An Introduction to Pleasure: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 1

by Jess Michaels

  “A kind man,” she said, almost beneath her breath. “One who would not be cruel. One who would take care of me and not mind if I had other…responsibilities.”

  Vivien’s expression grew softer. “A child?”

  She shook her head. “M-my mother. She is quite ill.”

  Slowly, Vivien nodded. “I see.”

  There was one more silence between the two women. Lysandra couldn’t help thinking of her mother, and she had a suspicion Vivien’s thoughts were also of people she loved and had sacrificed for.

  Finally, the other woman shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and said, “I can make you no promises, Lysandra. Leave your information with Nettle, the butler who showed you the room, and I will call you back to meet with me within a week at most.”

  Lysandra clutched her reticule with both hands and pushed to her feet. A week was so long to wait, especially considering her current situation, but she could ask for no more from Vivien.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I so appreciate your assistance.”

  Vivien waved her hand as if her help mattered little, but as Lysandra slipped from the room, the swell of emotion that filled her was not to be minimized. This woman, if she could truly help Lysandra, could save her life.

  And for that, she would never be able to repay her debt to Vivien.

  Andrew sighed as his carriage pulled up to the London estate he had taken almost five years ago. There was nothing wrong with the beautiful home, per se. In fact, many complimented it and envied him its posh situation near St. James’s Park. But regardless, he did not look forward to these quarterly trips to Town. If it were up to him, he would let the place out and stay in the country permanently.

  But his father requested his visits. And he respected the man too much to refuse him, even for very good reason.

  The carriage stopped, and he stepped out to find the main members of his staff lined up and awaiting him. With a forced smile, he greeted each one by name and asked a personal yet empty question about family or illness or whatever else came to mind.

  And as always, he saw the pity and worry flash in their stares before they could cover the reactions. Once those things had made him angry. Now they were just embarrassing and tiresome.

  The last servant in the line was his butler, Pruett. Unlike the others, he was able to keep any emotion from his face, thanks to a great many more years of experience in service. He had been with Andrew’s family for years.

  “Welcome home, Viscount Callis,” the older man said with a shallow bow at the waist.

  “Thank you, Pruett,” Andrew said as he led the way inside. The other servants dispersed back to their duties, leaving him alone with the butler in the foyer.

  “And are there any messages?” he asked.

  It was habit to request them when he arrived, when in truth he expected only something from his father. His old friends no longer tried to coax him back into their wicked lives and he hadn’t tried to make many new friends since…well, in a long time.

  “Yes, sir, there are,” Pruett said, and to Andrew’s surprise he handed over two missives.

  Andrew wrinkled his brow in confusion. Two?

  “Thank you,” he said. “I will take these to my chamber. That will be all for the time being.”

  He wandered up the stairs, barely hearing Pruett’s response. The letter on top was the expected one from his father, of course, but as he flipped to the second, it was in a hand he didn’t recognize. It was feminine and the paper smelled faintly of lightly perfumed waters.

  He waited until he was alone in his chamber to break the seal and open it. As he scanned over the words within, he couldn’t help but sit down beside the fire with a thump.

  The message was from Vivien Manning.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t know the notorious former courtesan. The woman had been mistress to at least two friends from his youth, and he had always liked her.

  But he hadn’t seen her in almost three years, let alone spoken to her in a way that would encourage correspondence.

  And yet here she was, asking him to visit her home at his earliest convenience.

  He stared at the request over and over again, trying to decipher the meaning behind the simple, one-sentence request. There was no reason she should ask to see him. They had no relationship beyond a vague acquaintance, nor had he ever expressed a desire to expand that. Everyone knew he lived a monastic life, by his own choice. He had made that abundantly clear to the few friends who dared to question his lifestyle.

  But how could he refuse her request? He had no desire to be rude to Vivien, even if he had long ago divorced himself from the lifestyle she represented. Perhaps it was best to simply visit her, kindly make it clear that he had no interest in an affair with her, and be done with it.

  He did not look forward to that refusal, for he doubted Vivien heard the word “no” very often. She was a beautiful and powerful woman. One he couldn’t help but respect.

  With a sigh, he pulled a sheet of paper from the table beside his bed and scrawled a quick note indicating he would call on her for afternoon tea the next day. But as he called for a servant to take the note and arrange delivery, Andrew stifled the curiosity and thrill of excitement that filled his chest.

  He had let go of that life long ago. He had no intention of ever going back.

  Chapter Three

  Andrew sat in Vivien’s parlor, staring at the delicate wallpaper. The dark red and pink pattern depicted something most people would never notice: naughty scenes of men and women entangled. He remembered coming to a party here once many years ago and trying to find all the hidden images.

  A lifetime ago. Before he had married Rebecca. Before everything in his life had changed. He could hardly recall the man he was back then. He didn’t want to recall it. In retrospect, it seemed like such a frivolous, empty existence.

  The door behind him opened, and he rose to his feet and turned as Vivien entered. She was undeniably one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, and that beauty had always been complemented by her quick sense of humor and sharp intelligence. There was no wonder she was so sought after by the men in his circles.

  Hell, a decade ago, he had lusted over her himself. But not now. Now she did nothing for him, not even a quickening of his blood.

  Even if she had, any desire would have been squashed when she smiled at him and the pity she felt toward him was as clear and obvious as her hair or eye color.

  How tiresome it was to always see that damned expression.

  He forced himself to return the smile, though it was just as false.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” she said as she closed the door behind herself and crossed to him, hands outstretched.

  “Good afternoon, Vivien.” He took them, and she pressed a kiss to each cheek before she stepped back and looked him up and down.

  “I have not seen you in so long; I’m so pleased to have you here,” she said, motioning to the two chairs before the fire. “Please, sit. May I get you tea or other refreshment? You were always a fan of bourbon, were you not?”

  Andrew tilted his head. Damn, but she was good.

  “A bit too early for bourbon for me, I am afraid.”

  She laughed. “I suppose so. I am simply pleased you are here at all. I must admit, I was a little surprised when you answered my missive, let alone so quickly. I half expected you to ignore me. Or at least refuse my request for a call.”

  Andrew arched a brow. Vivien had always been direct, that was certain.

  “Who could refuse you?” he asked.

  Her smile grew more wry. “I hear told that you refuse many, if not all, of your old friends nowadays.”

  Andrew pursed his lips. He knew what those in his former circles said about him. He had received at least two accusatory letters from old friends who called him all manner of names because he had turned them away again and again. But he didn’t want to get into a long discussion about those facts with Vivien. In the
end, he hardly knew the woman and he refused to discuss his personal life with his own family; why would he drag it out for her to see?

  He shrugged. “Perhaps I simply like you more.”

  She tilted her head. “If that is true, than I am flattered.”

  “But,” he stressed, “my time today is short. There must be some reason you called me here beyond wishing to press me about why I no longer see our mutual friends.”

  Vivien nodded as she got to her feet. “There is. Would you follow me out onto my terrace and I will clarify my reasons?”

  Andrew wrinkled his brow. The terrace? What an odd request. Odd and somewhat intriguing. He got to his feet and followed her to the double doors that led out onto a sunny terrace. There was a table and chairs there, but Vivien passed those by and moved to the terrace wall. She leaned there and looked out over her gardens.

  Slowly, Andrew joined her. He had no idea what this was all about, but it felt just a little like an ambush to him. Though what Vivien could hope to ensnare him into, he couldn’t say. Entrapment had never been her personality; in fact it was just the opposite: Vivien caught with honey, not vinegar.

  “What is this all about?” he asked, perhaps a bit more peevishly than he had intended to sound.

  She didn’t react to his sharper tone.

  “How much do you hear about your old circles now that you have divorced yourself from the life you once led?”

  Andrew faltered. The woman was shrewd and had just summed up exactly what he’d done. “Not much,” he finally admitted softly.

  “Then perhaps you do not know that I am no longer the mistress to any man in Society.” She smiled and he saw a flicker of relief to her expression that he had not expected. Vivien had always seemed contented in her role in the world. “But I continue to keep myself in that world. I have recently begun matching young women with protectors.”

  Andrew nodded. “Er, yes, I believe I might have heard such a thing in passing.”

  For the life of him, he couldn’t remember who had said that, but he did not think it was new information.

  “But what does that have to do with me?”

  Vivien motioned to the gardens below. “Do you see the girl in my rose maze below?”

  Andrew followed the direction of her elegant hand and was surprised to see that there was, indeed, a woman in the garden below.

  “Yes?”

  He turned toward Vivien and found she was holding out a spyglass for him.

  “Look a little closer, you could hardly see any detail of her from all the way up here.”

  He tilted his head in increasing confusion. “Vivien—”

  “Please,” she insisted, her tone firm.

  With a grunt, Andrew took the glass from her hand and peered through the viewer to the young woman below. As he focused on her face, his breath caught.

  She was utterly lovely. Chestnut locks framed a face with high cheekbones and full lips, not to mention china-blue eyes that lit up with delight as she paused to sniff this flower or that. Her clothing was well-worn, but when she twisted to observe her surroundings, it accentuated soft curves.

  Andrew shifted as a most unfamiliar feeling began to stir his loins. Desire, hot and powerful, pumped through his veins, and he lowered the spyglass in shock. He hadn’t had such a strong reaction to a woman in years.

  “I assume you like what you see,” Vivien said softly.

  Andrew clenched his teeth. There was no hiding the swelling of his cock through the tight breeches he wore, and Vivien was too aware of such things not to notice.

  “She is, obviously, very pretty,” he said coolly as he handed the glass back to Vivien and turned away.

  He tried to think of anything, anyone, that might force the inconvenient blood upward.

  “She is looking for a protector,” Vivien said from behind him. “I thought you might be the right match for her.”

  Andrew spun around, no longer caring if his erection was obvious. “I beg your pardon?” he barked.

  In the face of his outrage, he expected Vivien to step away or flinch. Instead, she maintained her ground and kept her gaze focused firmly upon him.

  “Her name is Lysandra Keates, and she arrived uninvited on my doorstep a few days ago. I do not know the particulars of her situation as of yet, but my impression is that she is in dire straits. She has begged me to match her with a man.”

  “I am not looking for a mistress!” Andrew snapped, but he couldn’t help a brief, powerful image of the girl in the garden…in his bed, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her.

  “So I assumed,” Vivien said. “But I fear this young woman perhaps has had limited experience with the physical aspects of passion. Perhaps a tumble with a man who promised her a life and then abandoned her. She may even have been forced. She believes she can handle whatever being a mistress would entail, but I have my doubts. The men in my circles expect their mistresses to be bold, daring, passionate. Lysandra could get swallowed up by them.”

  Andrew had been staring, mesmerized as Vivien recounted the details of Lysandra’s request, but now he shook off his interest. “And again, what does this have to do with me?”

  “I need a man who would be willing to gently introduce her to pleasure. One who would be patient with her fears and yet experienced enough to turn her into a mistress any man would desire.”

  Andrew opened his mouth, but found he could say nothing for a moment. Once again, images bombarded his mind. Illicit. And much more befitting the man he had once been many years before.

  “No!” he barked, more to himself than to her. “No. I appreciate you are trying to help this young woman in your own way, but I am not the one to take her under my wing.”

  Vivien moved closer, and Andrew groaned. The woman was a sorceress. She knew how to look at a man and sway him. He was not entirely immune to that ability, despite not wishing to have her in his bed.

  The other woman, though…Lysandra…that was another story.

  “My lord,” she said softly. “Andrew, I knew you before…” She paused. “…before everything changed. I know the desires you pursued and the lust you then had for women and for life. I hate to see you as you are now: isolated and in obvious pain.”

  Andrew turned his face, desire gone in an instant. He did not speak of these things to anyone. Ever.

  “Nonsense,” he snapped.

  Vivien hesitated a moment, then stepped back with her hands lifted. “Very well, I may be wrong. But this would be a favor for me and for Lysandra. And it might even help you.”

  Andrew moved to the edge of the terrace and looked down over the gardens again. Lysandra had taken a seat on a bench in the middle of the garden and now had a rose in her hand. She brushed it over her own cheek absently, and the desire that had been quashed rushed back over Andrew in a dizzying wave.

  He had spent years wallowing in his own pain and guilt, knowing he deserved both. Now the idea that the pain could disappear for a moment… It was bewitching. So tempting to think that a person could make him forget, even briefly.

  “There would be no expectation that this…situation would be permanent?” he asked softly.

  He could hear the smile in Vivien’s tone as she said, “No. Lysandra would learn under your tutelage, nothing more. You could send her back to me at any time. Although if you end up liking her and wish to make her your mistress more permanently, then I would, of course, leave the details of that arrangement up to the two of you.”

  Andrew shook his head without taking his eyes off Lysandra. “No. I will take no permanent mistress. A month, that is all. Just a month with this woman and I will ensure she is ready for a man with loftier expectations in his bed.”

  Vivien hesitated before she said, “Very well.”

  Andrew turned away from Lysandra and straightened his jacket. “You may send her to my London home tomorrow at two. Tell her not to be late.”

  Vivien nodded. “I will do so. Thank you, my lord.”


  Andrew wanted to look at Lysandra one final time, but he forced himself not to do so. Instead, he strode to the doors that led back into the house.

  “I must excuse myself, I have another appointment.”

  Vivien followed him into the parlor. “Of course. It was good to see you again, my lord.”

  Andrew said some kind of pleasantry, he wasn’t sure what and headed into the foyer and back out onto the street where his rig was waiting for him. But as he got into the phaeton and urged his horses toward home, he couldn’t help but flash back to the images of Lysandra in the garden.

  She was utterly desirable, but he wondered if he would come to regret his choice to surrender to these baser instincts. After all, the first man had also given in to his desires in a garden.

  And it hadn’t ended well for him.

  Lysandra followed Vivien’s butler, Nettle, back into the parlor where she had first met the woman a few days before. It had been a long morning, one where she had been called here only to be sent into the garden to await her fate. And while she could appreciate the beauty of that place…well, there was still a lump in her chest. One of fear that Vivien had reconsidered helping her and that was why she’d been forced to wait so long.

  As she entered the room, she was surprised to see Vivien already there. There was an unreadable expression on the other woman’s face, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

  “Good afternoon, Lysandra.”

  Lysandra shook off her fears and forced herself into the room. “Good afternoon. Thank you for seeing me again.”

  Vivien first motioned the servant away and then waved to the same chairs where Lysandra had first confessed her embarrassing secret. She flushed as she took one.

  “I have news,” Vivien said with a smile that looked like a cat gotten into cream.

  Lysandra shifted, uncertain if she could trust Vivien’s smug satisfaction. “Y-yes?” she squeaked.

  “A few moments ago, a man left my home. You may know his name. Viscount Andrew Callis?”

  Lysandra shook her head with a heavy dose of hesitation. “No, I’m afraid it isn’t familiar to me. I wasn’t of the ton, you see.”