by Eloisa James
She scowled at him.
“You’re getting the hang of it,” he said, drawing his hands slowly over her breasts. She looked down at his hands. They were large, and darker than her skin. They shaped her breasts, played with them with exactly the right mix of tenderness and strength.
“What should I have done?” she asked.
“Are you genuinely curious, or are you going to fall into a pit of despair and decide that you are the worst courtesan in all of England?”
“I’m not a courtesan,” she pointed out.
“No. You’re an utterly delectable woman, with the most gorgeous breasts in Christendom.”
His voice was darker, lower. “What should I have done?” she persisted.
“Touch me,” he said. “You kept your hands on my shoulders, more or less.”
“Oh.” She colored. “I didn’t think…”
“You didn’t think I’d like to be touched, because that fool Astley had a poker up his arse about it. But I don’t. I want you to touch me everywhere.” Suddenly his hands were around her waist, picking her up, easing her back down.
She squeaked, but it was so much easier this time. She felt soft and wet. He thrust into her with a groan that sent a bird flying from the bushes beside them.
Neither of them moved for a moment. Their breath was harsh.
“Would you like me to touch you like this?” she said, circling his nipple with one finger.
“Hmm. That’s not terrible but it’s not great either,” he said. “What else might you do with that finger?”
He was teasing her again, so she pinched him as a rebuke, and his breath caught—and she learned something.
He recovered fast, though, and pulled her tighter, whispering, “Any more of that and this will be a very short encounter, princess.” She didn’t want that, and neither did he. So he gave her one of the kisses that made her feel as if she were both drowning and catching on fire, all at once.
“I want you to lick me all over,” he said, hoarse in her ear. And he started to move.
It took a minute for what he was saying to sink into her mind, and then she suddenly imagined herself on her knees before him, as he had been before her, making him groan and cry out, as he had to her.
“I’d like that,” she whispered.
His fingers were gripping her hips, but she could feel the fire clamping down so soon, too soon. “Oh, Leopold,” she said helplessly, running her fingers through his hair. “I can’t touch you now, I can’t because…” But whatever she was going to say was lost in a wave of pure, violent pleasure.
She came back to herself slowly to find that he was still there, still…with her.
“A courtesan would never come before her client,” Leopold said in her ear. “And if she did, she’d have to come again, just to make up for it.”
She would have laughed but she was too tired.
“There are other things I’d like you to do,” Leopold said, his voice like a velvet whip. And he started to tell her. In detail.
She came twice more before he finally conceded that perhaps she might, just might, achieve some modicum of skill such as a real courtesan had.
But she didn’t care what he said, because he cried out when he came, cried her name in such a way that she threw away all those fears.
She was no Whore of Babylon.
“Eleanor,” he said again, afterwards. And held her very tightly. Just that: “Eleanor.”
It was enough.
Chapter Twenty-four
That night at supper Lisette talked of nothing but the treasure hunt to take place two days hence. Her plate looked like a small boat adrift in a sea of foolscap, on which were scrawled notes and lists. For the most part Villiers, Eleanor, Anne, and the duchess simply allowed the monologue to burble forth. There was unspoken agreement in the room that Lisette’s enthusiasm was like a fever, and should be treated with extreme caution.
“Everyone in the county will be here, of course. You will have a particularly enjoyable time, Eleanor,” Lisette said, beaming. “Not only will Sir Roland and his parents attend, but I invited the Duke of Astley to return and he said that he may well do it. His late wife’s great-aunt is only an hour’s ride from here, and he thought to return for the treasure hunt.”
Eleanor’s mother frowned. “That is a remarkably inappropriate idea. It has been barely a week since his wife died.”
“It’s for charity,” Lisette said blithely. “No one expects him to stay in the house weeping.”
“They may not expect tears, but they expect a modicum of observance,” the duchess said acidly. But her comment didn’t have the usual force to which she normally gave even the smallest impropriety. The surgeon had pulled her tooth, but the pain lingered, and she was treating it with laudanum. Which had the pleasant effect of making her lose about half of what made her a duchess, as Eleanor saw it.
Her Grace was a far more agreeable companion in her current state.
Lisette ignored her, simply plucking a paper from the mess in front of her. “I wrote all the clues for the treasure hunt last night. Shall I read them aloud to you?”
“Absolutely not,” Anne said without particular inflection. “Are the children meant to read the clues to themselves? I very much doubt that they are literate.”
“Of course they can read,” Lisette said. “They receive classes in reading, writing, and deportment every day except Sunday.”
“How do you know?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m on the Ladies’ Committee of the orphanage,” Lisette said, glancing at her with a trace of irritation. “I’ve been reading the schedule of their activities for years. The Committee insists that all the girls learn to read. I myself have urged the acquisition of a musical education, though to this point they do little more than sing.”
“Mrs. Minchem may have claimed the children were being taught reading, but did they learn, or did they spend all their time making buttons?” Eleanor asked.
“Please,” Lisette said with a little shudder. “I can’t bear such disagreeable subjects. Mrs. Minchem is gone, and I hope we can simply forget these unpleasant events.”
Eleanor found herself looking at Lisette with real dislike, and bit her tongue. Certainly Lisette should have made those tours of the orphanage. But likely, Mrs. Minchem would have kept the disturbing truth out of sight anyway.
“How are the orphans doing now?” Villiers asked, breaking into the cool little silence that followed Lisette’s speech. Not that Lisette had even noticed; she kept scribbling on the pieces of paper spread around her plate.
“Oh, very well!” Lisette replied. “The baker’s wife from the village has moved in temporarily. The Ladies’ Committee is going to hire a new headmistress. In the meantime, I’m arranging everything myself. It will be just fine, I’m sure.”
Eleanor hated to be such a doubting Thomas. But it seemed to her that someone energetic and truly directed was needed to head up the orphanage. Whereas Lisette was energetic in bursts, generally only when she became obsessed with a project, as she was now. The treasure hunt was all she could speak of.
“Do you think that fifty pounds is enough?” Lisette was asking.
“Fifty pounds?” the duchess asked. “What for?”
“The first child to bring back all four items will win fifty pounds,” Lisette explained. “It’s enough to set her up in an apprenticeship.”
“That’s a very generous thought,” Villiers said.
Lisette beamed at him. “I would love to fund all of the orphans, but I don’t have enough pin money. Luckily, I rarely spend it, so I have enough for one orphan this time.”
The worst of it was that she meant it. Lisette would readily give all her money to the orphans. Eleanor found herself picking at her food and letting the discussion whirl around her. Villiers threw in fifty pounds for another prize. She was rather surprised when her mother offered a third prize, but put it down to the effect of laudanum together with the general air of virtu
e around the table.
“I spend all my pin money on gowns,” Anne said. “Though I hate to lower the altruistic tone by admitting it.”
“I must ask Aunt Marguerite if she would sponsor an orphan as well,” Lisette was saying.
“Lady Marguerite is an eccentric,” the duchess murmured. She was starting to look rather more befuddled than at the start of the evening.
“Mother,” Eleanor said, “I’m not sure that wine and laudanum are a good mix.”
“But I feel better. So—So much better. Really, so much better.”
“You’re three sheets to the wind,” Lisette commented.
“What did you say?” the duchess asked, peering at her.
“You’re totty,” Lisette said, louder. “Top-heavy. Sluiced over.”
“That’s enough,” Her Grace said, standing up with just a mild waver. “You always were a rude little girl, and you’ve only become worse. I can’t abide you.” And with that, she left.
Anne was grinning behind her napkin, but Villiers’s face was utterly expressionless. “I’m sorry, Lisette,” Eleanor said into the silence that greeted the slam of the door. “I think the laudanum and wine are influencing my mother’s temperament.”
“My mother always said that your mother was small-minded,” Lisette said cheerfully.
Eleanor wasn’t sure how to speak to that assessment, so she returned to her sole à la venitienne.
“Did you know that your children plan to participate in the treasure hunt, Leopold?” Lisette asked.
He looked up, rather startled. “Will they indeed?”
“Tobias at least.” She returned to her list.
“How exactly will the hunt work?” Villiers asked.
“Each clue leads you to a location, and tells you to bring back an object. We’ll give out all four clues at once; that way the children won’t end up just trooping around after each other.”
“Won’t Tobias have an advantage over the other children, since he has been living here for several days?” Eleanor asked.
“Perhaps,” Lisette said. “But I’m sure that he will be a fine candidate for an apprenticeship.”
“Tobias does not need an apprenticeship,” Villiers stated.
“Of course he does,” Lisette said, not really listening. “He’s a clever boy. You could apprentice him to a violin maker, for instance. He might create wonderful instruments. He has lovely fingers.”
“I plan to give him an estate worth ten thousand pounds a year.”
Eleanor took a sip of her wine. Apparently, Leopold had forgotten to share a few details of his anticipated home life with his fiancée. But Lisette merely shrugged. She was always easygoing—unless you crossed her.
“Tobias will not participate in the treasure hunt,” Villiers stated.
Lisette’s brows drew together. “Of course he will. He’s just the right age to win, and he’s already excited about it. You can’t disappoint the boy. I was in the nursery this morning and he talked of nothing but the hunt.”
“Tobias talked of nothing else?”
Eleanor knew what Villiers meant. Tobias was eminently his father’s son: he would never babble.
“In his own particular fashion,” Lisette said airily.
“It’s not appropriate for him to compete against orphans to win fifty pounds,” Villiers pointed out.
“I know!” Lisette exclaimed, clapping her hands. “If he wins, you can simply tell Tobias that he can’t keep the money.”
“You might want to inform him of that salient fact ahead of time,” Anne noted. It seemed to Eleanor that her sister was enjoying the dinner a good deal more than she herself was.
“I will instruct him that it would be improper for him to participate,” Villiers said, accepting a partridge served on a croustade from the footman.
Lisette huffed but went back to her list.
“What sort of things are the children supposed to fetch?” Anne inquired.
“I told you. An egg from the henhouse, that sort of thing.” Impish pleasure lit up Lisette’s face. “But they have to bring the egg home without breaking it!”
“And when will the treasure hunt begin?”
“As soon as Aunt Marguerite arrives,” Lisette said. “And my father, of course.”
Eleanor resolutely turned up the corners of her mouth into something approximating a smile.
“I won’t say a word to Marguerite about the Duke of Astley’s clandestine visit,” Lisette said, turning to her. “Though of course you’ll want to tell everyone, I’m sure.”
“Actually, no,” Eleanor said. Villiers’s head swung up and she avoided his eyes. “His Grace’s whereabouts are his own business.”
“You’ll disappoint the gossip lovers,” Lisette said, looking back and forth between two pieces of foolscap. “Do you think that the winning orphan should be crowned in gold or with laurel leaves?”
“Gold?” Eleanor asked, still avoiding Villiers’s eyes. “How on earth would you manage that, Lisette?”
“Well, there is an old crown in the west wing,” she said. “It’s locked up, but of course I could get it out. I think Queen Elizabeth left it here when she was on progress years ago. Something like that.”
“Your family never returned it?” Anne asked. “You’d think that Queen Elizabeth would have missed the crown.”
“Apparently there is some sort of letter she wrote in the library, asking for the crown back, but my ancestor pretended he’d never seen it. I’m due in the nursery to say good-night to your little girls, Leopold. Do come with me.”
He looked down at his half-eaten partridge. “I’m still eating.”
“You can finish later,” Lisette said cheerfully, holding out her hand.
“Anne and I don’t mind if you both leave,” Eleanor put in, without being asked. “I’ll just finish my plate and retire upstairs.”
“Well, I do mind,” Villiers said coolly. “If you must leave the table, Lisette, you might ask Lady Eleanor or Mrs. Bouchon to act as hostess in your place.”
Lisette laughed, but there was a dangerous edge there, an edge that Eleanor remembered from tantrums of years ago. “Why on earth would I adhere to such stuffy rules? I don’t run my household that way! It’s time to say good-night to the girls, so I shall go. And I know that you want to come with me.”
“I don’t,” he said flatly, looking up at her.
Her hand dropped.
“I wish to finish my fowl, and then I plan to have some of that excellent lamb that Popper has on the side table,” Villiers said. “And after that I shall likely have some sugared plums, since I see them waiting as well.”
There was a dangerous, trembling moment when peace hung in the balance. But then Lisette’s face cleared and she burst out laughing. “You men!” she said, half shrieking with laughter. “You’re completely worthless if you haven’t finished your meal. I know that.” She shook her head. “My papa is exactly the same. Cross as a bear until he’s had his morning tea and toast.”
“Exactly,” Villiers said, taking a bite of fowl. “Do give the children my best.”
“I’ll tell them you’ll be upstairs in ten minutes,” she said blithely, trotting out the door.
“I won’t—” he said. But she was gone.
“Popper,” Villiers said to the butler, “wait until Lady Lisette has left the nursery, and then inform the children that I will visit them in the morning, just as I told them a short while ago, would you?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Popper said.
Eleanor allowed a footman to take away her sole, since it was rather salty to her taste, and accepted a slice of Milanese flan in its place.
“That was awkward,” Villiers said after a time.
“Lisette has never cared much for eating,” Eleanor said.
“Yes,” Villiers said thoughtfully. “I, on the other hand, care a great deal for eating. You seem to share my preference.”
Eleanor was instantly conscious that she
was far more curvy than Lisette, and likely could stand to lose some weight.
“Do you suppose that the Duke of Astley will really return for the treasure hunt?” Anne asked.
Eleanor felt a deep certainty that he would. In her opinion, Gideon had gone slightly mad. He had always been so prudent and principled…but no longer.
“Of course he will,” Villiers said. “He’s in love.”
“In love,” Anne said, as if tasting the words. “What an extraordinary concept for such a tiresome man. You know,” she said, turning to Eleanor, “I really do owe both you and him an apology.”
“I can’t think why,” Eleanor said, endeavoring to end the conversation the way their mother surely would have.
“I told you that the man never loved you enough, that he was a weak-chinned milksop. I was obviously wrong.”
“Did you indeed?” Villiers said. “Interesting.”
“As I said, I was wrong,” Anne said, ignoring him. “The fact that Astley snapped back to your side shows that he does love you—is in love with you, in fact. How romantic.”
“Yes, very,” Villiers chimed in.
Eleanor just concentrated on eating her flan. She had wished, years ago, that Gideon was brave enough to risk his reputation in order to marry her rather than Ada. She couldn’t have asked for more than what he was doing now. If he appeared at that treasure hunt, and particularly if he showed a marked preference for her, the scandal would ricochet across the ton.
“At this rate, everyone will be discussing the treasure hunt for the next month,” Anne said, confirming Eleanor’s anxiety. “I am very happy that I accompanied you. I shall be so popular.”
“Perhaps we should give Mother an extra laudanum dose that morning,” Eleanor said. And she was half-serious.
“If Astley has decided that you are worth more than the world’s opinion,” Villiers said, his voice very even, “your mother will simply have to get used to that fact. I don’t expect he will wait for a full year of mourning before marrying you.”
“He must,” Eleanor said firmly. “He’s Ada’s only close family member, since her father passed away last year.”
“He won’t.”
“Why not?” Anne put in. “My sense is that he is making sure Eleanor doesn’t end up married to you while his back is turned. But he seemed genuinely fond of his wife, in a lukewarm kind of way.”
