by Suzi Love
As she started forward, he wrapped her arm through his and kept it in place with his other hand on top of her gloved one. It felt good—comforting and nice. Together they walked inside behind her friends and Chrissie experienced a feeling of happiness that had eluded her recently.
His head bent closer to hers and his breath tickled her hair as he whispered in her ear, “Have you forgiven me yet?” He looked completely serious, worried, and fatigued.
The amount of work required to prepare the estate for their arrival must be enormous and she had pressured him into it, giving him no road for escape. If she did not forgive him, she would be pushing him into even more misery in his life than she already had by dangling her knowledge of his family over his head.
In all fairness, he did not deserve that. He may have the reputation of a rake and a rogue but all her reports on him recently showed a different sort of man. One who cared deeply for his family and friends. Inflicting more pain upon an already suffering man was not her way.
She inclined her head in a gracious nod. “Yes,” she replied simply.
His deep sigh of relief made her profoundly glad she had said it. Glad she could relieve his torment in a small way. He patted her hand and smiled as he walked to his box, a new spring in his step. She also smiled.
Three hours later, the play finished and the group rose as one from their seats to thank the viscount for his hospitality. Chrissie hadn’t stopped smiling during the entire performance and her thanks to Justin were the most profound and heartfelt. Going to the theatre was a treat that had been denied her for so long by her husband. Geoffrey had never understood Chrissie’s fascination with performances and plays and books.
Edward addressed Justin. “Hawkesbury, I want to thank you for this evening. These three ravishing women are all mad for plays, but living in the country they get little opportunity to attend them.” He smiled at his wife.
Gillian gave him a radiant look and then she added for Justin’s benefit, “Chrissie misses plays the most.”
Justin looked at her and smiled, that personal smile that spoke just to her, to her heart.
“I’m glad, Lady Wellsby, that you enjoyed it so much. I would be delighted if you could join me in my box on many more occasions.” His smiling invitation encompassed the group. “All of you. Generally, women feign an interest in the theatre only so they may preen in a box and be seen by the ton in the latest fashions. It is refreshing to be in the company of those who really appreciate the arts.” He dipped a small bow of his head in Chrissie’s direction and she warmed under his praise.
“And for women, my lord, it is refreshing to find a gentleman who appreciates that we may have more on our minds than the latest style of gown or the latest on dit.”
“Lady Wellsby, in the short time we have been acquainted, I have come to appreciate that your intelligence is far superior to mine in many matters.”
Chrissie laughed at his teasing. “Now, my lord, you are being absurd. No man ever gives a woman credit for being more intelligent than any member of the male species.”
“Even if I believe it to be true?” he enquired with a lift of his brow.
“Even then. Because I would know you are teasing me, enticing me like a spider into your web for some illicit purpose.”
They walked slowly toward the doorway but by the crowd clustered there, it would be some time before their carriage could be brought around to them. Justin’s hand came up to rest in the small of Chrissie’s back and once again, that annoying tingle of awareness made her shiver. She glanced sideways at him and saw that he had indeed noticed it once more. Blast it. No matter how hard she tried to appear immune to his touch, he had only to place his hand upon her in a protective and asexual gesture and she was ready to melt in a puddle at his feet. He flicked those long lashes at her in his knowingly seductive way and she was ready to drop to her knees and rip his steely shaft from his breeches. To whip her tongue over it as fast as she could manage and be damned to all those watching.
This strange need to have and be had by him grew in intensity so rapidly that she floundered in her effort to control it. Soon it would overwhelm her, sweeping her along in the tide of feelings like a storm blew a leaf, blowing it in every direction until it landed somewhere out of its realm.
Justin’s warm palm slid over her waist to bring her to a halt and he turned her slightly so the others couldn’t overhear as he asked, “And what illicit purpose do you think I have in mind for such a beautiful—” He hissed in a breath. “Forgive me. I know how you object to being called that. What could I possibly have in mind for such a stickler for propriety such as yourself?”
The twinkle in his eyes belied the seriousness of his words and Chrissie had a sudden urge to stomp her foot. So, with a devious smile, she did just that. Gave in to her impulses for once and stomped down hard, right on his black evening shoes, and for good measure she ground her heel into the top of his foot.
He winced and his eyes watered but he remained a gentleman and said nothing to the others, which only served to make her feel like the heel she had used to inflict pain upon him.
She covered her mouth with her hands, feeling her face heat and flush. “I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just, just gave into an impulse. A horrible one.” She looked down. “Your poor foot. Is it all right? Have I done any damage? Oh dear, what I can I do to make amends?”
Far from appearing to be in agony, Justin ignored his injured foot and grinned at her. “You could kiss it better for me later, at your home. You could start at the toes and work your way up my leg until you reach—”
Chrissie stomped her foot again and only narrowly missed his toes. “Ooh, you are impossible.”
“Ah, yes, but I am beginning to grow on you. Soon, you won’t be able to go a whole day without thinking of me.”
She opened her mouth to deny his arrogant assumption but the lie would not come. Already, she was unable to go a day without her thoughts skittering to him and where he was, how he was occupying his time, what he was preparing for them at his estate.
“Fiddlesticks,” she declared, not meeting his eyes in case he could detect her fibbing.
“So you are already thinking of me as I think of you. Naked, and in bed.”
“Certainly not!” she said, peering forward to the street to glimpse his carriage and wishing the queue would shorten in a hurry.
His voice came closer to her ear and caused her to jump. “Not a bed then. No, a bed is not adventurous enough for someone who revels in futtering as much as you do.”
She gasped and looked around but her friends were deep in conversation with Bart and Thomas a few feet away and could not hear, although by the heat in her face, they would notice her embarrassment. Or was it arousal, as the viscount kept suggesting, that made her body feel hot and aching and had her squirming against her clothes whenever he whispered huskily in her ear. His breath smelled of the brandy Bart had smuggled into the box to mellow his mood and relieve his tedium during the performance.
“Being a voyeur of a dozen sultans being serviced by their harems slaves or standing with your leg raised high beside a tin bath is much more your style.”
She swallowed and tried not to cry out when his words immediately stirred her to fever pitch and she was unable to remain still. Despite her best intentions to remain invulnerable to his seductive charm, she was far from resistant. Every word sent her good sense spiraling away like that leaf on the wind and her mind filled with the raunchy images he painted there with so little trouble.
“Don’t try to speak or move. We are going to play a little game to pass the time while we wait.”
Cold air touched bare skin on the backs of her thighs and she realized with a shock that this experienced rake had raised her skirts without her even noticing, much less objecting. What sort of wanton was she?
“Just nod when I guess the correct answer and you will be rewarded.”
“But you should be—”
“No, not me,” he said, with a low chuckle pressed close to her neck. “Trust you to want to play a game of seduction by the correct rules. In this game, I guess but you gain the reward. Later on though, I am happy for you to devise a game where I will be rewarded for my patience tonight.”
His hands were now running in long caressing strokes across the roundest parts of her bottom and she wriggled against the feel of his fingers touching her there. Nobody but her maid or her dressmaker had ever done that before. The sensation when a man’s large and calloused hands did it was decidedly interesting, tantalizing, mind-numbingly good. Momentarily, she lost her train of thought and had to search her memory to remember what they were discussing.
“Your patience?”
“Yes, my infinite patience as I sat behind you and smelled the lemon that I knew you had washed your hair in. The rose petals that were scattered in your bath water. And the musk of your arousal. And I knew.”
“Knew,” she gulped, pushing back against the fingers that caressed up and down the crease between the mounds of her bottom.
“Knew that you had not washed away the scent of your arousal after I left. You didn’t wash it off knowing that I would smell you tonight. Knowing that Bart would also sniff out your lust and want to have you on the floor of the theatre box and how it would drive me to a fury of jealousy. My cock twitched all evening just thinking about how hot and wet you were under that gown. How your folds ran with sinful juices when you thought of all the men who wanted to lap at you like cats with a bowl of cream.”
As he spoke in his compelling tone, his hands were at work in the dark under her skirts and between her thighs. They moved and caressed, prodded and poked, until she was trembling with excitement. His fingers dragged from the back of her crevice to the front and rubbed around her engorged bud twice. That was all it took. Her body spasmed in his arms and she bucked and swayed and her entire weight fell onto him. Her knees buckled and he wrapped a strong arm around her waist to keep her upright.
She was barely conscious of his whispered, “Christ! You’re so responsive.”
The sounds around her faded, her friends seemed far away, and only Justin and his strength provided an anchor. Turning, she laid her head on his chest and gulped in heaves of air and waited for her heart to slow enough to stand on her own feet. By the time she was able to straighten away from his hold, the group was staring in their direction.
Bart threw back his head and laughed. “In front of the theatre, Justin? Are you trying to win some bet I forgot we made?” When Justin glared at him, he laughed even harder, bending double to drop his hands to his knees. “Even I refrain from public displays of seduction.” Thomas shot Bart a disbelieving look. “Well, with titled ladies, anyway.”
Thomas rolled his eyes at Bart and then gave Justin a look of disgust. “Hawkesbury, it is not the done thing to be holding Lady Wellsby so tightly in a public place.”
Justin released his grip a little and allowed Chrissie to regain her feet but she felt his hand still resting lightly against her back in case she tottered.
Straightening, she said, “The viscount kindly assisted me when I felt faint.”
“Faint,” Gillian echoed. “But you never feel faint. Chrissie, what is the matter? You are acting very strangely lately.”
Bart spoke up again in his teasing voice, “Yes, perhaps Lady Wellsby is expecting a happy event.”
Chrissie paled at his teasing words. Bart had no way of knowing how much his torment hurt but her friends did and they rounded on him now, especially Anna.
“How dare you joke of such a thing, Bartholomew. Chrissie longed for children in her marriage and Geoffrey blamed her when she did not carry any.”
“As men always feel entitled to do,” Gillian added, in a cross voice. She too faced Bart with a belligerent stare. “It is never considered to be the fault of the man, yet, in this case, we all knew that Geoffrey was only able to—” She broke off with a shocked gasp and clutched her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “I am so sorry, Chrissie.”
Chrissie stood before Gillian with a puzzled question in her eyes.
“What were you about to say, Gillian? Geoffrey was only able to what?”
Gillian turned her frightened gaze to her husband, an appeal in her eyes. Edward stepped forward to comfort her and reassure Chrissie at the same time.
“Nothing important, nothing important at all.” He peered hopefully at the road. “Is the carriage coming yet?”
Chrissie was not going to be put off by Edward’s obvious attempts to change the conversation but the cat had been let out of the bag and was not to be put back in.
“It must be something, or you would not be at pains to hide it from me.” She turned to Anna. “Do you know Geoffrey’s secret?”
Anna shook her head. “No, no.”
“Well, Gillian, what is it?” Tears welled up in Gillian’s eyes and she looked down at the ground as if willing it to rise up and swallow her whole. “No, Chrissie. Don’t make me say any more. I cannot bear it.” She buried her red and tear-streaked face in her husband’s shoulder and he patted her awkwardly while looking at Chrissie with the same pain in his eyes.
Edward gulped and stuttered, “I … I suppose you should know. We did not want to hurt you, you understand. It was Geoffrey’s fault. For being such a … for not telling you. For never explaining. It may have made things easier. For you.”
Chrissie shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. What was Geoffrey’s fault? That I did not conceive? No. It was my fault entirely that he stopped coming to my bed. If I had been more receptive to his demands, the type of lovemaking he wanted, he would have continued to visit my bed and I would have conceived.”
Edward and Gillian shared another glance but still gave no explanation. Finally, after a lengthy silence, Justin gave a groan and then cleared his throat. “I suppose it may as well fall to me as to your friends to explain this, but I would rather do it in privacy. Here is my carriage. Please, Lady Wellsby, let us leave.” The trip to her house was excruciating for Chrissie as neither Edward nor Gillian would meet her eyes and, with Anna, disappeared to their rooms in a rush as soon as they arrived. Justin walked beside her to her small parlor and even he was subdued.
“Would you like a brandy?” she asked. “Please.”
“Is it so bad that you need fortification?”
Justin shrugged. “Depends how you see Geoffrey’s problem. In my business, I see many men who have similar problems.”
Pushed beyond her limits, she stomped her foot on the thick carpet. “Dammit! Tell me what it is.”
“Your husband stopped visiting your bed because he couldn’t do so without assistance.”
She looked at him without comprehension.
“He came to the Sultan’s Palace because there he could pay for two or three escorts at once.”
“He needed,” she swallowed, “more than one woman in his bed?”
“Not always women. He often asked for men as well. Geoffrey was one of those men who, as time went on, could only get aroused if he could watch, and participate, with others having sex around him.” Her mouth had dropped open in shock and she knew must’ve appeared to be an idiot to a man of his knowledge, but in her small world, people of taste did not speak of such things over the dinner table. Nor were they discussed by women at tea. Her mind raced trying to assimilate this information and what it had meant to her marriage.
He took her hands in his and she saw the pity in his eyes. “No!” She wrenched away. “No pity. Just explain it. Please. I know to you I must appear to be incredibly naïve but my mind cannot grasp the situation. The how and the why escape me.”
He nodded. “Luckily, the facts of such relationships escape most people’s notice. Unfortunately, I am in the business of catering to the obscurities of life. Whether I want to or not, I am forced to observe sex in all its deviant forms on a daily basis.”
He had paced away but he stopped to loo
k back over his shoulder at her, gauging how much she could take. “Your husband’s proclivities were nowhere near the extremes that happen but his was probably the most extreme I allow in my establishments. The men, or women, who like to inflict pain, torture, and other indignities to women and children are not allowed anywhere near me. They disgust me.”
“Geoffrey did not like pain.”
She gave a snort of laughter. “In fact, it was a family joke that he would collapse at the sight of blood or at the slightest hurt to anyone around him.”
“I know. He gave strict instructions that he would not tolerate being near the whipping chambers.”
“So what did he want with these other … escorts?”
“Watching women being fucked by one of the bigger men, like Matthew, aroused him. Seeing a man being poked by another man also did it for him, but only if there was a woman or women in the room. He liked groups doing it best. Liked to tug himself while he got excited watching them.”
“Men can do those things to other men?”
He snorted a laugh. “Human beings are capable doing all sorts of things to each other that a woman of your upbringing is unable to imagine.”
“So, did Geoffrey come to you often?”
“No, he didn’t. He was one of those who tried to fight their nature, damp down the urges when they came to him. He told me once that he hated himself afterwards and that he would wait days, a week even, before he could go home to his wife because he was so horrified at himself. Of course, he was disguised at the time, as was I, so he did not realize who I was.”
“But you knew him?”
“I made it my business to know everyone who visited my estate. I had to be careful. But if the patrons wanted anonymity, I gave it to them. Or pretended to at least. Most of them had families—families who would be horrified to learn what their loved ones were capable of when away from home. I have one large area at the Pleasure House that is for groups and on the nights that I open it and provide entertainment there, it is the most popular. You would be amazed at how many men, especially older lecherous ones, cannot get an erection at all. Yet, they still pay money, and a lot of it, to watch other people have sex. They like the sights, the sounds, the smells.”