“Drew, Drew, how I’ve missed seeing your ugly face.” Sam laughed. “You should come to London more often.”
Lysandra sucked in a breath. Drew. Sam. These were childhood nicknames, taken from a much more innocent time. She could hardly picture Andrew as a freckled boy, racing around with his brother. But when she did, it made her smile.
“London has its attractions, yes,” Andrew said, awkward as he shifted. “But coming here brings me little pleasure other than seeing you.”
Sam’s jovial face fell a fraction, and for a brief moment Lysandra saw all his grief for his brother on his face. And worry and…surprisingly, fear, but not of him…for him. She jerked her attention to Andrew. Why would his brother exhibit fear when he looked at him?
“But enough about you,” Sam teased. “Your lovely companion seems like a much more interesting subject. Unless you intend to keep her to yourself all night.”
Andrew smiled and touched Lysandra’s elbow. “Mr. Samuel Callis, may I present my friend Miss Lysandra Keates.”
Sam took her fingers and leaned over them, pressing a kiss to the top of her gloved hand. “Miss Keates, a pleasure to meet you.”
She smiled, and the expression wasn’t forced. There was something about Sam that made her feel utterly at ease. He had a friendliness that wasn’t in any way false. And although Andrew said he knew she was a mistress, he treated her no differently than he would any other person.
“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Lysandra said. “I was so pleased to hear you were joining us tonight. And I hear congratulations are in order for your recent engagement?”
Sam blinked, and Lysandra tensed. Was that a subject she wasn’t supposed to bring up? It was one that touched on the other world, the proper world that these men inhabited, while she was on its fringes.
“Thank you,” Sam said. “I am most happy.”
Andrew stepped closer. “Truly?”
Sam turned his attention on his brother, and Lysandra saw the worry and fear again. “Yes, Drew. Very happy.”
“Good,” Andrew said with a breath of relief. “I would like to meet her, you know.”
Sam swallowed. “Would you? I worried it might be…difficult for you.”
Andrew’s smile faltered. “You needn’t protect me, Sam. I’m the older brother, aren’t I? Meant to fuss over you? If you take my duties then I’ll have nothing to fill my time.”
Sam’s gaze flitted to Lysandra. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. But yes, I would love for you to meet Adela. We’ll make the arrangements tonight. But now I see the lights are being flickered. We should go in and take our seats.”
He motioned for Andrew and Lysandra to lead. Andrew took her arm and they moved into the bright foyer. Slowly, the crowd was taking its places, ducking behind curtains that protected the boxes and into the aisles of the main audience chamber. Of course Andrew had a box and he pulled the curtain aside to allow the others to enter.
Lysandra stared. The box was private, with three comfortable, cushioned seats already set up to face the stage. A bottle of champagne rested in a pail filled with ice. Sam grabbed for the bottle as Andrew escorted her to one of the seats. His brother popped the cork and poured them each a little of the fizzy alcohol. He raised his glass.
“To my brother and the choice to live again,” he said, his joviality tempered for a moment by a serious tone.
Lysandra looked at Andrew from the corner of her eye. He seemed very serious, and his jaw was clenched in frustration or anger.
The lights in the opera house lowered and Sam took his seat next to Andrew as the curtain rose and the music began. Lysandra settled back and watched as the beautifully dressed singers floated onto the stage to sing in Italian about love and loss, death and birth. She wanted to lose herself in the music, but she couldn’t help but send a few glances toward Andrew from time to time. Although he was determined to keep his heart, his past, his life a secret from her, tonight she was learning more and more. And with every hint at his pain, she felt a stronger urge to help him. To heal him, as Vivien told her she could.
Even if he resisted her attempts.
Andrew wasn’t looking forward to intermission, when he would be forced to go into the hallways and chat with those in attendance, but there was no avoiding it when the lights lifted midway through the show. He turned toward Lysandra with a forced smile.
“Are you enjoying the opera?” he asked.
She nodded, her face still filled with rapt pleasure. A rather arousing expression, actually, for it reminded him of that moment when she reached climax.
“The soprano’s voice is wonderful,” she said with a happy sigh. “I’ve always wanted to go to the opera. I had heard such wonderful things and they were all true. Thank you for including me in tonight.”
Andrew saw his brother jerk his gaze to Lysandra, and then he looked at Andrew with questioning. Andrew frowned. He had informed Sam that Lysandra was his mistress, but not that the situation was temporary or that Lysandra was really no better than an innocent. Now his brother seemed confused, and he was certain he would be bombarded with questions as soon as she was out of earshot.
“Come, let us join the throng out in the vestibule, shall we?” he said, shooting his brother a look over her head that told him to leave it alone. Not that it would help. Sam was a bulldog.
Lysandra tensed but took his arm with as much calm as she could muster. He had to admire her grit. She was afraid, that was clear, and unsure of herself in this situation. And why shouldn’t she be?
She was from a middle-class family, and one with little money, if things she’d said and the situation she currently found herself in were any indication. She had never been to the opera or to a fancy ball. She’d never rubbed elbows with the elite of the ton and had them all know that she was the lover of someone in their midst.
And yet, despite all that, she kept her chin up. She might tremble, but she didn’t break. And that took some courage.
He squeezed her hand gently and leaned down closer as they joined the throng in the entrance hall. “You are doing very well.”
“I shouldn’t have asked your brother about his fiancée,” she said with a small sigh. “It was too bold.”
He shook his head. “It was a friendly gesture and one made honestly. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and filled with so many emotions he could scarcely separate them all. She straightened her spine and looked out over the crowded floor, but then her eyes lit up.
“There is Vivien,” she said, indicating a place across the room.
Andrew followed her motion and found the celebrated courtesan holding court over a handful of men. She looked utterly bored and Andrew had no idea why the men were trying. Everyone knew she no longer took protectors or even lovers beyond the occasional one-night pleasure.
“I would like to say hello,” Lysandra said. “May I?”
Andrew blinked. “You needn’t ask my permission. Please, say hello to your friend. And pass on my regards, as well.”
She smiled at him, then slipped into the crowd. Andrew couldn’t help but notice that several men followed her with their eyes as she joined Vivien. He frowned at their attentions, although that was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To help her become more attractive to the right kind of man. One who would take care of her for more than a few weeks and treat her well. Many of the men who leered were exactly the kind she should endeavor to “catch”.
“She is a most beautiful woman,” Sam said.
Andrew shook his head. He had all but forgotten that his brother was with him.
“And very…interesting,” his brother continued.
Andrew remained silent, but that didn’t deter Sam.
“I admit, I was surprised when you told me you were bringing a woman, your new mistress, with you to the opera. Not unhappy, though, just surprised. And once I met her…”
He trailed off, and Andrew pursed h
is lips. “I hope you aren’t implying something disparaging about Lysandra with what you say.”
Sam shook his head. “No, on the contrary I very much like her. But she is not like most women who take on that role, is she? She seems a bit out of place.”
Of course his brother would point out the obvious. Sam had never been able to turn away from an issue that provoked his curiosity.
“How did you meet?” Sam pushed. He looked at Lysandra, who had made her way to Vivien’s side. “Through Vivien?”
“Yes,” Andrew said through clenched teeth.
Sam tilted his head and thought about that for a long moment. “I suppose she is the best source for such things, but I didn’t know you were seeking a mistress. I thought you had written off all such activities. You decided to live a pious life, punishing yourself in the countryside, didn’t you? That was the last I’d heard.”
Andrew clenched his fists at his sides. “Leave it alone.”
Sam flinched at his tone but ignored the order behind it. “No, I’m afraid I want to know. How is it that you came to be around Vivien in the first place, let alone in a position where you might seek a mistress so different from any you have taken on in the past?”
Andrew shut his eyes. There was no one he trusted more than his brother, but talking to him about anything seemed to bring up most painful emotions and subjects he would rather see closed. However, since Sam seemed to be in no mood to drop the topic, it seemed he had no choice but to explain himself and the strange situation he found himself in.
“Lysandra has never been a mistress before,” he sighed in surrender. “She is…almost completely innocent. Vivien called on me to ask me the favor of introducing her to the lifestyle, albeit temporarily.”
“How temporarily?” Sam pressed.
Leave it to his brother to focus on that part of the statement. “A month at most. I told Vivien that I could do no longer, as I intend to return to the countryside once my business with Father is completed.”
His brother’s eyes widened. “So your relationship with this woman is charitable?”
“No,” Andrew snapped, then tempered his tone. “Of course not. You’ve seen the woman. How could one not enjoy her company and all that this…this arrangement entails?”
Sam lifted his brows slightly. “And yet you insist it shall be temporary.”
“It can’t be more.” Andrew shrugged. “Nothing has changed in my life.”
His brother’s frown deepened. “Bollocks.”
Andrew’s eyes went wide. His brother’s voice did not carry, but that still wasn’t the sort of thing you said in mixed company at the opera.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“You heard me. Damn it, Drew, how long are you going to lock yourself away from your family, your life, in that gloomy estate? How long are you going to punish yourself?” Sam shook his head. “I hoped that when you told me about Lysandra that it meant you were choosing to live again, but this is worse. You give yourself a taste of pleasure only to snatch it away.”
“I’m helping her, as I said,” Andrew said, turning away.
“No, that would be noble. What you’re really doing is continuing to torture yourself and you’re using her to do it.” Sam sighed. “Rebecca is dead, Drew. You’ve been trying to climb into the grave with her for three years, but it has to stop. God damn it, I never want to—”
His brother would have continued, but behind them there was a clearing of a throat. They turned to find Lysandra standing there. She was pale, her gaze focused on Andrew and he flinched, suddenly exposed in a way he had been trying to avoid for months, years. How long had she been standing there?
“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. “But the lights are flashing and most of the others have gone back inside. I believe intermission is over.”
Andrew looked around. Indeed, the lobby was almost empty except for a few gawkers who seemed more interested in the exchange between the three of them than in returning for the final act of the night.
He scowled as he took Lysandra’s arm and began to move toward his box.
“Yes,” he said over his shoulder for his brother’s benefit. “This is over.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lysandra had never experienced a more awkward time than the carriage ride home with Andrew. He stared straight ahead as the vehicle rumbled through the dark and quiet streets of the city, unspeaking, unmoving and apparently unseeing.
He had been cold like this for hours. Since his private time with his brother when she went to talk to Vivien. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she knew they had talked about Andrew’s dead wife…and her.
Her mind turned to Vivien. She had said that Lysandra could help Andrew, but from Sam and Andrew’s conversation, it didn’t sound like she was doing that. Unless she could help him forget, help him surrender to pleasure instead of dance around the edges of it, then she never would.
“Andrew?” she said softly.
He jolted and then looked at her. “Yes.”
“Why did your brother say you were using me to hurt yourself?” she asked.
He turned his face. “Do not ask such bold questions.”
She shook her head. “I would not, except that this one has very much to do with me and our arrangement.”
There was a long hesitation. “Sam spoke out of turn.”
“Not if the look on your face was any indication,” she said softly. “When he made that accusation, when he spoke of your wife, you looked…broken, Andrew. If that is what our time together does…”
Before she could finish the sentence, he caught her arm and hauled her across the carriage and across his lap. He dropped his mouth to hers, angry and heated, driving his tongue between her lips with punishing pressure. And yet the assault on her lips did nothing to make her recoil. If anything, her body reacted of its own accord.
It was amazing how weak this man could make her. A few days before, she hadn’t even pictured making love; now it took only one touch and she panted for him inside of her.
He obliged her silent desire with little preamble, hiking her delicate skirts up over her thighs and pressing his hand between them. She wore nothing beneath, partly because of the fit of the gown and partly on the suggestion of her maid, who had given her a knowing look and said something about “surprises”.
Now she was happy she had listened, especially when Andrew glided two fingers into her sheath and stroked her gently.
She arched against him, helpless against the tide of desire and pleasure.
“Don’t you understand?” he growled against her ear. “This is all I want. All I can have.”
She flinched at his angry, pain-filled words, so at odds with his touch deep within her.
“I want to help you,” she murmured in response.
She was challenging him, yes, and she couldn’t believe how boldly she did so. But she had to. There was a drive within her to heal this pain he tried to hide, as deep as the drive to join with him.
“You can’t,” he said, but his voice cracked. “No one can.”
She opened her mouth to say more, but he cut her off with another angry kiss, and her words and thoughts melted away. She clung to him, pulling him closer as he maneuvered her to straddle over his lap. He reached between them, opening his trousers and then lowered her onto his waiting, ready cock.
They sighed in time at the joining and she began to move. Being over top of him gave her the power he refused to relinquish in any other facet of their arrangement, and she clung to that, rolling her hips in a circle, reaching for pleasure and forcing it on him at the same time.
He lifted beneath her, his breath harsh and heavy in the close confines of the carriage. She felt him losing control and rode faster, her body quaking with the sudden burst of release that made her clench her pussy, milking him with her inner muscles as she pumped her hips faster and faster in rhythm to her orgasm.
He crushed her against him with a sudden roar and then he burst, his hot seed flowing within her for the first time in their affair. They stayed that way for a moment, staring at each other in the dim lights from outside the carriage windows. Then he shook his head and set her aside gently.
“You had best fix yourself,” he said without looking at her. “We’re almost home.”
Lysandra shivered as she smoothed her dress in place and fixed her hair. Home. That word made it sound so warm, so welcoming…but the house he had given her wasn’t a home. There was love in a home. Family. And with him, it was clear there would never be either of those things.
Andrew said nothing as he escorted Lysandra into her foyer. He could think of nothing to say that wasn’t angry, accusatory…and far too revealing of his feelings. She had used their physical connection to obtain something he hadn’t wanted to share. His emotion. He had said too much, felt too much, and now he wanted desperately to take it back.
“We need to talk about what a man expects from his mistress,” he snapped as they made their way into the parlor.
Carlsworth had been approaching them to take their wraps but immediately turned around and left the foyer. Lysandra flinched, her cheeks bright with color, and Andrew stifled a curse. Yet again, high emotion made him lose control.
He expected Lysandra to say something or even cry in the face of this new humiliation, but instead, she motioned toward the parlor in silence. He followed her inside and watched as she shut the door behind them to block out their conversation from the servants. She paced to the fire without speaking and stood there, arms folded.
“I agree,” she said, simply and very calmly. For the first time, she looked the cool and collected role of an experienced mistress.
Andrew wasn’t certain he liked that.
“Your job, my dear, is to pleasure me. That is all. It isn’t to search my feelings or intrude upon my past,” he said, hating how harsh and ugly his tone was.
An Introduction to Pleasure: Mistress Matchmaker, Book 1 Page 11