Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle

by Bronwyn Scott

  Intent on carrying out the intricacies of the knot, Julia was oblivious to his new state. Beyond a terse ‘Keep your chin up’, the linen held all her concentration. ‘Make a single knot, place one end of the fabric over the knot to hide it, spread the remainder out and turn down into the waistcoat.’ She bit her lower lip adorably while she muttered the ‘recipe’ for his knot, competent hands deftly shaping the fabric and smoothing it beneath the claret silk of his waistcoat.

  ‘There.’ Julia said with satisfaction, stepping back to survey her work. ‘Much better.’

  Paine peered into the looking glass above the cabinet holding his personal accessories. ‘This is not the trône d’amour.’

  ‘No. That was half your problem.’ Julia flounced smugly on to the bed, a smile twitching at her lips, unaware how the robe strategically gaped. ‘Your cravats aren’t nearly starched enough for that knot and rightly so. Minimal starch in the cravats is all the rage these days.’

  ‘How do you know so much about men’s fashion?’ Paine cocked his head to study the innocently provocative woman on the bed. She could rouse him without effort as the simple act of tying his cravat had proved.

  ‘Three male cousins, two of whom fancy themselves to be pinks of the ton.’ Julia gave him a wide smile. ‘You need a valet.’

  ‘I have a valet.’ It was embarrassing to admit how heavily he’d come to rely on his valet, Jacobs, in the year he’d been home. During his sojourn abroad he’d managed to dress quite well on his own. But it had been out of the question to send for Jacobs with Julia present. He’d sent a note earlier in the day to Jacobs at his Jermyn Street rooms, telling the valet to stay away.

  The fewer people who knew about her being here, the better. Until he could ascertain the current level of gossip surrounding her disappearance, it would be best to keep her hidden. That was why he felt it was so imperative he spent the evening at the club. The way Julia was looking at him right now though, he wondered if she’d ever let him leave.

  She rose up on her knees on the bed, her eyes dancing with light mischief. ‘I said the cravat starch was half of your problem. Do you want to know the other half?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Paine sensed a game afoot and stepped towards her in anticipation of her gambit. In China, girls learned the art of seduction from pillow books, but Julia had unerring instincts that couldn’t be taught when it came to arousing a man. ‘There’s an ancient Chinese proverb that says “learning is a treasure that follows its owner everywhere”. He encouraged in husky tones, ‘I think you’ll find me an excellent student.’

  ‘Then I feel compelled to tell you that the other half of your problem was your trousers. They were and are too tight.’

  She said it with such straightforwardness that Paine did not immediately understand until her hand reached for him, cupping him through his trousers. He gasped, the friction of the cloth against his member creating an exquisite set of sensations that made him simultaneously want to end and prolong the moment.

  There was nothing for it. He’d be of no use at the club walking around in this frustrated state all night. The club’s legitimate owner would have to make do without him tonight, at least for a while.

  ‘Take my trousers off, Julia.’ He managed a hoarse whisper and, in terms of words, that was all he managed for a good long while.

  Chapter Six

  By midnight, Paine realised he wasn’t going to the club. It wasn’t too late to go. Indeed, midnight was considered early among those who frequented the hells. The real action and serious gambling would just be getting under way this time of night. If he went, he could still hear all the news about town. The truth was, he didn’t want to go. The thought of leaving Julia and the warm bed for the dingy hell was vastly unappealing. For the first time in a year, he had somewhere else he wanted to be.

  Julia stirred in his arms, her naked form pressed against him in reminder that he did not make it a regular practice to hold sleeping women at length after the act. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ Julia murmured, obviously unaware that that type of question after lovemaking was far too smothering. Countless times that question served to be a conversation ender, not starter, with him.

  But miracles seemed to be in endless supply that evening. Not only did he not want to go to the gambling hell, he actually wanted to talk. Paine absently stroked a length of her hair. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I want to know why you choose to flaunt convention, why you run a low-level gambling hell when you could move among high society, I want to know….’

  ‘Whoa, one question at a time!’ Paine protested, but only in jest. He found he didn’t mind her curiosity. She was quite astute to pick up on the little contradictions of his world.

  ‘The ton likes to ignore my money because it comes from a shipping business I ran for ten years in Calcutta. You and I know both know how working for money is frowned upon. But such narrow-mindedness works out because, as it happens, I like to ignore them.’ Paine gave a little laugh, smiling in the dark. ‘What about you, Julia? Do you like the tonnish world?’

  ‘I haven’t had much experience with it,’ she admitted with a sigh. ‘I should like to try a taste of it, though, just for fun, without the pressures of the Marriage Mart.’ She spun him an innocent fantasy of waltzing in a fine ballroom with a dashing hero of a man, drinking champagne and wearing a beautiful gown. ‘You must think me a foolish girl for thinking such things. I try to be practical, but every once in a while it’s nice not to be.’

  Paine chuckled and tightened his grip about her shoulders. ‘Not at all, my dear. It’s perfectly fine to have dreams.’ It was a girlish fantasy, but he found he wanted to give it to her, hero, gown, waltz and all.

  ‘Enough about me, Paine. This was supposed to be about you. Was shipping one of your dreams? Is that why you were in India?’

  The vixen was clever. She’d noticed the shift in conversation and had redirected it back to the original topic. Her comment also reminded him just what an ingénue Julia was. She hadn’t been in town long enough to hear all the sordid details of his exile, only the more romantic rumours of his exile. She was young and untouched in so many ways. His thirty-two years seemed eons from her innocent nineteen.

  Paine shifted his position for more comfort, rising up on an elbow so he could look at her while he spoke. ‘I suppose you could say that. Shipping was a necessary dream. I am the third of three sons. You know that story—eldest gets the title, second son gets the military commission, third son gets the church or whatever else he can muster up. Well, it was obvious at a young age that I would never suit the calling of a church—something to do with getting caught with a village blacksmith’s daughter when I was twelve.’

  ‘No!’ Julia gasped in mock surprise.

  ‘Your lack of faith in me is touching. I must add in my own defence that there was some hope I might become a missionary. I did love to travel. I spent most of my school days poring over atlases and studying geography.’ Paine drew down the bed sheet covering Julia and traced a delicate circle around the aureole of a breast. ‘I think if my tutors had impressed upon me that more of the world went topless than naught, I might have gone the missionary route,’ he said in seductive tones.

  ‘You would have been a horrible missionary.’ Julia laughed.

  ‘Or a very persuasive one,’ Paine whispered, tracing a ticklish line to her stomach. ‘Have you ever read the Song of Solomon?’

  Julia batted at his hand. ‘Stop it. You’re getting off track again. So you went to India and became a shipper?’

  ‘Hmm.’ He was losing interest in the story. Julia’s body was far more entertaining. He could not recall the last time he was so captivated. ‘In short, I ran an export business for ten years. I travelled the breadth and depths of India in search of rarities. I even went to China once. I would have gone to Burma if the war in 1824 hadn’t closed down the borders. I sold the business, though, when I came back, and banked the profit.’

  ‘What m
ade you decide to come back?’

  ‘I don’t know. It just seemed like it was time. I realised that if I could build a business and thrive on my own, I could certainly handle any repercussions, if any, from the duel with Oswalt. Usually, the police are too busy with real crimes to worry about cases of the Quality fussing over honour.’

  Julia opened her mouth to ask another question, but Paine silenced her with a finger to her lips. ‘That’s enough questions about me, my sweet. The less you know about me, the better.’ At some point, part of him feared Julia would realise the kind of life he’d have led to acquire the knowledge he had and then she’d be completely appalled by the man she’d associated with. ‘I have a better idea. We can play forfeits. We can each ask a question and the other can decide if they wish to answer the question or pay a forfeit to forgo the question,’ Paine suggested. ‘I’ll go first since you’ve have your questions already. How did you come to live with your aunt and uncle?’ It was admittedly a highly personal question, but Paine found he wanted to know everything about her and not because he was risking so much for someone he knew so little about. He wanted to know everything about the delectable Julia Prentiss.

  ‘That’s an easy question, so I’ll answer it,’ Julia said, rolling on to her back. ‘My parents were killed when I was small in a freak boating accident. I’ve been with my father’s family since I was five.’ She looked over at him, her gaze intense and demanding of his attention. ‘You don’t know them. They’re very good, very simple people. Whatever they’ve done, or whatever comes out of this mess with Oswalt, I want you to know that. What my uncle is attempting to do with Oswalt is appalling, but he’s not a practical man. The world does not always deal fairly with philosophical men like him who love their theories and ideologies more than the realities of the day.’

  ‘You don’t have to defend them, Julia. They’ve certainly not defended you,’ Paine shot back, unnerved that, even at this late date, Julia’s goodness would try to countenance such inexplicable behaviour.

  ‘Now it’s my turn,’ Julia said, setting aside the brewing quarrel regarding the culpability of her uncle. ‘How many women have you been with?’

  Paine groaned. ‘What kind of question is that?’

  Julia gave an insouciant shrug. ‘My question. Are you refusing to answer?’

  ‘Absolutely—a gentleman never brags of his conquests.’ Paine put on a great show of gentlemanly affront.

  Julia scooted towards him, a hand caressing his chest. ‘You will pay the forfeit? Anything at all that I want?’

  ‘That was the rule,’ Paine drawled, his curiosity piqued at wondering what the inquisitive Julia would demand.

  ‘Very well.’ She put on a show of thinking, then said at last, ‘Teach me the sutras.’

  The request stunned him. ‘Why ever would you want to learn that?’

  ‘Why should you be the only one who knows the secrets of pleasure?’ Julia challenged, smiling.

  The minx thought she’d got the better of him and maybe she had, but not in the way she most likely thought. He guessed she’d meant to shock him. But the shock was the idea of Julia using such techniques with another man besides him at some point in a far-off future. ‘These are intimate skills, Julia,’ Paine warned. ‘The sutras are about more than studies of sexual congress. They’re about managing marriage and love quarrels as much as they are about the physicality of lovemaking.’

  Even as he recited the admonitions his own teachers had given him, he knew Julia would heed them as much, or as little, as he had. In the beginning of his education, he’d seen them only from the English perspective of positions and sexual prowess. It had been much later before he’d begun to see them in the Hindu way, in the sacred way of being an exalted religious expression of oneness—the whole point of life.

  ‘You agreed to a forfeit. Are you reneging?’ Julia pressed.

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you about Kama.’ Paine relented. Kama could be used by anyone for establishing peace of mind, it needn’t be only sexual in orientation, although it was hard to remember that with Julia snuggling against him in expectation.

  ‘Kama is the experience of enjoyment through utilising all five of the senses,’ Paine said in a low voice.

  ‘Ah, like the oranges this morning,’ Julia said.

  Paine chuckled softly, pulling her closer to him. ‘Yes. Intercourse should be an experience of sights, sounds, scents and touches. A good lover sets the scene, from his own grooming to the place where he intends to be with his partner. A good lover is concerned about trust on all levels. Without trust, sex cannot attain its sacred plain.’

  ‘Your sheaths,’ Julia put in quietly, lying content in his arms, happy to listen to him carry out his forfeit. ‘They’re about trust.’

  ‘It is a lover’s duty to ensure a fulfilling sexual experience. If either partner is worried about the after-effects of their liaison, then the experience is minimised,’ Paine said simply. These lessons had become so ingrained in him that he couldn’t remember thinking otherwise. But hearing himself speak these lessons out loud reminded him how foreign these practices might be to someone else and a thought occurred to him.

  ‘If you hadn’t found me, Julia, where would you have gone?’

  ‘I’d thought of a brothel,’ Julia said sleepily. ‘I am glad I found you, though.’

  ‘Me, too,’ Paine whispered as he felt her drift off into a contented sleep. And in truth he was. He’d had relationships with many women, most of them far more experienced than Julia. With them, no matter how short their acquaintance, he tried to obey the teachings of the sutras. He would not wish any of them subjected to the rigours of Oswalt’s perverse demands.

  It was a long while before he joined her in sleep, his mind racing about next steps. What would Oswalt be doing? Where would he be looking? What would the man do once it was clear Julia had disappeared from the usual avenues?

  ‘Are you complete idiots? How can one innocent bit of muslin, who has never been up to town and has no friends here to speak of, give every last one of you the slip?’ Oswalt bellowed to the panel of henchmen sitting in his offices on the London docks.

  He jabbed a rough hand at one of the men. ‘You, tell me again everywhere you looked.’

  The big man named Sam Brown began his recitation one more time. Oswalt leaned back in his chair, hands intertwined over his belly. He did nothing to disguise the fact that he was furious. The girl was gone, completely vanished. How the hell had his crafty plan gone so drastically awry after having gone so smoothly?

  He’d expected she would run. She’d shown far too much spirit to mildly abide by her uncle’s wishes. He’d seen it from the start and he’d counted on it. She would run. He would drag her home in disgrace and make an agreement with her uncle to marry the disreputable piece of baggage before a scandal could erupt. All this benevolence in exchange for returning already advanced funds—funds he knew Lockhart couldn’t repay. Then he would spring the trap that would net him Lockhart’s ship in repayment of the loan. The cargo from the Americas was valuable, but that wasn’t the reason he wanted it.

  It was the first stage in the ruination of the poor, unsuspecting viscount. The second stage would follow in quick succession. Once bankrupt, the viscount would be stripped of everything but his title. The crown couldn’t take the entailed estate, but anything else that wasn’t nailed down was vulnerable to the creditors in payment. It wouldn’t be long before the already pinched viscount would be stripped of anything of value. His estate would be worthless. That’s where he came in. Oswalt would be waiting to redeem the estate of his beloved bride’s family with his wealth. Oh, yes, he’d be waiting with his new bride, the viscount’s luscious niece, in tow. Marriage to Julia would ensure he’d get the estate and look bloody honourable doing it. Julia’s marriage to him would allow the Lockhart lands to stay ‘in the family’. Such a noble act on behalf of a peer of the realm and years of economic servitude for the crown would surely help him clinch
his long-coveted knighthood. The king couldn’t overlook such generous favours.

  Certainly, he could still move forwards with some pressure to retrieve the funds from Lockhart, but without the girl, he’d look like the opportunist he was. The girl made him look noble.

  Oswalt cracked his knuckles with relish. He felt better thinking of the elaborate plot he’d concocted. The plan had been meticulously laid out. He had no feud with the viscount; the man was simply vulnerable, a veritable chicken waiting for plucking. It was hardly Oswalt’s fault the man was in debt up to his eyeballs and, while sharp at the ideologies of politics, less astute when it came to personal economics.

  The man would have made a good professor of philosophy, but Lockhart was out of his depth here. Oswalt knew. He’d hunted this sort of prey among the nobility before. It served those peacocks right for treating him with disdain all these years just because his money was earned instead of inherited. If Lockhart wasn’t careful, he just might find himself bereft of his three sons and looking to Oswalt and Julia’s children as legitimate heirs to the title.

  ‘Where do you suggest we look next, boss?’ The big man’s question interrupted Oswalt’s daydreaming.

  ‘Try the ships. She might think to flee to the Continent.’ Oswalt edged a piece of dirt out from under a shabby nail with another equally ragged nail. ‘Try the gambling hells, too.’ If she’d been foolish enough to go to ground in the darker sections of London, perhaps the gambling hells had word of it.

  He hadn’t sent men to those places earlier because it seemed unlikely Miss Prentiss would find shelter there. According to his logic, she would have been more likely to seek out her one friend, Elise Farraday, or attempt to go back to the country. But since Elise had told the viscount she’d not seen her friend and the posting inns reported no one who matched Miss Prentiss in description or situation, he was forced to expand his search.