Gertie shuddered. And now he had chosen Sarah Farrington for a lover. His choice of Sarah convicted him as much as anything. Gertie could think of no one more vile than Phineas Barclay, and when she recalled how roused she had been in the Bennington library, she despised him more. She had already heard his parents to have been quite the wantons. His older sister, now a widowed Duchess, had a string of lovers that might have rivaled her brother’s in number. His second sister was currently engaged in a scandalous crim con. The youngest sister had not had her come-out, but Gertie suspected she would prove no different from her older sisters. Oddly enough, the Baron Barclay remained a decent man, honest and faithful to his wife. Though Alexander had no attachment to any of the Barclays, Gertie had found the younger Barclay to be modest and agreeable.
Not at all like his brother.
Squaring her shoulders, she made her way down the stairs and into her alcove. As Penelope had said, Hephaestus waited for her. He wore only his breeches and his mask. The candlelight flickered across the planes of his pectorals, and Gertie could not help but admire the ridges of his muscled chest. He stood in attentive silence. She circled her prey. An exciting eagerness budded within her, but the Lady Athena must always be calm and contained.
“You have returned,” she remarked with nonchalance.
“But of course,” he replied. “Lady Athena.”
“You may come to regret your decision.”
“Is it your intent to make me regret, Lady Athena?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “A good servant would not ask such an improper question. In forewarning you, I am exhibiting a measure of benevolence. Do not tax my generosity.”
“Your charity is unnecessary, Lady Athena.”
She inhaled sharply. They had been together all of five minutes and already he was beginning to ruffle her. “I speak because you do not appear to have benefitted from your punishment.”
“Then punish me again if you wish. My body is yours.”
His words made her shiver.
“Very well. Let us see how well you follow orders.”
She went to her writing table and opened the drawer to remove a wooden paddle. Lance, having seen her punishment of Hephaestus the other night, had offered it to her.
Hephaestus took in the paddle but showed no emotion.
“Brace yourself against the table,” she told him. She thought of having him shed his breeches once more, but the sight of him half-naked was sufficient to stir a warm agitation within her.
He did as told. Grasping the handle of the paddle with both hands, she swung it against his buttocks.
“Well done,” he praised, “but I know you capable of more, Lady Athena.”
Warmth surged inside her. He made a mockery of her. She failed to understand him, his purpose in seeking her out and provoking her into punishing him. Well, Lady Athena would not be underestimated,
The image of Phineas Barclay flashed in her mind. If only Lady Lowry could be Lady Athena always. Barclay would not have dared to speak with such audacity to Lady Athena. Or if he were to be such a fool, instead of scurrying away in defeat, she would have made him cower, made him repent his impertinence. Strange, but Lord Barclay seemed to inspire more anger in her than did the intelligence of her husband’s mistress. Perhaps it was easier to direct her fury towards him than at her husband. Her private conversation with Lord Barclay had been more embarrassing to her than any public disdain she had received from Alexander.
Barclay’s eyes, twinkling with merriment, haunted her even now. They pulled at her with an inexplicable gravity, and she found herself falling into their sapphire depths. They were beautiful eyes, fringed with dark golden lashes. The gods had been too kind to him. Lady Athena would not have stood for such injustice. Lady Athena would have...
Gertie stopped, suddenly aware that she had been walloping his backside quite hard. He should have made a sound or some movement to snap her from her trance. Stilling the shaking of her hand, she went to stand in front of him.
He looked up at her. “Thank you, Lady Athena.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. Their gazes met through their masks, and it seemed his eyes invited her. She felt an uncomfortable throb in her nether region. This would not be the first man to arouse the carnal urges within her, but his was a body that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo. She was tempted to slide her hands up over his shoulders and down the bulge of his upper arms. He had such shapely arms. She would have liked nothing more than to glide her hands along each and every muscle.
“You have a strange predilection for punishment,” she said to distract herself from her feelings. “It is not the usual expectation here at the Ballroom of Pleasures.”
“I did not come to Madame Botreaux’s seeking punishment,” he replied. “I favor the cries of ecstasy I am able to wring from the women I pleasure and would be pleased to demonstrate upon your ladyship.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Ignoring the effect, she went to return the paddle. “That is a privilege that must be earned.”
“Has no one earned such a privilege with you, Lady Athena?”
“No.”
“And why do you make yourself suffer such failures, Lady Athena?”
She pressed her lips into a line. “I suffer nothing.”
“Are you unfamiliar with the sublime elation of orgasmos, of your body wracked with uncontrollable delight?”
“Do you mean to imply that I have never spent?” she evaded.
“Many women have not,” he stated plainly. “Or they may know some lesser form but have not had pleasure wrung from their bodies until they can bear no more.”
Her cunnie pulsed at his words. She knew the lesser form, and only from pleasuring herself. But she had heard the ecstatic cries of other women in the Ballroom with undeniable envy. She had often wondered what it would be like to experience their bliss.
“Why deny yourself, Lady Athena?” he asked. “Should you not expect—nay, demand—that your lovers service you and bring you the pleasure you deserve?”
Her lower lip trembled. She could feel her body yearning towards him. Would it be so terrible if she had him...
No! She could feel the power of Lady Athena slipping.
“Be it cries of delight that you seek?” she asked him. She strode from her alcove and motioned for one of the maidservants. She directed the young woman to lie upon the chaise and lift her skirts.
“You will service her—with your hands behind you,” Gertie informed Hephaestus.
He smiled. “Hardly a challenge, Lady Athena.”
Gertie shook her head as he shuffled on his knees to the other woman, whom he instructed, “Come closer towards me, m’dear.”
The blushing maid slouched down, pulled up her skirts and spread her legs. Positioning himself between her thighs, he leaned in towards her mons. Taking a seat in the chair nearby, Gertie folded her arms across her chest and watched as he lightly tongued the pink flesh before him. His tongue circled the folds, gently urging the nub of flesh between them to protrude. The woman closed her eyes, a peaceful murmur escaping her lips. Her body relaxed against the chaise. He took his time with slow thorough licks, his tongue a brush against her canvas. His languid strokes against her clitoris drew long low moans from the woman. Gertie had never seen such a look of contentment—the kind worn after an itch had been scratched or after tasting the sweetness of a ripe summer berry.
The warmth in Gertie’s loins had spread to every limb, but she remained motionless as she watched. He was staring at her over the body of the woman. His eyes seemed to say, “I could be doing this to you.” A shiver went up her spine.
Gradually he quickened the pace of his fondling. At times his tongue would slip below and dart into her cunnie, eliciting a delighted gasp. Gertie marveled at the stamina of his tongue. He wielded it as if it were his erection. He plunged his tongue further into the woman, and from the hysterical sounds coming from the woman, Gertie imagined his tongue to
be doing all manner of feats within her. Gertie felt her own body straining in unison with the woman on the chaise. Her own clitoris throbbed for attention. The woman began to spasm on the chaise, but he did not stop his tongue until the majority of the woman’s wailing had waned. With tender caresses, he eased her down from her orgasm.
Gertie closed her eyes and cursed the other woman, then herself. Her hand had itched to fondle her own clitoris, to seek relief and some semblance of the pleasure experienced by the redhead. Instead, her body remained as tense as a violin chord over-strung. And though it had been her idea to bring in the other woman, she could not help but feel that she had played into his hands. She glanced at him, but his expression was not one of triumphant smugness. He gazed at her without emotion, waiting for her next command.
“You may leave us,” Gertie told the maid.
“Thank you, Lady Athena, thank you,” the maid said with a grateful bow. “If you require my presence again...”
I will not, Gertie thought silently.
When the woman had left, she turned back to Hephaestus. The lower half of his face glistened with the other woman’s cunt juices. Gertie felt a flare of jealousy. Her desire to test him had faded, and she now found herself wondering what to do with him next.
PHINEAS SET DOWN HIS morning coffee and attempted to read the Times his butler had handed him, but his mind kept drifting back to last night. Back to the Ballroom of Pleasures. Back to Lady Athena. She had looked quite magnificent in her flaming red corset. Penelope had told him that much of Lady Athena’s attire were of her own designs. He liked her creativity and her boldness. He even liked the fire that she cast at him through her glares. However, he was beginning to suspect that, despite all appearances, she was not as imposing as she pretended to be, even if she had given his arse a proper paddling. He shifted in his chair.
It made little sense why Lady Athena would punish herself by denying her body pleasure. She was not immune to arousal. He had seen that as he serviced the maid. Lady Athena had made no gesture, nor spoken a word, but he had detected the flush in her cheeks. And though his nose had been buried in the other woman, he could sense Lady Athena’s arousal. He wondered if she had gone to seek relief in some other form, by herself or perhaps with another subject, someone she trusted. She certainly had left him abruptly last night, leaving him to wonder if their time together had come to an end.
“Master Robert is here,” his butler announced.
“His Lordship, the Baron Barclay,” Phineas corrected. “You are not so addlepated that you would forget his title, eh, Gibbons?”
“But you are—”
“I am not yet, and if I had it my way, my brother would remain Baron.”
Gibbons inclined his head. “I have been some five and twenty years with the family. Old habits die hard, my lord.”
“Especially when grounded in purposeful stubbornness. You may show my brother in.”
The young man who entered the dining room resembled Phineas in eyes only. Robert Barclay had inherited the petite slender frame of their mother as well as her chestnut hair. Though he was still handsome as all the Barclay siblings were, he had developed more hollowness beneath the eyes in the five years that Phineas had been absent.
“I agree with Gibbons,” Robert declared.
“You agree that he spent some five and twenty years in the service of our family or that old habits die hard?” Phineas returned.
His brother pressed his lips together before answering, “I agree that I am Master Robert. You are the Baron Barclay.”
“Not yet, thank God. Coffee?”
Robert eyed the eggs and ham upon the dining table. “I had quite a large breakfast this morning. I think I shall not eat till supper.”
“I do miss the hearty English breakfast,” Phineas said as he cut into his ham. “How is a man to start the day properly on coffee and pastries alone?”
With a sigh, Robert sank into a chair at the table. “You need not wait to reclaim the barony. The paperwork is merely a formality.”
“I did not return to England to reclaim the barony. My ‘death’ has worked out quite well in that regard.”
“But you are the rightful baron and much better suited to the position than I!”
Phineas shook his head. “You have always been the upstanding Barclay, though our aptly named sister Prudence may best you yet. I am an irascible rake recovering from a scandalous duel, and as you and our dear friend Lord Bertram have reminded me: a second scandal would spell my doom. How am I better suited to the barony than you?”
Robert let out an exaggerated sigh. “Phineas, I have not the disposition for a Baron.”
“That matters not. You have the capable Mr. Hancock to manage all affairs concerning the estate and its businesses—”
“Yes! And he will not stop speaking to me of the copper mine.”
“How is Bettina? I have been in England over a fortnight and have yet to set eyes on my dear sister-in-law.”
“She continues to caution me against my association with you.”
“She is a sensible woman. You were quite right to marry her.”
Robert watched in disbelief as Phineas buttered his bread nonchalantly. “Of course I told her that as you are my brother, I am bound to you.”
“You did not have to procure this lovely apartment for me—or do you mean it as an inducement if I take back the barony?” Phineas asked with amusement before biting into his toast.
“I would do better to heed her advice and leave you to your own devices!” cried Robert.
“You would. May I recommend that you listen to your wife more often?”
“Phineas, I would that you would stop your jesting! Hancock is most insistent on this matter regarding the mine.”
“What of our mine?”
“Apparently there is evidence of a significant copper load down one of the tunnels, but to access it, we must bore below Lowry land. The steward for Lowry likes us even less than the Earl himself. Hancock will have no success talking to him. I have attempted to bring up the matter with Alexander, but he refuses to engage.”
“Not surprisingly. I doubt Alexander takes much of an interest in the business of his estate.”
“Even if he did, I have not the skill in persuasion.”
“I would be worse. I am convinced the man loathes me.”
“Well, Hancock did relay a new bit of information. Apparently, the Lowry steward consults not with the Earl but with his wife.”
Phineas looked up from his plate. “The Countess?”
“Yes, and I thought...well, since you have a way with the fair sex...”
“I would not raise my hopes. I think she may loathe me more than her husband at present.”
“How is that possible? She barely knows you.”
“I made a rather impertinent remark to her at the Bennington ball.”
His brother’s face fell. “In God’s name, what could you have possibly said?”
“You have no wish to know.”
Robert’s frown deepened. “And what compelled you to say what you did?”
Phineas contemplated. “I had no intention to vex her, though it was clear to me afterwards that she did not take to my suggestion warmly, but I confess a part of me wished to confront her after she had clearly demonstrated her disdain of me, and I had yet to make her acquaintance.”
“She is a Farrington or had you forgotten in your absence how much they dislike us?”
“They are not all as scornful as you think,” Phineas replied, recalling how easily Sarah Farrington had responded to him.
“And since when do you give a damn if someone should spurn you? You and Abigail have always done as you please without a care for what others have thought of you, and Georgina following in your footsteps. If I had the nonchalance the two of you possess, I should be quite the cheerful man, I assure you!”
“A dreadful prospect.”
Robert threw up his hands. He reached for a slice of
toast and began to butter it furiously. Phineas watched his brother with sympathy and a twinge of remorse. Robert had inherited the barony at four and twenty, a young age for a man of his tender disposition. Certainly the circumstances could not have been more distressing. Nonetheless, Phineas would not have allowed the barony to remain with Robert if he had not thought his brother capable.
“Tell me more about the Countess of Lowry.”
“What of her?” Robert replied with a mouthful of bread.
“Have we met her before?”
“I think not. Her family is quite bourgeois.”
“She is familiar to me somehow.”
“You have lain with so many women, I wonder that the entire sex is not familiar to you?”
“You may be a cheerless man, but let it not be said that you have lost your humor.”
“I have no opinion of the Countess of Lowry.”
“Why not?”
“Should I?”
Phineas recalled what Mrs. Pemberly had offered in the way of opinion.
“Why an interest in the Lady Lowry?” Robert asked.
“If I am to broach the matter of the mine with her, I should like to better understand her temperament.”
Robert perked up. “Well, our paths do not often cross, but she is mostly reserved the occasions I have seen her. She did not seem to be particularly disagreeable. I attended the wedding, and she was cordial enough. Do you truly intend to speak with her?”
“It is the least I can do to relieve some of the burden you have had to shoulder in my absence.”
“Yes.”
The little word was spoken with great relief. Phineas realized he would have to do more to assist his younger brother.
“But what if she will not see you?” Robert asked, his brow furrowed. “You said that you had vexed her.”
“That will pose a challenge but not an insurmountable one.”
Finishing his coffee, Phineas decided that he would send his card to Lowry House that day to request an audience with the Lady Lowry.
The Countess and the Rake: A Super Hot Historical Romance Page 4