Mastering the Marquess (Bound and Determined)

by Lavinia Kent

Her cheeks growing ever hotter, Louisa continued. “As I have said, I wish to marry again. However, I cannot bear for anybody to think less of John. I do not yet have a specific man in mind. I want this taken care of before I meet someone and have any thoughts of feeling unfaithful.”

  Madame’s face grew serious. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to help me lose my virginity.”

  Chapter Two

  The Marquess of Swanston reclined in the wing chair, one leg tossed carelessly over the side. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small set of green enamel ben wa balls and began to spin them in his hand, making sure they did not click together. The antique set had been the gift of his good friend the Earl of Duldon after a visit to the Far East, and he’d fallen into the habit of playing with it whenever he was bored—or wished to appear so.

  He was not pleased to be here. Not pleased at all. He had been surprised when the message was delivered and now was even more surprised that he’d chosen to come. His last experience in this establishment had left a sour taste in his mouth.

  He wasn’t sure why he was here, and considered leaving, but then the door behind him creaked open and he heard the soft tread of feminine feet. Ruby never wore heels that clacked—and it was not her fault that he had delayed returning.

  Her soft voice filled the room. “Ah, you’ve arrived.”

  “I was summoned.” His attitude made it very clear he did not respond well to orders.

  “Oh relax, Geoffrey. Don’t get your dander up with me. It was a very carefully worded request for your presence. A very gentle request.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Would you respond better if I called it an invitation—a personal one?”

  He turned his head. Ruby, Madame Rouge, might run the best house in London, but she never took clients herself. There’d been speculation aplenty over the years, but never had he heard of any man entering her bed. “Now that could be interesting.” He raised a brow.

  “Down, boy.” He felt caressed by her low chuckle, a laugh that had driven many a man to distraction, himself included.

  “If not that, then what? Have you found me a new friend? One who shares my tastes?” As well as running her own set of girls, Ruby managed meetings between those of particular interests. Swanston had never liked paying for his pleasure, but it was often difficult to discern a woman’s desires when meeting her in a crowded ballroom. Ruby made it very simple, and she charged only for the use of a room and any delicacies that he chose to order. “It’s not the Countess, is it?” He deliberately made the title a name. He wanted to keep all thoughts of the woman as impersonal as possible. “After my last visit, I believe I made myself very clear on that score. I do not care for the same games that she chooses to indulge in.”

  “And yet you enjoyed her for a while.”

  “As a young boy enjoys downing a whole bag of sweets before vomiting in the street.”

  Ruby smiled. “I am not sure the Countess would care for the comparison. She seems to have developed quite a tendresse for you. She is always asking after you.”

  “And you, I trust, have made it quite clear that I am not available.” The balls clicked loudly in his hand, his irritation clear.

  “I have told her, but I am not sure she believes me. I think she hopes it is all one more game. I have never seen her become so attached.”

  He clenched his jaw. “It is not.”

  “I know that. I saw your face after her last adventure. I could have told her you would not enjoy using force. You have always looked for willing playmates.”

  “Rape has never been my fantasy.”

  “And if I had known of her plans, I can assure you that I would not have allowed them within my establishment. I do have rules. Although, when I spoke to the girl afterwards she did insist she was willing—and older than she appeared. My girls are here by choice, and my clients understand that.”

  “And have you found me a new one? Do you have a new guest?” He swung his leg down and turned to Ruby. She was looking quite fine tonight. The dark red of her gown highlighted her pale skin and bright blue eyes. She had a woman’s body, all lush curves, soft flesh, her full breasts rising high above the gown’s low bodice, the creamy skin inviting a man’s touch. It was a wonder he’d never felt more drawn to her. Except for her signature red wig, she was exactly what his body wanted in a woman. Only, for no reason he had ever understood, she left him cold and always had—except for that laugh. That laugh could make a man rise up from the grave.

  “I am afraid not. At least not in the way you mean. It is about a woman, only not one of your normal milieu. I have a favor I need to ask.” Ruby walked across the room and positioned herself on the chaise longue, striking a pose indicative of the French empress. He had no doubt that she’d practiced the position.

  “A favor? I am intrigued. I’ve never known you to ask for favors.” He clicked the balls in his hand once and then let the warm enamel slide into his pocket. He would grant Ruby his attention.

  Ruby pursed her lips. “It is true I have no liking of favors—there is the problem of paying them back. And I’ve never been fond of debt—of any kind. In this case I am hoping that it will be considered a mutual favor by the end. And if not, then I suppose I will pay the piper.”

  He leaned forward, his gaze focused on her face. “I am even more intrigued.”

  “I want you to give a woman a wedding night.”

  He sputtered. There was no other word for it. He was lucky not to have frothed at the lips. A wedding night? He closed his lips tight, letting his ire show in his eyes. “I have avoided a wedding for thirty-two years—why do you imagine I would seek one now? And why would you ever imagine that I would turn to you for help?” He rose from his chair, towering above her.

  Ruby stood in a single movement, refusing to be cowed. He had always liked that about her.

  “If you had any sense, you’d be begging me to help you find a wife when the time came. I know what you like and how you like it. Don’t you ever forget that. I’d be much more successful in finding you a wife you’d be happy with than any society matron will ever be. If I wanted to find you a wife, she’d be the best wife you could ever dream of. Lady Perse and her famous matrimonial teas could not do a better job than I. She’d have you married to a sweet young chit who’d bore you silly within a month, if not a week.”

  “I believe Lady Perse is looking for suitable husbands for the ladies. I’ve never heard that she cares what the gentleman thinks, although they are rumored to be love matches. Heaven forbid.” Swanston’s anger abated. He’d always enjoyed a good argument—the winning of it most of all.

  “Never mind that. You have me distracted from the purpose.” Ruby returned to the chaise. “I said nothing about a wedding—only a wedding night.”

  Relaxing his shoulders, Swanston also retook his seat. It did not do to be standing when a lady was not, even a lady such as Ruby. “A wedding night without a wedding? However does that work?”

  “Men.” Ruby looked up at the ceiling in disgust. “No imagination.”

  “I rather think I’ve plenty of imagination.” He gave her a sizzling stare.

  She laughed. “Really, Geoffrey, if you’d ever had a thought like that about me I’d have known long before this. Now pull your chair over and I’ll explain everything.”

  “You’re giving orders again. You know I don’t like orders.”

  “Unless you are the one giving them. Yes, I do know that. Now, would you please be ever so kind and help me by moving your chair closer so I don’t have to yell.”

  It was his turn to laugh. He thought of pointing out that she could have chosen the seat across from him—he had been sitting first. He also refrained from mentioning that the heavy chair, clearly designed for a man—as was all her furniture, except the chaise—probably weighed as much as a draft horse. Instead, without a word, and with considerable ease, he lifted the chair and set it beside her.

&nbs
p; “Begin.” It was an order.

  Her low laugh sent shivers down his spine. “Ah, Geoffrey, it is a good thing you were born to be a duke and not a farmer. Now, where to start? A lady seeking a favor of her own approached me recently. She finds herself needing to lose her virginity.”

  “And you come to me? You know that is not my style. I prefer an experienced woman, one who wants what I want. I’ve never had a taste for children.”

  “Oh no. You have me wrong. She is definitely not a child. I do not know her exact age, but unless she married as a wee babe—and I know she did not—she is at least twenty-five.”

  “Married and a virgin? The two words do not go together. And I do prefer not to become involved with married women—much too complicated.”

  Ruby leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. She knew as well as he that the Countess was married—and she was not the only such liaison he’d enjoyed. Allowing her breath to brush across his cheek, she answered, “I have said more than I meant. But that is the crux of the woman’s problem. Her husband is dead, for several years now. She wishes to remarry, but does not wish to disgrace his memory with her unplucked status. She is a true lady and so she sought my help. I daresay she thought I would send her to some midwife with a carved stick to take care of the matter, but I think she deserves more.”

  Swanston had known several men who he doubted had ever bedded their wives, either because of age or a marked preference for male company. He did not doubt the story, although why this lady would want to cover up for such a man he did not know. “You think she deserves more and so you chose me? I thought you said you knew what I liked—innocence is definitely not it. Find some man who enjoys defiling virgins. I am sure you have plenty in your little book.”

  “I won’t ask how you know about my little book. And I don’t want her defiled. That is why I chose you. You keep referring to your tastes, Geoffrey. I know that what you most often indulge in is not always considered normal—not that I think a little bondage and the occasional crop is beyond the pale. But the one thing I do know about you is that you always consider your partner and her pleasure. It is why I choose to indulge you here and why you have no trouble finding partners. And I also know how gentle you are with teaching a willing woman what you like. I know the patience such lessons can require and I know that you have it. I think that you are the perfect choice for my guest. You will give her exactly what she needs.”

  “And why would I indulge in this—besides as a favor to you?” He sat back in his chair. Ruby leaned forward, allowing him a perfect view down her dress should he have had any interest. He did not.

  Well, perhaps there had been the slightest of glances. He was a man, and what man could resist a good breast? And they were quite fine.

  “Listen to me, Geoffrey, and consider. What do you really like? I think you like the teaching, the giving of lessons, but beyond that it is all about the control. Can you imagine a willing woman who knows nothing, a woman who knows only what you teach her, a woman who doesn’t even know that pleasure exists? Can you imagine the control you would have over her? What you could make her do?”

  “You’re surely not suggesting …?”

  “No, I definitely don’t think she’s ready for that. But I think you could find plenty of pleasure in simply teaching her what it is to be a woman, forcing her to relax and to enjoy. I do recall I’ve heard that you are quite good at that.”

  “You surely cannot believe she is that innocent? Even if she’s never known a man, she does have hands.”

  Another low laugh. “Actually, I do believe she is that innocent. I was quite taken aback with what she did not know—or what she merely pretended to know. I do believe she understands the mechanics of the act, but little more. Her mother probably gave her a ‘lie back and it won’t hurt for long’ talk.”

  He was intrigued. Such a situation had never even entered his thoughts: giving a virgin his instruction, having her conform to his wishes, his demands. He wouldn’t tie her, but he could certainly require that she lie still, not move. He could position her any way he wanted and she would have no idea what was normal and what was not. Ruby was right: There might be great pleasure in such an encounter, pleasure for both of them. “You said that you thought she simply wanted her cherry popped. If she would consider a stick, are you sure that she is agreeable to what you have in mind? And why would you care? Certainly the other is much easier.”

  Ruby’s gaze went to the ceiling, but this time not in disgust. Her deep consideration was plain upon her face. “I am not sure why I care, but I do. She deserves more than she has received so far in this life. I do not want her to marry some old fool and never know what she has missed. She came to me once before—on an entirely different matter—and I turned her down. This time I wish to grant the wishes she does not even know she has.”

  “She came to you before? How on earth did an innocent such as you describe even know that you existed?” He stood, walking out the tension that had begun to fill his body.

  Ruby hesitated. “Her husband visited me. She knew of his visits and did not try to prevent them. She was understanding as far as she was able. Perhaps that is why I care—because she cared so greatly for her husband and what he needed.”

  Her husband had cared for other men, then. He knew Ruby had arranged such meetings in the past. He felt a token of sympathy for the wife. It would be hard to be married to such a man, even if he was a good husband in all other ways. She must have come to Ruby to have the situation explained. He could not imagine any man having such a conversation with his wife. “I am still not sure I am what she deserves. Don’t you know some gentle young boy for her? Perhaps you could become a matchmaker after all? And what of pregnancy? Does she know what she would be risking?”

  “I will instruct her on how to prevent a child. And no, Geoffrey, I’ve no desire to be a matchmaker. And I truly do think you are what she needs. What woman would want a boy when she could have you?” Ruby’s gaze swept over his six-foot-plus frame. He felt her admiration of his strong features and dark wavy hair. Her eyes paused at his shoulders and then at his hips, and then lower. “Hmmm, it does look like all I’ve heard of you is true and that you are not opposed to my plans.”

  “How do you know it’s not for you, my darling?” He cocked a hip forward.

  “Stop. Believe me, in my profession I’d know very well if that was for me. I rather think you’re intrigued by the clashing ideas of control and purity. I doubt there are that many new experiences left for you to try.”

  “That is true. But a ‘wedding night’? What do you mean by that? Romance and candlelight and cuddling first? Does it have to be a wedding night?”

  Ruby’s chest rose as she let out a long, deep breath. “I rather think it does. And yes, that is exactly what I mean—romance. But more than romance: a night that will live in her memory forever. Every woman deserves a wedding night. And what could be better than one that comes without a husband?”

  Chapter Three

  Was she really going to do this? Louisa stared about the ornate bedroom and tried to think about anything except what she was here to do.

  The windows were long and heavily curtained in rich white damask shot through with golden thread. She would have thought they’d be red velvet and much more shoddy in appearance. When she’d pictured losing her virginity in a brothel she had certainly not pictured rooms that could have belonged to a duke.

  And they were so tasteful, not a thing overdone. Who had taught Madame Rouge about style, design, and simplicity?

  Even the bed, huge though it was, was simple. The coverlet of heavily embroidered white silk. The high, heavy carved bedposts standing out against the lack of other ornamentation. It was a room that she could have imagined choosing for her own—although it was quite masculine in flavor. Not in the usual way, however—with dark leather and the smell of tobacco. Rather, it was a room that a man could be comfortable in.

  That a man would be comfortable in.
>
  The slow chime of the hallway clock sounded. It was nine. He would be here any moment.

  Was there still time to flee?

  She didn’t need to do this. If she never married then no one would ever know. And did it really matter if they did? John had been wounded in battle serving his country. Surely nobody would think less of him because …

  Blast. She knew that was not true. It would have humiliated him when he was alive, so it would be unfair to let a single person know when he was dead. She would keep his secret. It was a last act of love and honor.

  And as for not marrying, was she really prepared to take such a path simply because she was a coward? And it would be cowardice of the worst kind.

  There was nothing for her to fear. Madame had assured her of that.

  Just as Madame had assured her that whatever happened in this house would never be talked of outside these walls.

  And if she screamed help would come—immediately. All she needed to do to end this all was scream.

  Madame had explained that except for a few special rooms every scream was met with action. Madame hired brutes, pugilists, for just this purpose. One scream and she would be safe.

  Only Madame had promised her that she would not need to scream, assured Louisa that she had chosen the perfect man—one who would be gentle and understanding and who would explain exactly what needed to be done.

  Louisa paced across the floor for what must have been the hundredth time, the full white skirts of her night rail flowing about her legs. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest. Each breath had to fight its way from her lungs.

  Panic. She’d heard the word, but never before felt it shivering throughout her body.

  She spun on her heel, turning toward the door.

  It might be cowardly, but she couldn’t do it. It had been a bad idea.

  She had to run now, while she could.

  And then she saw herself.

  A large mirror hung just to the left of the door, and her image stared back at her. Dark hair caught in a loose braid, as it always was for sleep. And a simple white gown, not so different from the one she wore each night.