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

by Suzi Love

  “ … ‘splained to me … I didn’t know, of course, being a man and all … well, would you? Would any gentleman?”

  “Would any gentleman know what?”

  Edward regarded Justin with that same expectation of a quicker mind than his being able to explain it to him in a broken down and simpler form, as he’d done many times in their university days. He peered at Justin.

  “Well, yes, bother it, maybe you do. With your experiences, with things you arrange and all. Games, nights. Things … “ He waved a hand vaguely in the air.

  Justin understood his gesture to mean the Pleasure House and all that encompassed. He shouldn’t be surprised that even Edward, honorable Edward, had heard word of what happened at his country estate since Edward’s return to London and his frequenting of the lower class of clubs. Few people however, apart from his closest friends, knew of his close involvement with the Harem in the city.

  Justin gave the other man an encouraging smile, hoping he would continue his confidences. “And what is it that I might possibly know, but that you did not?”

  “Well, that gently bred women, like my dear wife, don’t welcome the attentions of a husband, in the bedroom I mean, for at least… two long years … after a woman carries a baby. Simply not done, apparently.”

  “So how did your knowledgeable mother-in-law explain the large number of titled families who’ve a string of children who are all a bare nine months apart in ages?”

  Edward frowned. “I … ah.

  Damn! I’ve no idea. Perhaps those gentlemen force their attentions upon their spouses whether they’re welcomed or not.”

  “Or perhaps those gentlemen don’t have mother-in-laws who rule their households.”

  “Do you think that perhaps Gillian’s mother was stretching the truth a little?”

  “I am sure of it.”

  “It did occur to me that with me away in London, it was easier for her to assume control of my household.”

  “Then it is probably time, Edward, for you to assert yourself and let Gillian, and her mother, know who is the earl.”

  “You’re right, my friend. And I do miss Gillian … sooo much. I shall make a note to return home on the morrow.”

  “I need you to do something for me first. Something that I’m convinced will help save your marriage.”

  “Justin, my boy, I would do anything to regain Gillian’s respect. The last time I returned home, I feared that she disliked me somehow, perhaps even hated me. And I didn’t understand why.”

  “Christ, you ninny. She thinks you’ve a mistress in London.”

  “A mistress? Why on earth would she think that?”

  Justin groaned in frustration. “Because, my friend,” he said succinctly, “you haven’t shared a bed with your wife since your child was born. Is that correct?”

  “Well, there was one time. But … very next day, Gillian’s mother seemed to know all about it. Berated me in a sound manner … like a schoolboy, and in front of Gillian … and her own husband … until I felt like the biggest cad in all of England.”

  “Because you’ve avoided her ever since, and because you run off to London constantly, Gillian thinks you have tired of her company. She thinks you have found another woman.”

  Suddenly, Edward’s gaze narrowed on Justin. “How do you know this?”

  “I told you, I spoke to Gillian this morning.”

  “No, no, she’s in the country.” Justin dropped his head into his hands and groaned again. “Saints preserve me from drunken country idiots.” He thought for a moment, searching for a solution. “Fine, Edward. I see the best way to solve this is to show you what your wife has been driven to in her desperation to win you back.”

  “I don’t understand. Win me back from what?”

  “Your mistress.”

  “I don’t have a mistress.” “There’s no point in telling me that. You need to convince Gillian of that truth. Tonight.”

  “Tonight,” Edward parroted, like a child repeating a story he didn’t comprehend.

  “Yes, but first you’re coming home with me. To bathe and shave. To clean yourself up. And then you’re attending a brothel.”

  “Me? I can’t go to a brothel. I’m a married man. Whatever would Gillian say if she found out?”

  “Don’t worry. This particular brothel encourages the wearing of masks. Nobody will recognize you. Although, you may recognize someone you know.”

  “Oh, and who is that?”

  “Your countess.”

  Edward snorted. “No, no, impossible. She’s at our country house, with my beautiful baby. And, her not-so-beautiful mother. Bit of a harpy, that one.”

  Justin groaned. Holding a sensible conversation with an inebriated man was impossible. Far easier to scoop Edward up, plunk him down in the carriage, and deliver him into Perkins’s capable hands. At ten tonight, he’d hand him over to his wife and they could be tearfully reconciled.

  And Justin’s duty would be absolved. To one of the ladies, at least.

  After a ridiculous amount of maneuvering, he managed to deliver Edward to his town house and, with a huge sigh of relief, leave him in the care of his staff.

  Several hours later, Edward sauntered into Justin’s dining room looking like a different man. A few hours sleep, the care of a good valet, and a day without guzzling liquor had returned his friend to his normal good humor.

  Justin waved him to a chair and indicated to the waiting servant to serve the soup. He waited until Edward’s belly was full of good food and his mood mellow before returning to the pressing subject of his wayward wife. He needed Edward to realize the urgency of the situation, yet he sympathized with Gillian. Her husband hadn’t shown enough gumption to stand up to his mother-in-law, but had chosen the easy path and deserted her. Because of Edward’s cowardice, well-meant or not, he wasn’t inclined to let him off the hook lightly.

  “Edward, do you recall our earlier conversation?”

  “Yes, well, head a bit fuddled, don’t you know, but I could’ve sworn we were discussing Gillian. My wife. Then, during my bath, which was just the ticket by the way, thank you for that, and thanks to your thoughtful staff. Well trained lot, they are.”

  “Christ, Edward, you’re going off on another side track again. Please concentrate. What I need to talk to you about is important. Soon you and I are going to the Sultan’s Palace.”

  “Oh, no, no, Justin. Couldn’t do that. If you’ve a need to visit those sort of places, and I can understand, mind you, having been deprived of my own bed enough recently, to know how frustrating it can be, wanting a woman I mean, but for a man like me, a married man—”

  “Stop!” Justin snapped, then instantly regretted it.

  Poor harmless Edward didn’t deserve to be yelled at, bless him, although his rambling chatter, which had worsened considerably since his marriage, would drive a man to drink. “Edward, when you’re at home, do you talk this much?”

  “Heavens, no.” Edward seemed stunned at the idea. “Hard to get a word into any conversation of late.” He heaved a deep sigh.

  Justin’s earlier sympathy for Gillian evaporated and his sympathy swung firmly back to Edward’s side of the war. “Well, my friend, I may have a solution to your problem.” As Edward opened his mouth, Justin held up a hand. “But you must do exactly as I say, no dispute, and no questions.”

  “But … but how can I promise such a thing if you expect me to visit, to … to indulge myself with women? A woman. At that place. I’ve heard of the Sultan’s Palace and it’s not my sort of … Well, I couldn’t do any of those things with a woman who isn’t my wife.”

  Justin rolled his eyes. “That, you imbecile, is the point I’ve been trying to make all day long. Your wife will be there, at the Sultan’s Palace.”

  “Ridiculous! As if my countess would visit a city brothel. Balls and musicals are much more her thing, don’t you know?”

  Smothering his groan of frustration, Justin spent the next half hour explaini
ng to Edward why his countess wasn’t in the country under the thumb of her dictatorial mother.

  “So, tonight your wife and her two friends will attend the Sultan’s Palace, in disguise, and accompanied by me. You shall be there wearing a costume.”

  “No, can’t possibly allow such a thing. My Gillian will observe things far, far too shocking for a woman of her sensibilities.”

  Justin clenched his fists and pushed back his frustration. “Far from being shocked, I envision Gillian lapping up every sight and sound as hungrily as the stable cat with a dish of cream. You’ve underestimated your wife and consequently she’s grown restless with her confinement.” As he lectured Edward, he realized he sounded more like a father than a friend. “It was only a matter of time until she rebelled, so thank your lucky stars providence brought her to my door first. Before she decided to experiment with any of the young bucks around town, ones always willing to accommodate bored wives whose husbands spend their time and money on mistresses—”

  “Haven’t taken—”

  “—or whose husbands abandon them in the country for long stretches, leaving them to imagine the worst.”

  A red flush crept up Edward’s neck and spread over his pale face. Ah. He mightn’t have taken a mistress, or visited a brothel, but it would’ve only been a matter of time for Edward as well as Gillian. One of his naïve friend’s new acquaintances would’ve dragged him along one night when he’d imbibed too much and tempted him with all sorts of new delights.

  “Should I reveal myself to Gillian at the end of the night?”

  “If she shows interest in sampling the wares at the Sultan’s Palace, perhaps you should make yourself available to become her slave for the night.”

  “Me? Her slave? I thought the Sultan’s Palace catered to men wanting women for slaves.”

  Justin shrugged. “It caters to all tastes, to every whim and fantasy known to man or woman. You’d have done better, Edward, to stay at home and ask your good wife what she’d like to see happen in your marital bedchamber. You might have been pleasantly surprised.”

  “Wouldn’t mind if she did surprise me you know, old boy. One of the reasons I am forced to leave so often … “ The earl studied his boots and didn’t look Justin in the eye. “ … is if I stay at home all the time … I feel compelled by urges… and compelled often … to drag my wife to the bedchamber.” He swallowed and looked embarrassed. “To … to ravage her. The way I did when we were first married. She seemed to enjoy it then, you know.”

  “Edward, this may come as a big shock to your sensibilities, but most women adore sex. As much of it as they can get. I think the countess is not sleep-deprived or in ill health so much as suffering a large dose of unfulfilled lust. And sick to death of waiting for you to do something about it.”

  “The mother-in-law, she told me, you know, that I have an heir. So it is the gentlemanly thing to do to wait a little before conceiving the spare.”

  Justin groaned and yelled at the ceiling once more. “Why me? Do I truly deserve this?”

  While giving a few friendly thumps to Edward’s broad shoulder, Justin searched for a way to phrase his information as best he could so his misguided friend didn’t take offense.

  “Edward, another shock awaits you. Men and women go to bed with each other for a lot more than conceiving. Women think about a lot more than offspring to carry on their husband’s family names and titles.”

  Edward raised surprised eyes to his. “You mean …” He swallowed. “Do you think high-

  born women like my Gillian actually enjoy fickey-fick … the way men do?”

  Justin groaned and shook his head. “Not if you refer to sex by a greenhorn’s term such as fickey- fick. And please don’t say swiving. Or coupling.” He thrust his hands into his already ruffled hair. “Women, women like your Gillian, they like to think of making love. Each and every time. Your mother-in-law may believe it nothing more than conjugal rites, but your Gillian needs passion. What names would you and the countess be comfortable with? Erotic congress? Bed sports? Or even a rollicking-good ploughing. But talk to your wife, woo her, seduce her.”

  Edward stared at him. “Is that how you do it, Hawkesbury? Rouse passion in all those women you collect like hen’s eggs?”

  “Huh. I needn’t assert myself at all with those women who chase me, but sit back and go along for the cart ride.”

  “So isn’t there anyone you’d like to woo, or to seduce, instead of … ploughing?”

  Chrissie’s image popped into his mind. She’d been the only woman to arouse even the slightest interest in resuming his former life. And now he desperately wanted to plunge inside a woman’s tight crevices and savor the heat, the smells, and the wet welcome women gave him. He nodded.

  “There is one. Just one. Someone I’ve only just made the acquaintance of. Someone so far above me she wouldn’t consider sharing my bed for any reason. Be it lust or passion or … or love.”

  “What? You mean she possesses bluer blood than you? With all your new titles.”

  “No, I don’t mean she’s above me in that way. Rather, in her goodness, and the purity of her heart and thoughts.” He gave a dry snort of laughter. “My presence in her life would sully every fine and decent thing about her.”

  He turned to leave the room and make plans for the forthcoming evening, then stopped and sighed. “No matter how much I wish it could be different. No, the noblest thing I can do for this magnificent lady is to stay away. Well, well away.

  Chapter Five

  Later that evening, the Viscount of Hawkesbury drew up in his immaculate town carriage before the house of Lady Wellsby and he alighted with a quick step. He chuckled to himself, accepting this strange feeling, this lightness of spirit, as anticipation—something absent from his life for quite some time.

  The forthcoming evening promised to be adventuresome, if nothing else. His friends, Bartholomew and Thomas, waited in the carriage, having been coerced into accompanying them to provide extra escort and protection for the ladies.

  Before he could knock, the door swung open and the butler admitted him. The three ladies clustered together in the foyer covered in identical dark cloaks and, without saying a word, pulled up their hoods to cover their hair and accepted the masks the butler proffered.

  Interesting. Obviously they’d plotted the best way to proceed for the night and had decided amongst themselves, rather than fight his decree, that they’d take the path of least resistance. And while treading that path, they’d ensure their identities were well protected behind cloaks and masks.

  At the Sultan’s Palace, Justin’s driver drew around to the back lane where he habitually let Justin alight. By slipping in his normal back door entrance, the three men managed to smuggle the three ladies inside without being observed. Most of the illicit deeds took place in the front parlor where gentlemen, or ladies, were admitted and asked their preferences for the evening’s entertainment.

  “Ladies, if you will follow me. As I explained, we’ll observe each of the separate rooms of the palace tonight to acquaint you with the style of entertainments I used to provide at the Pleasure House.”

  “The sort of entertainments you will again be providing during our visit, you mean,” Chrissie said, her sweet smile belying the warning behind the words.

  He dipped his head enough to hide his small smile at Chrissie’s continued attempts to outwit him. “Perhaps we should reserve judgment until after this evening.”

  Chrissie chuckled, the rumbling sound in her throat sounding like the grateful purr of a well-fed kitchen cat and sending his thoughts straight back to silk sheets and the noises she would make when he laid her out upon them. When he pleasured her until she purred with gratitude. When she rolled toward him to beg for more, and more.

  “If you still think to shock us into retreating, you grossly misjudge our fortitude.” She waved toward the narrow hallway leading to steep dark steps. “Please, lead on. We are eager to begin.”

&nb
sp; Justin swallowed down his annoyance. Surely he’d not underestimated her. Surely this show of courage couldn’t last much longer. He and the other men simply needed to stand strong, ruthless.

  “You’ll be able to see through holes cut into the walls of some rooms to watch what happens within. But be warned, when we reach the Bath House I’m afraid in order to view the performances, you must disrobe and wear a costume. The same as everyone else.”

  “I say,” Thomas objected, “you cannot expect a gentle miss like Miss Anna to disrobe. ‘Tis just not done.”

  Justin hid his smile. Thomas’s eyes followed every move Miss Anna made, his fascination with the young lady already quite evident. Ah, yes! The two of them would suit nicely. Everything ran exactly to his plan. Well, everything except Chrissie’s contrary attitude. Still, he’d been managing women for the past several years with ease.

  How hard could it be to change the mind of one lady, one slightly difficult lady to be truthful, but still, merely one lady? For a man used to amusing and organizing six females at a time in his bed, one fully clothed lady would be walking out that door within the next hour.

  After tonight, he’d be rid of all three ladies and their problems. He allowed a small smile to peep through, a smile of smug self- satisfaction at his own cleverness.

  “What are you up to, my lord?” Chrissie whispered in his ear.

  His body tensed, his eyes going wide, his pulse racing. No one ever read his intentions in his face. Normally, he was able to keep his expressions bland, his emotions well hidden from all and sundry. The only person who’d ever been able to easily discern his thoughts had been his mother. It was the reason he’d so easily fleeced gentlemen of their money at the gaming tables. His blanked face gave away nothing. So how the hell had Lady Wellsby read his mind?

  He raised a brow and relaxed his clenched fingers. “Nothing, my lady. Nothing at all. Simply doing as you requested. Supplying you with a venue to explore the sensuous natures of men.”