Lillian swiveled to see his face, her hand flying to her mouth in a dismal attempt to smother her gasp. She stared, stunned, at her neighbor and confidant, a known recluse who should be in Cornwall and putting his adorable daughter to bed.
Lillian’s mind raced, scrabbling for an excuse for being here. Shock held her captive. Her best friend stood behind her and he’d recognized her, despite the pains she and Maggie had taken with their enormous masks and gowns purchased from the dressmaker who designed flamboyant gowns for courtesans. Lord Mallory, Brenton, was the last person she’d expect to meet at a ball for procuring a mistress.
Maggie, her companion and procurer of ball invitations, had assured her that the majority of gentlemen attending tonight would be vetted acquaintances of Lord Browning’s. Gentlemen on the lookout for a new mistress, young men eager to exchange their quarterly allowances for a brief affair with a rising star in courtesan circles, or men with aspirations of wealth who hoped to afford a full time mistress in the next year or two.
Brenton didn't fit any of those categories or perhaps she was mistaken and he lived an entirely different life than the one she saw. He’d barely ventured ten miles from his estate in the past five or six years and preferred evenings at home with his daughter to roaming London’s streets with his peers, gambling at clubs, or getting drunk and visiting brothels. She lifted her fan to her face and waved air across her heated cheeks, not wanting her male admirers to notice her distress. Maggie had promised that all conversations and connections were incognito, so Lillian wouldn’t be recognized as the duke’s disgraced daughter, giving her an opportunity to let the repressed side of Lillian to fly free.
The last thing she needed was a serious conversation with Brent, or to have him criticize or interfere in the outrageous night she and her companion had planned. Maggie had spoken about her previous experience attending a notorious ball a few months ago, after her own period of enforced mourning had finished. Maggie’s twelve months of wearing depressing black and pretending to grieve for a man who’d been cruel and abusive had almost destroyed her, so she’d urged Lillian to avoid her mistakes.
Advised Lillian to avoid spending twelve or eighteen months in seclusion and under censure from well-meaning but ignorant family members. Urged Lillian to do something rash and abnormal. Something to clear her mind and soul of the stink of her husband’s infidelity, uncontrolled spending, and irrational actions.
Lillian, like Maggie, was already sick to the stomach with pretending her husband had been a saint when, in truth, he'd been controlling, unprincipled, and self-absorbed. And also like Maggie, Lillian blocked her ears when her late husband’s family sang his praises, despite knowing his debts and obligations had depleted the family coffers and left them with a financial mess to clean up.
Why shouldn't she take the chance of a night’s fun and freedom, hidden from high-society an out of reach of the duke’s continual criticisms? She'd lost enough of her life married to a man who didn’t deserve either her patience or her fortitude. Starting tonight, she’d take control of herself and rebirth the confident and happy person that only appeared now when she was staying at her father’s country estate.
She'd been excited about this night for weeks and she’d no intention of running away before she’d explored and widened her experience, though only visually. Not even if Brenton threatened to expose her, or worse, visit her father and reveal where she’d been. Stiffening her spine, she took Brenton's hand and, after muttering a quick apology to her cluster of admirers, led him straight to one of the balcony doors. She didn't stop until they were in a darkened section of the balcony where no one could overhear their conversation.
She dropped his hand and turned to lean on the veranda rail and stared out at the garden. ‘What are you doing here?' She spoke without turning to face him, both mortified and terrified that he’d discovered her here.
'Michael dragged me here.' He caught her wrist and tugged her around to face him. ‘Who is that woman you are with? Did she bring you here?' He ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself and dampen down his anger. 'Of course she brought you here. You wouldn't have known to come to a place like this otherwise. Did she coerce you in some way?’
Lillian chuckled. 'Do you truly believe me such an innocent that I don't know the location of brothels or the estate houses that hold balls where the main guests are ladies of the night? I’m not that naïve, Brent. When I was a married woman, the other married ladies spoke constantly about the state of their marriages. Those conversations included such things as where their husbands, fathers, or brothers went to visit paid women, and what happened in those places.’ She snorted. ‘They’d no idea that my own marriage was so dismal that the only times my husband touched me in bed was those rare occasions when he remembered he was supposed to breed a son and so made an appointment for the next night to visit my bedchamber. Even during those ten dreadful minutes he spent with me, he never thought to explain what happened between a man and a woman, or about how children were conceived. My mother, the duchess, gave me a one sentence explanation on my wedding day of how to act with my husband and the need to create a child, but she unfortunately never gave me the information I needed about what physical intimacy entailed, so the first time my husband lifted the hem of my night dress, I panicked.’
She heard Brent suck in a deep breath and knew he was horrified, and probably disgusted with her ignorance and stupidity. But as Brenton so often had, he surprised her.
‘I’m so sorry. I should have realized that the duchess’s instructions would be inadequate, and supplied you with more information. Lent you books. Prepared you for your first time being bedded by a man.’
‘You?’ She laughed. ‘It was never your job to educate me, Brent. My husband was to blame for my inadequacies in bed, as he was for many other things. I accepted Geoffrey’s proposal because I wanted my own household and to not remain under the duke’s roof, though I only learned later about my husband’s impetuous and self-centered character. As to what marriage, and intimacy, entailed, I was clueless.’ She dipped her head. ‘Apparently my parents knew that Gregory wasn’t a very honorable man, yet they didn’t see fit to inform me of his true nature. When I later complained of how he treated me, the duchess told me that a wife’s duty was to accept whatever my husband did, and without complaint. Though to their credit, the worst of Geoffrey’s character was known to only his closest cohorts and, as they were of the same ilk, they weren’t about to reveal what they knew.’
‘How did your husband treat you, in private?’ Brent wouldn’t meet her eyes when he asked the question.
She gasped. ‘My God, not you too. You knew what Gregory was like and what he wanted in the bedroom.’
He reached for her hands, but she pulled away. Shocked and disappointed in her old confident, she couldn’t stay. She spun towards the garden steps, picked up her skirts, and started to run.
‘Lillian, no, please don't run from me.’ He clasped her waist from behind as she reached the bottom of the steps and pulled her back against him, holding her still by crossing his arms over her chest. ‘Stand still and listen to me. Please.’ When she stopped wriggling and stood still in his arms, he said in a sad voice, ‘I’d heard stories of Gregory’s more extreme demands on the women he bedded, yes, but I’d no idea that he’d ask you to do those same things. If I’d known, I’d have--’
‘What? Rushed to my rescue?’ She snorted. ‘I don't think so, not when British law declares me nothing more than my husband's chattel and allows him to do whatever he wishes with my mind and my body. Legally, no one could have saved me from Gregory’s excesses. Not my parents, had they wanted to, and not my best friend. Though in all honesty, Geoffrey, for the most part, ignored and avoided me. He preferred lovers who also liked to push the boundaries. Dangerous dares between his friends, sharing lovers, and sex in public places. So I was glad when he died. Pleased that I’d never have to spend another day under the same roof as a man who tr
eated women, and servants, as dirt beneath his feet. Relieved that he’d never again bang on my bedroom and demand admittance when he was so drunk he could barely stand. Or order me to leave my warm bed and go downstairs and entertain his also drunken friends at four in the morning. Or even, on one memorable occasion, order me to kneel before him on the cold floor, naked and shivering, because he’d bet that he could make a duke’s daughter his slave.’
‘I’m sorry, Lillian. So, so, sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t pity me over that. Thankfully, his companions had collapsed in drunken stupors in the entranceway and couldn’t remember the bet in the morning. Neither could Geoffrey. Being naked and kneeling was rather exciting actually. It was the other part that I loathed.’
Brent’s face paled. ‘Wha…what other part?’
When he stumbled over the question, she was reminded that he’d been her friend for most of their lives, and even though he hadn’t come to rescue, as she’d dreamed many times, he’d be furious on her behalf if she disclosed everything. Many times she’d wanted to share some of her hurt and shame with him, knowing that he’d understand and give comfort where he could, but she’d not wanted him to look upon her with revulsion. Not wanted him to know that she’d failed to give her husband what he preferred in the bedroom, and failed her parents by not giving them grandchildren.
She sucked in a breath. ‘Even when he brought his hand down on my back and bottom, hard, I was intrigued rather than repulsed. I became excited at first, but then the pain always became too great and I screamed and cried, which angered Gregory. He told me, repeatedly, that other wives bore their punishment with good grace and made their husbands proud, whereas I yelled and sobbed and reminded him of a baby, and he didn’t want to create a child with someone with such a pathetic nature. He wanted his children to be born from strength, not weakness.’
‘I knew that Geoffrey’s crowd sometimes chose women who liked a little rough treatment, but I never imagined he’d dishonor his marriage vows, and his wife, by causing her pain. Was nothing he did pleasurable for you?’
She shrugged. ‘As I said, he cared little for me and what I needed. Two weeks before he died, he dragged me out of bed and pushed me to the floor on my stomach, with all his weight pressed on my back as he pushed himself inside me. I cried because it hurt and when he noticed the blood, he insisted it was normal part of marriage and that I was abnormal because I bled.’
‘Christ Almighty, he took you like an animal.’ He gripped his head in his hands, his face contorted in agony. ‘I’d no idea it was so bad. Did you tell him that he hurt you?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Yet he showed no remorse?’
She nodded again. ‘At times he became obsessed with planting his seed in me so that I would conceive, though only at his family’s urging. So after I had my courses, he’d visit me.’
‘What about the bleeding? Did he summon a doctor?’
‘No. He didn’t want anyone to know.’
‘I’m not surprised, considering he brutalized you.’
‘I was Geoffrey’s wife, so as he said, he could do whatever pleased him.’
‘Huh, so he practically raped his wife, used you as brood mare each month, and enjoyed doing so. A man whose preferences were depraved and should never have been brought home to the marriage bed. Even some brothels forbid entry to men who harm their girls.’
‘Brent, I was his wife.’ She shrugged. ‘His chattel.’
He shucked in an audible breath. ‘Taking a woman from behind can be pleasurable for both parties. But forcing a woman, wife or not, to accept him forcibly, against her will, is rape. Wife or not. He didn’t deserve a wife like you.’
Lillian smiled at Brent’s vehemence on her behalf. ‘It’s over now, my friend, so don’t feel enraged on my behalf. Be pleased for me because I’m now free to enjoy some of the pleasurable things that men do with women. I’ve listened to women who crave amorous attention from their husbands, or lovers, so I understand that what happened in my marital bed wasn’t normal.’ She ran her gloved hand down his cheek, hoping to elicit a smile. ‘I have tonight, and many more nights, to make up for what I missed.’
‘But this isn’t the right place for you to test the waters.’ He waved a hand towards the ball room and the noise from a hundred animated conversations. ‘One day soon, you’ll meet a man who loves you, and who wants to marry you and adore you. Let him teach you about pleasure. Anything you see, or hear, tonight will also be leaning towards perversion. Some things here will shock you, even if you think of yourself as experienced.’ He took her hand and lightly shook it. ‘Let me call Michael’s carriage to take you home. Or find your companion and insist that she leaves with you.’
She laughed softly. ‘You’ll never convince her to leave early. She’s attended a party like this once before, and was enthralled. Neither of us knew that women could enjoy being with a man, but she discovered that here and she wants to flirt and have fun, and if it leads to something more, then so be it. We’re ready.’
‘What can I say to convince you to leave, now, before masks are removed and identities revealed. You’ll be shocked to find how many gentlemen of your acquaintance are here tonight.’
‘I’ve already recognized many men, and ladies, by their hair and voices.’
‘See! If you’ve uncovered people’s identities, they’ll be able to do the same. They’ll recognize your voice, and your coloring.’ He touched her hair. ‘If you leave now, they won’t be certain it was you. If you stay, everyone will know and the gentlemen will treat you differently tomorrow.’
She narrowed her gaze. ‘How do you know so much about courtesan’s balls? I suppose you’ve attended many since your wife passed away.’
He groaned. ‘You know that’s not true. I prefer to stay away from this sort of…’ He waved his hand towards the ballroom.
‘Romp? Orgy?’
He covered her mouth with his large hand and she closed her eyes and sighed. Even the leather of his evening gloves and the sleeve of his coat smelled of horses and paddocks and Brent. An outdoor man who loved the country and riding and whose clothes carried his manly aroma, evening at a soiree. She’d always felt safe when he was with her, and tonight was no exception. Her head had been held high when she’d entered the candlelit ball room, but her bravery was a pretense and inside she quaked and her stomach clenched. Brent’s voice had immediately soothed her stretched nerves. If he was with her, nothing bad would happen, of that she was confident.
‘Brent,’ she murmured as she entwined her fingers with his and gave him a begging look. ‘If I promise we’ll leave in an hour or two and not stay until dawn, will you keep my secret. Let me have a couple of hours here to watch and learn and…’
He frowned. ‘And what? Has your companion, whose name I still don’t know, made some sort of arrangement?’ He looked worried and suspicious, and with good right. Perhaps she’d reveal half of their plans, enough to pacify him and give them room to explore without him hovering like a distraught father.
‘Please, let me go on my way. You can do whatever you came for, too.’
His hands were on his hips and he looked angry. ‘I did not come here to find a mistress, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m more than happy to leave now and take you home.’
She mimicked his stance by putting her hands on her own hips and scowling at him. ‘I am not leaving. Not until I’ve explored all the upper rooms as well.’
‘The upper rooms? Are you mad? A lady cannot go prowling around the bedrooms. There will be couples in those bedrooms having--’
‘Having sex? I do know these things. I’m a widow, not a spinster.’
‘Huh! And what will you do if you walk into a room where there are more than two people? Perhaps three or four, or even five, in one bed.’
‘Oooh, do you know which rooms they are in?’
‘I do not. And I don’t wish to know.’ He sucked in a breath and pointed a finger at her face. �
��And neither do you.’
‘I’m my own person now and I’ll do what I want. I’m going upstairs to explore, and to observe. To join in if I’m asked.’
‘You deserve better than the men you’ll find here, Lillian. Go to a respectable ball. Dance with some decent men. Find another husband.’
‘Why are you eager for me to risk a repeat of my miserable marriage, when you’ve declared that you’ll never marry again?’
‘Because you’re a woman and I’m a man.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a very biased view, and I thought you better than that.’
He groaned. ‘You’re right. It’s unfair to tell you to risk more unhappiness when I won’t.’
‘Everyone knows you’re avoiding your family because they push eligible ladies towards you. They want you to remarry and give your daughter a new mother.’
‘They’ve no right to interfere in our lives, mine or my daughter’s. We’re happy as we are, the two of us.’
‘Your wife hurt you, deeply, and so you’ve refused to even speak to the women your mother thinks suitable.’
‘I speak to you.’
‘Only because I visit you and drag you away from your house to go riding. I refuse to let you retreat from the world. You’re a wonderful man with a lot to give to another woman. To another wife.’
‘You’re the only lady that I can tolerate being near for more than ten minutes.’
‘And you’re the only man I’d select for a second husband, and you’re against marriage.’ She looked towards a group of men smoking at the far end of the verandah. ‘Hence my venture into the unknown tonight. The sedate balls are full of married men or old lechers, as all the exciting men are here instead.’ She pointed towards the cluster of five or six young men. ‘Perhaps one of them might be the boost I need to restore my faith in the male gender. A virile young man who knows about pleasurable sex.’
He scowled as he watched the young men laugh and slap each other on the back. ‘Those pups are too inexperienced to give a woman pleasure. At that age, it’s all over too quickly. You need someone who knows how to revere every dip and curve of your body. Arouse you and keep you on edge for hours, and then leave you limp with pleasure as the sun rises.’ He shook his head and seemed to collect himself.
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 37