Night of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  Clementine struggled not to cry. What he didn’t seem to understand was that this was already her crawling. Whilst he was always able to shout about his passions, she could barely whisper it. “Derek, please don’t…”

  Madame turned and called out, “You are not done, my lord. She has yet to speak.”

  He jerked to a halt but didn’t look back. “Nothing she has to say will change how I feel.”

  “Is that so?” Madame tossed out. “Prove it. Stay and listen. If you hear nothing of worth, then you may go and hunt down your lawyers. The end result will be whatever you want it to be. Oui?”

  Clementine glanced over at Derek’s rigid stance, inwardly pleading he stay. Just long enough for her to share what she knew she should have shared with him last night: everything.

  He swung back and strode back into the room. “Five minutes.”

  A soft breath escaped her. Five was better than nothing. Gathering her skirts with trembling hands, she made her way to the chair and sat. She was tired of hiding from a past she was ashamed of. She had almost forgotten she had a choice to be whatever she wanted and not what her mother had made her to be. She set her chin, in an effort to appear strong.

  Derek widened his stance, his features stilling.

  Madame de Maitenon peered down at Clementine. Her stern countenance wisped back into a beguiling, elegant French woman. “Do you love your husband, Lady Banfield?”

  The woman would start with that.

  Darting her gaze toward Derek, whose brown eyes intensely held hers, Clementine felt her knees wobble and her soul splash into a puddle at his feet. The way it had when she first saw him seven years ago and he opened a tin of candy, trying to introduce to her a world she had always shied away from: the sting of passion. “I have always loved him,” she managed. “I fell in love with him through our letters.”

  Derek startled, his lips parting as he quickly walked toward them, his shaven face flushing to a hue she’d never seen. “What?!” He searched her face, his hands going up. “You never once— No. No, no, no. I don’t believe you. Not for one goddamn moment. If you ever loved me, Clementine, then why the hell—”

  Madame snapped her fingers at him. “Faire taire. Stand away.”

  He glared. “No, I’m not—”

  “You are done.” Madame glared. “She is in the chair. Not you. Did she speak once over your own words? Non. She did not. She respected your words by suffering in silence. And now we see what truly plagues this union. Do you not understand, my lord, that it is very difficult for a woman to breathe when she is constantly being talked at with such intensity? You are dismissing her instead of understanding her. If you want to understand her, you cannot bring your own emotions into this. You must set them aside. Now stand away. Away!”

  Derek fell back and almost bumped into one of the nude statues behind him. His chest visibly rose and fell as he continued to stare at Clementine.

  She knew Derek probably felt more betrayed than astounded by her admission of love. She averted her gaze.

  Madame walked around Clementine’s chair, her ivory gown rustling in the newly created silence. “Judging by your husband’s reaction, he never knew you loved him. Which is odd. Women are usually the first to admit to the fluttering they feel for a man. Why did you never tell him?”

  Clementine smoothed her hands against her skirts. “I have never been one to say such things aloud. I love my father but don’t ever put it into words. Such words, I find, when tossed out are disrespected. So I prefer to hold onto them. Unlike some people who cannot hold onto anything.”

  Derek closed his eyes, his features sagging.

  “Ah.” Madame paused, fingering the back of Clementine’s chair. “So Lord Banfield was suffocating you with his love. Much like a child does when it adores its pet. Some men do that. Might I ask, Lady Banfield, why you were able to admit all of this aloud to a complete stranger? Why admit to your love if you are not one to say it aloud?”

  She knew why. “Because he is leaving me no choice. If I don’t say it now, I may never have a chance to say it.”

  Derek’s eyes snapped open.

  Their eyes locked.

  “So aside from his suffocating ways,” Madame gently prodded, “what else made you hold back your words of love, ma chérie? There must be a reason. Love, after all, is a gift to revel in. Not push away.”

  Clementine swallowed, her eyes burning. Maybe if she said it aloud and made it real enough for Derek to understand why she was the way she was, he would finally set aside what he thought he knew and embrace what actually was. “I know love is a gift, but sometimes gifts can be cursed. Sometimes they turn into things we don’t want them to be. And I have always thought it best to keep such things behind a door. So it doesn’t fall apart.”

  Madame paused. “I am intrigued. Explain.”

  A tear unexpectedly slipped down her cheek. She swiped it away, trying to contain the quaking in her own soul. “My parents actually married in a similar manner. It was an arranged marriage by their parents. My father came from an incredibly wealthy family as did my mother. They were expected to join their estates, even though they had so little in common. My father confessed to me that the only thing they ever had in common was their physical attraction to each other. Which is hardly something to build a lasting relationship on. I never knew what he meant by that until I got older but it made a profound impression because everything about my mother involved being physical. I knew my mother loved my father, but she was erratic and irrational. One moment she adored him and did everything and anything to please him and the next she sought to destroy him.”

  Her voice wavered. “My father had always been a good looking man. And my mother had always been incredibly jealous when women noticed him. From what I understand, she would terminate servants on the basis of whether they glanced at him. He was always faithful, but she never believed him. So she would hurt him. She would take a fist to him. She would throw things at him and make him feel worthless. It made him drink. Which only made it worse. After she would rage at him, he would try to escape her by going into his room, only she would run through the house and follow. I would…I would run after them and stand outside his bedchamber door crying, thinking my mother was still hurting him, not knowing that their argument had turned into something else: physical pleasure. I didn’t realize what I had been hearing all those years until…Derek pleasured me.”

  Derek’s eyes widened from where he stood.

  It was as if a weight had been lifted and it was no longer just her burden anymore but his.

  Madame’s silver brows came together. “To say so much, and in front of a stranger with a reputation like mine, takes courage. I admire you. Because I know you are saying all of this to try to save your marriage.” Her voice softened. “Allow me to help in the only way I can by making you understand what you grew up with. There are two types of passions that exist in this world: the ones that create pain and drama and the ones that create a bond. Theirs was one that created pain and drama. Many, many men and women use their emotions and their anger to fuel their passion and, in turn, it amplifies their ability to embrace pleasure.”

  Clementine stared up at the woman. “I don’t understand.”

  Madame sighed. “There are people who crush those they love. It is the only way they can love and the only way they understand themselves and life. I grew up with a father like that.” She was quiet for a moment. “Did your father ever raise a hand to you or your mother?”

  Clementine shook her head. “No. Never. He isn’t that sort.”

  “But your mother did raise a hand to your father?”

  Clementine half-nodded. “Yes. She did. Sadly, it was often.”

  “Did your mother ever raise a hand to you?”

  Clementine shook her head. “No. Her anger was focused on him.”

  “Did she fight with your father in front of you?” Madame pressed.

  Clementine swallowed. “Many times. But the gover
ness always either took me for a walk outside or kept me behind another door. She would tell me to cover my ears if I was upset. To keep it out.”

  A breath escaped Derek as he tried to meet her gaze.

  Clementine knew it was best not to look directly at him given all she was saying.

  Madame’s voice remained soft. “Your governess did well in protecting you. Might I ask if there were any times of happiness in your home? Anything worth remembering?”

  Closing her eyes, Clementine drifted back to the days she did cherish. Their picnics, ice-skating together, and all of their toes in the sand on the beach in Boston with the wind blowing from the ocean. “There were many times of happiness, yes,” she confided. “I remember them all. It was what my father and I clung to. My mother had the ability to be the most wonderful and charming person in the world. But charm never saved a marriage or made for a good mother.” She opened her eyes in misery.

  “You are not as broken as you think you are. And I am about to prove it.” Madame hesitated. “What do you aspire to be? If you could be any one thing?”

  Clementine swallowed and met Madame’s gaze. “A stronger person capable of expressing what she feels.”

  “Ah. Imagine that. And your husband, whose inherent nature is to be strong, which you yourself recognize, intimidates you. But this is where you can help each other. You can teach him to be more humble about his strengths and he can teach you to take more pride in your strengths. But…the only way either of you can begin to understand each other is by eliminating all the doubts that have been created.” Those full pink lips curved. “Answer me this: do the blind ever know when a glass is full without touching it?”

  Clementine shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

  Madame tapped Clementine’s cheek. “Put the glass into your husband’s hand. For he is blind to what you feel. He is blind to what you hold. You must therefore make him see what you feel.” She nudged Clementine’s chin upward. “This afternoon, insist that your husband set aside this talk of lawyers. Find a place to talk and ask yourselves one very simple question: should you salvage what you have and why?”

  Madame gestured toward Derek who quietly lingered. “Bless his misguided heart, he is finally listening. He did not have to stay and listen, but he did. He stayed beyond the five minutes he said he would. Why? Because, despite his rooster ways, he still wanted to hear what you had to say. Your words mean something to him.” She sighed. “Men carry pride differently from us women. To them pride is everything. To us, it only amounts to what the world is willing to give. Which isn’t very much.”

  Madame gestured toward Derek again. “This one speaks of divorce after only a day. To me, that whispers of a man who has emotionally endured more than he is capable of handling. I will assist in that by offering him an opportunity few men in London will get. The question is: does he deserve an opportunity to be reformed? Should I bother assisting him in becoming a better man and lover? Because I know nothing of his worth. Only you know of it. So look at him and decide. Should we let him go to his lawyers? Or are you willing to fight?”

  A soft breath escaped Clementine. She veered her gaze toward Derek who still lingered. Those soulful and enigmatic dark eyes held hers. Those eyes reminded her of the fiery seventeen-year-old who had once leaned toward her in the corridor of his house and said, ‘If ginger and licorice ever fell madly in love and married, their children would look exactly like this. It’s an acquired taste.’

  He really was an acquired taste. “I’m ready to fight.”

  The line of his mouth stubbornly tightened a fraction more.

  A sense of calm overtook her, sensing she not only could win Derek back but that she would make them into the very thing they needed to be: friends. The sort of friends who would forgive each other anything and, in turn, become even more to each other than lovers ever could be.

  Madame rounded the chair. “I think this particular session is done.” She walked over to a small writing desk tucked in the farthest corner of the empty room, took up a quill from the inkstand, and wrote more than a few words on it. Using a sander to dry the ink, she plucked up the parchment and folded it against the desk. Placing a stick of red wax into the burning flame of a candle, she sealed the parchment with a dab and a twist of the wax against the parchment. Waving it about, to cool the wax, she swept back to Derek and held it out. “You are expected in class this Monday. You have quite a bit to learn if you intend to stay married. It will cost you ten thousand.”

  Derek choked. “Ten thousand? For what?”

  Madame pursed her lips. “For a chance to save your marriage. After the amount you gave my butler, something tells me you can afford it. And as you can see—” She extended a hand toward their surroundings. “My school parlor could use some more furniture. My granddaughter would also like to go to Egypt. And I have always had very expensive taste in jewelry. I am not currently involved with any men who might normally pay the bills. So you will.”

  Derek shifted his jaw. “I am not paying ten thousand pounds to be insulted.”

  Clementine rose from her seat. Damn him. Even after everything she just shared and in front of a courtesan, no less, he still didn’t think their marriage was worth saving? “If you think I’m the only one creating the problem here, Derek, I’m about to re-educate you.” Marching over, she took hold of the sealed parchment and tucked it into her reticule. Facing Madame, she announced, “I’ll ensure he pays and attends this school. Because you have already proven your wisdom is worth investing in. We will invest in it.”

  The French woman smiled and inclined her head. “Merci. Sadly, wisdom is acquired through one’s own stupidity. Which means…there is hope for him.” She pointed at him in warning. “Roll back your tongue and your pride when it matters most. It will help. Also…” She turned and walked toward the doorway. “I will return in a few moments. I must fetch a few things for your wife.” Once in the corridor, and halfway up the stairs out of sight, she called out, “Lady Chartwell?” There was a moment of silence. “I am in desperate need of a few items from the pleasure room. Where are the whips, shackles and ropes?”

  Clementine cringed. She didn’t even want to know why the woman was asking.

  Derek muttered something and stalked over to pick up his top hat, which was still lying on the floor. He tugged it on and angled it.

  They said nothing to each other.

  Minutes ticked by and the quick steps returned, coming down the stairs and the corridor. Madame de Maitenon swept back into the room, carrying a sizable red velvet satchel. She regally deposited it into Derek’s hands and announced, “When you are both ready to kneel to intimacy again, you, my lord, will open this satchel and allow yourself to be at the mercy of your wife. She cannot feel empowered in your relationship unless you give her the ultimate power of tying you down. If playful whipping is not to your taste, let her tie your arms and legs to the bedpost so she may explore domination. Whilst domination involves far more than that, you will keep it very simple: you will not be allowed to touch her or kiss her or do anything. She must and will conduct all of your intimacies for however long you are in my school.”

  Clementine felt her face burn as she glanced at the satchel. “All?”

  Derek shook the satchel, causing what sounded like shackles to chink. He rolled his eyes and shoved the satchel at Clementine. “Be a good friend and give it to Nasser.”

  Clementine gasped and shoved it back at him. “Why not admit you’re downright scared of giving me the sort of control you have no trouble taking.”

  He shoved it back. “I’m sorry, but I’m already paying ten thousand for a lecture.”

  Clementine glared and tightened her hold on the satchel. It was obvious where this was going. And she trusted her friendship with Nasser enough to know he would help her. “Go to Nasser. Tell your driver to take you to 14 Park Place. Go. And when you’re done being an idiot, I’ll be at home waiting with the ropes.”

  He paused.
/>
  Madame tapped at his arm. “You will learn how to kneel and she will learn how to stand. Let her stand.” Madame inclined her head. “I will see you on Monday, my lord. If you do not arrive, I will send Harold to your door. Rest assured, he makes Lord Brayton look like a mere goat.” She turned to leave.

  Derek’s mouth opened but nothing came out.

  Clementine quickly hurried after her. “Madame?”

  The woman turned back. “Oui?”

  Setting a hand to the side of her mouth and lowering her voice so Derek wouldn’t hear, Clementine asked, “What will he be learning in this school?”

  “Everything a man thinks he already knows.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Their understanding of women both in and out of the bedchamber.”

  Clementine let her hand fall away from the side of her mouth. “I will ensure he goes. Any last words of advice?”

  Madame quirked a silver brow. “Learn how to showcase your love more. Some men need it more than others. This one clearly needs it. Hold his hand when he least expects it. Make him feel important. Also use your womanly intuition to herd him in the direction you wish your relationship to go. If you do not insist, it will never happen.”

  Derek cleared his throat. “I can hear everything you two are saying.”

  Showcasing her love at every turn was going to be awkward, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Derek. It was about them. Not caring about social etiquette, for she doubted it applied to a woman like this anyway, Clementine embraced her hard, letting the scent of mint wash over her senses. “Thank you.”

  Madame pulled away, smiled and placed a soft hand against Clementine’s cheek. “Make him regret his words.”