He recalled something he wished to question. “What do your mamas say regarding your intended lifestyle?”
Serena chuckled, a deep sexy chuckle that made his unruly cock even more refractory. Arabella noted his reaction and smiled knowingly. He gritted his teeth and swore to himself that both of them would find the shoe on the other foot later.
“For once, Ivo, we decided to act as young ladies and not be involved in their probably inarticulate responses. Shamed as we are to admit it, we indicated our intentions by way of correspondence. We left a letter for each.”
His shout of laughter spooked his horses as they were not used to hearing their master’s voice in such a manner. For the next few moments he had his hands full of prime horse flesh and not, as he would have preferred, of prime female flesh.
“And next?” he asked when he was able to divert his attention.
“Next they will realize that all the things that disappeared from our bedchambers we had parceled up for the poor were intended for elsewhere—our new bedchambers. Poor Rena and Suki have been working hard for weeks.”
He groaned. “Lud, what have I let myself in for?”
“Well at the moment, Ivo, nothing. Furthermore, if we are not all happy, then at nothing it stays.”
No chance. No chance at all. He barely resisted stating that intention, instead drawing up outside their new home with a flourish. Stathern, his groom and one of the few who knew the extent to which his master’s proclivities ran, approached, and Serena noticed him.
“Ivo, you wretch, you meant to bring us here all the time! Else how would Stathern be here to tend to the horses?”
He laughed as he helped them both down, and he couldn’t help letting his hand almost innocently stray to give a brief caress to each enticing arse, and then nodded his agreement.
“There, Serry, you begin to know me already. I need you no more at present,” he directed to his groom. “I can walk from here to my next appointment.”
“Ladies, I presume you have a key?” He bowed and took one girl on each arm.
“Two.” Bella showed him her key. “One each until we decide on a majordomo in whom we can trust. If at a later date we need three, well, that can be accomplished.”
“No if, my dear, of that I can assure you.”
“So say you, Ivo, although that remains to be seen,” Serena added saucily. “The need for a majordomo is uppermost in our minds, not the state of your cock.”
“I guarantee, my loves, my cock is well aware of what it had to overcome and is more than capable of making you both agree that our ménage is ideal, as you will see. However, if you can trust me, my dears, as regarding your staff, I may know the very persons.”
He watched them exchange glances, almost as if each knew what the other was thinking. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps they were so well-attuned to one another that perhaps they did.
“That,” Bella said slowly, “may surely be the answer. Yes, if you so please, Ivo.”
He inclined his head. “Oh, Bella, when will you realize my only pleasure is to please you? Both of you.”
“Oh, Ivo,” Bella gurgled as Serena openly laughed. “Not your only pleasure. You are not so unselfish.”
“But, my dears, if you are pleasured, then so will I be.” That silenced them. He smiled inwardly. Little did they know how pleasured they would all soon be. Images of tangled limbs and writhing bodies were so vivid in his mind he would have sworn he could actually feel them. He anxiously escorted them inside and was immediately wrapped in the warmth of the house. Although modest in size, he realized it was perfect for them. For them all.
He followed them as they proudly displayed their treasures. Exquisite furnishings and paintings, all bought by themselves, they explained proudly, nothing purloined from their mamas’ houses. “For we are truly independent now, Ivo, and have furnished our home as we so desire.”
“My dears,” he said as he was escorted upstairs. “You have surpassed yourselves. And this,” he added as Serena opened a door and ushered him inside. “Of a surety is ours.”
She looked at him, puzzled. “Ours, Ivo? Ours as in mine and Bella’s?”
He shook his head. He knew his dark eyes were almost black with hints of amusement and desire. So much for them all to learn. So much joy and entertainment when so doing. “No, my dear. Ours as in mine, yours, and Bella’s. Else why such a bed with a covering of satin, which is surely as smooth as your skin, inviting me to lie on it with you both? To stroke and worship every inch of your delectable bodies with my tongue. And the bed itself? That is from the Orient”—he waved his hand in the direction of the most imposing piece of furniture in the room, the very large bed with intricately carved head and baseboard—”designed for three.”
“Lucky then should we choose to use it so,” responded Bella, her riposte quick and sure.
Yes, he would be on his toes with these two. Never had the thought of a ménage appealed to him so much. He had much to do within a short space of time. Most importantly to show both girls how important they were to him. How he felt their future happiness depended on this. Strangely, after even such a limited interaction, he knew he could not envision life without them. He beckoned them both to his side. They obeyed, interest showing in two pairs of eyes.
“Kiss each other, a welcome to your new home,” he commanded, wondering what their response would be. He was sure any command given would only be obeyed if they so choose. It seemed in this matter they did so choose. Eyes gleaming, he watched as with a swift look at each other, they turned and linked pinkies.
“Lud, Ivo? Voyeur as well?” That of course was his sassy Bella.
He inclined his head. “But of course, my dear, as it was your pleasure to watch my surrender last night.”
“Then watch and learn, Ivo. And enjoy.” She turned back to Serena, and their lips met. As he watched, his breath harsh in the silence of the room, their tongues slipped between teeth and met each other. His arousal was further increased as he saw them move their hands and clutch each other’s buttocks. Their sensual mounds touched and ground together, as if desirous to be rid of the clothes between them. Tonight, he vowed, that would be achieved. Sadly not now. With one lingering glimpse he saw them move apart, breathing heavily.
“So now, my dears, happy as I would be to christen our bed—”
“Our bed, Ivo,” Serena insisted resolutely.
He laughed. “My dear, my very words. I fear though I need to be elsewhere for the next few hours. Do you wish to dine out tonight? Go to the theater? A ball? Your wish is my command.”
“Well, I feel we should take advantage of such an offer, as I fear we will not often be prevailed to do so; however, may I suggest we three dine here?” Bella spoke, trying for a matter-of-fact tone, but not quite achieving it.
He raised his eyebrows. “You have a cook? A housekeeper?”
“We have Suki, Rena, and ourselves at present. Perhaps you could add them to your may-be-able-to-find list?”
He nodded and made an elaborate leg. “Of course, though alas, not in time for dinner.”
Serena laughed. “We can arrange dinner. You present yourself at the time you choose. Notify us of this time now, please, so that we will please you.”
“If you wish to please me even more, my dears, may I be so presumptuous as to request you neither wear anything under your dresses. Do a Caroline Lamb.” He waited for their response, every muscle in his body tense. Lady Caroline Lamb had been, at various times, a person to be admired, pitied, and laughed at as she pursued Lord Byron with an unwavering passion. Her poor husband had eventually lost patience with her and curbed her excesses, one of which had been the famed occasion where she had stood outside Byron’s house in the pouring rain dressed in breeches and shirt.
“Nothing will induce me to wear breeches, Ivo,” Bella stated indignantly, and then blushed as she remembered one certain occasion involving breeches and a mad scramble down the ivy. Ivo saw the reddening o
f her cheeks. He had heard of that prank. He rather thought there had been talk of Serena wearing the same article of clothing, purloined from a footman, but if so she was being remarkably quiet about it.
“Exactly,” he responded. “However, my love, I was thinking more along the lines of muslins and naught but, well, muslin.”
“Did she really do that, Ivo?” Serena asked with interest. “I never knew that was also one of her predilections.” He groaned. Why the need for such curiosity?
“I know not, Serry; I was merely generalizing. I would be pleased if you would both be so bold as to welcome me into your home wearing only muslin and a smile, encouraging me to excess, perchance?”
Serena shook her head mockingly. “Ivo, Ivo, perchance you need no encouraging to excess; however, if we do, and I say if, agree to your plea, what do you give in return?” She blushed as both Arabella and Ivo laughed at her faux pas. She stamped her foot in mock anger. “Oh, you two. Spare my blushes.”
“My dear, it will always be my preferred course to increase them. For both of you. I am desirous, you see, of discovering just how far that beautiful, rosy hue goes. Now sadly I must leave. Alas, I have much to do to enable us to enjoy ourselves to the full later; therefore, I must not avail myself of your generous offer to partake of luncheon. I will return at seven. With your permission, My Ladies, I take my leave.” He kissed both girls on their hands, and then with an audacious glint in his eyes, full on open, astonished lips.
Satisfied that if nothing else, he had disconcerted them both, he ran down the steps of the house and made his way to his club to contemplate where he may find the perfect majordomo.
An hour later he was well content. Scribbling a few lines on a sheet of paper purloined from the club’s writing room, he asked for it to be sent around to the address the girls now occupied, along with two bouquets of violets purchased from the ever-present flower seller stationed at the door to the club.
An additional missive was dispatched elsewhere. He was extremely pleased with his afternoon’s work. A stroll through the library of the club, exchanging words with some fellow members, could usually be counted as a pleasant way to spend a short time, before returning home. As he did so, a friend hailed him.
“Hey, Daranton, have you heard the latest on dit? Lady Saltsey and Lady Dunsmuir have set up house together. Overton heard it from Lady Saltsey’s mama as he escorted his mama to visit. Of course, they could not leave her, prostrate as she was without offering succor. Then, as true friends, they called on Lady Dunsmuir’s mama to find her in a similar condition.”
I bet they did, he thought savagely, although nothing showed on his face. Friends? Busybodies, more like.
“Do you think they are more than friendly, or just eccentric?” his friend continued. “For we all know they are on the shelf.”
“Oh, eccentric surely. For they have never shown interest in balls, outings, or such,” he opined in a masterly tone of disinterest. He found no reason to tell anyone that the shelf they occupied was one of their own choosing. Even less inclined to disclose that it was one he hoped to join them on shortly.
“True. A shame really, for they are both beautiful, although I know of no one who would dare challenge them.”
Ivo nodded and excused himself. Bastard. Although he knew it would not be long before the news was all around the ton, since there were no stronger tattle-mongers than within their own ranks. He had hoped, however, a few days’ grace would be granted. Instead it seemed their mamas had been unable to contain themselves.
Ah, well, time to move on. Leaving the club, he made his way home, where his majordomo awaited him.
“My Lord. There are several persons awaiting you in the study regarding various positions they seem to think were open. I explained we had none available, but as they all had introductions from you, I escorted them there and arranged refreshments while you were out.”
And, his tone intimated, hid the silver. Ivo smiled. Piercy was very much of the old school. Loyal, true, but easily able to show his master his displeasure if he felt the situation deemed it so. As he thought it did so then.
“Thank you, Piercy.” His encounter with the tattle-monger at the club had delayed him longer than he would have wished. “Have I kept them waiting long?”
“A matter of minutes, Your Grace.”
Thank goodness. With luck, the problems of staffing for Arabella and Serena would be a thing of the past. He entered the room with a smile on his face, and left it a couple of hours later still smiling.
By seven o’clock he was a bundle of nerves. He who was reported to have nerves of steel, he who had been all around the world, he who had found himself in more than one unsavory situation, was nervous because of two girls and their intended actions. Perhaps this told him more than anything where his feelings lay.
At precisely seven minutes to the hour, he checked his appearance one last time. Snowy white cravat intricately tied in his own knot, perfectly fitted jacket in a dark, midnight blue, tight, buff pantaloons molded to him like a second skin. His boots shone as only those blackened by his valet’s special mixture could. Yes, he was ready.
“No need to wait up tonight, Debson. I mean that. Do not incur my displeasure.”
Debson inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
Ivo shook his head. “Do not use that high tone with me. You know I pay no heed to it. Now, I must go. Where is my parcel? Ah.” He spied it where he had left it and retrieved it as he passed on his way to the door. “Goodnight, Debson.”
He knew to the minute how long it would take to descend his steps, walk to the end of the road, and turn to proceed along the next street to the house that backed on to his own. Tomorrow, he decided, with luck he would create a shortcut through the mews to adjoin their homes. For now, he bounded up the steps and rang the bell.
It was opened by a portly man of perhaps middle years, his livery immaculate.
“Welcome, Your Grace.” He held the door open and bowed. “The Ladies await you in the drawing room. May I add, Your Grace, my thanks for securing my and Mrs. Lawson’s positions in this household? Much preferable to our previous situations where our considerable talents were somewhat underutilized.” His eyes twinkled. Ivo laughed. His previous situation had been under butler to Ivo himself at his little-used family seat, with Mrs. Lawson as the rarely bothered housekeeper.
“And Mrs. Lawson?”
“In her element, Your Grace. Supervising the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the dinner Ladies Saltsey and Dunsmuir have prepared. I believe she has a niece in mind as cook, Your Grace, if you are agreeable?”
“I trust Mrs. Lawson’s judgment, Lawson. Ask her to arrange a meet with the ladies.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Lawson bowed. “May I impart to you that there will be no more visitors tonight. At any cost.”
He nodded, understanding they would not be disturbed, and allowed Lawson to announce him at the entrance to the drawing room. Smothering a smile, he saw how careful Lawson was not to enter. Well taught by Ivo himself, there would never be any fear of embarrassing situations. He walked past Lawson, hearing the door close, and stopped dead at the tableaux in front of him.
In his time he had seen many beautiful sights. None compared to what he saw now.
Arabella, her glossy chestnut curls cascading down her back, arose from a long, wide, deep crimson velvet sofa as he entered. She swept a low curtsy, her eyes mischievous as she indicated the sheer, pale pink muslin she was wearing. Or almost wearing, he amended. It left her shoulders and the swell of her breasts totally bare and did little to cover the rest of her.
“Is this suitable?” Her tone was mocking, and her eyes were bright.
He found he could not speak. Serena, her long, straight, almost-white hair, which was left totally undressed to fall in a shining waterfall to her waist, was similarly attired. No slouch in what colors suited different females, he would not have even hazarded a guess the same shade of p
ink would suit them both so perfectly. Yet it did, as it hinted and teased as to what was beneath it.
He saw a hint of a nipple with its delicate puckering showing clearly. Strangely no shadow of downy curls, which, especially on Arabella with her dark coloring, he had thought might be noticed. He guessed Serena, with her coloring so fair, would be harder to discern. For although the material flowed gently around their feminine shapes, no hint of curls showed on either of them. His breath hitched as he wondered if that meant what he hoped it did.
“Ladies.” He returned their salute as Serena joined Arabella in a curtsy. “You are truly pearls above any price tonight.”
Serena laughed. “Oh, Ivo, why not say what you mean? Do we suit?” She twirled around, the muslin flowing after her, trying to catch up. He laughed, appreciating the view. Arabella, meanwhile, had reseated herself on the sofa, which he noted was toned to show off their assets to perfection. Clever, his ladies.
Serena collapsed next to Bella, her face alight with laughter and—he felt sure!—a hint of challenge.
“So, loves, do I dare offer you a drink?”
“With dinner, perhaps,” Bella spoke. “We did not offer you refreshment, for as you take great pains to tell us, we are—well, perhaps, three—therefore, you help yourself. As I consider you will anyway.” He nodded his agreement.
“When do we sit down to eat?”
“Whenever you so desire. Your wish is our every command.”
He had no illusions about that patently untrue statement. “Bella, do not make promises neither of you have any desire to fulfill,” he chided.
She spluttered. Serena laughed, then murmured softly, “My love, he has you there.”
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