by Sue London
“Such as?”
Gideon gave him a wolfish grin. “I told you, I don’t want you thinking of my wife that way.”
Quince snorted.
“But there are other things, too.” Gideon stared down into his glass. “Everything I see, I ask myself ‘Would Jack like that?’ Or if I hear a bit of news I wonder what she will think of it. And there is a… peace of mind that comes from knowing she’s there.”
Quince nodded. “Then perhaps you understand how I feel about Sabre leaving last night.”
Gideon looked at him keenly for a moment. “What are you doing here rather than knocking Robert’s door down to get her back?”
“I wanted to this morning. But as I’ve thought about it, much as I’m sending Jessica to you for safekeeping, I should let Sabre stay with Robert. I would not want her put in harm’s way if there is any danger.”
Gideon smiled ruefully. “If she’s anything like Jack, it’s danger that will bring her running.” He paused, considering. “If she loves you. She does love you?”
Quince shrugged. “She hasn’t said so. It’s possible that she loves the title. I was very clear there was no money to speak of.”
“We’re working on that.”
“But the duchy will never, in my lifetime, have the funds one would expect of it.”
“Especially as Robert will have you killed before the week is out.”
Quince laughed, raising his glass. “Especially because of that.”
“I’m not entirely joking.”
Quince took a hard swallow of the wine. “Yes, I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sabre was back to staring moodily out the window of her bedroom. It had taken to raining this afternoon, which suited her mood perfectly. She had cried all over Charlie but refused to talk. Safe, familiar Charlie. As usual he had cuts and bruises from the rough work he did in the stables and entertained her with stories of this year’s batch of colts and fillies. Rather than press her for what made her sad, he contented himself with making her smile and laugh. Thank God for Charlie.
Later she had heard Robert downstairs grilling her poor middle brother about what he had learned. To Charlie’s credit, she heard him defend her right to puzzle through her own feelings. Which left her considering that, for the most part, she had lived a life relatively free of strong feelings. She had thought she had feelings before, but now she recognized that they were really ideas and principles. She had never before made a decision based purely on emotion. Knowing the duke could get hurt had terrified her. Knowing that she was powerless to change his course from what she saw as disastrous had made her feel weak. And that he could die? She knew it could destroy her. She truly was angry at Jack for not telling her that love could wound so deeply.
On his second glass of wine Quince decided he had imbibed enough to broach one last item with his friend. “Gideon, I would like for your advice on something else.”
The earl grunted. “If it is whether or not to redo this room, then I wholeheartedly support it.”
Quince looked around at the antiquated gilt-covered chairs. “It is bloody awful. But as I don’t spend much time in here it isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
“Then perhaps you won’t notice if I replace everything wholesale.”
“Perhaps not.”
“If you don’t want my advice on decorating then what, pray tell, is there beyond what we have already been discussing?”
Quince poured a third glass and thought that he may have started the conversation too soon. “Something you are very qualified to advise on and hopefully something I will live long enough to use.”
“I already manage your money, we rarely agree on politics, and that only leaves one thing.” At Quince’s uncomfortable silence Gideon said. “No. Certainly you don’t mean that.”
“You’ll have to admit you’ve made rather a study of, you know,” Quince waved his hand, ” how to please a woman.”
“We’re practically the same age, you could have been doing the same studying. Will this be like school all over again with me doing all your readings?”
Quince laughed. “As long as you don’t take the test.”
“We’ve been to the same whorehouses. Did they teach you nothing?”
Quince looked up sheepishly. “About that.”
Gideon leaned forward. “What do you mean ‘about that’?”
“It has never been my interest to be with a woman who has lain with many men.”
“What did you do? Play whist?”
That forced a small smile that Quince covered with a swallow of wine. “At times. I’m sure they thought that I had… other interests.”
“You didn’t sleep with any of them?”
Quince gave an involuntary shudder. “No.”
“You propositioned Miss Bittlesworth when you thought she was Robert’s mistress. Why would you do that if… Why would you do that?”
“Curious, isn’t it? I surprised even myself that day. As is typical, my soul knew things that my mind had not yet comprehended.”
Gideon sat back with a frustrated look and downed the brandy in his glass. “You don’t even like to talk about sex. You say it disturbs your digestion.”
“As we’re drinking our luncheon I’m sure I’ll be fine. If it makes you feel any better, imagine I’m Charlie.”
Gideon snorted. “Charlie would have the good sense to visit the whores and find out for himself.”
Quince smiled down into his empty glass, not quite sure when he’d drunk it. “Very well. Don’t worry about it.”
But Gideon was intrigued now. “How many women have you slept with, then? Have you been preying on the virgins of the ton and I’ve somehow missed it?”
“Sabrina Bittlesworth is the only woman I’ve ever been intimate with.”
Gideon stared at him. After a long moment of silence the earl rose to fetch the brandy bottle and brought it back to his chair. He refilled his glass a generous amount and downed more than half of it in one go. “All right, then. What do you want to know?”
“She experienced a great deal of pain the first time, which I’m given to understand is common?”
“It can be, although there are ways to reduce the pain.”
“I wish I had known them. There was a good deal of blood.”
“Ah. There may not have been much you could have done then.”
“That, at least, is reassuring in a way.” Quince thought for a moment. “Although could the position have caused greater pain?”
“I’m baffled to consider what position two virgins could start with that might do so.”
“Standing up, with her back to the wall.”
Gideon’s eyebrows rose. “I’m impressed.”
Quince chuckled. “It was her idea. She said ‘don’t worry, I know what to do.’ I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was glad one of us did.”
“Are you sure she was a virgin? The blood could have been her menses.”
“There was resistance. I definitely felt something break or tear.”
Gideon nodded. “All right, then. Jack didn’t bleed as much but I have no other experience with virgins. Women are different in other ways, so it would make sense they are different in this.”
“The second time she still had pain. She was sweet about it, but I could tell I had hurt her. Is that normal?”
Gideon sighed. “Again, I have limited experience with virgins. How much time had passed?”
“Two days.”
“As she bled more than Jack it would make sense that she had more of a wound and would need longer to heal.”
“How long did you wait with Jack?”
Gideon smiled at the memory. “I had planned to wait two days. I think she only waited about two minutes.”
Quince chuckled. “What interesting women we find ourselves in company with.”
“Indeed.” Gideon poured more brandy into his glass. “Were those all your questions?”
Gideon waited a moment, then prompted. “And?”
“I want to be able to please her, and I think I do somewhat, but,” Quince trailed off, unsure how to continue.
“What have you done that seemed to please her?”
Quince could feel himself blushing. Better to finish this now than have to start the conversation again some day. “She enjoys kissing very much. And she enjoys when I kiss or fondle her bosom.”
“And have you kissed her below?”
“You mean on her…? Ah, no.”
“It’s rare for a woman not to enjoy that. Although it is an acquired taste, I will grant you. Bring marmalade to bed if you need to.”
“I suppose it would only be fair.”
“She…? Bloody hell, how did she know how to do that?”
“She claims you can learn all manner of things from the servant girls.”
Gideon shook his head. “I suppose that’s true. Especially at her father’s house.”
That thought sobered him significantly. “I can’t marry her, Giddy. I can’t be that man’s son-in-law.”
“You have to, Quince.” After a few moments of moody silence between them Gideon said, “All right, pay attention. It may take me the rest of this bottle of brandy, but I’m going to tell you everything I know about pleasing a woman. And, God willing, I won’t remember this come morning. Should I become senseless, promise me you will deliver me unto my wife before she becomes frantic as to my whereabouts.”
“Why would she do that? Sabre said you’re hardly ever home.”
Gideon looked offended. “I dine and sleep with my wife every night. We ride together almost every morning. Although in her condition I hope to curtail that soon. The only time I am not at home is if we have a social engagement together.”
“You never go to White’s anymore?”
“If there is a conversation I need to have for Parliament I will go there between supper and bed, but I don’t stay out carousing.”
Quince looked at the brandy bottle that Gideon had been steadily consuming. “I suddenly feel like a horrible influence.”
“Come to think of it, the last time I drank better than a half bottle of brandy it was your doing. Perhaps a fallen angel, then.”
“Before your wedding? If I hadn’t been there you would have had a full bottle.”
Gideon thought for a moment. “That’s probably true.”
“I suppose the hangover wasn’t helpful for your wedding night.”
The earl smirked. “Not only did I not anticipate my vows, something which probably shocks you to no end, I also did not enforce my conjugal rights that night. It was near a fortnight after the wedding before we became intimate.”
“You’re right, I am shocked.” Quince grinned. “And it makes me think you’re not as skilled at seduction as I had thought.”
“See here, man, I will not be so insulted. As I said, listen closely and I will illuminate you.”
“I’m hearing nothing yet.”
“The first thing is to know what she likes. What she wants.”
Quince poured some more wine for himself. “Yes, you’re being so helpful.”
Gideon raised a brow but continued, slouching down more comfortably in his seat with the brandy bottle propped on one knee and his glass on the other. “Your first encounter tells me she’s adventurous. The type who would probably enjoy a change in location. In a field on a summer day, some closeted room at a ball. And her personality tells me that she might enjoy dominance games.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Oh, you know, hold her down. Tie her up.”
Quince shuddered. “No, I don’t believe I’ll be doing that.”
“You didn’t ask me advice on how to seduce you, now did you? But let her tie you up, then. See how she likes it.”
The duke raised his own brow in return but didn’t say anything, content to sip his wine and let Gideon continue.
“As you are a complete novice I will assume you need some instruction on a woman’s body. You are already familiar with the appeal of lips and breasts. After all, who could miss them? But there are any number of places that both you and she may find erotic. The nape of the neck. The back of the knee. The important thing is to explore and see what she responds to. And know that it’s not just where you touch her, but how you touch her. She may enjoy a feather light caress, or she may want a masterful grip. She might like both at different times or in different places.”
“You approach women as you do billiards. All strategy and finesse.”
Gideon looked contemplative. “Interesting analogy.” He sipped his brandy. “Most likely accurate. At least until now.”
“It’s different now?”
“I lose my head with Jack. I don’t focus on it as… as an event.” He smiled a bit blearily, the brandy taking effect. “But I have a sufficient amount of practice that I can do that without losing sight of her satisfaction. I assume that you, my friend, do not have that luxury.”
“How do you know when she’s satisfied?”
“You know, I have a book to share with you, but you must promise to return it or Jack will be heartbroken.”
“Of course.”
“It usually takes longer for a woman to reach her peak, but when she does it is a beautiful sight to behold. Especially when it’s the woman you love. God, I hope I don’t remember this conversation in the morning.”
Quince chuckled. “Have sympathy for me, then. It’s in my best interest if I do.”
“Tell me, how did you make it to this age without taking a woman to bed at least once?”
“That’s a story for another time. I don’t want to interrupt you now that it’s getting interesting.”
“What was I saying?”
“What a woman looks like when she reaches her peak.”
Gideon smiled, his words beginning to slur lightly. “Oh, yes. Well. Different things bring them to completion and they express it differently. Some moan or scream. Others are quiet. Some scratch.” He frowned. “That can get bothersome at times. But the best part is when they look at you as though you’ve discovered something about their body that they never suspected.”
“Bloody hell, you are full of yourself, aren’t you? How does Jack stand you?”
“She likes me quite well, thank you.”
“If you’re just going to sit there looking self-satisfied then I’m taking you home.”
“I thought you wanted the advantage of my gathered wisdom.”
Rather than reply, Quince stood and put out a hand to haul the earl to his feet.
Gideon finished the brandy straight from the bottle before standing. “I may be sufficiently drunk enough now to tell you what I would do were I to find myself in your position.”
After steadying Gideon on his feet Quince said, “Then I suggest you use small words. The larger ones seem something of a challenge.” He set the empty brandy decanter aside before the heavy crystal could get broken.
As Quince helped Gideon up the steps of the earl’s townhome he had to admit that some of the insights shared on the carriage ride could prove useful. Provided that he had the opportunity to try them.
“But we are brothers, aren’t we?” the earl asked again.
“Of course, Giddy. You can be sure that if Charlie had the ability to disavow Robert as his older brother, at times he would.”
Dibbs opened the door before they gained the last step. “Good evening, your grace.”
“Just like old times, eh Dibbs?”
“Indeed, your grace.”
“Give my apologies to the countess for returning the earl in such a state.”
“As you wish, your grace.” The butler bowed deferentially to the duke as two footmen materialized to help Gideon into the house.
Quince decided that, as he was already out and about, there was no time like the present to pay a visit to Blaise Bittlesworth.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
�
�Dammit, Sabrina, you need to eat.” Robert was prowling around her room as though he expected to find some source of worry hidden in the corners.
“I’m not hungry.”
“The staff said you sent everything back today untouched. When was the last time you ate?”
She thought about the tray she had nibbled from the night before. “I had supper last night.” She sighed. “It’s late. I just want to go to sleep.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s only eight o’clock and you’ve slept a good portion of the day.”
“Robert, you’re being tiresome.”
“And you’re not acting like the sister I know. It’s well within my purview to be concerned about you.”
There was a polite knock at the open door and Sabre turned to see one of Robert’s footmen hovering impatiently. Robert went to talk to the man in hushed tones. When he turned back to her his face was an impassive mask but his eyes burned with a dark fire. “Get some rest. I have to go out.”
She nodded and rubbed her forehead. All the men in her life were tiresome.
Quince had never set foot in Blaise Bittlesworth’s house before but somehow the staff seemed to be very much aware of who he was. Even though he had walked up the street alone, looking easily the most disreputable he ever had in his life, the butler had bowed him in with murmurs of “your grace” and he had been installed in what was a really quite lovely parlor on the second floor.
When he heard the door open he considered rudely remaining in his seat but what he saw made him shoot to his feet with alacrity. For a brief moment he thought it was Sabrina and his heart started pounding painfully in his chest. The petite, dark-haired woman glided toward him and curtsied.
“Your grace,” she said with a slight accent he couldn’t place. She was even smaller than Sabrina, like a lovely little doll.
He bowed over her hand. “Lady Bittlesworth.”
She settled onto a silk loveseat and he sat in the chair opposite her. He couldn’t stop staring. She looked so much like Sabrina that it hurt. So much that he thought he might already love her, too.
She smiled at him as though the hour and his appearance didn’t make the situation awkward. “We are pleased to receive you, your grace. I have asked for tea to be brought in and hope that is acceptable to you?”