Eloisa James - Desperate Duchesses - 6 (32 page)

"I can't describe it," she said dispiritedly, sitting up. "I really must put my clothing back on, Villiers."

His scowl was so potent that she actually recoiled. He threw his breeches back down again.

"I'm sorry," she said after a second's pause. "Leopold." "Leopold all the time, Eleanor. Never Villiers, to you." "Leopold," she said gently, "you're marrying another woman. And I'm marrying Gideon."

He lay down and pulled her over, onto his body. He was so hot that she involuntarily shivered.

"Then tell me what the hell you're thinking about," he growled. "Tell me and then we'll go off and live our perfect lives with our perfect spouses. Have you realized that we're both marrying extraordinarily beautiful people?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"We are. Golden girls and boys, as Shakespeare has it."

"Is that one of the sonnets? I'm just reading them for the first time."

"No, it's from a play.
Golden girls and boys all must, like chimney sweepers, come to dust.
I've always thought it was a good motto for a duke to keep in mind."

"So you count yourself among the golden boys?"

"Not when it comes to beauty."

"But dukes are golden," she said. "I see that."

"Strip away the title and I'm as brutish as a chimney sweep. People like Astley carry their nobility on their face."

"Is that why you dress so extravagantly?" Eleanor asked. She was oddly balanced on his body, her breasts squished into his chest, her elbows on either side of him. But she was comfortable.

"No," he said slowly. And then: "Perhaps. But you were going to confess your dark fear that you're really the ducal version of a palace whore. And I have to admit that I'm really curious."

He was laughing again, if only with his eyes, so she leaned down to give him a reproving nip, but they started kissing and somehow she lost track of her chastisement. She only slowly came back to herself, from that heated, tender place his kisses took her.

"I feel like a doxy," she said to him, not even whispering. "I lured Gideon into making love all those years ago, you know. I made him do it."

"You would have had to, given that he takes himself so seriously. Too much attention to manners turns a man into a judicious bore," Leopold said, pushing her so she was sitting on his stomach. "I'm listening breathlessly, but meanwhile, if you felt like edging back just a tad?"

She grasped what he was getting at and could feel her cheeks flaming. "Have you no shame?" she asked, curious, not reprimanding.

"Shame has nothing to do with it," he said promptly. "Warn me some more about your seductive self, and meanwhile I'll show you what I have in mind."

"You make me sound so foolish," Eleanor said, covering her face with her hands.

He pulled them down. "I shouldn't make fun. You slept with the inestimably tedious Gideon, who doubtless credited you with every spark of passion that ignited between you. Because that way he could stop himself from feeling any blame."

"Well..." Eleanor said.

"And by blaming
you
for every rule the two of you broke, he could walk away from you and marry someone else. Because you made him uncomfortable, Eleanor. All that passion, and he's nothing more than a dry husk after all."

"You mustn't say that," she protested. "You're talking about my fiance."

He made a rude gesture. "And then I came along, and we're like tinder and spark, the two of us. But you measured me by his ashes and thought I was crediting you with being the courtesan of my dreams."

"You did say..." Eleanor whispered, feeling herself turn even pinker.

"I said that it was the best sex I ever had. I didn't say you were the best lover I ever had."

She scowled at him.

"You're getting the hang of it," he said, drawing his hands slowly over her breasts. She looked down at his hands. They were large, and darker than her skin. They shaped her breasts, played with them with exactly the right mix of tenderness and strength. "What should I have done?" she asked.

"Are you genuinely curious, or are you going to fall into a pit of despair and decide that you are the
worst
courtesan in all of England?" "I'm not a courtesan," she pointed out.

"No. You're an utterly delectable woman, with the most gorgeous breasts in Christendom."

His voice was darker, lower. "What should I have done?" she persisted. "Touch me," he said. "You kept your hands on my shoulders, more or less." "Oh." She colored."! didn't think..."

"You didn't think I'd like to be touched, because that fool Astley had a poker up his arse about it.

But I don't. I want you to touch me everywhere." Suddenly his hands were around her waist, picking her up, easing her back down.

She squeaked, but it was so much easier this time. She felt soft and wet. He thrust into her with a groan that sent a bird flying from the bushes beside them.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Their breath was harsh.

"Would you like me to touch you like this?" she said, circling his nipple with one finger

"Hmm. That's not terrible but it's not great either," he said. "What
else
might you do with that finger?"

He was teasing her again, so she pinched him as a rebuke, and his breath caught—and she learned something.

He recovered fast, though, and pulled her tighter, whispering, "Any more of that and this will be a very short encounter, princess." She didn't want that, and neither did he. So he gave her one of the kisses that made her feel as if she were both drowning and catching on fire, all at once.

"I want you to lick me all over," he said, hoarse in her ear. And he started to move.

It took a minute for what he was saying to sink into her mind, and then she suddenly imagined herself on her knees before him, as he had been before her, making him groan and cry out, as he had to her.

"I'd like that," she whispered.

His fingers were gripping her hips, but she could feel the fire clamping down so soon, too soon.

"Oh, Leopold," she said helplessly, running her fingers through his hair. "I can't touch you now, I can't because..." But whatever she was going to say was lost in a wave of pure, violent pleasure.

She came back to herself slowly to find that he was still there, still... with her.

"A courtesan would never come before her client," Leopold said in her ear. "And if she did, she'd have to come again, just to make up for it."

She would have laughed but she was too tired.

"There are other things I'd like you to do," Leopold said, his voice like a velvet whip. And he started to tell her. In detail.

She came twice more before he finally conceded that perhaps she might, just might, achieve some modicum of skill such as a real courtesan had.

But she didn't care what he said, because he cried out when he came, cried her name in such a way that she threw away all those fears. She was no Whore of Babylon.

"Eleanor," he said again, afterwards. And held her very tightly. Just that: "Eleanor." It was enough.

That night at supper Lisette talked of nothing but the treasure hunt to take place two days hence. Her plate looked like a small boat adrift in a sea of foolscap, on which were scrawled notes and lists. For the most part Villiers, Eleanor, Anne, and the duchess simply allowed the monologue to burble forth. There was unspoken agreement in the room that Lisette's enthusiasm was like a fever, and should be treated with extreme caution.

"Everyone in the county will be here, of course.
You
will have a particularly enjoyable time, Eleanor," Lisette said, beaming. "Not only will Sir Roland and his parents attend, but I invited the Duke of Astley to return and he said that he may well do it. His late wife's great-aunt is only an hour's ride from here, and he thought to return for the treasure hunt."

Eleanor's mother frowned. "That is a remarkably inappropriate idea. It has been barely a week since his wife died."

"It's for charity," Lisette said blithely. "No one expects him to stay in the house weeping."

"They may not expect tears, but they expect a modicum of observance," the duchess said acidly. But her comment didn't have the usual force to which she normally gave even the smallest impropriety.

The surgeon had pulled her tooth, but the pain lingered, and she was treating it with laudanum.

Which had the pleasant effect of making her lose about half of what made her a duchess, as Eleanor saw it.

Her Grace was a far more agreeable companion in her current state.

Lisette ignored her, simply plucking a paper from the mess in front of her. "I wrote all the clues for the treasure hunt last night. Shall I read them aloud to you?"

"Absolutely not," Anne said without particular inflection. "Are the children meant to read the clues to themselves? I very much doubt that they are literate."

"Of course they can read," Lisette said. "They receive classes in reading, writing, and deportment every day except Sunday."

"How do you know?" Eleanor asked.

"I'm on the Ladies' Committee of the orphanage," Lisette said, glancing at her with a trace of irritation. "I've been reading the schedule of their activities for years. The Committee insists that all the girls learn to read. I myself have urged the acquisition of a musical education, though to this point they do little more than sing."

"Mrs. Minchem may have claimed the children were being taught reading, but did they learn, or did they spend all their time making buttons?" Eleanor asked.

"Please," Lisette said with a little shudder. "I can't bear such disagreeable subjects. Mrs. Minchem is gone, and I hope we can simply forget these unpleasant events."

Eleanor found herself looking at Lisette with real dislike, and bit her tongue. Certainly Lisette should have made those tours of the orphanage. But likely, Mrs. Minchem would have kept the disturbing truth out of sight anyway.

"How are the orphans doing now?" Villiers asked, breaking into the cool little silence that followed Lisette's speech. Not that Lisette had even noticed; she kept scribbling on the pieces of paper spread around her plate.

"Oh, very well!" Lisette replied. "The baker's wife from the village has moved in temporarily. The Ladies' Committee is going to hire a new headmistress. In the meantime, I'm arranging everything myself. It will be just fine, I'm sure."

Eleanor hated to be such a doubting Thomas. But it seemed to her that someone energetic and truly directed was needed to head up the orphanage. Whereas Lisette was energetic in bursts, generally only when she became obsessed with a project, as she was now. The treasure hunt was all she could speak of.

"Do you think that fifty pounds is enough?" Lisette was asking.

"Fifty pounds?" the duchess asked. "What for?"

"The first child to bring back all four items will win fifty pounds," Lisette explained. "It's enough to set her up in an apprenticeship."

"That's a very generous thought," Villiers said.

Lisette beamed at him. "I would love to fund all of the orphans, but I don't have enough pin money.

Luckily, I rarely spend it, so I have enough for one orphan this time."

The worst of it was that she meant it. Lisette would readily give all her money to the orphans.

Eleanor found herself picking at her food and letting the discussion whirl around her. Villiers threw in fifty pounds for another prize. She was rather surprised when her mother offered a third prize, but put it down to the effect of laudanum together with the general air of virtue around the table.

"I spend all my pin money on gowns," Anne said. "Though I hate to lower the altruistic tone by admitting it."

"I must ask Aunt Marguerite if she would sponsor an orphan as well," Lisette was saying.

"Lady Marguerite is an eccentric," the duchess murmured. She was starting to look rather more befuddled than at the start of the evening.

"Mother," Eleanor said, "I'm not sure that wine and laudanum are a good mix." "But I feel better. So

—So much better. Really, so much better." "You're three sheets to the wind," Lisette commented.

"What did you say?" the duchess asked, peering at her. "You're totty," Lisette said, louder. "Top-heavy. Sluiced over."

"That's enough," Her Grace said, standing up with just a mild waver. "You always were a rude little girl, and you've only become worse. I can't abide you." And with that, she left.

Anne was grinning behind her napkin, but Villiers's face was utterly expressionless. "I'm sorry, Lisette," Eleanor said into the silence that greeted the slam of the door. "I think the laudanum and wine are influencing my mother's temperament."

"My mother always said that your mother was small-minded," Lisette said cheerfully.

Eleanor wasn't sure how to speak to that assessment, so she returned to her
soie à la vénitienne.

"Did you know that your children plan to participate in the treasure hunt, Leopold?" Lisette asked.

He looked up, rather startled. "Will they indeed?" "Tobias at least." She returned to her list. "How exactly will the hunt work?" Villiers asked.

"Each clue leads you to a location, and tells you to bring back an object. We'll give out all four clues at once; that way the children won't end up just trooping around after each other."

"Won't Tobias have an advantage over the other children, since he has been living here for several days?" Eleanor asked.

"Perhaps," Lisette said. "But I'm sure that he will be a fine candidate for an apprenticeship."

"Tobias does not need an apprenticeship," Villiers stated.

"Of course he does," Lisette said, not really listening. "He's a clever boy. You could apprentice him to a violin maker, for instance. He might create wonderful instruments. He has lovely fingers."

"I plan to give him an estate worth ten thousand pounds a year."

Eleanor took a sip of her wine. Apparently, Leopold had forgotten to share a few details of his anticipated home life with his fiancée. But Lisette merely shrugged. She was always easygoing—unless you crossed her.