Virtue and Vice

by Kimberly Brody

  She flinched. “Then I’ll be your mistress, if you’ll have me. You don’t need to seek Louisa! I know you desire me, even if you don’t love me.”

  He couldn’t hide his incredulity. “What you would be is a whore, Izzy, trading your body for a place to live and a few stolen moments of pleasure.”

  “Then I’ll be your whore.” Her voice didn’t even waver.

  Did she need a place to live so very badly she would use her body as a commodity? Or could he have misread her so thoroughly, missed her feelings for him?

  His jaw tightened. Nay. He need only remind himself of Huntley’s visit earlier in the day. She’d colluded with the man, there was no denying it. She hadn’t even tried to deny it! And now that Huntley had betrayed her, and not used the information for the purposes for which she gave it to him, she was trapped, desperate.

  “Huntley wouldn’t take you up on the same offer then?”

  “I never went to Paul. If I did, he would gladly accept me as his wife, but I don’t want him, I want”-

  He exhaled a sound of disbelief. “Are you still extolling that man’s virtues to me after what he did this afternoon?”

  “He only thought he was helping, Ram. I know Paul, and what he did, he thought he did for me.”

  “Then why did he ask only for coin, Izzy, and not for an annulment so he could have you, since you seem to think you are what he wants so badly?”

  She met his stare. “Because he knew this would happen. You never would have agreed to an annulment, but he knew if you thought I conspired with him to blackmail you, then you would want an annulment. I’m sure of it.”

  Her faith in Huntley knew no bounds. And her willingness to ignore the vile cad in the man nearly gutted him. If her instincts about Huntley were so wrong, there was no way Ram could rely on her declaration of love for him, even if she truly thought she believed it. His heart unwillingly twisted with disappointment. “You certainly seem to know his mind very well, considering you didn’t see him today.”

  She flushed. “I didn’t have to see him. I just know.”

  He turned away. “You know nothing, Izzy. Go back to your precious Paul; he’ll be happy to make you his mistress.”

  “He would make me his wife. But I don’t want to be his wife, I want to be yours. And if you won’t accept that, I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

  God, the offer tempted him beyond belief. Because no matter how angry he was, his heart kept butting in to remind him that he loved her above all else. Burned for her more than anything he ever wanted before in his life. But if he put his heart at her mercy she would eventually shred it. The only way to save himself was to drive her as far away as possible. This very moment.

  He turned back to face her. “You offered to be my whore, Izzy. Do you know the difference between a mistress and a whore?”

  Her glistening eyes remained fixed on his. She shook her head.

  “A mistress is a valued companion. Carefully chosen, because a mistress can very often be both a friend and a lover. A whore exists for one purpose only- to be at the disposal of the man paying for her to ease his body’s needs. Are you still willing to be my whore then, Isabelle?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she nodded. Obviously she didn’t truly understand the nuance betwixt the two. He would give her a demonstration she’d not soon forget.

  “I accept your offer, then. And I require your services right now.” He closed some of the distance to the bed.

  Suddenly she looked nervous. “W-what would you have me do, my lord?”

  “You need do nothing more than simply toss your skirts over your head. A whore is merely a willing body and need not be a willing participant.”

  She licked her lips again. “What if I desire to be a willing participant?”

  He shrugged, though her words made him burn. The point of this was to teach her a lesson that would drive her away, nothing more. “I do not wish it.” He stared at her when she didn’t move. “Your skirts, Isabelle?”

  He just barely kept his jaw from dropping when she shimmied up the bed until her head rested upon the pillow. Never taking her eyes from his, she drew the hem of her gown up slowly. He couldn’t stop his own gaze from flicking downwards to stare at the creamy thighs revealed by the action. She stopped when the gown was bunched about her waist.

  “I said over your head,” He gritted.

  Her knuckles tightened on the hem at the insulting demand, but she did as he commanded.

  He stepped closer to the bed. How far will she go?

  “Bring your legs up and spread your thighs for me, Izzy,” his voice came out thicker than he intended.

  Without hesitation, she drew her legs up until her feet rested flat upon the mattress and then spread her legs. His cock, which had merely been half-hard at the sight of her laid out on his bed, sprang to full attention as his gaze narrowed in on her pink slit glistening with evidence of her desire.

  “Wider,” he forced through his teeth.

  Again, she complied, and his intention to only teach her a demeaning lesson went awry. Desire shot through him, beginning as a curling of heat that grew into a conflagration that soon licked at him. His control shattered. He had to have her, annulment be damned.

  His hands moved to the fastenings of his breeches, pushing them down to pool at his ankles, and then he was on the bed, lying between her legs, the heat from her center scorching him.

  “Lift your legs.” His voice was no longer demanding, rather he sounded like he was pleading. He was losing control of the situation, but his heated body overruled his rapidly fogging brain. She pulled her raised knees towards her chest and he watched in fascination as her body opened of its own accord.

  Without pause he drove into her welcoming, slick heat, groaning at the exquisite pleasure of her body shuddering around his. And suddenly, no matter his intention, it was all wrong for her beautiful face to be covered while they were together like this, and he lowered her skirt gently to her waist. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed tight. He couldn’t tell if her heightened color was brought on by pleasure or shame.

  He began to thrust in long, slow motions; withdrawing almost completely from her body, then driving back in, deeper and deeper each time. The color in her face heightened and soon she was moaning sweetly with every plunge he made into her heated depths. Her hands rose up and encircled his neck, her nails clawing at him, begging wordlessly for him to bring her to climax. She tried to drag his lips down to hers, but he turned his face away at the last moment, suckling her neck instead. She stiffened slightly in response, but then he was thrusting so hard and so fast, she surrendered beneath him. Breathy mewls escaped her lips and she whimpered and gasped, until she suddenly went taut beneath him, crying out. The shuddering of her body urged him on to release.

  At the last instant, commonsense prevailed. He must not impregnate her. The pressure intensified, the pleasure almost overwhelming, but somehow he reached deep and found the willpower to pull out of her tight sheath before he spilled his seed, exploding in a white-hot burst of bliss with a gasp. He opened his eyes in time to watch the last of his semen pump from him, landing on the silken sheets beside her leg.

  He clenched his eyes shut, holding himself up on his arms, breathing harshly. Thank God. If he planted a babe inside of her, he’d never get the annulment. Even if his heart whispered that would not be a bad thing.

  For a moment there was only silence as they recovered from the force of expended passion. But all too soon Izzy opened wounded eyes and stared at him, her face the very picture of hurt bewilderment.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice so soft he wouldn’t have heard the question if his face wasn’t so close to hers.

  Somehow he managed not to flinch. He knew without asking to what she referred and now the time had come to chase her away for good. He steeled himself to be harsh. Under no circumstances could she know of the tenderness he still felt for her, despite everything.


  “A man usually doesn’t wish to impregnate his mistress, but he most certainly doesn’t want to father a child on a whore.”

  As soon as the callous words left his mouth he wanted to snatch them back. He was still lying between her legs for Christ’s sake, the warm afterglow of lovemaking still heavy between them despite the way it had began. And she was his wife, not some two-penny whore he’d picked up outside of a seedy tavern for a quick fuck against the wall.

  Her luminous eyes widened and filled with tears. Her lips began to tremble, but she took the lower one between her teeth, as though that could stop the quiver. One fat tear trickled down her cheek despite her obvious effort to control it. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to resist gently wiping it away with his thumb. These tears were no act. He’d been unbearably cruel.

  “You really meant it then?” Her voice was whisper soft.

  He sighed heavily, trying hard to ignore the ache in his heart. “I don’t want you for my wife, Isabelle, and there’s no place in my life for you as my mistress.”

  “Then you weren’t just saying it to be unkind? You could really use me as a whore?” She squared her shoulders before he could form an answer. “Never mind. You just did. I was the fool to believe otherwise.” She shook her head. “I have decided I cannot be your whore after all. It hurts entirely too much.” She pushed against his chest and he sat back, freeing her from his embrace, watching as she lowered her gown into place and sat upright. She hugged her knees, looking small and so very vulnerable. When she raised her head and lifted pleading eyes to his, he braced himself to resist whatever she begged of him.

  “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please, Ramsay, I’m begging you, please, for God’s sake, don’t offer me any sort of payment for what just happened.” A sob escaped with the last word and she clamped her mouth shut, visibly trembling.

  He let out a breath and looked away. He’d been about to do just that; to put the final nail in the coffin of their marriage. He could indulge her in this, because it was no longer necessary. She finally understood.

  After a moment, she stood from the bed, smoothing the fabric of her gown against her hips with shaking hands, then placed her fingertips against her forehead, eyes closed. “I’m returning to my father’s home in Cornwall. Please send word to me there when the annulment is official.”

  She stared at him as if she expected some response, so he nodded. It was the only action of which he was capable.

  “I wish you well, Ramsay, I truly do. If it’s worth anything, I’m so very sorry for everything.” She turned toward the door, shoulders squared.

  “Izzy!” he forced out.

  She swung about abruptly, hope flaring to life in her eyes.

  “If you find yourself with child, you’ll let me know immediately, do you hear me?”

  Hope faded to bleak acceptance. Her mouth closed, then opened, then closed once more. The tears she’d fought so hard reappeared, but now they rolled down her cheeks, one after another, as if she’d lost the strength or the will hold them back any longer. She nodded once, her face a picture of anguish.

  She fled the chamber.

  Ram should have been relieved, but instead the ache in his chest grew stronger. What if he’d just made a terrible mistake?

  Chapter 28

  Izzy watched the gray buildings pass by as she peered through the curtain of the Royston coach. All she could think about was how each turn of the wheels took her farther and farther from Ram, and that in all likelihood she’d never see him again. From the moment he explained the humiliating reason for withdrawing before he spent, a hollow ache settled in her chest. Nay, it had begun even before that, when he refused to kiss her. She felt used. And yet, she couldn’t blame him, for he’d warned her what to expect. It was only that she’d thought him bluffing- that if only he’d take her in his arms…

  The ache only grew stronger with each step she took away from the bedchamber, culminating in what felt like an iron anchor crushing her torso, weighing her down, as she stumbled into the carriage, barely managing to whisper her destination to the driver through her tears.

  So, this is what a broken heart truly feels like.

  Broken was the wrong word for it. It was far too tame. Her heart had been mauled. Shredded. She thought she’d known heartbreak when Papa betrothed her to Ram and she’d lost Paul- but that was nothing compared to this devastation. How did one survive such a thing? Did people ever recover from broken hearts, or did they forever remain empty shells of their former selves, pining for the love they’d lost?

  And she would pine for Ram, every day for the rest of her life, of that there could be no doubt. There would be no second marriage for her. Not once the scandal of the annulment came down upon her. And upon her family. But even if there were no scandal, she wouldn’t remarry. She’d made the mistake once of marrying a man while believing herself in love with another, and she’d hurt her husband terribly. She would never do that to anyone, ever again.

  There was no help for it now. She’d brought this upon herself, and she’d have to live with the consequences of her actions. But first, she’d do one last thing for Ram.

  The carriage slowed before the steps of her father’s townhouse and Izzy alighted with the aid of the driver, carrying with her one small bag. She’d asked Dexter to send her belongings, along with Meg, later in the day, so they could travel to Cornwall together.

  With a weak smile of thanks, she sent the Royston driver back home for the last time, insisting he needn’t wait. Nothing that was Ram’s belonged to her anymore.

  Especially not his heart.

  She bit her knuckle to hold back tears that waited so desperately for release. It would be unseemly to collapse into a puddle of hysterics on the front steps of her father’s home. She was a grown woman, it wouldn’t do to be seen in such a manner.

  You are no woman. You are nothing but a silly child.

  The green damask curtain fluttering back into place from the parlor caught her attention, and within seconds, the front door crashed open before Izzy could even summon the energy to knock upon it. Belinda bore down on her, her face a mask of utmost concern, which piqued Izzy’s curiosity. When she’d left here this afternoon, she’d been so happy and excited. Why then did Bel seem to know the worst had happened?

  Belinda reached for the bag with one hand, while wrapping the other arm about Izzy’s waist. Grateful for the support, she leaned into her cousin as Bel led her into the house, back into the parlor where they’d spoken only this morn.

  Izzy fell onto the settee, pressing her fingertips to her eyes. “You’re probably wondering what happened, since when last I saw you everything was fine.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own; it was a stranger’s voice, filled with exhaustion and despair.

  Belinda sat beside her, took her hand. “I saw Lucien earlier,” her tone was gentle. “He told me what happened.”

  “Lord Lucien? What business did you have with him? I wasn’t even aware you were acquainted.”

  Was that a flush on her cousin’s face?

  “We met last evening. He came here this afternoon as a courtesy, to tell me what happened between you and Ram. He thought I should go to you, but I decided to remain here, thinking you would return. Then your parents came home and took the carriage to Eric’s manor, so I couldn’t go to you. When I wouldn’t leave, your father demanded to know why. I had to tell him part of the truth Izzy, I’m so sorry. He promised to return the carriage as soon as they arrived. Your father wishes for us to join them straight away.”

  “Why are they going Eric’s estate? Is he well?” The King had granted the manor to Eric for his years of service to the crown, but Izzy had not yet had a chance to see it.

  Belinda’s face grew even more sober, if it were at all possible. “Oh, Izzy, you haven’t heard the news from court?”

  “Nay. I’ve seen none but you, Ram, and Lord Lucien today. What’s happened? You’re scaring me.�
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  “Princess Mary died in the night, Izzy. Of smallpox. Everyone is fleeing for fear of contagion.”

  “Oh! Poor Mary! And poor Charles!” Her heart ached for her monarch’s pain.

  “'Tis so tragic. So soon on the heels of Henry’s death and just when everything should be happiest for Charles, he loses another sibling to this awful disease.”

  It was dreadful. How awful for Charles. “Papa is right, we should go to the country.”

  “I’m sure the carriage will return in the night, we can leave early in the morning.”

  “Are you positive Papa meant for me to come as well?”

  Belinda’s face lit and she leapt from the settee and went to a table. When she returned she handed a sealed envelope to Izzy. “He left this for you,” Bel explained, softly.

  Izzy’s heart pounded when she recognized her father’s seal and she tore the missive open. How she longed for Papa’s forgiveness and love, especially now. She eagerly scanned the contents of the page.

  Lady Royston,

  Grave rumors I can scarce countenance have reached me from court that your husband intends to seek an annulment. I did not give credence to the ugly gossip, despite the credibility of the source. Belinda’s refusal to flee London with us, and the reasons she gave for her refusal have forced me to wonder if there might indeed be truth to the rumor. I have considered carefully the ramifications to all if the tales from court are true and my duty is clear. I must protect my family at all cost. Therefore, in light of what transpired on your wedding day, and the devastation a scandal would cause my wife, along with what my sons stand to lose should there be an annulment, I have no choice but to bar both my door and my heart against you. I pray for all our sakes the rumors are false.

  Belinda would stay at your side despite the damage to her reputation and the harm a scandal would cause to her chance of making a good match. I entreat you for once to do what is best for her health and reputation and ensure she joins my wife and I in the country at the earliest convenience. As her guardian, I will brook no disobedience on this matter. If your husband is at your side, I extend to the both of you an invitation to join us.