Mistress of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  Banfield bowed and returned to his chair.

  Maybelle finally met Brayton’s sharp blue gaze and smiled. “All that is left is you.”

  “Indeed,” Brayton muttered, shaking his dark head. He blew out a breath and made his way toward her, his hand digging into the inside of his jacket. He pulled out a thin long box wrapped in black satin, paused before her, and held it out, his blue eyes boldly holding hers.

  Reaching out for her hand, he brought it up toward the box and used her own fingers to slowly and expertly unwrap the black satin. It was as if he knew how to flex her fingers in the right place to keep their movements firm and steady. The wrapping slipped off and still directing her fingers, he pushed open the lid of the flat, slim box, then drew away her hand.

  There, on a piece of folded muslin was a beautiful gold and silver dagger. She glanced up at him.

  “Every woman should possess a dagger,” Brayton whispered. “To protect her virtue. But more importantly, her heart.”

  Maybelle pinched her lips together and took the weighted box from him. Though it was not a conventional gift or sentiment, it hit its mark, making her feel the way a woman should feel when receiving a gift. Honored. “Thank you. I shall cherish it.”

  These men did not need lessons in the art of love or seduction. They knew more than the average man did. So why were they here?

  She nodded and turned away, telling herself she was not going to start blubbing. She set the box down on the table and stared at all three gifts. All equally worthy of praise. She couldn’t possibly pick among them as they had all served the same purpose. That of the heart.

  “What of my gift?” someone drawled from the doorway.

  Maybelle froze and then slowly turned only to find Edmund leaning against the door frame as if he’d been there all along. He was dressed in well-fitted gray riding clothes that showed off every last inch of his muscular frame. The muddy black leather boots that reached his knees indicated he’d been riding.

  She had no doubt her heart was pounding loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

  Edmund pushed himself away from the door frame and strode toward her. He moved with the fluid grace she had spied the first night she had laid eyes upon him. The room grew eerily quiet as he advanced and she knew all eyes were on her.

  He paused before her, unbuttoned his tweed jacket, and held it wide open, exposing the hidden pocket within. And simply waited. As if he expected her to dig out his gift herself.

  She nervously wet her lips, stepped toward him, and kept her gaze firmly on the pocket lest she got distracted along the way.

  The scent of heated sandalwood filled the air around her as her fingers slowly slid into the soft and smooth warmth of his jacket. Something metallic touched the tip of her fingers. She tightened her hold around it and pulled it out.

  A key. To his bedroom, no doubt.

  She stared at it, deeply disappointed at his lack of tact. Then again, what was she to expect? A sentimental gift prior to giving him a night? She hated sentimental rubbish, anyway.

  She fisted it and somehow could not bring herself to look at him. Heaven knows what everyone else in the room was thinking.

  “This key marks the last of all the gifts I have given you today,” he finally announced, his deep voice surrounding her. “Although I must confess that the whole dagger bit was more Brayton’s idea.”

  Startled, Maybelle looked up at him. “All the gifts? Whatever do you mean?” She stepped back and glanced toward Banfield, Caldwell, and Brayton.

  Brayton coughed and looked off to the side.

  Caldwell was grinning, as usual.

  And Banfield had a rather disgusted look, as though he were about to vomit.

  “Edmund,” she whispered, turning back to him. “What is this about? I don’t believe I understand.”

  “I am bringing this session to an end, Madam.” Edmund stepped toward her, that very intent marked on his face. “For I am not about to sit through an entire goddamn morning of lessons waiting to collect you.”

  Heat splashed her entire body. “Edmund, really, I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Yes, you can.” He reached down and to her shock slid his lowered arm beneath the back of her knees and scooped her right up into his arms and off the floor.

  She was surrounded by his muscled mass and was looking straight into his smooth-shaven face. Her pulse jumped in a similar manner as it had when she had gazed upon him that night in the lightest part of the garden.

  Edmund turned them toward their audience and announced, “This concludes today’s lesson, boys. And because it is Friday, do not expect her return until Monday.”

  Maybelle’s eyes widened as she tightened her hold around Edmund’s neck and the key which was still in her right hand. “Edmund! This is not what I agreed to! Class is far from over and these men pay bloody good money to be here. My grandmother would—”

  “Do any of you mind,” Edmund called out over to the men, “if I borrow your headmistress for the day? I’ll gladly pay for the remainder of this month’s lessons to make up for it.”

  “As long as you bring her back next week!” Caldwell yelled back, waving them off. He grinned. “In the meantime, we shall all occupy ourselves with the girls. They’re all lonely up there and we certainly cannot have that.”

  Maybelle’s eyes widened as chuckles rumbled within the room. Her grandmother would have a fit! She frantically shoved at Edmund’s arms. He only tightened his hold. “Edmund, no! They aren’t allowed to—”

  “It is settled then.” Edmund grinned down at her and swung them back toward the doorway. “Hold onto your key, Madam, as we will be making use of it quite soon.”

  And with that, he led them out into the corridor, down the steps, and toward the front door, where Harold stood gawking at them.

  No! Not the front door!

  “Edmund, no!” She hit his shoulder repeatedly with her fisted hand. “Not the front door. My grandmother doesn’t promote anyone being seen coming in and out of the school. It marks our exclusivity!”

  “Harold, open the damn door,” Edmund growled out.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Harold stalked forward, unlocked the bolts, and quickly swung it open.

  So much for her grandmother’s golden rule.

  Or the gatekeeper.

  Or the school.

  “See to the girls, Harold!” she yelled out. “Or my grandmother will set your balls on display!”

  Edmund laughed and tightened his hold on her.

  Maybelle froze as he carried her out through the open door and out into the bustling cobblestone street of London. In respectable daylight!

  She buried her face in Edmund’s chest and didn’t dare look at any of the people who were no doubt stopping to look at them. She doubted if her grandmother had ever lived through scandal like this!

  A door was opened and she felt Edmund’s muscles shift around her as she was hoisted up into his carriage. Only when she felt herself being set onto Edmund’s lap and the door slammed shut did she lift her face from his chest.

  His arms tightened, pressing her closer. “You will remain seated on my lap throughout our short journey. To ensure that you do not abandon me.” He winked, then grinned.

  Maybelle felt her heart unexpectedly squeeze. Why did this no longer feel like an arrangement but a courtship? What was worse, she rather liked it. A lot.

  Trouble is what this was.

  Trouble.

  Lesson Sixteen

  Lust certainly makes this world spin fast and round.But the moment you dare involve love, know that everything will come to a complete and quick halt. And yes, you most certainly will fall off the planet.—The School of Gallantry

  When the carriage finally rolled to a stop, Maybelle tightened her grip on the key and glanced up at Edmund. “Am I allowed to take leave of your lap now?” she drawled.

  “No,” he growled out, possessively tighten
ing his hold. “You will stay right where you are.”

  As the carriage door swung open, she quickly asked, “What is the key for? Exactly?”

  Without answering, he lifted her up off of his lap, tightened his hold around her, and stood. He led them out of the carriage and toward a beautiful townhouse set in one of the most exquisite parts of London. Where only the ton were allowed to live and breathe.

  She stiffened, feeling very much out of place, as he carried her up the small set of stairs.

  “The key, Madam,” he murmured down at her. “In answer to your earlier question.”

  She released one arm from around his neck and held up the key.

  “Use it.” He turned her toward the door and lowered her just enough for the lock to be level with her hand.

  An odd sense of excitement and anticipation fluttered inside her chest, as she realized that she had absolutely no idea what it was he had planned. She pushed the key into the lock, slowly turned it, then pulled it back out.

  “Open it.”

  Even though she had the key in her hand, she reached out, took hold of the doorknob, and turned it. She pushed it open and Edmund carried her inside.

  He set her down gently onto the floor, then using the back heel of his boot slammed the door shut, engulfing them in silence.

  Maybelle glanced around, realizing that the floors and stairs had been scattered with endless orchids and rose petals. So many, the scent floated around them and filled her with a sense of longing.

  As she stepped forward, cringing at the very idea of actually crushing the beautiful flowers with her slippered feet, she peered toward the parlor and realized it was void of all furniture, paintings, or rugs. Silk and lace curtains covered the windows, being the only thing to hint that someone might have once lived here.

  A slow dread filled her and she wondered if perhaps this was the townhouse he had mentioned when he’d first made his offer of marriage. How she prayed it wasn’t. She didn’t want to ruin this moment between them.

  She turned to him feeling suddenly frightened that she was going to hurt him by refusing yet another offer. “What is this place?”

  He locked the door, then turned back to her and shrugged. “I bought it years ago. For the family I was to have.”

  Maybelle froze and sensed he was about to change something between them. And she wasn’t in the least bit prepared for it. At all.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as if struggling for words. “I am certain you have heard all the rumors surrounding my family. I thought it best I share what happened. So that you might better understand me.”

  He opened his eyes, blew out a breath, and looked away. “Lady Anne Montgomery was her name. She was beautiful, intelligent, and came from an outstanding, respectable family. Whenever I came upon her during the Season, my adoration grew, until I knew without question that she would be my wife. After discussing the details with my parents, I bought this townhouse and called upon her parents, stating my intentions. They were pleased. Very pleased, in fact. But as for Lady Anne…” He frowned and shook his head.

  Maybelle slowly walked toward him, then paused. She almost didn’t want him to say anymore. Didn’t want to further see the suffering that was etched upon his dark features.

  He shrugged. “A letter arrived within the week. Lady Anne confessed that she could not marry me under any circumstance. For she had already given her heart, her body, and soul to another.” His mouth grew tight and grim. “My father.”

  The key Maybelle had been holding slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She stood there in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do.

  “I couldn’t understand. Out of all the women my father could have chosen, why her? She was mine. He knew it.” He shrugged again. “My mother was without a doubt more devastated than I. They had been happily married for so goddamn long, both she and I refused to believe it. We finally confronted him. Together. He sobbed in a way no man should and admitted to everything. Claimed it was committed out of love, not lust. I didn’t care to believe a word of it.”

  He shifted his jaw. “My father begged for time to set it right, then that very night crawled into Lady Anne’s bed and while she slept took enough laudanum to kill a dozen horses. Lady Anne’s family kept everything as discreet as possible; after all it was both of our shames. So while we buried my father, blaming it on a fatal heart condition, Lady Anne’s parents married her off to another man. Of course, that did not keep the ton from asking questions or demanding answers. How coincidental indeed that my father should die and that my engagement to Lady Anne should die along with him. My mother and I twisted the truth as best we could, but ultimately, the ton was set on destroying my future as a man. As a duke.”

  Listening to the distant, almost cold tone of his voice was too much to bear. She could only imagine the pain he and his mother had endured. It appeared life could be miserable no matter which side of the world you lived on.

  His black eyes impaled her. “I have learned, Maybelle, that emotions play dangerous games with our minds. With our souls. They can lead a man to snuff everything out only because he feels he has no other choice. And so there you have it. The truth behind my scandal.”

  Maybelle momentarily closed her eyes, now realizing why he was the way he was. Why he offered nothing more than his body, his money, and his title. Not because of the snobby, entitled world he’d been born into, but because everything had been so viciously taken away from him. And her excuse? “Forgive me,” she whispered. “Forgive me for ever judging you. I did not know.”

  “That is how we wanted it,” he murmured. “My mother and I preferred everyone thinking that he had died in the arms of a courtesan rather than in the arms of a respectable woman. Which only now I realize was wrong. Because even the granddaughter of a courtesan is worthy of receiving respect. As you have proven to me.”

  Maybelle opened her eyes in disbelief and met his serious gaze. He thought her worthy of respect? Even though they stood here waiting to consummate a one hundred thousand–pound agreement?

  She swallowed hard and desperately fought the sudden tenderness she felt toward him. Men of the ton were not supposed to say things like that. That is what separated her from the ton. That is what always separated them. Their respectability and her obvious lack of it.

  Edmund closed the distance between them, and the next thing she knew, his muscular arms were around her. She leaned against his warmth, pressing him tightly to herself, and felt as if she had finally connected with someone. Someone who saw beyond the façade of what society saw.

  He kissed the top of her head. “My mother wanted me to keep this place,” he murmured. “She said it would be the groundwork for a new beginning. That out of bad would one day come good. I thought about that last night and decided that it should be yours. A beautiful and respectable lady such as yourself deserves a beautiful and respectable place.”

  Tears stung her eyes. And for the first time in her life she actually wished she could live up to such high praise. The reality was, she could not change the family she’d been born into. Or what she had become because of it.

  Edmund released her and gently took hold of her chin, his warm fingertips feathering her skin. Lifting it up toward him, he held it in place, forcing her to look up at him.

  A muscle flicked in his jaw. “Now. Give me the honor of making love to you, Madam.”

  If there was ever a moment to give one’s self over to a man without hesitation, this was it. “I am yours tonight,” she whispered up at him.

  His fingers tightened around her chin as he leaned down and gently brushed his warm lips against hers. She closed her eyes and savored the softness and gentleness of that single kiss.

  He slowly lifted his mouth from hers and trailed his fingers from her chin down to her throat, his touch feathery and light.

  She met his dark gaze as he slid his fingers farther down to the front of her yellow muslin gown.


  His fingers stilled on the lace neckline just above her breasts. His breath now came in heavier takes. “I may not be as gentle as I should be,” he admitted. “I’ve been waiting far too long for this moment.”

  Her own breath now also came in deeper takes as the warmth of his hand continued to linger at her breast. “Do what you will,” she whispered. “I am certain I will enjoy every moment of it.”

  He growled down at her as his other hand came up. His hold on the front material of her gown tightened and in one swift motion, he ripped the front of her bodice and kept ripping his way down until he had made enough room for it to slip off her arms and waist and onto the floor.