Carnal Pleasures

by Blaise Kilgallen

  “I told you a modiste I engaged will be here later today. I’m sure you know nothing about fashion, Dulcina, so I made a few suggestions to her. Nothing out of the ordinary, simply nicer colors and gowns that fit better than those you brought with you. I don’t believe you need a vast variety. The woman has my utmost confidence. She will make certain you have what will catch a man’s eye.”

  It would be easier—and safer for her schemes—if Griffith Spencer did the dirty work without an outside suitor messing up Agina’s plans. She left it up to him to fulfill their agreement during the time agreed upon. She would help, and Spencer would ravish and marry her stepdaughter in less than a month.

  Agina continued, “I won’t have you wasting funds on gaudy fripperies. After all, I plan to find you a husband very soon.”

  The countess slowly circled Dulcie. The girl stood unmoving, silent, her chin ducked tight against her chest, twisting her fingers in front of her waist. She was uncomfortable, as always, by her stepmother’s appraisal.

  “I called in a hairdresser, too.”

  “But Marnie has already…”

  Abruptly, the countess stopped and snapped at her. “That reminds me. What have you done with that beast of yours? Where is he? He should be put in a kennel. Why is he loose in the house? One of my dear babies came running into my bedchamber earlier, frightened to death.”

  Dulcie tilted her stubborn chin upward and gritted her back teeth. She may have allowed her stepmother’s words rain over her head like a dull-witted nonentity, spouting commands, but denigrating her pet was something else. She would not have Simon maligned or mistreated.

  “Simon and your cats met in the upper hallway, Mother. Simon did not chase them. Rather, he ignored them. But if that is the case, I shall repack my bag, Mother, and return to Bonne Vista. I am fully aware of your enmity toward Simon.”

  And also to me, her mind echoed.

  “But unless he stays with me, I won’t stay in London. We’ll go home together.”

  “Argh!” The countess threw her jeweled hands up in the air in exasperation. “What an ungrateful wretch you are! Don’t you know I am simply following your deceased father’s wishes? He wanted you married and settled. Therefore, I propose to find you a husband.”

  Just then, Bender tapped on the parlor door. “Come,” the countess said, her voice sharp-edged with annoyance.

  “A Monsieur Henri is here,” the butler announced, stepping through the doorway holding a small silver tray, a business card resting on its gleaming surface. “Shall I tell him he may wait?”

  “Of course you may,” the countess nodded, then spoke to Dulcie. “Go up to your room, Dulcina, and ask that rotund maid, whose name I do not recall, to stay with you. You cannot be left alone with the wishy-washy hairdresser, if only for propriety’s sake.” Agina paused, frowned, and repeated, “And, for heaven’s sake, do something with that black beast of yours. Put him in your dressing room so he doesn’t attack the effeminate fop and frighten the pantaloons off of him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dulcie replied and hurried out of the parlor and up the stairs to her quarters, glad to be from under her stepmother’s gimlet gaze.

  * * * *

  Dulcie’s hair was shaped and scissored into a semblance of docility by the hairdresser. Marnie sat watching so she might imitate his wizardry with the curling iron.

  Later, Dulcie spent several hours with the countess’s modiste and two of her clucking assistants. The bird-like dressmaker explained what was needed in the way of underpinnings, nightwear, as well as day dresses, afternoon dresses, outerwear, etcetera. After listening to her stepmother, at first Dulcie argued she didn’t need so many garments. Then, her wicked thoughts centered upon Griffith Spencer’s attractiveness, and instead, she allowed the woman to have her way. Madame Cloett promised to deliver two finished gowns by the following day.

  It was nearly teatime. Time had flown, and Dulcie never had an opportunity to eat lunch. Still wearing the same gown she put on that morning, she was smiling as she patted her new hairdo and entered the small back parlor, expecting to see Griffin and her stepmother inside.

  Neither of them was in evidence. After fifteen minutes of waiting alone, her stomach grumbling, Dulcie forgot about tea and went to her room. She leashed Simon and led him down the back stairs to the lower floor.

  Familiar with the workings of the kitchen at home, she had spent hours in the warm, huge room at Bonne Vista as a girl, watching baking and preparations for fabulous parties. The banquets were works of art when her father and his new wife entertained. But all of that had ceased when her parents decided to live in London. With only Dulcie to care for, meals at the manor were simple and much less extravagant. Lonely and without suitable companions, the girl had asked to eat in the kitchen with the staff.

  “Shall I have a tea tray sent into you, milady?” Bender asked with raised brows as she entered the kitchen.

  “Oh, if it’s no trouble, I’ll have my pot of tea here with you and the others, Bender. And yes, a few biscuits to hold my hunger and Simon’s until suppertime.”

  “But, Lady Dulcina, that isn’t properly done,” the butler responded. “The countess…”

  “The countess isn’t at home, is she?”

  He swiveled his head negatively.

  “Then what she doesn’t know will not harm us, will it? If she returns, I’ll scurry up the back stairs so she doesn’t know I’ve been here.” She smiled up at his perturbed expression. “Please, I’d like some company, Bender. I have been rattling around in this mausoleum by myself most of today with no one to chat with.”

  Meanwhile, the scullery maids watched curiously. Their giggling had been shut down when Dulcie stepped into the kitchen with the dog. The cook stood, unmoving, unclear what to do since the haughty butler was in charge of the kitchen as well as the rest of the house staff.

  “As you wish,” the butler said, giving in, but he scowled just the same.

  Dulcie had been informed before she left home that London butlers were often quite stuffy and high in the instep. She thought to charm Bender, hoping it was possible. “We won’t bother anyone, really, Bender, if you’ll let us stay. I promise.”

  The butler reluctantly nodded in agreement to the cook who went about her business and set out a single cup and saucer, setting a small pot of tea to steep. She piled a variety of dainties on a plate, gesturing to Dulcie to take a place at the large kitchen table.

  A blushing, young, rather gangly footman offered to take the dog out back for an outing. On the leash, Simon willingly trotted next to him and out the kitchen doorway.

  Dulcie made herself comfortable and began a conversation with the cook. The housekeeper, too, had come into the kitchen at teatime.

  “How long has my stepmother’s nephew been here?” she asked the housekeeper, innocently. She wanted to know a lot more about Griffith Spencer, but she didn’t want to ask her stepmother.

  Both housekeeper and butler’s eyes met, hesitating to give out any information about the countess’s latest male guest. “Why, if I recall, Mr. Spencer arrived only a few days ago,” the butler replied, blandly.

  “My, how exciting it must have been for him to travel here all the way from India by ship. Goodness, I haven’t been farther from home than to Pinkley-on-Barrow to attend the weekly farmer’s market.” Dulcie paused, daintily picking a crumb off her bottom lip. “That is, until I came to London. And all of that was new and exciting for me.”

  “I wouldn’t know, my lady,” the butler again replied.

  Eberley House’s staff was well aware of the comings and goings-on in the countess’s several parlors and in her bedroom. They knew enough to button their lips if they wanted to maintain their positions in the household.

  The butler’s sharp ears were attuned to the rattle of a carriage entering the drive. “I believe that must be the countess returning. Cook,” he said, turning to her. “Make ready a tea tray for Lady Eberley should she want it sent up to he
r room instead of in the small parlor.” He swallowed the last of his tea and hurried out to greet his demanding employer.

  Returning with the footman, Simon plopped down under the large worktable. Quickly finishing her snack, Dulcie rose, and so did the dog. Together they hurried up the back staircase before the countess caught them in the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Griff did some additional shopping that afternoon also. A day or two before, the countess had handed him a letter of credit allowing him to charge against what was once the earl’s account. Agina told him she wanted him properly attired.

  Griff strolled up and down Regent and Oxford Streets, intent on ordering a totally new, fashionable wardrobe. He would make certain he was paid well for his services.

  He visited Hoby for new boots and shoes. At Weston’s he purchased ready-mades and ordered tailor-mades for additional up-to-date daytime and eveningwear. He purchased pantaloons and riding breeches and had them fitted snugly to his lean hips. He spent the countess’s blunt without a care and enjoyed every minute of it. When he was finished, one of the tailors bundled up his well-worn uniform for him. Griff tucked the package under his arm and walked out of the haberdasher’s wearing the utmost in style and sporting a rakishly tilted, tall, beaver hat. He felt like a new man in his new, stylish clothes.

  He was striding along Piccadilly when he again encountered Lord Randolph Titus on the flag walk. This time, his friend stopped to chat. “I say, Griff, you look well turned out. It would seem your…er…venture is working out.”

  “It seems to be.” Griff’s smile pulled up in one corner. “I may end up getting what I need, after all. I hope you didn’t mention my…er…arrangement to anyone.”

  “It’s none of my business if you wish to sell your pretty hide to the countess. I would have helped you…”

  “I know that, friend, but it’s done, eh? Water under the bridge. However, I am pleased you are still speaking to me.”

  “I don’t give up on my old friends that quickly.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “Well, then. Keep me in mind.”

  The two men parted and went on their separate ways.

  Griff hailed a hansom for the trip back to Portman Square. At the entrance of Eberley House, he alighted only minutes before the countess’s vehicle pulled up behind him.

  Agina signaled Griff to escort her to the door. “I wish to speak with you before supper. Knock on my chamber door before we go down.”

  He nodded and accompanied her up the marble steps and into the house.

  * * * *

  When the supper gong sounded the second time, Dulcie rapidly descended one of the two central staircases to the small parlor.

  About to leave his room, Griff heard Dulcie walking past his door, so he waited. When she disappeared down the stairs, he emerged and tapped lightly on the countess’s bedchamber.

  “Come in,” he heard Agina say, “and close the door behind you.”

  Entering her bedroom made him a bit uneasy, but he needed to know what she wanted.

  “I’ll be brief,” she said, approaching him and looking up and down at his impressive masculine presence. “You look well in your new clothes. I’m sure your virile appearance will ignite as deep an interest from my stepdaughter as it does from me.”

  The countess ran a fondling palm up his chest, fiddling with the buttons of his new brocade waistcoat. “I really hate to give up your pretty cock and you, you know.” With a coy expression glittering out of blue eyes, her ruby lips pursed into a girlish pout. She smoothed his shaved cheek with a caressing fingertip. “I deem it most unfortunate. But as I told you, you have a fortnight to accomplish your task. If you don’t succeed, well…then I may have to find someone who can do what I need better than you.”

  She held his gaze and flicked the point of his chin with a sharp fingernail. “It would be a shame if all of this new finery were to be reclaimed and sold to a rag picker.”

  Griff’s mobile features reacted swiftly. “You wouldn’t take it back?” he asked.

  “Of course I shall.” Her smile was intimidating. “So you see, you had best start your courtship of Dulcina immediately…this evening. I will be attending the St. Montaigne’s card party. You needn’t escort me. I shall be in the company of Lord and Lady Dempsey, good friends of mine. You are to remain at home and…umm…entertain Dulcina…spend time with her, be charming, and attentive. Tell her whatever catches her fancy. Seduce her if you can.”

  “Seduce her so quickly? Tonight? I’ve barely spoken with her.”

  “I’m sure you will find a way. Trust me. With my help, and if you play your cards right, she will fall into your arms willingly. I saw how she looked at you last evening, like a hungry child anxious for a taste of sweet buns. She is interested in you, Spencer, so you must encourage her.”

  Griff blew a short puff of air from between his lips, unable to hide his audible snort of exasperation. He didn’t like being rushed or told what to do, even if he weren’t quite sure how to seduce a mousy novice with no experience to speak of.

  Since reaching puberty, he’d always found willing whores ready to suck the life out of his youthful, randy cock. But he never fucked a proper lady. Time spent in the countess’s bed the other night didn’t count. She had tidily seduced him. He heartily wished to put that embarrassing half hour out of his mind.

  When Agina told him what he had to do, he decided he was simply a stud that was breeding an unwilling mare in heat. Playacting that he was hot-to-trot had him bloody uncomfortable. He felt old and battle weary quite suddenly, but he knew he needed money, lots of it, to correct the mess he made of his life. His mother’s family, who’d disavowed both his father and him, was known to be honorable. Could he somehow hitch himself to that wagon and forge a connection with a new credibility? His debauched father had smirched the reputation of the Spencer name for ages. Despite an unwanted reputation leading to debauchery, Griff somehow had also mapped his own path to ruin.

  Here in the countess’s bedchamber, Griff jerked away from the countess’s touch and stepped back. Shutting his eyes briefly, he ran a rough palm from his forehead to his chin, wiping a sense of chagrin from his agitated mind. Only a month ago he had been disgraced when the army officers accused him of being a pervert—a sodomite—to his face. And then, they had kicked him out on his arse. Although he choked on the slime and mudslinging, he felt more debauched now than ever. He agreed to be a rich woman’s cicisbeo—a male prostitute.

  Dammit, somehow I’ll find a way to clear my name and reputation!

  Tucking a hand in the crook of his elbow, the countess said, “Shall we go down for supper now, Griff?”

  Chapter Nine

  When Lord and Lady Dempsey stopped by to pick up the countess for the St. Montaigne card party, both Griff and Dulcie were presented to the aristocratic pair. “All right,” Agina said as Bender helped her on with her velvet cloak, “enjoy yourselves this evening, my dears. I shall return quite late.” She arched an eyebrow primarily toward Griff.

  When Dulcie heard the front door click shut, she quickly excused herself. She ran up the stairs to the second storey. “Hold on,” Griff called out to her, trailing close behind Dulcie’s disappearing form. “I was hoping you would spend some time with me this evening.”

  She paused at the top of a staircase.

  He halted two steps below her.

  “Why would you wish to spend time with me?” She turned, asking curiously. “Wouldn’t you rather go out on the Town instead of being bored in my company?”

  “We’ve barely spoken since we met, Dul…er, Lady Dulcina, and I’m sure I’ll not be bored. Besides, I’d like to get to know you better,” he replied earnestly. “Why don’t we spend an hour together in the drawing room this evening getting acquainted?”

  He sounded sincere to her. She hesitated and didn’t turn him down. “Very well, but first I must free Simon. He can keep us company.” She strolled down the carpeted corridor and disap
peared into the bedroom wing. Griff waited for her outside the upstairs drawing room. Within minutes, she reappeared with the obedient dog at her side. When he spotted Griffith, he trotted toward him. He wagged his tail, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  “Simon really likes you,” Dulcie commented, her smile beaming. “I am glad he’s found someone else to make friends with in this house. He is fond of Joshua, the footman, too. Simon takes to young men, which surprises me since there aren’t many males except Denny Walls for him to play with at Bonne Vista. But then, Simon is young, too, so I expect that is the reason.”

  “Denny Walls…is your…er…fiancé?”

  “My fiancé?” Dulcie laughed. “Oh goodness, no, Mr. Spencer. I am not betrothed to anyone. Denny is our gardener’s son at Bonne Vista, my father’s…my deceased father’s, estate. Denny and I grew up there together.”

  “I see.” He smiled down at her. “But what about you, Dulcie? Do you like young men?”

  Her eyes snapped up to his face, hearing him use the nickname Denny used as a boy. She also discerned another glimpse of mischief in Griffith Spencer’s silvery eyes, and noticing it, she relaxed and replied, “I can’t say I’ve been in the company of many young men. At least, no one but Denny, whom I know quite well.”

  She glanced up at Griff, again realizing how tall he was in comparison to her height. “I have not been out in Society, you see, which is the reason my stepmother brought me to London. She is determined to find me a suitor, and I suspect, a husband.”

  “Oh? Then you must be happy to be in London if you are looking to marry.” As he asked the question, Griff motioned Dulcie to enter the sumptuous drawing room where, on formal occasions, the countess held court with friends and acquaintances. There they gossiped, nibbled at finger sandwiches, and drank numerous saucers of Chinese Oolong.

  Griff left the door open after they entered; Dulcie’s dog followed them in.