Rules of Passion

by Sara Bennett - Greentree Sisters 02 - Rules of Passion

  The doorknocker rattled.

  Marietta stared at the closed portal. The knocker sounded again, louder this time, and she shifted nervously. Elsewhere, apart from the faint laughter and music, the house was silent. No footsteps hurrying closer, no Dobson returning. Perhaps whoever it was would simply go away…The knocker sounded again, impatient that no one had answered.

  There is no one here, she wanted to shout. Only me.

  The knocker clattered furiously.

  Agitated, Marietta reminded herself that this was her mother’s house. Although it was not considered proper for a young lady of Marietta’s social status to open a door—especially the door to a disorderly house—the person on the other side could not possibly know who she really was.

  Marietta gave a quick glance down at herself, and then removed her cloak. Her red and green shot silk skirt was creased but reasonable, the square collar and matching cuffs were clean if a little limp. She patted her hair, and found that the soft curls were still in place.

  The knocker rattled again, one last furious attempt to rouse Dobson, and then she heard steps, beginning to move away. Perhaps it was an important guest? Someone Aphrodite would be upset about losing?

  Marietta hurried over and flung open the door.

  A tall man in a top hat had descended the stairs, and was already moving toward the street—evidently leaving in frustration.

  Marietta called out, “Sir? Please!”

  He stopped and turned to look at her over his shoulder. The gaslight from the street was bright and against it he was nothing but a dark shadow—a tall shadow with broad shoulders.

  “I am sorry you had to wait. Come in. Let me…eh…” What did one say to welcome a gentleman into Aphrodite’s? “Let me make you comfortable, sir.”

  He went still for a moment, as if considering her proposal, and then he began to retrace his steps toward her. The lamp in the hall shone out through the door, a pool of light fell low onto the ground. It illuminated his shoes first, showing the dark shine of the leather, and then the legs of his black trousers. He wore a black buttoned coat, tailored to fit his broad chest and shoulders, while his white shirt looked to be of the finest linen. Above his black necktie his jaw was strong and square and cleanly shaven, and there was a little scar on his chin. Odd. Almost familiar. In fact, everything about him was strangely familiar. His nose was straight and aristocratic, and his lips were narrow, without the hint of a smile, while his eyes…

  His eyes were mahogany brown, and they were watching her beneath lowered black brows with startled disapproval.

  “Miss Greentree?”

  Marietta gasped. “Max!”

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, and now he was close enough to her that she had to look up into his gaze.

  “I had a message for Aphrodite,” she said and knew it sounded stupid. Then, as her mind began to free itself from the shock of seeing him, “You’ve come to visit one of her protégés, haven’t you?”

  Max stared at her, and his brows drew down even more. “Miss Greentree, I really don’t think that’s a question you should be asking me.” He drawled the words out in the sort of patronizing manner she loathed.

  “Why not?” she said, just to irritate him further.

  “It is inappropriate,” he retorted. And then, as if he had just realized exactly how inappropriate the situation was, Max’s mouth closed hard. His brown eyes narrowed, and his gaze dropped to her breasts, and then down to her narrow waist beneath which her skirts belled out.

  He’s viewing the merchandise!

  At that moment Marietta wanted to slap him. Hard.

  As if Max himself had just realized what he was doing, his gaze shot back to hers. To her surprise, a flush warmed his tanned cheeks, and his frown grew even blacker than before.

  “Do you live here, Miss Greentree?” he asked her in that disapproving manner that instantly caused her hackles to rise even more than they had already. What right did he have to question her reasons for being here?

  Marietta fixed him with one of her clear, unflinching looks. “I don’t think that is any of your business, Max.”

  Max was attempting to find his way through his confusion. The direct and discomforting Miss Greentree was certainly the last person he had ever expected to see standing framed in the doorway of Aphrodite’s Club. She had been an annoying and yet interesting interlude in Ian’s balloon, with her pert conversation and big blue eyes that seemed to be looking right inside him. She was sweet, yes, pretty, undoubtedly, but—he had told himself firmly—not worth a second glance when you had been to as many social engagements and been match-made as many times as Max.

  And now here she stood, those blue eyes blazing and her kissable pink mouth determined, upon the threshold of the most famous bordello in London. It was very disconcerting for a man who considered himself a reasonable judge of character. He would never have picked her out as one of Aphrodite’s protégés—she lacked the experienced eyes. Now suddenly she wasn’t the woman he had believed her to be, and he felt his interest captured in a way it had not been captured for a long time. Miss Greentree, the sweet innocent with the eccentric conversation, had now become Miss Greentree, the mysterious lady of the night.

  A fascinating and intriguing combination.

  The memory of holding her in his arms during the balloon landing tripped blithely into his mind, and brought with it a surge of sensations. He remembered her soft curves, bountiful for such a petite woman, as she lay atop him, and the sweet fragrance of her hair as it fell loose about his face. The way her long dark lashes had framed her big blue eyes, as she gazed at him in startled trepidation. And yet she’d been courageous in their moment of danger. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to her, of course, but she couldn’t know that. Yet she hadn’t shrieked or fallen into hysterics. There was a toughness beneath the fragile exterior, a hint at hidden depths that intrigued him.

  Miss Greentree was certainly an unusual woman.

  Max realized that she was staring back at him, warily, watchfully. And no wonder. They were standing very close, and the scent of her, the look of her, was heating his blood. He had come here tonight on a whim, for some distraction, to try and forget his troubles. For one night at least, it would be pleasant to have a woman in his arms who made no mention of the scandal his life had become, who would pretend he was just an ordinary gentleman—a desirable gentleman and not one to avoid at all costs.

  Miss Greentree might be irritating and pert, but suddenly Max knew that he wanted her—with a deep and primeval urge. She was here to sell her services, whatever he had previously believed to the contrary, and he was here to buy them. Why was he hesitating?

  Max wasn’t a man to make snap decisions, far from it, but he made one now.

  “Miss Greentree, are you free for this evening?”

  “This evening?” Marietta goggled at him. Did he mean, could he mean…? But of course he meant what she thought he meant! He was about to proposition her—she felt light-headed with a combination of shock and triumph.

  Max’s jaw had tightened. “No, I’ve changed my mind.”

  He didn’t want her after all! Marietta gave a sigh of relief, and ignored the little jolt of chagrin. “Well, I didn’t like to embarrass you, Max, but I’m only here—”

  “I’ve changed my mind about the evening,” he went on, talking over her attempts at an explanation. “I want you for the entire night.”

  The entire night!

  “Oh,” she gasped, her mind suddenly blank. “I don’t know…That’s very…flattering, Max. I hope…Maybe the evening would be more sensible. I mean, what if I was no good at…at it, and you had to ask for your money back. Awfully embarrassing for us both. Although I’m sure it’s something you get better at, with…with practice. Although my own is limited and…and…”

  He laughed as if he didn’t particularly want to but he just couldn’t help it. “Miss Greentree—”

  “Marietta. My name is M
arietta.”

  “Marietta. Enchanting.” He gave her a small perfunctory bow. “To answer your question, I think that the physical attraction between two people depends on a great many things and none of them are easily—”

  “Well I think one glance is often enough.”

  Of course she had decided views on this, as with everything. She was looking at him as if she expected him to argue, so he did.

  “Nonsense,” Max said mildly.

  Her pretty mouth quirked. So she liked to be at odds with him, did she? She was one of those women who preferred to be at loggerheads than to be in agreement? In a world where politeness was all important, the thought of arguing with Marietta Greentree was oddly attractive to Max. Since he had lost his social standing and become embroiled in scandal he had discovered that being polite was often just an excuse not to express one’s true feelings. Being impolite could actually be extremely liberating.

  “Do you feel a physical attraction for me, Max?”

  “You’re direct, aren’t you?” he retorted. “Yes, Marietta, I do feel a physical attraction for you.”

  She smiled at him as if she was delighted with his answer.

  He felt like smiling back.

  Despite his present circumstances, Max had been born a gentleman. A gentleman was taught to revere gentlewomen as precious objects that must never be sullied by a man’s basest desires. Gentlewomen were destined to be wives, pure and perfect, raised upon the pedestal of Victorian womanhood. But Max was a man, too, and he needed to release those base desires. When he did so it was with the sort of women who inhabited Aphrodite’s Club, not gentlewomen, never gentlewomen.

  But Miss Greentree confused him. On one hand she was a pure vision of womanhood, and on the other hand she was the sort of woman he felt he could happily and unrestrainedly take to his bed. The best of both worlds, in fact.

  “I must say I am surprised, Max, and flattered. An entire night. Is that the way these bargains are normally sealed? A simple yes or no on my part? Or do you require a sampling first?”

  A sampling? His imagination took flight, but he reined it back in. “In such circumstances I trust you to know your business and you trust me to know mine.”

  Marietta Greentree thought about this. “Well, I know my business, but perhaps an entire night is too long for you, Max.”

  The pert minx was questioning his credentials as a lover! He gave an angry laugh. “I am not an inexperienced boy, I’ll have you know.”

  She widened her eyes as if she was impressed, but it was all show.

  “Are you goading me, Miss Greentree?”

  “Not at all, Max, but I do think I should test the truth of your claims.”

  I’m flirting with him! I must be out of my mind, Marietta thought, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She didn’t want to. If I’m going to be a courtesan then I must practice, and Max seems so perfect… She wasn’t afraid of him, she realized with surprise. Perhaps it was because of the balloon ride, when he had protected her during the rough landing, but she felt as if Max would always keep her safe, whatever she said and did. It gave her a remarkable sense of freedom in her dealings with him.

  “Very well,” he said, a determined glint in his eye, “you asked for it.”

  Max reached out and took her hand in his. Slowly, watching her closely, he pressed his palm to hers and measured the length of her fingers against his. He noticed that her skin was fine and soft, a lady’s hand, and her nails were buffed to a rosy pink. Slowly, he lifted her hand as if it were some succulent dish, then bowed his head to inspect it until, with infinite care, he sucked her fingertips, one after the other.

  He heard her catch her breath, the sound echoing about them in the vestibule. “I…what are you doing?”

  “Sampling you.” He smiled and her eyes went slightly out of focus. Perhaps she was not as knowing as she pretended. He turned her palm this way and that, as if to read the lines that crossed it, and then he ran his finger lightly over the fleshy pad beneath her thumb. Marietta’s was especially pronounced.

  Gently, Max blew warm breath upon that mound, and then he closed his mouth over her and bit her, very lightly, his teeth scraping her skin.

  Marietta shuddered and gave a gasp. “What are you doing now?” she whispered, as if she were shocked and intrigued, both at the same time.

  “This is your Mount of Venus,” he said, running his thumb over the fleshy pad again, his face very close to hers. Her pupils were large and dark as if they would swallow the blue, and her lips were a little apart, as if every word he spoke, every movement he made, was of tremendous importance to her. As if she hadn’t been in this situation many times before.

  “My Mount of Venus?”

  “It is a sign of the depth of your womanly passion.” He ran his thumb over her flesh again, caressingly, back and forth, and watched the effect it had on her. He couldn’t help a triumphant smile.

  But she saw it, and her eyes narrowed. “And what does it say about me?” she demanded tartly.

  “It tells me, Marietta, that you are a very passionate woman indeed,” he said, his voice soft and deep and seductive.

  She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and he took the opportunity to draw her closer, until they nearly touched, but not quite. He felt her trembling, and knew she was anticipating his next move. Good. His mouth hovered above hers, ready to taste, ready to take. How long since he had felt this degree of desire? His body was alive with need, almost out of control.

  “The entire night won’t be long enough for what I want to do to you…Marietta,” Max said. And he meant every word.

  “Lord Roseby, what are you doing with my daughter?”

  They froze. From behind them came the rustle of Aphrodite’s black silk skirts, and from behind her came the sturdy tread of Dobson’s boots. Marietta withdrew her hand from Max’s, closing her fingers hard over the tingling in her palm, and trying not to notice the suddenly blank look of shock in his brown eyes.

  “Lord Roseby?” she repeated, rather shocked herself. “You told me your name was Max!”

  “And I thought you were one of Aphrodite’s protégés,” he said, anger and frustration growing in his face and voice. “You have deceived me, Miss Greentree.”

  “I am…well, I’m Aphrodite’s daughter. One of her daughters. There are three of us.”

  “I am a gentleman, and I do not take advantage of a lady unless she is experienced in these matters. Do you know how close you came to being compromised?”

  He seemed very upset about something.

  “I…don’t care about that,” she said quickly. “I am already ruined, Max.”

  He blinked at her. “I don’t believe it,” he said quietly. “You seem to have an aversion to telling me the truth, Miss Greentree.”

  But Marietta gave a little shrug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Lord Roseby?”

  “Because I am no longer Lord Roseby,” Max’s voice was suddenly both hard and bitter. “I lost the right to call myself by that name when my father declared me a bastard.” He turned swiftly to Aphrodite and bowed. “Good evening, Madame. My apologies if I have offended.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Aphrodite came and took Marietta’s hand, her fingers firm and cool where Max’s had been so strong and hot. “Whatever has been happening here, Marietta? Dobson says that Vivianna has had a little boy.”

  Memory returned and Marietta smiled—for a moment Max had wiped everything else from her mind. “Oh yes, she has! A dear little boy. I came to tell you. You must see him, at once.”

  Aphrodite’s face lit up, and then, just as suddenly, it dulled into the cool aloofness that was her shield. “I cannot,” she said. “It would not be proper for me to be there among Lord Montegomery’s friends and family. I would embarrass Vivianna.”

  Marietta laughed in disbelief. “I don’t think so!”

  Aphrodite smiled wryly. “No, well perhaps Vivianna would not be embarrassed,
but…I would feel…awkward. I will come to Berkley Square a little later. Thank you for taking the time to call and tell me the wonderful news, Marietta. It was good of you to think of me.”

  “Good of me?” Marietta retorted. “Of course I thought of you! Aphrodite, you are a grandmamma now.”

  Aphrodite turned her dark gaze on Dobson, who was standing so solidly behind her. “Mon dieu,” she whispered, “I had not thought of that.”

  He cast up his eyes. “It had to happen one day,” he said. “Makes no difference, does it? You’re still my beautiful girl.”

  Aphrodite laughed, pleased. Marietta watched the by-play between them. Clearly there was far more to the relationship of Aphrodite and Dobson than mistress and servant, but she didn’t have time to consider it, not now.

  “May I wait for you, Aphrodite?” she pleaded. “I promise I won’t speak to any more gentlemen, and I’ll stay out of the way until you’re ready.” The journey to Berkley Square would be the ideal time to broach Aphrodite with her plans for the future.

  The courtesan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You will not flirt with men like Lord Roseby?”

  “Of course not,” she said innocently. “What an idea! I don’t like Lord Roseby very much, anyway.”

  Aphrodite smiled. “He wasn’t very happy with you, was he, Marietta? You made him feel foolish, and gentlemen do not enjoy feeling like fools.”

  “Why did he feel like that? Because he thought I was one of your protégés? That was his own fault. He didn’t ask me, he just presumed.”

  Aphrodite shrugged noncommittally. “That and other reasons.” She glanced at Dobson, and some unspoken communication passed between them. “Very well, you may wait. Dobson, show my daughter into the smaller sitting room. And see that she stays there.”

  Dismissed, Marietta followed Dobson to one of the doors leading into the vestibule. In a voice as artless as she could manage, she said, “Dobson, what is the scandal about Lord Roseby? Is he really a…a…”