Night of Pleasure (30 page)

He swiped his face. It wasn’t even the afternoon and he was exhausted. “I needed to speak to Lord Brayton. I already did and now am leaving. Without her, mind you. She and I are getting a divorce. I apologize for the intrusion.”

Those eyes snapped toward Brayton who was standing in the parlor behind them. Madame turned back to Derek. “Lord Brayton will understand my need to reschedule our appointment. I ask that you and your wife enter the receiving room at once. Do not worry about my naked men. They may be life-size, but they are not real. Now go. Go, go, go.”

Clementine eyed the nude statues in the receiving room and edged back into the foyer and toward the door. “I’m not going in there.”

Derek gave her a withering look. “What? You can go to your Nasser but not into a room full of naked statues?”

Clementine glared. “Nasser won’t be naked when I see him.”

He angled toward her, his pulse thundering. “Why do you seem to think I care?”

Madame breezed up a hand. “Heavens, your passions are exhausting even a woman like me.
Enough
.” Lowering her hand, she leveled a pert gaze at Clementine. “If my naked men irk you so much, I challenge you to go in and put a hand over whatever bothers you most. Go on. Show me. Are you not a married woman? Should you have not already touched everything you see?”

Clementine gasped and snapped a finger toward Derek. “I am holding you responsible for this entire situation!”

“And how is this
my
fault?” Derek pointed at Brayton. “He was the one who brought us here.
Bastard
.”

Lord Brayton held up both hands and trudged out of the parlor. Shaking his head, he grabbed up his wool cap from a red velvet pillow on the side table. “I will reschedule.”

“
Merci
, Lord Brayton,” Madame de Maitenon called. “Consider yourself admitted. I will have Lady Chartwell send you a missive.”

The butler opened the door, letting Lord Brayton step out then promptly shut the door. Clearing his throat, the butler lowered his gaze and hurriedly walked past.

“Mr. Hudson,” Madame de Maitenon said in a hardened tone to the man. “Do not think I am not aware of your
bouffoneries
. I will not tolerate it. No matter how many
petits enfants
you claim to support.”

Mr. Hudson sighed, dug into his pocket and grudgingly held out the bank note to Derek.

For God’s sake. As if he needed it. Derek pushed that hand away. “Keep it.”

Mr. Hudson’s gaze darted over to Madame, his features almost pleading.

She rolled her eyes. “
Oui
. Take it, you
coquin
. He is giving it to you.”

Mr. Hudson grinned, shoved it back into his pocket and veered formally out of sight.

“Forgive him. His true age is closer to fifteen.” Madame de Maitenon regally brought her hands together. “Honor me with introductions, my young people. Who is who?”

Why did he feel he was about to introduce them to trouble? He heaved out a breath. Not wanting to be rude, given they were standing in the woman’s house, he quickly swept a hand toward Clementine. “This
was
my wife, Lady Banfield. And I am Lord Banfield. Now if you will excuse me, I have to contact a few lawyers and a—”

“
Non
. I cancelled my appointment with Lord Brayton for this. Your lawyers can wait.” She extended a pale hand toward the parlor. “
Entrez, s’il vous plaît
.”

Appointment
? What
appointment
could Hercules have with an older French woman?

Clementine eyed Derek.

Madame stepped between them. “Do not look to him,
ma chérie
. I am wanting to assist and will ensure there is no more yelling and swearing. Men are known for it. Especially when they are riled. It takes
years
to understand how their erratic minds work, but once a female understands it, life smiles upon a woman. And that is what we want. We want you to smile. Now do you wish to enter upon my invitation and end the yelling?”

Clementine stared at Derek. “No more yelling would be nice.”

Derek stared back. “Words of love from your mouth would be nice.”

Madame clapped her hands. “Do I need to separate your tongues?”

Clementine glared and turned. Gathering her morning gown from around her feet, she entered the receiving room, apparently no longer concerned about the statues.

He stalked in after Clementine, glancing back at the woman whose house they had taken over. “Madame, whilst I appreciate your concern, I can assure you—”

“Do not assure me, my lord. Assure
her
. For
there
is the problem. It is difficult for a woman to properly respond to a man when he is yelling and cursing like a sailor shouting at his peers over the wind.” Madame de Maitenon followed him in with a lofty sashay. “Men do not usually bring their wives into my home given my
reputation
. So I will admit I am intrigued how both of you came to be here.” She turned toward them, using her hand to sweep away the fullness of her gown from around her. Her delicate, older features mischievously brightened. “What brings you into the house of a courtesan and her School of Gallantry?”

Apparently, Brayton had a penchant for shagging pretty, elderly French women. And he thought his life was a mess.

Judging by the wide-eyed look on Derek’s rugged face, Clementine was fairly certain he was just as astounded as she was to know they were standing in a house of ill repute. She didn’t realize elderly women were physically capable of entertaining men. One would think an older woman would use her age as an excuse to keep all the hands away.

“Maybe we should leave, Derek,” was about all she could primly offer.

His gaze snapped to hers. “After you.”

The elderly woman set herself between them and the door. “While I am pleased to see that you finally both agree on something, one does not come into my school, toss words, and leave. That is impolite.”

Clementine blinked. School? Courtesans had schools? For what? She didn’t even want to know. Because she was rather new to all of this. Heaven only knew what men
really
wanted outside of all things physical.

Madame lifted a prim forefinger into the air and shook it, rattling the gold bracelets on her wrist. “’Tis obvious you both require guidance and it is my duty to give it. Why? Because if I had been given proper advice when I had been at your delicate age, when my passions were ready and willing, I might have not only married but would have stayed married to the only man who ever mattered to me.”

Clementine felt a knot tighten in her stomach at hearing that. There really weren’t many independent paths for a woman to take in life if a woman didn’t marry. This woman was proof of it.

Madame was quiet for a moment. “Given that you are both here the day after your own wedding, and there is discussion of other men, I am assuming your wedding night was a calamity.” She pursed her lips, observing Derek. “How many times were you able to bed her last night? Did she ask for more of your
poom-poom
? If not, what did you do wrong?”

Clementine clapped a gloved hand against her mouth in disbelief. The woman was asking about their bedchamber life and what they did last night.

Derek’s shaven face flushed as he swung toward the woman. “You have no right to be asking such questions.”

Those silver arched brows came together. “Was the encounter that bad?”

A bubble of a laugh escaped Clementine from beneath her hand.

Derek glared. “Oh,
now
you have a sense of humor.”

Clementine rolled her eyes in exasperation and lowered her hand. “I can’t seem to please you no matter what I do. I’m amused at the wrong times and not amused at the right. If you ask me, your inability to control yourself is what brought us here.”

He angled toward her and narrowed his gaze. “Perhaps my inability to control myself stems from the fact that you have given me
nothing
to control myself with. I was willing to forgive whatever happened between you and him. I was. But what I cannot and
will not
forgive is that you continue to allow this man to take something you never
once
allowed me to have: your trust.”

Clementine felt her throat tighten. “Maybe if you weren’t too busy trying to bed me, you could have earned that trust.”

Madame de Maitenon tsked. “Let us cease arguing for a few breaths.
Oui
?” She sashayed over to the lone chair set in the middle of the room and tapped it. “The person who sits in this chair is the only person who will be allowed to speak. Anyone else left standing, outside of myself, must accept silence and listen. Who wishes to sit?”

Oh, she rather liked this idea of creating a controlled environment without verbal retaliation. Maybe she’d finally be able to say some of the things she wanted to tell Derek since she walked into this entire situation.

Clementine gathered her skirts to walk over to the chair.

Derek skidded over to the chair and sat in it.

Clementine gasped. “Oh, yes, go right ahead,
husband
. Your needs, after all, should
always
come first.”

Madame pointed at her. “I am afraid he is already sitting. He was very rude about it,
oui
, but I prefer we address his rudeness first. Keep silent. No matter what he says that may irk you, please do not speak. This is his chair and his podium. You will have your chance when he is done. Do you understand?”

Clementine swallowed and then nodded. Heaven knows she already knew what Derek had to say.

“
Bien
.” Madame turned toward Derek. “We need to address that you clearly think your opinion matters more.”

Derek set his shoulders, settling more stubbornly into it. “I think I earned it after everything she put me through.”

Clementine bit down on her tongue to keep herself from saying anything.

“What did she put you through, my lord?” Madame prodded. “Share.”

He angrily held Clementine’s gaze, his nostrils flaring. “What
hasn’t
she put me through?” His chest rose and fell as if he were still unable to steady his breathing. “For seven years, I wrote her letters that I poured out of my
soul
in the hopes of bringing her closer to me, given I was always here in England and she was travelling the world. The one and only time I
did
try to see her, to surprise her with a visit three years ago, I put myself on a boat and after almost twelve weeks of travel, arrived in New York only to find that she and her father had been called out for an unexpected political event in Spain. So I got the address and went to Spain to follow her. Only…they had already left for France. So I followed them to France. Only…they had already left back to New York. That was about when I decided I needed to cease chasing her and go home.”

Clementine’s breath hitched. She never knew that.

He shifted his jaw. “I never told her about it because I didn’t want to come across as the love-sick pup I already was. I was pathetic enough. I was sleeping with her portrait. I was writing her letters every month that followed her around the world, and if I heard from her once every eight months I considered myself fortunate. For seven goddamn years, I stayed away from every woman who ever came to my door because I couldn’t imagine myself in the arms of another. Seven. The only reason I finally
did
lay with a woman, whom I hired for a measly night, was to learn how I should pleasure the one woman I wanted to make my own: her. Why? Because I didn’t want to disappoint her in my duty to give us children.” He stared her down. “Only she doesn’t want children. She doesn’t want the joy of holding our child. Just as she doesn’t want me.”

Clementine closed her eyes, knowing his resentment was in many ways her fault. She should have told him more about her own life through those letters. The real life she had led. The one that had made her into who she was. She never told him because she hadn’t expected to stay. Or to love him. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze.