Portrait of a Lady: The Gentleman Courtesans Book 1

by Victoria Vale

  “How do I—”

  “Yes,” she said. “I thought perhaps for the first time you might want me on my back, but I want you to know I am not averse to exploring other options.”

  What the devil was happening here? Evelyn had turned from shy spinster to coy seductress in the span of one day, a change that had him wondering which side of her was real. Thinking back to the gardens, he recalled her awed reaction to being touched and kissed, her shock at the smallest intimacies such as his mouth on her breast. No woman could fake those reactions with such sincerity.

  Which meant she was putting on this performance for his benefit. When she went up on tiptoe to kiss him, arms wrapped tight around his neck, he detected the scent of sherry on her breath. Admiration welled in him, even as he lamented that she’d felt the need to get foxed in order to go through with this. He had to admit, he liked that she wanted to please him, but didn’t want her to become something she wasn’t in the process.

  “Evelyn…”

  He trailed off when she propelled him toward the bed and gave him a little push. Hugh went down with a little huff of shock, propping himself up just as she climbed over him. His cock leaped when she straddled him, settling against his groin at just the right angle. Were they naked, he could be inside her with a thrust of his hips.

  “I saw a drawing in a book in which the couple were positioned like this and thought it seemed rather interesting,” she blurted, resting both hands on his shoulders. “But if you don’t like that, I saw another…”

  She rolled from on top of him so fast he was surprised it didn’t send his head spinning off his shoulders. Then, in a move that might have made him laugh if she weren’t completely serious, she went onto her hands and knees.

  “This one seemed rather primitive, but Patience swears it is most...oh!”

  Hugh came swiftly to a sitting position as she swayed, overtaken by the effects of drink, and went toppling right off the side of the bed. He peered down at her, his brow furrowed in concern as well as a need to keep his face from displaying his amusement. To laugh at her now would ruin all the progress they had made last night.

  “Evelyn, are you all right?”

  She lay where she’d fallen, curled into herself with one hand covering her flushed face. Surprisingly, he found her current position most enticing, as the dressing gown had fallen open to expose her shapely legs.

  “Oh, God...I’ve made a cake of myself, haven’t I?”

  Propping his chin in one hand and staring down at her with a little smile, he shrugged. “No, of course not. I always fall off the bed after over-imbibing.”

  She peered at him through the space between her fingers, like a child ensuring all was safe before coming out of hiding. “I thought the sherry would help fortify my nerves.”

  “You were nervous?”

  She nodded while lowering her hand from her face, yet she remained on the floor, seeming afraid to move or breathe, or do anything else to further embarrass herself. He rose from the bed and knelt before her, extending one hand. She appeared reluctant but accepted his help. He stood and pulled her to her feet, quickly adjusting the dressing gown before it revealed another inch of skin. While her efforts had been a bit comical, the effect of her in déshabillé was affecting him in a very real way. But, if this encounter had shown him anything, it was that she still wasn’t quite ready for him to carry her to the bed and pick up where she had just left off.

  Once he’d tightened the belt at her waist, he took hold of her shoulders and pulled her close.

  “Evelyn, you do not want to be drunk the first time I take you to bed,” he admonished gently. “And it was hardly necessary. If you are still anxious, do recall that I promised you we would take this at the pace you set.”

  “I know,” she replied, her voice a strained whisper. “But then you kissed me, and the next thing I knew…”

  She had been nearly naked in his lap with one of his hands groping between her thighs. Hugh cursed himself for his lack of control. Of course she had evaluated last night’s performance and expected him to carry it much further tonight.

  “I am so terribly ignorant about such things,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. “At least, I was...until I asked Patience to teach me the basics of intercourse. There were...books with illustrations of various...positions and...and details...so many things…”

  Hugh placed a finger over her lips, halting her before she became worked up again. He was coming to realize that she babbled when she was uneasy.

  “I apologize if my behavior last night led you to believe I wished to rush this,” he said. “I simply got a bit caught up in the moment.”

  She shook her head, dislodging his finger from her mouth. “There was nothing wrong with what you did last night. I...I truly did like it. I just...did not realize how unprepared I am for what happens next.”

  With a smile, he bent down to kiss the tip of her nose. “What happens next, is we will have dinner and talk. Then, for tonight, we will adhere to a rule of kissing only. You asked how I wanted you...I want you comfortable and confident, not drunk and apprehensive.”

  Giving him a slow nod, she seemed to turn his words over in her mind before responding. “Kissing only.”

  “For tonight, and until you are ready for more,” he confirmed. “Now, I want to ask what book Patience gave you to read, but I am afraid to know the answer.”

  “There were two,” she confessed, twin pink spots appearing on her cheeks as she avoided his gaze. “The first contained mostly erotic illustrations, which I did not fully understand until I read the other book...The School of Venus.”

  Hugh nearly choked, recalling very well the content of The School of Venus. Written as a conversation between two women, it was nothing more than an instructional manual in the guise of a story.

  “Well, forget about what you’ve read for tonight. We’ve established the boundaries for now, and I will not step over them until you ask me to. Now, something smells rather delicious.”

  She gazed over at the table set near a bay window, elegantly dressed with a white cloth. Someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to prepare the intimate meal for them—two plates holding a variety of offerings, goblets filled with wine, and a silver tower containing an array of desserts in the center. His stomach trembled at the faint scent of sugary confections, yet another reminder that he’d forgotten to eat for most of the day. If Evelyn had insisted they go straight to the bed, he might have expired before being able to put in a satisfactory performance.

  “Please, sit down,” she offered, gesturing toward the table.

  Evelyn took her time laying her napkin across her lap before taking up her knife and fork and cutting into a portion of mutton.

  “Forgive me for the awkwardness of the beginning of our evening,” she said, keeping her gaze upon her plate. “Getting foxed is not a habit of mine, I can assure you.”

  He waved her off with one hand before turning his attention to his own dinner. The mutton was tender and well cooked, the first bite going a long way toward calming his stomach.

  “Think nothing of it. I am not here to cast judgment on you. I am here to…”

  To fuck you. To make you happy. To keep you pleased with me until I am ready to be finished with this business altogether.

  “Yes,” she murmured, stabbing at a spear of asparagus with her fork. “I suppose we ought to talk about the particulars of that. You mentioned arranging the frequency of your visits.”

  “That depends entirely upon you,” he told her, pausing to take a sip of what turned out to be a fine claret. “Most of my mornings are occupied, as well as some afternoons. But the time I have free, and all my evenings, are yours.”

  She seemed to think on that for a moment. “I suppose for now three nights a week would suffice. Some evenings, Patience and I like to attend the theater. If you are amenable, I would like to have you along when your schedule allows.”

  He wanted to remind her that she
was paying him to be at her disposal, that if she were going anywhere it was his job to accompany her as an escort. But speaking to her in such a mercenary way about their arrangement felt wrong just now. Odd that he’d never felt that instinctive recoil with another of his keepers.

  “I’d be happy to. What of balls, dinner parties, that sort of thing?”

  She frowned at the turnip on the end of her fork, then glanced up to meet his gaze. “I don’t attend such affairs, as I receive very few invitations.”

  The statement had been made in a matter-of-fact tone, but he sensed something else beneath her words. Who would neglect to invite such a sweet, companionable person to their fête? He came from a family filled with hostesses, all of whom would want to have a woman like Evelyn rounding out the seating arrangements at their dinner parties, or as bait to gain the attendance of unwed men.

  “It is just as well,” she pressed on. “I am not fond of crowds. Too many people, and too many ways for me to embarrass myself.”

  “Well, perhaps if you avoid showing up in your dressing gown with half a decanter of sherry in you …”

  They traded smirks at that, and Evelyn ate her turnip before replying. “I’ve never done anything so mortifying, thank God. But, unfortunately, I am not the best of conversationalists and never really know what to say. As I may have already mentioned, I do not handle excessive attention well.”

  He furrowed his brow, watching her dig into the filet of sole with her fork. “Not a good conversationalist? You and I have gotten on just fine, I think.”

  She gave him a small smile and shook her head. “I feel more at ease in an intimate setting. Unfortunately, I am painfully shy...to a degree that finding a husband was an impossible venture. I cannot explain it but...certain social situations create the worst sort of anxiety in me. My hands shake, my stomach roils, and I begin babbling in an attempt at covering it up. I’m afraid I made myself look like quite the ninny during my coming out.”

  He winced, remembering how difficult it had seemed for her to look him in the eye last night, how he’d had to work to draw bits of conversation from her until she’d loosened up a bit. In a world filled with debutantes who had been trained to flaunt themselves to their advantage, he could see how she might have been overlooked. Her beauty notwithstanding, she’d have had a difficult time standing out with such competition to contend with.

  Leaning forward a bit, he lowered his voice as if about to divulge a great secret. “May I confess something? I am not fond of crowds either. I have not attended many public events in recent years, but on the occasions that I do, I find myself counting the minutes until I can make a polite escape.”

  She scoffed. “Yes, but I bet you can get through the night without embarrassing yourself. You’ve been nothing but charming since I met you.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “And you’ve been nothing but sociable since I met you. You haven’t struggled to talk to me, the first few minutes of our acquaintance aside.”

  She lowered her gaze, her voice softening when she replied. “You are different. You’re easy to talk to.”

  Not the first time he’d heard that sentiment. However, it felt different coming from Evelyn...like something to be proud of. He did not want to examine that too closely. It didn’t matter, really, when this woman would be a means to an end for him, just like the ones before her.

  They ate in silence for the rest of the meal, nothing more than the sound of utensils against plates breaking through the quiet. She seemed composed, the effects of the sherry wearing off as she took in more food than claret, her eyes becoming clearer. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he set it atop his empty plate.

  “My compliments to your cook.”

  “She will be glad to receive them,” Evelyn replied. “It isn’t often she is asked to prepare meals for anyone other than myself and the staff.”

  She fell mute again, staring at him with hesitation in her eyes. Her gaze flicked to the bed for a moment, before coming to rest on him once more. Hugh inclined his head and returned her regard, noticing the way the firelight reflected off her hair and made her skin appear as smooth as fine china. How any man could stand in a ballroom and not notice her—regardless of whether she spoke or not—and not find his attention snared was beyond him. That one had to work to draw her into conversation seemed like a weak excuse for avoiding her company, but then most men of the ton were shallow at best and oblivious at worse. If only they knew; if one could coax an oyster open, he might find the most beautiful of pearls inside.

  Suddenly, she raised a hand and indicated the silver tower between them. “Would you care for dessert? Cook makes a wonderful—”

  “Come here, Evelyn.”

  She started at the command in his tone, but faltered only a moment before slowly coming to her feet. Her eyes grew as wide as Sauers, but she came to him, hands clenched tight before her. Pushing his chair back, he reached out and took her hand, pulling her so that she sat on his knee. He smoothed a hand up and down her back, soothing it of the stiffness that had her sitting like a plank of wood in his lap.

  “I’d very much like to share dessert with you,” he murmured, reaching out toward the silver tower and pulling it closer to them. “What would you recommend we sample first?”

  “Th-the cheesecake,” she stammered. “It’s divine.”

  He lifted a wedge of the cheesecake and took the first bite, finding that it was, indeed, divine—rich and decadent. Then, he lifted it to her lips, watching with a heavy measure of expectation. The exercise was supposed to be fun, something to draw her closer to him and show her that even dinner could hold its own sort of sensuality. But damn it if this wasn’t wreaking havoc on his senses. The weight of her on his thigh, the fresh and floral scent of her, the thrill of watching her eat from his fingers, the sound of delight she made at the first taste.

  Hugh was tempted to clear everything off the table, lay Evelyn atop it, and devour her whole.

  Instead, he steadied his hand and finished off the cheesecake, going for a jam tartlet next. He bit it in half, registering the flavor of raspberries before offering her the other half. She attempted to pluck it from his grasp, but he pulled it back and clicked his tongue at her. Understanding his motive, she opened her mouth and let him feed it to her as he had the cheesecake. He bit back a curse at the feel of her lips against his fingers, the slight rasp of her tongue. She was making it difficult for him to concentrate on the purpose of this exercise.

  But he had promised her restraint, so he forced himself to behave. They shared a few more tartlets, the next one filled with a vanilla-scented custard, and another tasting of strawberries. At the very top of the tower rested a single dish of lemon cream, which he spooned into her mouth between bites of his own.

  But then, her final bite resulted in a tiny dollop staining the corner of her mouth—a temptation too strong to resist. Setting the dish aside, he leaned in and sought her lips. She sank into the kiss without hesitation, a development that pleased him. It wouldn’t be long before she was ready for more. She whimpered when his tongue stroked at that dollop of cream, its flavor mingling with that of her taste. Taking hold of her chin, he angled her to his liking and probed inside her mouth with his tongue. She clung to his neck, opening to him and offering her own tongue with an eagerness that had his cock swelling against her hip.

  He gave in to the desire to touch her, letting his hand slide down her back until he cupped a handful of her arse. She gasped against his lips, but moaned when he gave her a squeeze, relishing the way that pliant flesh felt in his palm.

  Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He’d promised there would only be kissing, and intended to uphold that. But he wanted to be closer to her, their bodies flush, all her warm, womanly parts pressed tight against him.

  Slipping his arm beneath her legs, he swept her up and stood, his other hand supporting her back. Tightening her hold on his neck, she went rigid again as he stalked toward the bed with her in his arms. Brushing
his lips against her forehead, he then laid her atop the coverlet.

  “Kissing only,” he reminded her before attacking the buttons of his waistcoat.

  She nodded, biting her lip as she watched him do away with the garment first, then his cravat. Then, he was climbing on over her, stifling a groan as he laid his body over hers. She fit against him in a way that sent even more blood rushing straight to his cock, which at present was nestled oh-so-perfectly against the mound between her legs.

  Bloody hell...this was going to require every ounce of self-control he possessed.

  Chapter 5

  “I always wonder how many long-term affairs are born of a Vauxhall Gardens masquerade. How many encounters that began as one-time assignations grow to become more? Were I a romantic, I might suppose that many of these liaisons lead to love and marriage. As a cynic, I’m far more inclined to believe they lead to heartbreak and bastards.”

  -The London Gossip, 12 March 1819

  Evelyn clung to Hugh as he kissed her so thoroughly she wondered how she’d ever gone so long without experiencing this. Why had she ever been afraid? Everything about this was good and right, while still somehow feeling naughty. But, as he kissed her senseless, she realized that it wasn’t the act of kissing she was enjoying so much. It was the man doing the kissing.

  It was Hugh, who took his time nibbling at her lips before progressing deeper, coaxing her mouth open and treating her to the warm rasp of his tongue. It was his weight atop her, solid and hot, yet somehow not oppressive. It was the way he’d let her know that she could make this stop at any moment with a word, that he would not press her for things she was not yet ready for.

  She’d nearly ruined the evening with her ill-conceived plan of seduction, not realizing that she hardly need try at all—not if the hardened press of his cock against her were any indication. Patience had told Evelyn what it meant, and she found it more thrilling than she ought, knowing that he desired her enough to now be in such a state.