9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel (4 page)

There
was a time in his life where the sight of women dressed as such would have
excited him, but the mere spectacle of them made him flaccid as the day he was
born. He only wanted one woman, and she happened to be the redheaded miss that
would land him in a heap of trouble, and irritate his mother so.

A
serving girl handed him a tankard, and another, the one topless, led him into a
parlor already buzzing with activity.

“My
dear, while I am thankful for the
drink, that
is not
why I am here. Where is your mistress? I wish to speak with her.”

She
blushed and stared at him blankly. “She is with a client, sir.”

“Then
interrupt her, please. I have need to speak with her.”

The
wench bowed and looked displeased at his words. “If you would not mind waiting
here then. I doubt the parlor would suit the mood you are in.”

A
few minutes later, the girl returned with a very annoyed and disheveled Madame
Martine. Her corset had been done up roughly, so that even more of her generous
cleavage stuck out, and her flaxen hair was mussed. Apparently, whatever client
she was entertaining at that moment was not in the mood either. “You requested
my presence, my lord?”

Her
hands wandered aimlessly down his chest and straight toward the band of his
pants. “Leave it be, Martine. I came here for Wycliffe. Now, where is he?”

“Surely,
you do not mean the useless and drunken clod I just left?”

“Considering
he left White’s in that condition, then I imagine we speak of the same gent.”

“Ugh.
Take him out of here. I no longer want him to visit this establishment.”

“And
why is that?”

She
scowled and made an unladylike gesture of disgust. “That man is not right in
the head. Have you any idea what he likes to do? None of my girls take any
interest in being abused in such a manner.”

“Other
than drink, Madame, I assure you, I have no interest in learning about his past
time with the ladies. In or out of the bed. What he does in his own time is of
his own affair. Now, if I may.”

“He’s
right through there, in Daisy’s room.” She pointed to the room she had vacated.
“I will not issue a refund, either. He’s been more trouble than he’s worth. See
that he is removed, immediately. I have other clients who would appreciate our
services this evening.”

Avonlea
sighed, imagining just how awful he had treated Martine. He reached into his
pockets and pulled out another note. “For your trouble, Madame.”

He
stalked into the room and found Wycliffe asleep at the edge of the bed, hanging
onto a loosely tied neck cloth at the bedpost.

What have you gotten yourself into now, Wycliffe?

For someone intent on trying to move forward, he was doing a smashing
job of ruining his reputation. The foolish man would eventually have all of
London talking if he did not sober up.

Avonlea bent down to loosen Wycliffe’s necktie from the bedpost and
tucked it into his pocket. He shook the earl until his arms flailed from the
disturbance. “Come on, old chap, It has time to catch some air.”

From the dead weight of Wycliffe, came gurgling and then talking, as if
he were dreaming. “She did not want to be bound. She hit me with her fan…”

“Come on, Wycliffe. Up we go.”
There is hope for you, yet.
He heaved the man up and walked him over to a chair. The earl opened
his eyes as Avonlea splashed some water from a washbasin onto his face.

Wycliffe waved his hands to keep him from tossing more water and
growled. “Enough of that! I am awake, man!”

Good thing, too. What would the daily say,
come morning,
if they
read about him carrying the earl out of the bawdy house? His dear aunt would
have a fit of the vapors.
Just what I need.

* * * *

Emily
pouted from her chaise. Her mother had supported the match since the Duke of
Downsbury announced his interest in her at Stoughton Hall, all but nine months
previously. “But, Mama, this is utter madness. His grace has not even proposed,
and you are already planning a wedding?”

“Yes,
dear, I am planning an
extravagent
wedding. After
all, my only daughter is going to be a duchess.”

A duchess who will no doubt be terrible at all that will be
expected.
Releasing an exasperated groan, Emily pulled
herself up and righted her gown. “Mama, if you had half a mind, you would know,
just as the rest of the ton does, that the duke has only just returned from the
continent. In addition to your lunacy, his marriage was recently annulled.”

Frankly,
Emily was surprised and disturbed that Lady Cordelia Waite’s death had not been
investigated further. The duke’s lack of emotion when his wife died certainly
perplexed not only her, but many others. If she married him, would he treat her
in the same regard, or would he be as doting as her brother and his marchioness?

To be as happy as Nathaniel and Isabel. Maybe I will be so
lucky to find the same thing
. “Mama, I would like to
go for a ride today. I hope you did not have anything planned?”

Her
mother gave her a bemused glance and tapped her nimble fingers on a silver
platter. “Actually, I did have plans for us, my dear. I am expecting some
deliveries, and we need time to get you ready.”

What on earth is she talking about?
“Mama, what exactly are you referring to?”

“There
is a formal dinner and ball being held in your honor tonight.”

“Mama,
I do not understand why, though.”

“The
duke, of course. This is our way of a short, but formal courtship.”

The
truth slapped her in the face. How could anyone so shallow and empty want to
court her?

Their
portly butler entered the parlor and bowed. “My lady, this just arrived for the
youngest Lady Thompson.”

Emily
eyed the large parcel and hesitantly took the package from him. “I wonder who it
is from.” She unwrapped the red velvet ribbon, lifted the lid, and gasped.
“Good heavens!”

Sitting
in the nearest chair, she extracted the loveliest gown of silk and muslin in
the prettiest pink she had ever seen. The sudden need to weep overwhelmed her. “It
is…beautiful, Mama!”

She
pressed the dress to her chest as the remainder of the delicate fabric swept
across the floor. Its coloring complimented her pale flesh and would go
perfectly with the drop pearl necklace her papa had given her a year prior to
his passing. Perhaps the ball was not so much a bad idea. If the duke had gone
to such lengths to ensure she dressed properly, it could only be a sign of
future thoughtfulness.

“What
time is the ball tonight?”

“His
grace informed me seven o’clock sharp. Dear, it appears in your frazzled state,
you dropped a card.”

Butterflies
fluttered about in her belly, and she shook from excitement. Emily bent down to
pick up the vellum.

My dearest Emily,
I apologize for not having consulted you before picking out the gown. I was
assured by the
modiste
that it is very much the
fashion, and I am profoundly confident that you will look ravishing.

She
should have been content with his gift, but was ravishing a word to use on a
girl who is new to society?
He could have at least tried to woo me with
something poetic, but a duke really doesn’t have time for that, does he? He is
too busy with managing his duchy. Nevertheless, how could he say something so
crass? So insensitive…

Emily
looked over at the time, wondering how much of it she had wasted on trying to
decipher what the duke had meant by his note.
Perfect.
She
had time to compose herself and check the state of her hair.
What will
he be like?

Emily
sincerely hoped her brother and sister in-law would make an appearance, yet
doubted the
marquess
would be inclined to have his
wife in the same room with the duke. She doubted the duke would even invite her
brother after their trouble.

Never
in her twenty years had she ever considered herself marriage material, much
less a duchess. Her belly sank with fear. She did not know the first thing
about running a household, nor had she been permitted to attend such formal
parties. If she had to accompany the duke on matters of business, what would be
the expectations? Her head swam and drowned with possible scenarios and terrible
outcomes.

Emily
lifted the garment from the box and passed it to their butler. “Alfred, please
have my maid prepare a bath, and I would like some tea and biscuits brought up.
There is too much to do and such little time to prepare for this ball. I doubt I
will have time to dine before we leave.”

Alfred
bowed then quickly turned and left the parlor.
Tonight can’t come soon
enough
.

* * * *

The
Earl of Bridgeton cringed at the sight of young ladies eyeing him. They
fluttered their fans and giggled as he passed, their chaperones scowling at
him. Normalcy. So this was how the season would begin. His inheritance made him
such a high prize. Unfortunately, what the ton did not know is that marriage
was the furthest thing from his mind.
Though that will never stop Mother
from encouraging this farce.

Emily
had invaded his thoughts these last few days, as well as her impending
betrothal to that scathing
arse
Downsbury
.
Since that nasty business with her brother, the thought of the duke laying his
hands on that innocent, yet devilish chit incited his fury. From the moment he had
caught her, swooning, in the
marquess’s
parlor, her
softness had appealed to him in the most primal way. Simply put, she made his
cock twitch.

Her
youthful and creamy complexion was most desirable, and the fact that she was
new to the seasons of London meant she was not corrupted by its indecency. The
one thing he detested the most was an over-confident girl who possessed the
intelligence of a fly. A mule had more sensibility than half the women in front
of him.

Out
of the corner of his eye, he spied Emily standing at the duke’s side. He painfully
watched as the cad’s hand slid down from the small of her back to caress her
bottom. Her eyes widened with shock, and Charles observed her polite smile as
she swatted Downsbury’s hand away.

Fury
rushed through his veins. The duke did not deserve her.

Then,
Downsbury leaned in and whispered something that must have revolted her.

Emily’s
lips pursed, and she shivered. Avonlea was about to rescue the chit and ask her
for a dance, but the duke cleared his throat and raised a glass that he took
from a servant. “If I may have everyone’s attention, I would like to make a
toast.”

The
guests surrounding him sighed and shushed
the other attendees.

“To Lady
Emily Thompson.”

Emily
delivered a shaky smile and curtsied. Yet once everyone finished cheering, her smile
curved into frown. She slipped her hands into the folds of her gown, he
imagined to conceal their trembling.

Time to rescue the poor girl. Hopefully, she’s had some dancing
lessons.

Avonlea
crossed the floor and stopped before the newly engaged couple. “Your grace, my
lady.” He bowed. “I was wondering if you would mind if I stole your lovely companion
for a dance, your
grace?
”

The
duke simply slipped Emily’s hand into his. “She could use the practice, Lord
Avonlea. Go ahead, my dear, I have some plans to discuss anyway.”

Charles
led the way to the dance floor and bowed as the musicians commenced the waltz. Her
hand rested on his upper arm, and her gaze never left his. His heart
momentarily stopped, giving him pause. Something in the air around him ignited
a passion and desire for the young woman. And to think, their dance would be short
lived.

“Do
you want to talk about what the duke said that had you so offended?” he asked.