Betrothed (Russian Hearts Series Book 1)

by Elsa Holland

  Well, two could play at blackmail. He would change tactics.

  The journey to St Petersburg would put them all in close quarters.

  He would woo the delightful Georgie and establish an indiscretion.

  Chapter 11

  “I was led to believe…that is to say I have heard…” Georgie scanned the bookshelves and soft furnishings of The Bond Street Bookshop as if they could give her guidance on how to word the request. The balding gentleman who had introduced himself as the manager looked at her earnestly, not at all the kind of face and demeanor she expected of a man who hid a sexual establishment under his rather lovely bookshop. She had in fact been here on numerous occasions and never in a million years would she have guessed what lay beneath.

  Last night at the salon she’d gone back to Lord Marsden and asked the address of The Velvet Basement. The manager, Lord Marsden had whispered between laughs, would be the person who could ensure discreet access to the infamous shop. That it held the kind of knowledge her betrothed would be eternally grateful she had, and then he’d grinned like a Cheshire cat. At the other salons, the ones she’d visited after Demetri safely deposited her at home, she’d discreetly asked about The Velvet Basement and was reassured it existed and that it did indeed hold the knowledge she sought.

  “Perhaps madam is interested in periodicals? Historical memoirs?” The manager asked.

  “No, no nothing like that.” Georgie rung her gloved hands together, how on earth was she going to say it? Surely the man could give her some kind of clue so she would not embarrass herself beyond measure if she asked him about The Velvet Basement and was mistaken.

  There would never be a marriage; her betrothal was now something to bide her time with until her father sorted out his funds, a situation most unlike him to risk their lifestyle and assets on a venture. However, what did remain…what smarted, was that she was considered to be part of a segment of women who were not meant to be knowledgeable about matters of desire. About matters of the body. About pleasure. That she and those in her group were considered best kept ignorant, when clearly there were a slew of people, men and women, who enjoyed all manner of intimacies; who were empowered by knowledge of their own sexuality and that of others.

  She wanted that.

  She wanted to be empowered next time her heart fell for a man. She wanted to be alluring and enticing, all the things she clearly was not to her betrothed.

  In amongst the parlor games, poetry readings and debates on art, social reform and fashion, she discovered her betrothed was now in Bath, embraced and adopted by a group of elite hedonists who had been called the Wolves of Hyde Park.

  The Wolves of Hyde Park, Georgie unlocked her hands from each other and glanced at the door as the bell clanged discordantly and a gentleman came in. What kind of a woman interested a man who wanted to run with wolves? The gentleman who had just entered the bookshop walked briskly in their direction, then after the briefest of nods to the store manager, went down an aisle between the bookcases. She wanted to be the kind of woman a man who ran with wolves wanted. She wanted to be as alluring and sensual as that wildness suggested.

  “If you will excuse me.” The shop manager said and followed the gentleman, disappearing down the same aisle. They spoke in hushed voices, not the usual volume used when one enquired about books.

  Her heart raced. Her chest tightened. Be that woman, she coached herself. Be that woman a man with hunger wanted. Georgie approached the aisle in time to see a pound note passed between them, and then be slipped into the store manager’s vest pocket. A bookcase on the far end of the aisle pivoted open; the gentleman walked through before it closed behind him.

  She approached the manager whose face remained impassive. “Have you found what you were after, Miss?”

  As the organ in her chest beat faster, she gave the smallest of nods, extracted a pound from her purse and held it out. He took her toll, motioned her to the bookcase and walked away as the bell at the entry to the bookshop clanged again. Georgie pushed the bookcase open and stepped through the opening before she lost courage.

  Inside was a narrow staircase leading down to the basement. The cologne of the gentleman who had preceded her lingered in its close confines.

  Heart pounding, she made her way down the narrow, dimly lit staircase. She clutched the slender brass handrail as she took each step down.

  At the bottom, she stilled and pushed open the door, quite surprised by the sight that confronted her.

  She didn’t know what she had expected. Maybe something along the same lines as the medical establishments where all matters concerning her body were dealt with. Or an apothecary but with more sexually oriented items. Instead the room was opulent. More like she imagined a bordello would look, with an atmosphere similar to the infamous Madam Debuverey’s salon.

  The Velvet Basement was larger than she imagined, and it didn’t feel claustrophobic. The lighting was soft yet ample for viewing the myriad of items on display. A rather clever balance between mood and brightness. The brown and burgundy covered walls and shining wooden floors indicated the space was well cared for.

  When a couple of men blatantly turned up their collars it occurred to her that she too may be recognized. She immediately unpinned the veil tucked around her hat, it dropped down in front of her face. It was not difficult to see through the lace, and as she took the first step into the shop, other clients averted their gazes allowing a modicum of anonymity.

  Georgie wasn’t quite sure what to do now that she was here. It wasn’t like she could sign up for an afternoon class on how to go about congress with a man and how to do it and excel.

  A small woman with a most beautiful face came around the corner…sounding out consonants… p.p.p.t.t.t.b.b.b. She moved with ease and confidence as she selected a tuberous item from a display cabinet and called, “I’ll be with you in a moment ma’am, make yourself comfortable and look around.”

  Make yourself comfortable and look around. A more unlikely greeting she could not have expected on entering the rather infamous Velvet Basement.

  Georgie decided to stay around the open tables rather than venture down the warren of shelves. Even only curiously glancing down them, simply acted to increase her sense of being overwhelmed. The open tables contained images that were equally hard to look at or to look away from. Nakedness and all kinds of arrangements of that said nakedness. Individuals, couples, and groups of men and women, naked or scantly clothed. Here was humanity unveiled. A glimpse of our carnal natures which was anything but civilized.

  She picked up a postcard of a man in a dinner suit with his head between a woman’s legs. Was that meant to convey pleasure or punishment? Another of two women, both kneeling in front of a man licking his erect phallus.

  Her mouth was suddenly dry, it was all too much. Too much to take in.

  “Ma’am, can I help you?” the incongruously beautiful attendant asked.

  “I…I think I need to sit down.” She felt faint. She never felt faint. In moments she was seated on a large leather chesterfield with potted palms on both end and a small table before her. To one side of the shop, she was somewhat shielded from the sofas in front of the counter.

  “Here, drink this Ma’am.” A glass of fresh water was placed in her hand which Georgie very quickly downed.

  “I may have made a mistake…”

  The attendant sat down and her confident, strikingly beautiful face calmed the tightness in Georgie’s chest. Clearly the woman was an angel.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, nobody comes here by accident, Ma’am. Just take yer time and I’ll tell you a bit about the place.”

  Georgie nodded and took another large gulp of water.

  “Here’s a place of secrets,” the attendant motioned to the room and all its unfathomably contents, “It a place of desires and a window into the world of ‘Eros’.”

  “Eros?” That was familiar and comforting academic speech. “I have read the classics.”


  The attendant gave a reassuring nod and smiled. “There’s many a remarkable thing in the classics. Horned Dionysus with his goat legs and all the nymphs who rush to please him. Gods turning into beasts to subdue maidens, or the wife of another man, even the wife of a king or god.”

  Georgie, nodded.

  “A gentlemen friend of mine likes to tell me that we have those stories to remind ourselves of our real natures. To remind and warn us of who we are under the guise of normal lives.”

  “He sounds quite knowledgeable.”

  She glowed as she talked about her friend. Georgie knew how she felt.

  “Have you studied any anthropology? Seen some of the artefacts of fertility.”

  Georgie nodded, “Yes. But surely those are ….” Large phalluses, bodies entwined, it had all seemed poetic not figurative. “An exaggeration?”

  The soft smile on the attendant’s face told her that it was not.

  “Are you looking for something for yourself or another?”

  Georgie tightened her grip on her purse. “I need to start at the beginning. My mother… she passed away when I was a girl…”

  “No aunt or sister to tell you things?”

  Georgie shook her head no. She suddenly felt gauche in her innocence. “My betrothed he…he’s a Petroski…perhaps you have read the columns?”

  The attendant gave a soft smile. “No time for reading for the likes of me, Miss. However, I take it you are speaking of a man of worldly experience?”

  Georgie nodded. “A Wolf of Hyde Park,” she whispered.

  There was no marked change in the attendant’s face except for the soft understanding in her eyes.

  “I am not what he wants…. I need to understand. Not be left in the dark.”

  “How basic would you like to start…?”

  Georgie looked about her, items in glass cabinets displayed a world she knew nothing about.

  A tightness settled around her throat. “From the very basics.” She stated as her purse was slowly being strangled between her hands.

  The angel reached out and placed a hand over hers “You have done the hardest thing, finding out about us and coming here. Don’t leave without what you came for.” She leaned in closer. “More women should come. More women should learn enough to ensure their own pleasure. Make sure you go to your wedding bed with anticipation and pleasure. Wolves aren’t half bad if you are prepared for them.”

  Georgie nodded. There would be no wolf for her, but she would ensure that she was no longer ignorant. The attendant was correct, she had done the hardest part by coming to the shop and down here to ask for what she wanted. Now for a few more leaps of courage. She released her hold on her purse, drew herself upright, shoulders back, she actually had many questions.

  “Kissing. I want to know everything from kissing to consummation and its various forms.” Her face flared but she did not drop her gaze from the attendant. “It does have various forms…?”

  “Yes. Many, many.” The girl grinned. “My name is Evie and I know exactly what you need.”

  A wave of reassurance washed through Georgie with a flurry of anticipation.

  “Let me get you some things to get you started,” Evie said.

  A tea service on a polished silver tray with some shortbreads was delivered by another young girl to a small Middle Eastern table inlaid with alternate woods next to where she sat.

  “Do people linger?” She asked the girl who poured her tea.

  “Oh yes Ma’am, especially if there are special orders to be designed, discussed or fitted.”

  “Special orders and fittings?”

  “We make many masks, chairs and St Andrew crosses, all too individual specifications.”

  Masks, chairs and crosses.

  The young girl leaned in, “There’s a secret party this week, all hush hush, but it has meant lots of orders. I helped sew the cat costumes in patent leather.” The young girl’s voice was full of pride.

  “Cats?” The idea of cats in leather was not something she was immediately able to resolve. “Not fur?”

  The girl grinned. “I’ll show you.” She walked behind the counter and went through a small curtain, disappeared for a moment then came back out with sheaths of paper and headed back to her as Miss Evie also returned, having spent her time going through the picture boxes on the tables.

  “Here you go Miss, the girl handed over the parchments as Miss Evie sat opposite her. Georgie took the sheaths and stared at drawings of a sleek formfitting suit, mask with cat ears and tail. It was scandalous, showed the woman’s form with no consideration for modesty and yet was undoubtedly shockingly erotic.

  She coughed. “Men enjoy this?”

  The two shop attendants were still for a moment then answered in unison.

  “Yes.” They both grinned.

  Miss Evie took the papers from Georgie’s hand and handed them back to the girl. “Thank you, Beth.”

  “I hope I didn’t offend you, Miss, I simply thought to share,” Beth said in a rush.

  Georgie waved her hand, “Not at all. It’s simply all new to me.”

  The young girl bobbed a curtsy and went back behind the counter and the curtain. “Beth should have known better, she’s very proud of working on the costumes.”

  “Is that a regular thing…?”

  Miss Evie smiled and shook her head no, “An unusual request.”

  Georgie took in a deep breath.

  Evie had come back with a small handful of postcards and a small book. “I have a few things that are best to start with.” She placed a picture of a naked man on the small table. Georgie didn’t know where to look.

  A small hand came over her gloved one. “Miss, if you want to know, you will have to look.”

  Heat burned Georgie’s cheeks. “I feel foolish.”

  The hand over hers squeezed. “There are things that still surprise me, and I have worked here for many years, have been married and have a fella. No one knows everything, Miss. We all have to face the basics and our feelings as we do.”

  Georgie lifted her gaze to the beautiful attendant and gave her a small smile.

  “See that’s better, you were brave enough to get here, let’s look at them together and I’ll tell you as much as you like.”

  Georgie nodded, then cast her gaze down to the table and the first photograph.

  The image showed the man aroused. Georgie glanced down and was unable to look away…from the appendage.

  She swallowed. “A hand-span would you say?”

  “On average,” the angel smiled, “But as with us women, they come in all sizes.”

  “You mean…?” Georgie looked purposefully to her lap.

  The angel nodded. “Yes. I have a more detailed image if you’d like to see some, they’ll show the genitals more specifically.”

  Did she really want to have images of a range of female and male genitalia in her mind? She wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without wondering which type went with which face. Balls and banquets would never be the same again.

  Georgie rapidly shook her head no. “What about kissing or touching?” she asked of the attendant instead. That seemed much safer to start with.

  “Wait a moment.” The angel went over to the boxes and come back. “These are termed more art pictures as they are less graphic. She placed down images of couples kissing.

  Last night at the salon with Demetri, she had wanted him to kiss her. The closeness of his body warmed hers, made her aware of sensations and aches in places that clearly wanted to be touched. “I like this one.” She said shyly, peeking up at the attendant who grinned back at her.

  “So do I.”

  After a good hour and a half of educational exploration and discussion, Georgie made her way up the stairs, through the pivoting bookcase and into the bookshop above. The Manager did not make eye contact as she left, a discretion she appreciated.

  The bell rang discordant as she left The Bond Street Bookshop and hailed a cab bac
k home. She had a head full of much needed knowledge and more importantly she no longer felt so awkwardly at her lack of knowing even rudimentary facts about intimacies. A growing sense of empowerment pulsed through her and which she fully intended to build upon with the handful of pornographic photo plates, neatly wrapped, tied and nestled deep in her purse.

  Part II

  The Journey

  Chapter 12

  The Journey started two days later with a sea crossing to Calais. Georgie’s gloved hands held tightly to the rail, the wind light and filled with sunshine while sea gulls screeched overhead. Around her couples, families and singles promenaded the deck. Many were at the rail on the other side watching as the ropes were released and waving to those below who had come to say their goodbyes. Georgie closed her eyes and pressed her face into the wind.

  “The passage should be calm.” Her father said from beside her. Georgie opened her eyes and looked sideways at him. The anger she’d felt towards him was now only irritation.

  The ship’s horn sounded their departure, a single note like a giant baritone saxophone sending billowing steam tumbling above the deck as turbines churned underneath and the ship pulled away from the dock.

  “I still think this is a bad idea.” She glanced over her shoulder confirming they were alone. “I have no intention of marrying the Prince. Making this journey is pointless and misleading given my intention to call off the betrothal.” They’d been over this many times in the last couple of days. She really had no idea why he was so insistent on making the journey. They could just as easily have bought the time he needed staying in London, and yet he had been adamant the travel plans be upheld.

  “Shh, shh, it will all work out. Demetri said the Prince may join us in Paris, so plenty of time to get to know each other and make your final decision.” He patted her hand as it held the rail.