Simply Voracious (10 page)

“I apologize, Delinsky. I didn’t mean to suggest either of you would act in a less than honorable way. Your situation just reminds me a little of my own.”

“Your own?” Con asked.

“I came back from military service in India to inherit a title I didn’t want, and to settle some old hurts with a former lover of mine. When I approached my old lover, he wanted nothing to do with me or my attempts to show him how much I cared about him.”

“Ah, I believe I’ve heard some of this story. Are you talking about the infamous Lord Minshom?”

“Yes, I am. When Blaize turned me down, I thought my life was over.” Thomas smiled. “But, in truth, things turned out very differently.”

“How so?” Con found himself leaning forward. “Did Minshom change his mind?”

“Not exactly. His wife changed it for him.”

“His wife?”

“She put Minshom in a position where he was able to have us both.”

“And she didn’t object?”

Thomas shrugged. “She loves him.”

“But . . . how?”

Thomas’s smile was wicked. “We all fuck each other.”

“And Minshom doesn’t mind?”

“Why would he? He loves his wife.”

Con shook his head. “Don’t you feel . . . jealous of each other? Jealous that she gets to share her life with him?”

Thomas gave a little shudder. “Minshom is an extremely difficult man to live with. I wouldn’t be in Jane’s shoes for anything. I just appreciate sharing their bed every so often.”

“And that is truly enough for you?”

“Yes.” Thomas grinned. “I have other lovers as well, but the Minshoms hold a very special place in my affections. I don’t intend to marry or settle down, so they are the closest I will ever come to having a family.”

“Why not marry? You are an earl.”

Thomas’s smile died. “And I have no desire to continue my father’s line. I hate everything the man stood for.”

Con nodded. “I don’t intend to marry again either. My wife died in the occupation of Moscow by the French.”

“My condolences, Delinsky.” Thomas opened a box of cigarillos and offered one to Constantine, who accepted. He used the nearest candle flame to light the tip and blew a cloud of smoke.

“Thank you, but it was a long time ago.”

“Obviously not long enough if you can’t contemplate replacing her.”

“It’s not quite that simple. I have no proof of my wife’s death. I’m not sure I want to stir up all that grief for myself or her family again by trying to make things official.”

“I can understand that, and I might even be able to help. I have some acquaintances at the Russian embassy who might be able to make some discreet inquiries as to what needs to be done.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m still not sure I need to sort anything out. I really don’t intend to marry again.”

“You prefer men, then?”

Con smiled. “Not really. I’ve only fucked three men in my life, compared with countless women.”

“Is that because you really prefer women, or because you choose to conform to what society expects of you?”

Con tapped the ash of his cigarillo on to the plate. “I chose my lovers because I desire them. It is as simple as that. My first lovers were a married couple. I suppose they dictated my tastes and I appreciate variety.”

Thomas reached across the table and put his hand over Con’s. “I’m sure you’ve already worked out that I would be quite willing to compensate you for Paul’s loss, and that I wouldn’t object to being used in the slightest.”

Con turned his hand over and squeezed Thomas’s fingers. “I appreciate the offer, and I wish I could accept it. It would be much easier if I could simply fuck my way out of this.”

“You care for him, don’t you?”

“It seems that I do.” Con raised his eyes to meet Thomas’s all-too-understanding gaze. “But I will come about. I promise you that.” He took a deep breath. “I appreciate your companionship more than I can tell you.”

“Not enough to fuck me, though,” Thomas joked. He ground out the remains of his cigarillo and finished his brandy. “Are you ready for bed, my friend? Your own bed, obviously.”

“I think I am.” Con rose to his feet. “I expect we’ll see a notice in the paper soon to announce their official betrothal and wedding.”

“I wonder why there is all this urgency?” Thomas mused. He walked to the door and held it open for Con. He patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay until the whole matter is settled.”

“Thank you,” Con said. “I think that would be for the best. Good night, Wesley.”

He took a candle from the hall table and headed up the oak staircase, his shadow dancing along the paneled walls. He hadn’t wanted to tell Wesley that he didn’t particularly care to find out the details of his wife’s death. He’d heard a few unkind rumors about her behavior after the French had occupied the city, and he didn’t really want to find out if they were true. Surely it was better for her to rest in peace?

He was so damn sick of gossip and rumor; it seemed to follow him around like a ball and chain. He couldn’t bear to return to London and hear all the talk about Paul and his bride-to-be and pretend he didn’t care. He simply couldn’t bear it.

He walked past Thomas’s suite and almost wanted to stop and change his mind. He could easily go inside and wait for Thomas to come to bed. He could lose himself in the oblivion of fucking, the feel of another body, the most basic of needs both shared and expressed in the most basic and ancient of ways.

But it wouldn’t be Paul. Con couldn’t quite believe that the man had affected him so completely, but it appeared that he had. At least Con knew that he’d move on. Even gossip eventually died. He’d survived a scandal before and he’d damn well do it again.

Lucky sat at her desk and looked out of her bedroom window that faced the front of the square. It was dark now and still raining, and she’d already had to light extra candles to illuminate the room. She nibbled on her pen as she contemplated yet again the letter she was trying to write to Jeremy.

It was hard to concentrate because her mind kept going back to her earlier conversation with Paul and his startling offer. She hadn’t been that surprised by his revelation about his love for Gabriel; in fact, she’d been expecting it. But she had been surprised that he wanted to
show
her what he meant as well.

Did she want to know? Her only experience of the physical side of love hadn’t exactly inspired her to seek out more. The thought that Paul wouldn’t want that from her was strangely liberating, although he’d said he would bed her if she wanted it.... She shuddered at the very thought.

She considered her letter to Jeremy again. Could she put him off until she had made a decision about Paul? Her hand slid over her stomach. She hadn’t bled for over a month now, which wasn’t unusual for her. After what Madame Helene had told her about how quickly a man could give a woman a child, she was a little concerned. In truth, she was terrified.

She’d asked Emily to pass a note to Madame about when a pregnancy would become visible, and Helene had replied that it might take months. Lucky glanced down at her flat stomach. It was almost four weeks since Jeremy had forced himself on her, and far too early to know anything yet. Unfortunately Helene had also cautioned her that the gossips would notice if she waited too long and delivered a baby five months after the wedding.

She’d decided to allow herself another two weeks. Two weeks to take Paul up on his scandalous offer to visit a notorious pleasure house, and two weeks to placate Jeremy or agree to marry him. She stared down at her letter again. Perhaps that was all she needed to say, that she would give him her answer in a fortnight. She’d sweeten the blow by stuffing the envelope with her newly received quarterly allowance. Jeremy was always short of ready cash. She was certain that would both mollify him and persuade him to leave her alone, at least until he ran out of money.

She finished her letter and set it aside for Milly, her maid, to secretly deliver the next day. Her second letter, to Paul, was far easier to write and just as short. All she needed to do was agree to his shocking suggestion and wait to see exactly what he would do.

9

“M
iss Ross.” Paul stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen of the pleasure house and stared at the unexpected visitor. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He also hadn’t expected to find her nose-to-nose with Ambrose, arguing over what looked like a novel.

“Good evening, Paul. I was just asking Ambrose for his opinion about this book I was reading.” Emily jumped up so quickly that Ambrose had to reach up and steady her. “Is it late? I think I’m supposed to be going to a ball or something.”

“It’s almost nine,” Ambrose said quietly. “Would you like me to escort you home, Miss Emily?”

Emily smiled at Ambrose, her color high, and briefly touched his cheek. “Oh, no, you are far too busy, and Seamus Kelly is waiting for me outside.”

Ambrose bowed. “As you wish, Miss Ross. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” Emily groaned before switching her attention to Paul. “Aren’t you supposed to be escorting Lucky to the same ball?” Her eyes narrowed. “And by the way, I’m still not sure what is going on with this engagement, but I will find out.”

Paul smiled innocently at her. “Lucky is indisposed this evening, so I came to see my old friend Ambrose. I don’t see him much now that I no longer participate in the games upstairs.”

For a moment, Emily looked mutinous. “I wish I was allowed to participate in those games.”

“You aren’t old enough, Miss Ross,” Ambrose said.

“Why not? Lisette was allowed up there when she was my age.”

“Lisette was brought up quite differently from you.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Emily pouted. “Sometimes I wish Helene had brought me up instead of my own mother.
She
was afraid of her own shadow.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything to that, and Paul decided to hold his tongue too.

“All right, I’ll go.” Emily picked up her gloves and Ambrose draped her cloak around her shoulders. She looked up into his face. “You can keep the book. We can discuss it next time I’m here.”

“You’re not supposed to be here, Miss Ross,” Ambrose replied. “You know that.”

“And I don’t care what my father says. I have as much right to be here as everyone else in the family. Richard has even been allowed to become a member!”

Paul walked over to the back door and opened it. The large bulk of Seamus Kelly leaned against the back wall, and Paul winked at him. “The lady is ready to be escorted home, Mr. Kelly.”

Seamus straightened up. “At your service, Miss Ross.”

Emily swept out of the kitchen, ignoring both Ambrose and Paul, and smiled up at Seamus. “Thank you.”

Paul shut the door and turned to face Ambrose, who stood by the table looking down at the book. There was an expression on his face that Paul found hard to interpret.

“Emily Ross is a handful,” Paul remarked as he took a seat and waited for Ambrose to join him.

“She has a point though, doesn’t she? Everyone else in her family gets to do what they want here, except her.”

“Would you like to see her up in the pleasure house, Ambrose?”

“I would like . . .” Ambrose met Paul’s gaze and stopped speaking. “What I would like is immaterial. It is not my place to judge the Delornay-Ross family.”

Paul studied Ambrose intently. “Are you fond of Emily, my friend?”

“Of course I’m fond of her.” Ambrose fidgeted with the cover of the book. “I’ve known her for years, and her family has been very good to me.”

“When I said ‘fond,’ perhaps I should have been more specific. You’re in love with the girl, aren’t you?”

Ambrose’s gaze flew to Paul’s. “Don’t be absurd.”

“I don’t think I am being absurd.” Paul searched his friend’s face. “But all’s well, as it appears that she is quite ‘fond’ of you too.”

Ambrose abruptly rose. “As I said, she has known me for years. She sees me as some kind of brother.”

“No, I don’t think she does. I think she comes here to see you.” Paul shook his head. “Why didn’t I notice it before?”

“Because it is complete nonsense!” Ambrose snapped. “Now, why
are
you here tonight?”

Paul opened his eyes wide. He’d never seen Ambrose close to losing his temper before. Was it worth pursuing a subject that his friend obviously found so uncomfortable? He of all people knew that unrequited love was a delicate subject at the best of times, even between good friends. He decided that in this case discretion was the better part of valor.

“I’m here to see my affianced bride.”

Ambrose stared at him. “Lady Lucinda Haymore, the person you just told Miss Emily was unwell tonight?”

Paul shrugged. “That is the story Lucky has told her mother, so I wanted to be consistent.”

“Why are you bringing her
here
of all places, and does Mr. Delornay know?”

“He does. I can’t say he was happy about it, but he agreed with my reasoning eventually.” Paul gestured at the nearest seat. “Will you sit down? I’m getting a crick in my neck with you towering over me like that.”

Ambrose complied with unusually ill grace.

“Thank you. I’m bringing Lucky here because I want her to see me as I really am.”

“Naked and fucking anyone who asks you?”

Paul winced. “That’s a little harsh, my friend.”

“But that’s my point. That isn’t all there is to you. You are so much more than that.” Ambrose hesitated. “Are you trying to drive her away?”

“No!”

“Then why focus on showing her this part of you?”

“Because she deserves to know what she is marrying. I want her to understand about sex in all its many facets so that she can make an informed decision.”

Ambrose sighed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. In fact, it doesn’t even
sound
like something you would say. Have you been talking to Madame Helene?”

“She helped me come to a decision, yes, but I do want to be honest with Lucky.”

“With all due respect, Paul, I was here when your future wife was brought in. And despite what Emily thinks, I don’t believe Lady Lucinda was simply kissed in the garden and tore her dress.”