Night of Pleasure

Title Page

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Prologue

Lesson One

Lesson Two

Lesson Three

Lesson Four

Lesson Five

Lesson Six

Lesson Seven

Lesson Eight

Lesson Nine

Lesson Ten

Lesson Eleven

Lesson Twelve

Lesson Thirteen

Lesson Fourteen

Epilogue

New Release Alert

NIGHT OF PLEASURE

by Delilah Marvelle

Kobo Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Delilah Marvelle

Delilah Marvelle Productions, LLC All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1-939912-02-4

ISBN-13: 978-1-939912-02-2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s crazy imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and nothing you should worry about.

Book design © Delilah Marvelle.

Cover design © Seductive Musings.

Cover Photo © Jenn LeBlanc.

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

This book came together thanks to a team of

amazing people I adore and trust. A special smooch

and a big thank you to the ever fabulous

Jessa Slade aka Jenna Dales,

Maire Claremont, Kim and Debbie Burke,

Ronnie Buck, Kim Wollenburg, Jessie Smith,

Cynthia Young and Carol Ann MacKay.

To my husband Marc.

You proved to me love at first sight

is not only real, but that it lasts.

Thank you for coming into my life.

I love you.

London, England – March 14, 1823

The Banfield House at Grosvenor Square, early afternoon

If only his mother knew the difference between a cough and pneumonia, his life would have been so much easier. Not that he was complaining about the fact he was missing his oral exam on the Principles of Sound Doctrine. It had saved him from memorizing eighteen pages of some lonely chaste man’s pathetic idea of salvation. He was his own salvation. And being lonely and chaste wasn’t at all what he aspired to be.

He was too good-looking for that.

Sitting on the hard wood of a gilded straight-backed chair, which the tails of his coat did little to cushion, Derek tugged at the high collar pinned tightly around his throat. It was a mandatory garment for all Eton students, even the eldest Upper Boys, such as him. While the rigid collar was confining and irksome, it was not as irksome and confining as the corridor where he and his younger brother Andrew had been forced to wait for the past hour and a half.

After standing, leaning, and pacing, he opted to sit. As did Andrew. Three doctors had already come and two had already left, both of them looking bewildered. This was no surprise. The doctors always left bewildered after being called in by their mother who imagined various deadly diseases that didn’t exist.

Feeling like his collar was choking the sanity out of him, Derek sat up in his chair and announced to his fourteen-year-old brother, “I’m about to do something I shouldn’t.”

Andrew perked. “Fabulous. What are we doing?”

Derek reached out and mussed Andrew’s head of dark hair before playfully shoving it. “Why do you always think everything involves you? My collar needs to come off, is all. I’ve had it on since seven this morning.” He yanked on the end of his cravat, unraveling it, and draped it over his shoulder. Removing the rigid collar buried beneath his linen shirt by unfastening the pins, he stripped it and whipped it to the floor. “May the devil and the Head Master go with it.” He unbuttoned his tawny waistcoat to ensure more comfort and stretched back, letting a booted heel hit the floor.

“And I thought I was a rebel.” Andrew raked back his tousled hair. “Mother won’t be pleased seeing you unkempt.”

Derek dug into his pocket and pulled out a tin of hard ginger candy. “No one is here to notice. I’m fine.” He opened the tin, flicked a piece of the spiced amber candy into his mouth and held it out to Andrew. “I bought these off Stanwick during Long Chamber hours. His uncle owns a confectionary shop out in Surrey. They are my definition of incredible.” The strong pine-pitch taste already stung his tongue. He loved how it amplified his senses. “Take one.”

“
Only one
? Off with you. I’ll settle for three, if you don’t mind.” His brother grabbed three with a scoop of fingers, leaving only five behind and popped all three into his mouth. He clacked them against his teeth and paused, his eyes watering. “Dirk me…I…you could have…warned me.”

Derek smirked and clicked the tin shut. “Greed is punishing you. I told you to keep it to one.”

Andrew coughed, hitting his own chest twice and swiped at the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “You and your…damn need for...
spice
.”

“Spice makes a soul breathe in deep. Live a little.”

“More like
die
a little.”

Steps echoed in the distance, making Derek slip the tin back into his coat pocket.

They both glanced toward the sound.

Three figures cut through the sunlight gleaming through the long row of windows at the far end of the adjoining corridor.

Derek groaned. “Damn it, I just—” Scrambling to his feet, he swiped up his collar, skidded back and fell into his seat, trying not to choke on the candy floating in his mouth. He gagged and swallowed it whole without meaning to.

Andrew let out an impish laugh, still clacking all three candies against his teeth. “Serves you right. As our cousins say, never take off a collar unless you’re in bed entertaining a woman.”

Derek laughed and kicked a foot out toward him. “Quiet, half-man,” he chided out of the side of his mouth. “What do you know about entertaining women? You can’t even handle a piece of candy.” Unable to get the stiff collar back around his neck, he rolled his eyes and shoved it behind himself. Buttoning his waistcoat, he focused on wrapping and tying his cravat around the natural short collar of his linen shirt. “Who are they? Can you see? Do you know?”

His brother leaned sideways in his chair and squinted. “I can’t decipher quite yet. But they don’t appear to be carrying medicine chests. So they can’t be doctors.”

“I told you it couldn’t be anything serious. If she kept it to only three doctors, I foresee us being back in school by tomorrow.” Still trying to finish tying his cravat beneath his chin, Derek tossed out, “Is it family?” They had a lot of cousins – eighteen – half of whose names he couldn’t remember. He didn’t try. Most of them only came around when they needed money anyway.

Andrew pointed with his chin. “No. They don’t look like any of the magpies related to us. Too well dressed.”

Derek paused as the figures emerged from the blurring brightness of the vast corridor. A tall gentleman dressed in a fine wool morning coat, grey trousers and gleaming knee-high boots made his way toward them. The pulsing silence was amplified by the sound of his boot heels against the marble. While his chiseled face looked young enough to pass for an Oxford student, his wavy black hair was silvering at the temples, hinting he was in his early forties.

Walking in exquisite refinement alongside the gentleman was a young female of about sixteen. Her regal face was a pale oval in the stripes of sunlight and shade that glimmered across her profile as she passed the last row of windows leading toward them.

Derek’s hands fell away from knotting the last of his cravat. If she had been walking alone, he would have whistled.

A pleated green bonnet was assembled over an intricately knitted black braid that looped upward into her bonnet and back down, fashionably draping one slim shoulder. A daffodil gown frothed and flowed with her graceful movements as snowy white satin slippers peered out with each measured step. Chin perfectly set – not too high and not too low – she carried herself with a sweeping, swaying elegance that reflected years of lecture dedicated to feminine poise.

In his opinion, she could have easily passed for a debutante of eighteen if there had been more…well…
bosom
…in her corset. She was almost as flat as paper. Which was sad, really. A sizable pair of high-perched breasts would have made her a triumph.

Was it ungentlemanly for him to notice her breasts or lack thereof? Yes. Yes, it was. But he’d been confined to an all-boys school since he was thirteen, and being almost eighteen, whenever he had a chance to cast an eye at a pair of bosoms, no matter their size, he did.

Andrew tilted closer. "Who are they?” he whispered.

"I have no idea." He didn’t know much about their father’s personal life. But he did know one thing. Their father only associated with the best. “Get up," Derek instructed. “If they got past the butler, they have an appointment and we should acknowledge them.”

Andrew and Derek both stood, clicking their boot heels in unison.

The footman who had been leading their visitors, directed the gentleman and young lady to the closed doorway of their father’s rooms before proceeding back down the vast corridor.

The young lady glanced at Derek and upon seeing him, quickly pivoted her head toward him, showcasing a shimmering glint of emerald earrings that swayed against the inside of her bonnet. Full raspberry-colored lips parted as stunning, soulful blue eyes captured his.

Derek could do nothing but half-breathe and stare. If perfection had a name, it would be hers. Whatever that name might be. Her pale skin was flawless and the brightness of those pretty eyes against the ebony of her braided hair made her look ethereal. Something out of a dream.
His
dream. One that whispered of long summer afternoons spent lying on sun-warmed grass with his head resting on her lap and her hand brushing away strands of his hair as she leaned down to kiss him on the lips with just a little bit of tongue. Followed with a lot of tongue and their clothes laying everywhere.

An expensive wool coat and broad shoulders abruptly blocked Derek’s view of her.

It was her father.

Derek cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to the Banfield home. The household is rather harried today, for which we apologize. How might I be of assistance?”