“If these cigars are not to my friend’s liking, may they be returned if the box remains unopened?”
“Yes, by all means. You may return them.”
“Very well,” she spoke. After exiting the shop, she hesitated a moment outside the door. Jolene glanced through the window and saw Philippe at the cash register as if nothing had happened.
She stepped away and began walking back toward the motorcar. Suddenly she felt flush and weak. Halting her step, she leaned against the building for a moment and closed her eyes. The world kept moving with cars, carriages, and people. But for her, it felt as if time stood still. Not a soul around her realized that she had just experienced a momentous occasion in her life.
After a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and found the composure to walk the remaining distance. The driver stood patiently on the sidewalk waiting for her return.
“Take me back to the townhouse, please.”
She settled into her seat, and he pulled away from the curb to drive her home. Jolene closed her eyes and thought of Philippe. Their meeting had sparked something positive in her soul, unlike the wavering feelings she retained for her mother.
It saddened her to think of Philippe’s poverty-stricken existence and the lack of companionship in his life. She wanted to help him, but how? Robert told her that he had turned down charity from the duke because of his stubborn sense of pride. Surely, he wouldn’t accept it from her hand or would he? Jolene tucked the thought into a corner of her heart to ponder in the future. For now, she needed to plot the next step in her family’s reconciliation.
As the driver passed Notre Dame, Jolene wanted to see the interior of the grand cathedral. She looked at the impressive monument and the gargoyles on top looking down on mankind. So much of Paris waited to be discovered, but her focus remained on other matters. No doubt when Geoffrey arrived, he would offer to show her the sites.
I wonder what’s keeping him? Probably family matters, she concluded. At least he outwardly appeared more driven to succeed than her brother did. Then the voice of reason came to her in the form of Grace’s voice. “He’s a heart breaker. I’ve never met a man so despicable in character when it comes to women.”
Sweet Grace. Jolene had no idea why she did not invite her to Paris. It had been a rude oversight on her part. Upon her return, she would pen a cordial letter and beg her forgiveness.
Chapter 23
The Pleasures of the Flesh
Geoffrey, not giving a damn about his cousin’s threat, had arrived in Paris within hours of the others. Instead of proceeding to the townhome, he took the extra spending money that his father had given him and headed elsewhere. After booking a room at an expensive hotel, he settled in for a few nights of lewd entertainment.
The day before he departed, Geoffrey had a private, father-to-son discussion about the best casinos, risqué theatres, and exclusive brothels that Paris had to offer. The exhibition of his father’s knowledge of sinful pleasures surprised the hell out of him. Moreover, the old codger gave him the blessing to taste it all without condemning him one bit.
“I tell you, Geoffrey, go to Rue des Moulins. My suggestion is that you talk to the mistress of the house first. Her name is Nadine. Tell her what you want done to you, and she will see to it that the most uninhibited, gorgeous creature will join your bed.”
Geoffrey remembered his father’s words over cigars and drinks. “They have some bold beauties that can do things to you with their lips that you have only fantasized about.”
He spent his first evening savoring the theatre and casino, even winning a sizeable amount at the roulette wheel. Leaving the best for last, on the second night, he ordered a carriage to take him to the brothel. His father told him that it had a reputation of only servicing wealthy men. The taste of flesh there would cost, but he had given him more than enough to purchase any whore he wanted.
When he arrived, he was greeted by a slender hostess whose breasts spilled over the top of her bodice. Her curly, red hair had been pinned high on her head and it smelled of sweet perfume. He salivated looking at her, quite aware that he had arrived at the den of seduction and pleasure.
“I’ve been advised to talk to the mistress of the house first,” he said, eyeing her plump bosom.
“You wish for something special?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“You could say that,” he responded. Just the thought of it aroused his male senses.
“Follow me, and I’ll take you to Madame Channeau.”
She escorted him down a long hallway to a closed door. The tart knocked once and waited for permission to enter.
“Yes, what is it?” An enticing voice answered.
The escort spoke in French. Geoffrey snickered at her description of him wanting to buy something spécial.
“Entrée,” she said. The door opened into a spacious, dark room, decorated in browns and reds that caught Geoffrey off guard. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Once they did, he saw a velvet, button-tufted chair in front of the desk, alcohol on a side table, and pictures of naked women hanging from the walls. The center of attraction remained on Madame Channeau.
“You wish to speak with me, monsieur?” She rose from her chair and sauntered toward him in a low-cut, red gown that took his breath away. Her fair complexion and golden blonde hair framed her stunningly, beautiful face. Even though she appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, she radiated sexuality from every pore.
He took her outstretched hand and kissed it. “Might we speak privately,” he asked, glancing over at the escort.
The mistress shooed her off with her hand, and in a moment, he found himself alone.
“Now, what can I do for you, monsieur? Pleasure is our specialty.”
For the first time in his life, his pride had melted into a puddle at a woman’s feet. He felt drained of his arrogance. Eventually, he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke. “Madame…”
“Please, I insist you call me Nadine.” She smiled seductively.
“Well, then,” he replied. “Nadine, you may know my father,” he announced. “Lord Edmund Chambers from London.”
It took a brief moment before she acknowledged. “My goodness,” she exclaimed, parting her painted, red lips. “You must be his son. Am I right?”
Geoffrey nodded.
“Ah, I see,” she said, smirking at the corner of her mouth. “Your father has given you permission to learn of the ways of French women, oui?”
“Yes, he told me that you had ladies that could…” His voice trailed off in embarrassment.
She chuckled over his stammering. “Women who are proficient with their lips, tongue, and mouth, you mean, do you not?”
It wasn’t like Geoffrey had not made it past the bloomers of a few morally loose women. On the contrary, he had done his share. Nevertheless, he could never find one willing enough to go beyond what they considered normal in the bedchamber. “Yes,” he finally answered.
“Then, please, have a seat and we shall discuss.” She returned behind her desk and sat down looking like the Queen of Sheba.
He nervously plopped on the comfortable chair, but sat up straight, regaining some of his egotistical confidence.
“I do have a few ladies who will be totally submissive to your commands and enjoy being tied up for pleasure. You can even give them a vigorous spanking, and they shall fall at your feet ready to give you as much as you please.”
Bloody hell, he thought to himself dropping his mouth open. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
“Of course,” she said, giving him a little wink. “It may cost you a little extra. We have a strict rule here—no bruising on the bodies of my beauties.”
“Money is no object,” he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his checkbook.
“For everything I have mentioned, it will cost you three hundred francs for the evening. We will even provide you with items of entertainment should you wish to bind your purchase,” she
smirked.
Geoffrey took the pen that she offered and quickly wrote the check. She leaned forward watching his hand write out the numbers. Then, to his utter surprise, she asked a question that froze him in place.
“So, how is your uncle, the duke?”
His pen came to a halt. Geoffrey lifted his head and saw in her eager eyes a familiarity that spoke of one thing. “You’ve serviced him in the past haven’t you?”
“Well, of course, for many years. Until he fell in love with a new hire at the Chabanais, where I once worked. We shared a room together until Robert purchased her freedom.”
“He what?” Geoffrey quickly finished penning the check and returned the pen.
“Well, it doesn’t matter that I mention it now,” she said, reaching out and taking the check from his hand. “Apparently, she died over twenty years ago.”
“What was her name?” Geoffrey held his breath as if he already knew the answer.
“Suzette Rousseau.”
“Bloody hell, you have got to be kidding me?” His voice bellowed.
She flinched over his reaction and leaned back in her chair. “Well, the last time I served the duke was here in this brothel, long before I purchased it myself.” She looked at him confused. “He cried like a baby in my arms that she had passed away.”
Geoffrey snickered at the vision.
“Well, maybe not cry,” she corrected herself. “However, you could tell he was devastated over having lost his mistress.”
“That devious bastard,” he said, shaking his head.
Nadine looked offended as if she wanted to defend his uncle. Evidently, by the tone of her voice and look in her eye, she had residual feelings for the man. “She’s not dead,” he corrected her with a smile. “She is alive and his wife.”
Nadine’s eyes widened. “Well, now isn’t that a surprise,” she exclaimed. “The homeless whore became a duchess?”
Geoffrey nodded enjoying the astonishment on her face. Oh, this is good, he mused. He had fallen privy to a piece of information that had the power to change everything in his favor.
“Yes, she is the duchess of his grand realm. My uncle discovered he had a bastard son by her that he did not know existed. Years later, he searched Paris and found her alive. She had married, of course, but it didn’t stop the two of them from embarking on an adulterous affair. And well, the rest is sordid history.”
“Well, good for her,” she replied, sounding insincere in her congratulatory remark. “She has become a rich woman and gained a title. Not many prostitutes are so fortunate.” She rose to her feet and invited him to begin his night of iniquity. “Let me introduce you to your purchase this evening.”
Geoffrey followed alongside as she led him into a reception area where a group of women sat waiting to be chosen by patrons. Shocked that most were topless, his breath hitched in his throat.
Expecting to receive an assignment, the women turned toward their mistress. The ladies of the night gave him the once over, and a few beauties smiled at him boosting his ego to new heights. She approached a prostitute with the largest breasts he had ever seen. Whatever other qualities she possessed faded into obscurity, because he could barely lift his eyes from her chest.
Nadine whispered something in her ear. While doing so, she glanced at Geoffrey and gave him a wink. Madame Channeau presented his purchase.
“May I introduce you to Georgette. She is a tremendously talented lady, who will do anything you desire.” Nadine leaned into him and whispered. “Georgette enjoys being bound by a strong man. You may play with her as you wish, but no striking or bruising my beauties, or we shall throw you out on the street stark naked.”
Geoffrey believed her warning. Suddenly, desires that he had only fleetingly fantasized about rose to the surface. Power had always been his vice. Now, he had the authority to do as he willed with a submissive whore. To establish the mood, he narrowed his eyes and gave her the first command. “Take me to the room.”
“Whatever you wish master.” She turned to lead the way, and Nadine nodded in approval. “Enjoy,” she said, flashing him a smile.
Damn right, I’ll enjoy, he thought to himself. As he climbed the stairs, he thought of Robert’s threat to tell Jolene should he darken the door of a brothel. Fuck you, cousin, he railed inwardly. Then he laughed watching her swinging ass in front of him. No, I think I’ll fuck her instead.
She opened the door to an opulent bedroom decorated in gold. Mirrors were on the walls and ceiling. A large, four-poster bed with gold, satin bedding caught his eye. He closed the door behind him and set the lock.
A moment later, his purchase dropped to her knees and began to undo his trousers. He placed both hands on her head, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and waited for her talented lips to meet his erection.
It would be one hell of a night.
* * * *
The next morning, Geoffrey laid in bed stark naked with a sheet draped over his midsection. He had returned to the hotel after the closing hours of the brothel and stumbled into bed thoroughly exhausted and half drunk.
He placed both his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling wondering what she felt like being tied to the bed. She couldn’t escape his ravenous sexual appetite that she had been responsible for awakening. To his surprise, he enjoyed treating a woman gruffly and letting out his inhibitions. The heated exchange of master and slave to his desires drove him to the brink of insanity. He had never met a woman who wanted it rough for pleasure. Nor did he know how much he would enjoy it himself.
As he thought about the night before, he awakened with more power in his soul than he had ever known. He couldn’t help but wonder if his own father had gone down such a dark path of pleasure. However, he remembered the stories of his grandfather and great-grandfather, who had taken female slaves on the plantation for their pleasures. Perhaps the desire flowed in his blood, and last night it had stirred the dormant gene.
Whatever the reason, he was ready to show up at the townhome to spend time with the beautiful komtesse. He wondered how far she would go, if he sexually enticed or coerced her to obey. A wicked smile curled the corner of his lips.
If he continued to feed his active imagination, he would never check out of the hotel on time. He swung his legs around the edge of the bed and sat up. He pushed his fingers through his unruly hair and then stretched his arms above his head. He exhaled a loud yawn wishing he could crawl back in bed and sleep. Geoffrey noted the time on his pocket watch laying open on the nightstand.
“Good God,” he moaned. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
Behind schedule, he proceeded to bathe and dress for the day ahead. It was time to put on his charming persona and mingle with family. Perhaps he would finally win over Jolene.
Chapter 24
A Sibling Tussle
Jolene arrived back at the townhome after visiting Philippe and discovered that the duke and duchess had left for the Louvre. Their absence and lack of invitation to join them on their excursion surprisingly bothered her. Nevertheless, she needed a moment alone with Robert. Informed by the staff that he had wandered into the library, she headed in its direction. When she pushed open the door, she halted at the sight.
Sprawled out on the divan, he had swung one foot over the back, laid the other straight out, and propped his head on a pillow. He hadn’t heard her enter, apparently engrossed in his read. She giggled over his lazy position and set the box of cigars down on a nearby table as she approached.
“Comfortable are we?” She glanced at the book and teased him by snatching it out of his hand. “What are you reading?
Robert shot up from his laid-back spot and sat on the edge of the divan. Reaching out to grab the book, he demanded its return. “Hey, I was reading that,” he complained.
Jolene’s jaw dropped when she read the title in French—Justine by the Marquis de Sade. “Oh, heavens,” she squawked. She slammed the book shut, and then reached over and gave him a whack on
the head. “How can you read the marquis’ trash?”
“Ouch!” Robert rubbed the top of his crown and scowled at her. A moment later, he jumped to his feet and lurched forward. Jolene swiftly stepped backward out of his reach. When he tried again to grab the book out of her hand, she ran around to the other side of the room laughing like a little girl. For the next few moments, it seemed both of them had reverted to childhood as they entered into a playful tussle.
Jolene outwitted him at every turn. She thought about tossing the book out the window or into the ashes of the fireplace, but didn’t want to ruin another person’s property. Worthless property, she thought.
Robert’s face grew frustrated that he couldn’t snatch it away, so he stopped to catch his breath. “I want the book back,” Robert heaved. “We are in France, and I should be able to read French literature.”
“This is not literature,” she railed. “You are a rascal Robert Holland.” She scolded him like a mother, shaking the book in his direction.
With narrowed eyes, he surprisingly turned the tables against her. “So how do you know what the book is about, huh? Answer me, if you can, Lady von Lamberg," he teased.
She blushed profusely. “I don’t know what it’s about, because I have not read it,” she replied, shoving her chin in the air. “Nevertheless, I also know Marquis de Sade’s reputation regarding his libertine literature.”
After a few more moments of glaring at her, he huffed. “Fine, put it back on the shelf.” He gave up and plopped on the chair exhausted.
“You promise not to touch it again?” She raised her eyebrow.
“I promise nothing, except that I will not touch it in your presence,” he replied, sporting a mischievous grin.
Jolene walked over to the bookshelf and found an open space, then slammed the book as far back as she could out of Robert’s vision. “There,” she said, brushing her hands off as if to rid herself of dirt.
Robert rose to his feet, walked over to the library door, and locked it. “Come sit with me and tell me of your visit with Philippe.” He sat down on the divan and patted the seat. Robert eyed the shelf where Jolene had shoved the book as she sat down next to him. “Did you relent and tell him?”
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