A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (35 page)

“I suppose that can happen, milord, but most men know where they’re going.”

“A profound observation, ma’am.”

Mistress Crombie left him then and closed the door.

Georgia paced her room. Linkboy? In league with thieves? He truly could have been killed! When his coffee arrived she’d be able to visit him and hear the full story.

She heard the footsteps and the opening of the door.

“Pour me a cup, Jem, and then you can go.”

Soon two footmen left the room, closed the door, and walked away, gossiping quietly about the wicked state of the streets.

Georgia gathered her nerve and slipped into Dracy’s room.

“How are you?” she said, but then stopped. She hadn’t thought that he too might have changed into his nightwear and be a lot less clothed than he normally was.

He was sitting propped up on the bed, coffee in hand, in his nightshirt. Not even a robe. His lower legs were very hairy, his feet rather noble and strong.

He was watching her, inscrutable.

She would not be maidenly. She hurried to the bed. “Are you all right?”

He toasted her with his coffee. “Enchanted unto madness by you, Circe.”

“Still silly with drink, I see. Where were you to become so addled?”

“Easy enough to achieve all around the Town.”

“Unfortunately true. How are your wounds?”

“Minor.”

“Your side?”

“A mere scratch.”

“Your arm?”

“Hurts.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

“Yes. Could you put my cup on the table?”

She did so but returned to her perch, finding him adorably boyish in drink. “This will confirm your low opinion of London, I fear.”

“It certainly hasn’t improved it, but…”

“But?”

“I know better than to blindly follow a linkboy, so it was my own fault.”

“How many attacked you?”

“Three.”

“Three against one? How did you escape?”

“My sword kept them at bay, but I called for help and some gentlemen ran to my aid. If the cudgel had hit true…”

“Cudgel! Dracy…”

“A glancing blow. No real harm done.”

“But…” She moved to feel his head, but he fended her off.

“Georgia, behave yourself. You shouldn’t even be here.”

She considered him. “Perhaps not, but I’m a widow, not an innocent miss, and you’re a guest in this house and injured.”

It sounded very well, but she wasn’t surprised that he looked skeptical.

“And,” she added, “I’m insatiably curious. Tell me all about it.”

He shook his head at her, but he was smiling too. “On your head be it. If we’re caught…”

“It will be by my parents, who will scold us both but invoke secrecy. What happened? Start from the beginning. I was told you’d been summoned to the Admiralty.”

“I was, and there I met some old, landlocked friends who carried me off to dinner. After dinner we went to a
tavern to talk of old times, and eventually we rolled on to another establishment.”

“What establishment?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“I
thought
you meant one of those establishments. Which one?”

“You’re incorrigible. Mirabelle’s.”

“My husband said it was an excellent place.”

He glared at her. “It’s a brothel.”

“Among other things. Maybury liked to game there whilst watching the living statues.”

“Do you know how little those living statues wear?”

His outrage made her want to laugh. What a strange model of her he carried in his mind. “Nothing but a veil, but often a very pretty veil.”

“You’ve
been
there?”

“Of course not, but we had something similar for an entertainment at Sansouci. Male as well as female.”

“That’s not decent!”

She had to laugh then, just a little. “The men wore a kind of codpiece. But if it’s decent to have naked statues around a house, why not the same thing in the flesh, with veils?”

“It’s different and you know it.”

“Don’t be provincial.”

“You’re too young for such things.”

She smiled out of pure fondness and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Dear, sweet Dracy.”

He grabbed her hair and forced her lips to his.

Georgia pushed back in shock, but she’d been wanting another kiss like the one at Thretford.

This wasn’t like the one at Thretford. He was kissing her with passion and possessive skill, as if her mouth was his to explore without restraint. A forbidden kiss, but she cradled his head and kissed him back, shifting to an ever-more comfortable position, silk slithering and rucking up
all around her.
Mind his arm. But get closer, tighter…ah, yes, delightful, delicious.

The taste of him was so familiar, as if they’d kissed a thousand times through the ages and sustained each other for eons. The smell of his body, the feel of his hair, of the bones beneath, the entire shape of him was simply him and always had been.

He stilled and then gently moved her away. “Enough, enough. You must leave now, Georgia.”

He was right, but she didn’t.

“That was a splendid kiss.” And not enough.

“I don’t deny it,” he said, squeezing a hand on her hip.

Georgia realized that she was straddling him! And a hard ridge lay between her thighs. It moved, sending a hot ache through her innards, stealing her breath.

So easy. So easy. Simply shift some clothing and move a little that way.…

She stared at him and he stared back, eyes dark, reflecting her hungers. Magnifying them.

She wanted him. Wanted to join with him here as she’d never wanted such a joining before. If only she’d felt like this with Dickon, how glorious it…

At that thought, she scrambled off him, off the bed, pushing down her clothing, backing away, feeling on the brink of adultery.

“Wise enchantress,” he said, smiling his crooked smile.

His cock was visible under his nightshirt, still summoning her to the feast.

The words escaped. “I wish I could.”

He closed his eyes, laughing softly. “Devastating honesty. It must be difficult to be a widow, having enjoyed bed.”

She shouldn’t speak the words, but there was something about this moment that demanded honesty. “I didn’t,” she said. “Enjoy it.”

He opened his eyes. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

“No!
No. I just didn’t enjoy it. I shouldn’t be saying these things.”

“No, but…I’m sorry that you were deprived of pleasure. That’s something to try to ensure with your next husband.”

“How do I do that, sir, without ruining myself?”

“You’re here and unruined.”

“I’m not likely to sleep so close to a suitable man,” she pointed out.

“The unsuitable man craves your pardon.”

She put hands to her hot cheeks. “Oh, don’t! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…But you
know
it would never work!”

“I know one way it would work.”

She did too, and still ached with the need to prove it.

“You’re not unique,” she reminded him.

“We’re all unique, but you’re correct. Many men have the ability to pleasure you, but many don’t, and some won’t.”

“I know. But…”

“You’re not thinking of it, are you?”

“What?”

“Trying out men.”

“Of course not!”

“’Struth, you’re a poor liar. You mustn’t do that, Georgia.”

“Don’t ‘must’ me!” she snapped and turned to pace away from the bed. “No one understands.…”

“No one? You discuss this all around London?”

She whirled on him. “Of course not. Only Lizzie—Lady Torrismonde. And it’s not what you think.” She spread her hands. “I would hate to disappoint, you see.”

“Disappoint? I promise you, Georgia, that’s not possible.”

“You can’t be sure. No one can until it’s too late. Oh!” She ran to the window. “My parents are back. I’ll go down to tell them about the attack on you.”

She ran out, fleeing discovery, but also temptation
accompanied by an aching sense of might-have-been. All the time they’d been talking she’d been fighting a pull back to the bed, a pull so strong that he might as well have been drawing on a rope.

If her parents hadn’t returned, she might have succumbed, might have tried out a man in completely the wrong way.

Dracy lay back against the pillow, fighting to calm his body. He wasn’t sure if he’d been most tormented by the vision in white linen and green silk, by the caring conversation, or by her enthusiastically inexperienced kiss.

A sin against all that was holy that such a woman had been shackled to an uncaring dolt. Or perhaps he should pity Dickon Maybury a little. Married young, and raised by an overprotective mother, the earl had certainly not had the benefit of the education he’d enjoyed around the world.

He heard footsteps and got himself under the covers.

Lady Hernescroft came in, also swathed in green—a dark green cloak over a fine dress of deep gold, emeralds glittering on an overexposed bosom. The contrast was almost amusing.

“A shocking thing, Dracy. You have all the care you need?”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“A lesson to you not to wander the night streets alone.”

He was growing weary of that advice, but it was inarguable.

“I will station a footman outside your door,” she said. “If you require anything in the night, you need only call.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“You are my guest, Dracy.”

She swept out and her husband entered. “Scandalous,” Hernescroft said, perhaps a little unsteady with drink himself. “Any chance of catching the caitiffs?”

“None,
I’d think. Common thieves.”

Hernescroft nodded. “Wish we could round up the lot of ’em and sweep ’em into the sea. My wife’s right, Dracy. Don’t wander the night streets alone.”

Dracy was finally left in peace, and he savored it, in an empty-headed sort of way. He was drifting off to sleep when he remembered something.

He climbed out of the bed, still having to favor his arm. He checked his side but saw no sign of blood. He opened the door.

A footman sat in the corridor. At least they’d provided him with a chair.

The young man shot to his feet. “You require something, your lordship?”

Probably the task had gone to the most junior, and he looked as if he’d been hauled out of bed for it.

“Yes. Come inside.”

The footman did.

“Is there a truckle bed beneath this one?”

The footman bent down to look. “Yes, sir.”

“Pull it out and use it.”

“Sir?”

He was probably about seventeen and terrified of making a mistake.