An Introduction to Pleasure (5 page)

He smiled, but the expression held no warmth or genuine happiness. Instead, it was tight and false.

“I think that is enough tutelage for today,” he said, his voice strained.

Lysandra blinked. That was all? All that passion had built to a crescendo, yes, but he had not taken her, claimed her, in the ultimate way. In fact, she realized now, he hadn’t even kissed her… at least not properly on the mouth.

“I—” she began, but then stopped.

What was she going to say? Beg for something she couldn’t properly express? Demand he take this strange, erotic afternoon to its expected end? She was not daring enough to do so.

“I shall arrange for a place for us to meet. You will stay there throughout the course of our…training,” he said.

His voice was cool and distant, as if he were arranging a luncheon meeting, not a tryst.

She blinked as she looked around the parlor. “We will not meet here?”

He jerked his eyes to her in surprise. “No.”

Lysandra turned away. What a foolish notion. Of course a gentleman didn’t keep his mistress in his main house. She must look like an idiot of the highest order.

With a shake of her head, she said, “Well, then I will leave my direction with your servant at the door so you may reach me with the address and when you would like me to move there.”

“No, my driver will take you to your current address, then he can deliver my message to you,” he said.

She shook her head. “Oh no, I wouldn’t trouble your servant. I can take a hack.”

His lips thinned. “If I am to be your protector, for however short a time, you must allow me to protect you, Lysandra. No more hacks. You will allow my driver to be at your service today and I’ll arrange for one of your own as soon as possible.”

She opened her mouth, but he arched a brow and silenced her with just that pointed look. She nodded.

“Very well. Thank you for the…er, protection.”

From the way he shifted, she could see he felt as awkward in this exchange as she did. Had she done something wrong? Was her passion too muted? Too powerful? Or was a man with experience and power like this simply unmoved by a girl of her ilk?

Whatever the reason for his sudden coolness, it could not bode well.

She gathered her reticule and tilted her head toward him. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Good afternoon, Lysandra,” he said softly as she slipped from the room.

Once in the hall, she rubbed a hand over her face. She had never felt so confused and ill at ease in her life. But she had also never felt so alive and passionate. And it was very clear to her that whatever happened next with Andrew, she would never again be the same person she was when she entered his parlor.

As soon as the door closed behind Lysandra, Andrew began to pace. His world felt like it was spinning out of control, pushed off its axis by the slight frame of a woman he had only just met.

Since Rebecca’s death three years ago, he had been sleeping. That was his choice, to live in a way that left him happily numb and dead to the world. His wife deserved that after what he had done, what he had not done.

But now, in the span of an hour with Lysandra, it was like he had been shocked awake. His emotions boiled inside of him, raw and so pleasurable that they bordered on pain.

Worse, he wanted more with this woman. He craved her body in a way he hadn’t done since…God, since before he was married. Since he was a rake of the highest order and had thought only of the pleasures of this world.

He had no idea why this woman would inspire such strong reactions in him, except that there seemed to be something so complicated to her. Something so troubling.

Yes, she was exquisitely responsive, but there was also an innocence about her. He had taken mistresses before his marriage, and they had all been worldly, not wide-eyed and shivering with pleasure. He feared Lysandra might be eaten alive in that world those kinds of women inhabited.

A strong urge to protect her swelled up in him and he sank into the closest chair to ponder it. Vivien had asked him to tutor Lysandra in the ways of pleasure in order to prepare her for the life of a mistress. But perhaps in the process of that tutelage, he could shock Lysandra into reality with his touch, his kiss, his passion.

Perhaps he could convince her that this path was not the right one for her. And in the process, slake these unwanted desires and feelings.

Either way, the next few weeks promised to be heady with pleasures. And he had never looked forward to, nor dreaded, something more.

Chapter Five

Lysandra jerked her head up at the knock on her door. She had been waiting for this knock for two days, and now the moment had come. Only one person knew where she lived; even her mother wasn’t truly aware of her circumstances, and that was by Lysandra’s choice. That left only one man with a reason to contact her here.

The knock sounded again, this time louder, and Lysandra stood up from the threadbare bed that was shoved into the tiny corner of the room in the boarding house and hurried to the door.

Her landlady, a nasty woman with a wart on her nose the size of a large pebble, stood outside, a letter clutched in her dirty fingers.

“Miss Hoity Toity has a missive,” the woman spat.

Lysandra flinched. “Thank you, Mrs. Cringle.”

She reached for the note, but the woman held it out of her reach. “Paper looks expensive, lovey.”

Normally, Lysandra was intimidated by the woman. After all, she could throw Lysandra into the street without a cause or a care at any moment. But today she was in no mood for the woman’s nastiness and a strength she often kept in check rose in her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Give me my letter, Mrs. Cringle.”

With a throaty chuckle, the landlady gave over the missive. “Rich men, they’re hard to keep, chit.”

Lysandra slammed the door in the woman’s face and spun around to lean on the doorframe. The horrible wretch had actually come closer to the truth than she knew. But Lysandra’s duty wasn’t to keep Andrew. It was to learn from him in the hopes she could secure a future for herself and for her mother.

She paced to the bed and sat down to open the seal that held the pages together. The message was brief at best, only an address where she was to come at once and the instruction that she could give up the rooms she was letting, for this home would be considered hers for the duration of their affair.

Lysandra set the note aside and let out a sigh she felt like she’d been holding in forever. Part of her was relieved. She could leave this horrible place and, if her life went as planned, never look back.

But there was a stronger part of her that dreaded what Andrew’s curt missive required.

For two days, she had been able to think only of him. Of his touch, his mouth so hot on her flesh that she lost all control of her body, and his dismissal when their first encounter was over. She didn’t know much about the requirements of a mistress, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t supposed to think of her protector night and day.

“Perhaps there is still another way to make money,” she said as she folded the note and put it in the pocket of her pelisse.

But how? She had already racked her mind in the months before she gathered enough nerve to speak to Vivien in the first place and thought of nothing but this end. She just hadn’t counted on this man who would make her feel so shivery and weak.

“Mama,” she whispered under her breath as she shoved those unwanted thoughts of Andrew away once again.

No, she couldn’t tell her mother the details of what she was doing, but sometimes just being around her mother helped Lysandra see life more clearly.

She gathered her reticule and a wrap and slipped from her room and out of the nasty boarding house. She had one last chance to turn away from this path, and she could only hope that a moment with the person she loved most would help her clarify her choices.

When Lysandra had asked her cousins August and Marta Ingram to take in her mother, she had known they did it with reluctance and an eye for the money that Lysandra scraped together each month to pay for her board and care. Still, she had always prayed that what they gave in return was a loving home for her mother.

Now, as she stood in their parlor with its ridiculously overdone furniture and knickknacks that could only wish to be as sophisticated as Andrew’s fine parlor, she worried her lip. The servant who had allowed her entry was as chilly as a north wind and seemed perturbed to have to fetch Lysandra’s mother.

But the door finally opened and Lysandra stepped forward to greet the woman who had raised and loved her. Her heart dropped as she did so.

Regina Keates had never fully recovered from the death of her beloved husband over eight years ago. The first few, she had tried to carry on, but illness and the pain of slow and creeping poverty had stricken her, and she had succumbed to the affects of both.

Now her mother was pale, with dark circles beneath her once vibrant blue eyes, and her frame was so thin that Lysandra had to blink back tears at the sight of her. It was always so much of a shock to see her this way.

“Mama,” she said, covering the reaction as best as she could and moving to offer her mother an arm of assistance. She pressed a kiss to her mother’s thin cheek and helped her to a chair.

“My dearest,” her mother said with a smile that was still the same as Lysandra remembered from her childhood, even if nothing else was. “I didn’t expect you today.”

Lysandra would have poured her mother tea at this juncture, but none had been provided by the servants. Instead, she tilted her head with a smile of her own.

“I simply wished to see you.”

“That’s so nice.” Her mother rested back on her chair and shut her eyes briefly, as if the exertion of the visit was already affecting her. “Your employer is kind to give you a day off. How is your life as a ladies maid? Any gossip to share about the lives of the Earl and Countess of Culpepper?”

In that moment, Lysandra was happy her mother’s eyes were shut so she wouldn’t look at Lysandra as she formulated the best lie. She hadn’t told her mother that she’d been let go by the Earl of Culpepper over six months before. She certainly hadn’t told her why.

What that one lie had resulted in was a dangerous maze of other lies that she was forced to twist and turn through each time she called on her mother.

“Oh, nothing too interesting,” Lysandra said past suddenly dry lips. “Just the usual parties and soirees to ready the Countess for.”

Her mother looked at her. “Ah, well it all seems very glamorous. I do wish you hadn’t been forced to enter a life of service, but since you have, I do take comfort in that you seem to be happy doing it.”

Tears stung Lysandra’s eyes, but she had become expert at hiding them from her mother and instead forced a weak smile.

“And what of you, Mama? Are you still happy here? Do August and Marta treat you well?”

There was a moment’s hesitation where Lysandra swore she saw a flicker of fear in her mother’s gaze, but then it was gone. But the idea that it had ever been there was troubling in the highest way, and she stared as her mother talked.

“They are kind to take me in,” she said softly. “Family or not, I realize I am a burden in my current state.”

Lysandra pursed her lips. When she had asked her cousins to bring her mother into their home, she had believed they would welcome her. Her cousin August did well with his store and his wife and brats never seemed to want to anything.

Yet there had always been a tension in the home. A feeling that her mother wasn’t wanted there, even though she was kind, ate very little and caused no one trouble.

Lysandra fisted her hands at her sides. “Mama, you couldn’t be a burden—”

She stopped before she could finish the sentence and stared. When her mother shifted, the sleeve of her worn-out gown slid up her arm and revealed a bruise beneath the fabric. A bruise in the shape of fingers, as if someone had grabbed her there and wrenched her body.

Lysandra got to her feet. “How did you receive that mark?” she demanded.

Her mother reached up and pulled her gown sleeve down as hot color flooded her cheeks and made them bright with embarrassment.

“I was so silly,” her mother said, ducking her gaze. “I bumped myself getting out of the tub.”

Lysandra clenched her teeth. “Are you certain?”

Slowly, her mother lifted her gaze to Lysandra and held it there with whatever dignity she had left. “Of course.”

Lysandra wanted to confront her, to tell her mother that she knew she hadn’t received that mark from a tub. To demand that she tell her the truth. But what could she do about it even if she knew? She had no funds to remove her mother from this place. Soon she wouldn’t even have enough to keep her mother here.

And
that
was why she was doing this.
That
was why she had turned to Vivien Manning and Lord Andrew Callis. Because with the income she could make as a mistress, she could save her mother. She could save herself.

“Lysandra, my dear, are you all right?” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. “You have gotten very quiet and faraway.”