overused sexual appendage hangs in my breeches as limply as a wrung out dishcloth and yet they expect me to continue in the time-honored profession of servicing the rich and perverted. You’re not the first to use devious means this week to gain entrance to my house. I’ve been inundated with women convinced their unique sexual talents will rouse the sleeping beast in my breeches. They want me to be the whore who panders to their perversions and satisfies their perverted appetites.”

  He glanced to the door where Perkins hovered, with Johnson visible outside, both ready to escort the woman to the street as soon as he lifted a finger. “Perkins, inform the lady of how many women—” He gave a harsh laugh. “And men— “ She exclaimed, sharp and loud, so she understood his reference. “— have thought to slip past you.” Perkins stepped from his darkened post into the light of the room and dipped his head. “Four and twenty, my lady.”

  “And how many of those intrepid souls gained admittance?” “None, my lord. None at all until now.” Perkins glanced at the lady with a look that appeared half- sneer and half-admiration.

  “Let this be a lesson to us, Perkins. We let down our guard.” He presented her with a low bow, an ironic gesture. “You caught us all off-footed. You alone breached our fortress. If I wore a hat, I’d tip it in salute to your fortitude. But now, I’m afraid I must ask my servants to remove you because the Virile Viscount has retired. And will remain so no matter what fairy tale about my mother you’d intended telling me. I’ve heard them all. I believe few.”

  Perkins walked to the sideboard to pour him another brandy, though one more glass wouldn’t dull the spark of interest he’d felt at her subtle scent … and at the throaty timbre of her voice. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the tiniest flicker of interest in resuming his sex life. When a hand touched the small of his back, he jumped. A light touch, yet even through his velvet evening coat, it jolted. He stiffened, but didn’t turn.

  “Perkins, please escort the lady to her carriage.”

  “I’m not leaving. Not until you agree to my proposal.”

  Her demeanor was determined and, dare he think it, passionate, but he wasn’t going down that path. Not again. No, no, no. Never again. Before he could disagree, she slipped around him and stood under his chin. Her billowing clothing pressed so close that he smelled the same violet scent on her person as had clung to his mother’s gowns. He closed his eyes, willing her to be gone when he reopened them. From under his nose, he heard her chuckle.

  “I’ll still be standing here when you open them.”

  He lifted his eyelids slowly, resigned to removing the pesky woman by force. Perkins hovered at his elbow, flustered, out of his depth. Not his normal display of proficiency. The lady placed her small gloved hand on his sleeve and looked up, although he could still discern nothing of her face through the lace.

  “Please, I only need five minutes.”

  Justin raised his eyebrows to show sardonic amusement. “Madam, you certainly must be from the country to assume that five minutes with the Virile Viscount would be enough to satisfy you. I’m good. I’m very good. But I refuse to be that rushed.”

  Her hand dropped as if burned. “This isn’t a jest, my lord. I have a serious proposition to discuss with you.”

  He paused, intrigued despite himself. His world-weariness had dipped to new lows if a five-minute discussion with a woman of nondescript appearance sounded an enticing prospect.

  “Very well. You’ve five minutes in which to entertain me.”

  Crossing back to his favorite armchair before the fire and disregarding manners, he sat. He waved a lazy hand toward the matching chair, then leaned back. Good manners dictated a gentleman never seated himself before a lady. It also dictated that a bachelor ‘s library shouldn’t be invaded after midnight by unknown women.

  From under half-closed lids, he observed her jerky body movements and considered her long moments of vacillation. Decision made, his unwanted visitor perched on the chair ‘s edge and spread her skirts. The unconscious gesture reinforced his impression that she mixed in the highest echelons of society.

  “You may wait at the door, Perkins. The lady shall leave in five minutes.”

  Glancing at her again, he noted the precise way she sat, feet placed together and spine as rigid as his brass fire poker. Her whole appearance was far too upright—almost uptight—to be one of the indolent and immoral women of higher society that he despised in secret.

  He fixed her with his fiercest lordly gaze, designed to make her squirm in her seat. The irritating woman neither moved a muscle nor rushed to fill the silence, as many women felt the need to do. His fingers clenched hard around his glass until he feared it would break while he tried to outwait her. Impossible woman. He broke the silence himself.

  “Please, go ahead. You’ve only four minutes remaining. No, no, stop!” He held up a hand to her. “I refuse to discuss any sort of proposition without knowing who you are.”

  “That is not necessary.”

  He smiled a predatory grin. “Oh, but it is. My reputation may have mislead you to think that I’m indiscriminate in the women I befriend—”

  “Nor, my lord, do we need to become friends to meet the terms of my proposal.”

  “Nevertheless, you’ll remove your veils before we go any further.”

  “No. I told you it’s not necess— “

  “Very well.” He pushed to his feet. “Perkins, we’re finished here.” She muttered something under her breath that wasn’t at all ladylike. “P-pardon me?” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Did I hear you repeat a favorite seamen’s curse? Tut, tut, my dear. Shame on you.”

  Her breath blew out in a loud rush. She hesitated, then reached up to the ends of her veil. With the slow precision of an experienced whore exposing herself in an East End brothel, she peeled back the remaining layer of black lace and chiffon to reveal her face.

  Damnation! What had he done? His breath caught as a rush of lust and longing swamped him, one he’d not experienced in a very long time. He absently rubbed at the ache in the middle of his chest. No, she didn’t have the cherubic prettiness of a seventeen-year-old blond and blue-eyed chit just blossoming into womanhood. Nor was his widow what fashion dictated as o
f the first stare because, at present, that leaned to women with hourglass figures. Women petite enough to make a man feel like a true male, a protector.

  Instead, when she’d looked up at him, she’d tilted her head scant inches to meet his eyes. No fragile fairy, then. Plenty of women seemed either threatened by his above- average size, or alternatively titillated by the thought. Belief in the old adage of large feet and large hands leading to large other parts encouraged many women to make advances to test the theory. He guessed her age to be around his own, a tad over thirty years, give or take a year or two, but her clothing made it hard to decipher. She could be older than him by a few years, which would mean edging toward forty years and what the older generation called the mature years.

  Yet, something about this woman snared his attention with an intensity that shocked him. If being unkind, her hair would be described as plain brown. But, strangely, he considered it anything but ordinary, with streaks of auburn throwing up gleaming red glints in the firelight.

  His own dark eyes matched his near black hair and while hers were also dark, they were different, so very different to his. Where his inclined to the blackest of nights, hers glowed brown like sunsets, with luminescent rings of green and gold that matched the glinting sparks from her hair. The combination robbed him of breath.

  No, no, no! He shook his head. He only noticed because of late he’d stopped looking at the array of morsels dangled before him. Redheads with green eyes, dark- haired gypsies, and other exotic combinations of coloring he used to enjoy. Swallowing hard, twice, he tried to recover his voice.

  “I’m afraid you have me at the disadvantage. I cannot remember if, or where, we might have met.”

  She looked away and then back at him. “You were correct. I’m only recently arrived from the country.”

  “Which part of the country would that be exactly?”

  Her brown brows nearly met in the middle of her forehead when she frowned so deeply, her irritation evident. Rousing this woman was a delight.