Night of Pleasure (32 page)

Clementine shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

Madame tapped Clementine’s cheek. “Put the glass into your husband’s hand. For he is blind to what you feel. He is blind to what you hold. You must therefore make him
see
what you
feel
.” She nudged Clementine’s chin upward. “This afternoon, insist that your husband set aside this talk of lawyers. Find a place to talk and ask yourselves one very simple question: should you salvage what you have and why?”

Madame gestured toward Derek who quietly lingered. “Bless his misguided heart, he is
finally
listening. He did not have to stay and listen, but he did. He stayed beyond the five minutes he said he would. Why? Because, despite his rooster ways, he still wanted to hear what you had to say. Your words mean something to him.” She sighed. “Men carry pride differently from us women. To them pride is everything. To us, it only amounts to what the world is willing to give. Which isn’t very much.”

Madame gestured toward Derek again. “This one speaks of divorce after only a day. To me, that whispers of a man who has emotionally endured more than he is capable of handling. I will assist in that by offering him an opportunity few men in London will get. The question is: does he deserve an opportunity to be reformed? Should I bother assisting him in becoming a better man and lover? Because I know nothing of his worth. Only you know of it. So look at him and decide. Should we let him go to his lawyers? Or are you willing to fight?”

A soft breath escaped Clementine. She veered her gaze toward Derek who still lingered. Those soulful and enigmatic dark eyes held hers. Those eyes reminded her of the fiery seventeen-year-old who had once leaned toward her in the corridor of his house and said, ‘
If ginger and licorice ever fell madly in love and married, their children would look exactly like this. It’s an acquired taste
.’

He really was an acquired taste. “I’m ready to fight.”

The line of his mouth stubbornly tightened a fraction more.

A sense of calm overtook her, sensing she not only could win Derek back but that she would make them into the very thing they needed to be:
friends
. The sort of friends who would forgive each other anything and, in turn, become even more to each other than lovers ever could be.

Madame rounded the chair. “I think this particular session is done.” She walked over to a small writing desk tucked in the farthest corner of the empty room, took up a quill from the inkstand, and wrote more than a few words on it. Using a sander to dry the ink, she plucked up the parchment and folded it against the desk. Placing a stick of red wax into the burning flame of a candle, she sealed the parchment with a dab and a twist of the wax against the parchment. Waving it about, to cool the wax, she swept back to Derek and held it out. “You are expected in class this Monday. You have quite a bit to learn if you intend to stay married. It will cost you ten thousand.”

Derek choked. “
Ten thousand
? For what?”

Madame pursed her lips. “For a chance to save your marriage. After the amount you gave my butler, something tells me you can afford it. And as you can see—” She extended a hand toward their surroundings. “My school parlor could use some more furniture. My granddaughter would also like to go to Egypt. And I have
always
had very expensive taste in jewelry. I am not currently involved with any men who might normally pay the bills. So you will.”

Derek shifted his jaw. “I am not paying ten thousand pounds to be insulted.”

Clementine rose from her seat. Damn him. Even after everything she just shared and in front of a courtesan, no less, he still didn’t think their marriage was worth saving? “If you think I’m the only one creating the problem here, Derek, I’m about to re-educate you.” Marching over, she took hold of the sealed parchment and tucked it into her reticule. Facing Madame, she announced, “I’ll ensure he pays and attends this school. Because you have already proven your wisdom is worth investing in. We will invest in it.”

The French woman smiled and inclined her head. “
Merci
. Sadly, wisdom is acquired through one’s own stupidity. Which means…there is hope for him.” She pointed at him in warning. “Roll back your tongue and your pride when it matters most. It will help. Also…” She turned and walked toward the doorway. “I will return in a few moments. I must fetch a few things for your wife.” Once in the corridor, and halfway up the stairs out of sight, she called out, “
Lady Chartwell
?” There was a moment of silence. “I am in desperate need of a few items from the pleasure room. Where are the whips, shackles and ropes?”

Clementine cringed. She didn’t even want to know why the woman was asking.

Derek muttered something and stalked over to pick up his top hat, which was still lying on the floor. He tugged it on and angled it.

They said nothing to each other.

Minutes ticked by and the quick steps returned, coming down the stairs and the corridor. Madame de Maitenon swept back into the room, carrying a sizable red velvet satchel. She regally deposited it into Derek’s hands and announced, “When you are both ready to kneel to intimacy again, you, my lord, will open this satchel and allow yourself to be at the mercy of your wife. She cannot feel empowered in your relationship unless you give her the ultimate power of tying you down. If playful whipping is not to your taste, let her tie your arms and legs to the bedpost so she may explore domination. Whilst domination involves far more than that, you will keep it very simple: you will not be allowed to touch her or kiss her or do
anything
. She must and will conduct all of your intimacies for however long you are in my school.”

Clementine felt her face burn as she glanced at the satchel. “
All
?”

Derek shook the satchel, causing what sounded like shackles to chink. He rolled his eyes and shoved the satchel at Clementine. “Be a good friend and give it to Nasser.”

Clementine gasped and shoved it back at him. “Why not admit you’re downright scared of giving me the sort of control you have no trouble taking.”

He shoved it back. “I’m sorry, but I’m already paying ten thousand for a lecture.”

Clementine glared and tightened her hold on the satchel. It was obvious where this was going. And she trusted her friendship with Nasser enough to know he would help her. “Go to Nasser. Tell your driver to take you to 14 Park Place. Go. And when you’re done being an idiot, I’ll be at home waiting with the ropes.”

He paused.

Madame tapped at his arm. “You will learn how to kneel and she will learn how to stand. Let her stand.” Madame inclined her head. “I will see you on Monday, my lord. If you do not arrive, I will send Harold to your door. Rest assured, he makes Lord Brayton look like a mere goat.” She turned to leave.

Derek’s mouth opened but nothing came out.

Clementine quickly hurried after her. “Madame?”

The woman turned back. “
Oui
?”

Setting a hand to the side of her mouth and lowering her voice so Derek wouldn’t hear, Clementine asked, “What will he be learning in this school?”

“Everything a man thinks he already knows.”

“Which is what?”

“Their understanding of women both in and out of the bedchamber.”

Clementine let her hand fall away from the side of her mouth. “I will ensure he goes. Any last words of advice?”

Madame quirked a silver brow. “Learn how to showcase your love more. Some men need it more than others. This one clearly needs it. Hold his hand when he least expects it. Make him feel important. Also use your womanly intuition to herd him in the direction you wish your relationship to go. If you do not insist, it will never happen.”

Derek cleared his throat. “I can hear everything you two are saying.”

Showcasing her love at every turn was going to be awkward, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Derek. It was about
them
. Not caring about social etiquette, for she doubted it applied to a woman like this anyway, Clementine embraced her hard, letting the scent of mint wash over her senses. “Thank you.”

Madame pulled away, smiled and placed a soft hand against Clementine’s cheek. “Make him regret his words.”

Oh, she planned to. If Derek thought he was the only one who could chew spiced candy, he’d never met the girl who had shot a pistol, smashed vases over men’s heads, grabbed her reticule, crawled out of a window bleeding and then watched the New York authorities take over while lighting a cheroot on the street.

14 Park Place, early evening

Derek had circled the entire city of London twice trying to avoid calling on a man who would ultimately answer the one question that viciously clawed at his mind and heart. He decided he couldn’t avoid calling on the man forever.

So here he was.

The double mahogany doors leading into the lavish private quarters of His Royal Highness were swept open by two dark-skinned men dressed in identical flowing emerald-green garbs bounds by thick, red sashes around their waists.

The wigged butler in livery announced, “Viscount Banfield, Your Royal Highness.” The wigged butler moved backwards, head bent, until he exited through the doors.

Derek’s jaw tightened as he strode against the gleaming white marble that the oil lamps and candelabras illuminated. A line of servants departed the large lapis lazuli colored receiving room. The doors behind him closed, leaving Derek to address the prince alone.

He paused at seeing a very good-looking, dark-haired gentleman of deep olive skin tone. The man slowly rose from a chair to greet him, dressed in formal black attire, save a blue silk cravat and blue embroidered waistcoat that amplified the dark coat and trousers he wore. His jet-black hair was swept back with tonic and his square jaw had been shaven to perfection despite it already being evening.

Set on a walnut table between his chair and an empty one were several decanters of various liquors, two crystal glasses, and various hors d’oeuvres.

It was as if the man had been expecting him.

Nasser skimmed his appearance and gestured toward an empty seat beside him with a large hand. “Be seated,” he said in a heavy accent. “I was about to indulge in an evening repast.”

Women probably found that accent and refined demeanor attractive. Derek tried not to think about whether Clementine found this man attractive. He stalked over to the chair and sat.

Nasser lowered himself into his chair and crossed his right leg over his left, shifting toward him. Intense, black eyes met his gaze. “I am honored to finally meet you, Lord Banfield.” He reached out to the crystal decanter set between them, still holding his gaze, and lifted the stopper. With his other hand, he took up the decanter and poured the dark red liquor into each glass, before setting it back onto the small table and putting the stopper back onto the crystal.

Nasser took up his glass and lifted it to his lips. Taking a swallow, he offered, “Drink.”

He damn well needed it after the day he’d had. Taking up the glass that had been poured for him, Derek took a long swallow of the tangy, spicy but sweet liquor. He lowered it and glanced at the dark red liquor-like substance he was drinking. It was like his gingered hard candy. Only better. “What is this?”

Nasser searched his face. “It is burnt wine. It originates from Italy, but I had it altered to my own taste. Do you like it?”

“It’s tolerable,” Derek muttered. He drank some more.

“I am very glad to hear you find my favorite drink tolerable.”

They drank in silence.

Derek knew it would have been stupid of him to start fighting this man. He decided it was best to take a breath and calm down. He was still recovering from everything Clementine had said. She loved him. She said so. And if he was inclined to believe her, then why was he here? Maybe because he needed to better understand her through someone else. Someone who had become a part of her life.

When they were both finished with their wine, Nasser poured them each another glass.

They drank that. And the next one. And the next. By the fifth glass, Derek realized by the heat in his body and slight swaying of the room, he was already drunk. Which was hardly what he had come here to do.