9781618858467ASinfulEducationPimentel (8 page)

“And
that, love, is how a real man pleasures a woman.” He wrapped an arm around her
and pulled her close. “Mind you, there are more sinful ways to explore, but we
shall see what the future holds for us first before I indulge you, my sweet.”

For
now, all she cared about was being in the arms of this sweet man her brother
called a friend. If anyone found out about this mischief, she surely would be
locked away. And this riveting man would be called out. She would never let
anything happen to him.

* * * *

Charles
was out of his mind for indulging the whims of his host’s sister. Hell, Nathaniel
would have his
arse
strung up for being such an
ungrateful guest. But Emily tormented every fiber of his being, to the point of
being uncomfortable in his own clothing. The damned gel made him want to romp
around nude all day and demonstrate how wicked he really could be with her. But
Emily needed a husband more than a tarnished reputation.

The
only possible way to rectify their carelessness was to get married. Married.

Now
the devil had truly done it. He could not simply walk away and pretend
this
never happened. The thought of moving forward without Emily was simply no
longer an option. In one night, their passionate embrace had shown him that
there was still life after mistakes.

As
to the
bethrothal
, it had not yet been announced. Now
was the time to persuade her to marry him, and somehow keep her meddlesome
mother out of his plans. Nevertheless, it was clear the Duke of Downsbury would
not bow out without a fight.

Anger
simmered slowly beneath the surface of his thoughts. Her mother and the duke
would never agree to dissolve any existing marriage contract between the two,
whilst Emily was left in the dark.
However, if they knew of our
scandalous night together, what would they think then?
She
would be whisked away. So far out of reach, not even Nathaniel would be able to
see her. And he, who knows? But Emily was worth the risk. She would be his countess,
one way or another.

He awoke
shortly after daybreak to an empty bed and a newfound appreciation for the
unfamiliar emotion of loneliness. He wondered if anyone had caught her leaving
his room, or if they’d even recognize how disheveled her hair had been by the
time they were done.
Lord, have mercy on us all.

Visiting
Stoughton Hall had been a mistake. He would never be able to sit at dinner with
the
marquess
again, not without his thoughts
wandering back to last night. Or to how truly beautiful Emily had been with
him.

He
rose from the bed and strode toward the washstand. Tossing on a change of
clothes, Avonlea left his chambers. If he stayed on another day, it would be
ruinous for all. Stalking down the hall, he found two servants whispering in a
corner. His stomach flipped for a moment before he stepped off the staircase.
They
could not possibly know, or they would have dragged me out of bed.

Following
the direction of servants leaving the kitchens to the dining hall, he walked, taking
his time. The last thing he desired was to enter the room, whilst the others
were mid-conversation.

The
dowager countess’ shrill voice protested from the other room. “I am sure there
is something wrong with this tea. Duncan, where in damnation are you!”

He walked
in and took the nearest seat available to his old school friend.

“Avonlea,
how good of you to join us this morning. You must have slept like the dead. We
sent a servant more than an hour ago to wake you, and you did not even stir.”

“I
slept well, Lord Thompson, thank you for your hospitality. I hope you did not
stall your breakfast as a direct result.”

“Not
at all. We do not stand much on formality here, though my mother would otherwise
object.”

Emily
smiled at him. A blush swept across the apple of her cheeks and down her neck.
Her bright blue eyes beckoned to him once again. To embrace her, to touch, to
scandalize. Thoughts of their evening made the blood rush to his cock.

The dowager
countess swatted her. “Quit making a fool of yourself, Emily. Lord Avonlea,
have you no manners? The gel is not available for the plucking. Show some
decency, you ungrateful clod!”

“Mother!”
Nathaniel shouted from the end of the table. “You will not address my house
guest as such.”

“Well,
if you were not too busy admiring the marchioness’s scandalously exposed bosom,
you would have noticed
your guest
was making suggestive
glances at your sister. Whom, do I need to remind everyone, is soon to be engaged
to the Duke of Downsbury. She’s to be a duchess and deserves—demands—to be
respected as such.

“If
no one in this God forsaken house can give it, then I will have her removed
immediately and brought to the duke’s estate until they’re married. I will not
have her debauched in any way, shape, or form.”
Yes, she does demand to
be respected, but she’ll be no duchess. That you can be sure of, Lady Thompson.

Both
the marchioness and Emily threw their napkins and rose from the table.

“I
have had quite enough of the insults, Nathaniel. If your mother cannot learn to
be civil, then I will be in our chamber until she decides to depart.”

Emily
did not say a word as she disappeared from the dining hall.

“Well,
you’ve gone and done it now, you wretched woman. Be sure that you are gone from
this house when I return downstairs. I will not have you upsetting everyone. Or
have you forgotten you are a guest in this house, as well? You may have been
lady of the house once upon a lifetime ago, but my marchioness will not be
disgraced and insulted in her own home. Dining with us is a privilege you’ll
have to earn again, Mother.”

Nathaniel
stormed out the door, leaving Charles with a woman who detested him as much as
he did her.

The
countess growled and gritted her teeth. For the briefest of moments, the sour
woman reminded him of a rabid dog.

There
was a reason Avonlea admired his friend. The man had conviction and was not
afraid to call anyone out on their misgivings. He gave everyone the benefit of
the doubt before passing judgment. And best of all, he loved his wife like no
other man.

Charles
doubted he would fall to such an affliction, but somehow envied Nathaniel’s position.
What would it be like for him and Emily if they could marry? Would she love him
the same way Isabel did Nathaniel? And would they have as harmonious a home?

Not
once over these last few years had he considered the thought of marrying. It was
not until last year did he notice how much of beautiful young woman Emily had turned
out to be, despite her antics. A house full of children would benefit from a
mother who knew how to have fun, but also knew when they were getting into
mischief.

He had
not much experience in playing with other children as a child, unless his
mother took him to tea parties and such. His father, who had passed untimely
due to illness before he turned the age of ten and three, did not do much with
him either. The man had spent hours
pouring
over his
accounts and on social calls with the other gents in his circle.

On
occasion, he was invited to learn how to play cards whenever his family
entertained. Sadly, those were the only interactions with his parents he
remembered.

Their
love for each other had been evident in everything they did and said. Not once
had he heard rumors of his father straying, and every time his mother attended
society events, his father was right beside her. They had always made a united
appearance, and much to the ton’s dismay, they could never find a scandal to
touch his family name.

“Duncan,
my good man. Breakfast was excellent. It has been a long time since I have eaten
here, and I am pleased to say it still tastes as great as I remember it. Can
you please have my horse readied? I will be leaving at once.”

“Yes,
my lord.”

He went
to stand, but the countess smacked her palm on the table and glared daggers at
him. “Do be seated, Lord Avonlea. I am not quite finished with you yet.”

Good
grief, how could she not be finished when he was quite done with her and her
idiocy? “My lady, not to be rude, but I have important appointments I must
keep.”

“And
I do not give two figs about your appointments. I will only speak my peace
once, and the rest will be up to you to decide whether you care or not. You
will never be good enough for Emily. She was born to be a duchess, and if you
so much as compromise her position in society, there will not be a hovel large
enough to hide you. I will find you and ensure your body is never recovered.
Now, do what you will with the information, but I have it on good authority,
this will be the last time you set your eyes upon my Emily before she becomes a
duchess.”

“If you
are quite done, I will not stand to threats by you or the duke.”

The gravity
of the situation was becoming quite apparent. The dowager countess was hell
bent on elevating her status, and she was using her naïve daughter to do so.
Emily would not be safe—not until she was his.

The revelation rippled through his mind. Charles was
furious and shocked. Emily would be his. And no matter the cost, he had to expose
the duke for the fraud he truly was.

Chapter Six

The Duke of
Downsbury paced in his office, shooting his man of affairs a glance. He paused
at a sideboard to pour himself a hefty dose of port. “Has there been any word
from my solicitor?”

“No, sir,
other than his original missive advising Signore
Trovatelli
was at the dock, waiting for his next shipment.”

The duke
stifled a groan. He had not expected to be engaged so soon, and he most
certainly had hoped another girl would have been ready by now to send off to
the Italian pig. Were it not for their previous arrangement, and the
possibility of others knowing of their dealings, he would have had the
foreigner anchored to the bottom of the Thames.

He swallowed
back his entire drink, belched, and returned to his desk. Reaching for a sheet
of vellum, he scribed.

Be
prepared to send our visitor packing. And do be sure this one will keep him
busy for a while. My future bride will not be ready for some time, and I do not
want him returning until we send for him.

Be
cautious with the delivery as well. Absolute discretion in your next meeting
must be key. Neither one of us is prepared to deal with a scandal of this
magnitude.

The duke
sealed his message with wax, and held it out. “See that he receives this
immediately. I am growing terribly impatient with his inability to meet
deadlines.”

“Right away,
sir.”

The quiet, middle-aged
servant hobbled out of the room to see the missive’s delivery. Were it not for
his dreadful fall from a horse last year, the duke would have sent the man out
on many more duties, as he trusted the man with his life. But fate, as it were,
was determined to hinder his success in any way possible.

What he
needed was time, and he was running out of it. The quicker he had Emily’s
dowry, the sooner he would send her packing and buy the Italian out of his own
business. He did not like the idea of working for anyone, let alone some foreigner.

Richard
swallowed hard. Fate had gifted him with his wife’s tragic accident. She would
never learn of his dealings with the chief prosecutor, nor would she ever
discover that they were on the verge of losing their estates.

Until this
deal with the Italian was finished, he had to keep up appearances. Once he
owned all sides of the business, his debts would be paid, and he could return
to sampling some of the tons talented ladies.

Thompson’s
sister would be a problem, though. Considering she lacked experience, his
threshold for patience would be tested. Perhaps he would try the same method
that he introduced Cordelia too. He remembered her resistance at first all too
well.

“Come my dear, I have a friend I would like
you to meet.”

“Richard, it is late, and it is highly
improper to entertain at this hour.”

“My dear, you will learn very fast that
nothing is improper in my house. Now, come. That is an order.”

She walked toward him warily. Stopping dead
center in the hall, she appeared to be listening for which direction a
conversation between a man and woman were coming from. When they reached the
room, Cordelia questioned her entrance with a glare.

Downbury
waved his hand for her to enter. The moment
she opened the door, her shriek rang throughout the house. What was supposed to
be a discreet liaison with their guests would surely now be speculated by his
staff.

“Come now dear, let us not pretend that the
thought of the four of us is not exciting.” He took her hand, pressing it
against his cock. “I promise darling, once you have tried, you will never
object to entertaining more than myself.”

His duchess broke out into tears. Winston
nodded at the Cyprian to approach and console his
naiive
wife. At first glance, the embrace had been meant out of friendship, but when
the woman slipped Cordelia’s gown down and began to kiss her, he had been most
impressed. He loved watching two women caressing each other. Their delicate
kisses, embraces, and touching countered the hard fuck they would earn.

The duke had
such high hopes for his duchess. Though, when she failed to produce an heir,
what else was he supposed to do? Bedding her became boring, too
predicable
, and her moods irritated him so. His affairs
were meant to serve as a distraction for what waited for him when he returned
home.

When he
first learned of her own dalliances, he desired nothing more than to call out each
and every one of the lords that dared touch his property. Then, much to his chagrin,
he discovered her condition. The wench had to be dealt with. He could not have
his reputation ruined, which was why her exile to the country would have been
perfect. Needless to say, things worked themselves out.

* * * *

Charles leaned
back at his chair at White’s, carefully scrutinizing the way his somber, gray-eyed
friend stared at amber liquid swirling around in his glass. “The brandy is
meant to be drunk, or have you lost the taste to drown your sorrows?”

His friend
smirked, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “I need to move on, Avonlea.
This,” he held up his drink, “will not bring her back from her watery grave.”

Then, Wycliffe
set it down and stared at him. “Why are we really here? I am sure you did not
want to meet me to hear about my problems. Though, I do owe you an apology of
sorts and my thanks. You did the right thing in dragging me out of Martine’s
establishment.”

An uneasy feeling
settled in Avonlea’s gut. He had thought of that night many times over and how his
friend spoke of the duke. If only he had any knowledge of how troublesome the duke
was, he might be able to prove to Lady Thompson that marrying her daughter to his
grace was a mistake.

“No thanks is
needed, my friend. That is what friends do. And even in the lowest of times, to
pull a man up and carry him home is required upon occasion. I do have
questions, but not related to your private business with the duchess.”

Wycliffe
raised his eyebrows then lifted the glass to take a swig. “Carry on then.”

“You
mentioned that night that the duke meant to do something to her, but instead
sent her to the country. What did he intend to do to her, and do you think he’s
likely to try it again?”

“Good grief,
man, I thought you said it was not directly about Cordelia. Christ.” He leaned
forward and gripped the glass ‘til his knuckles blanched. “I have it on good
authority the
arse
was going to put her on the next
ship to the continent and sell her to an Italian brothel.

“When her
grace confided in me that he threatened to ship her off, I discreetly went to
see the port master, who owed me a boon. The gent confirmed, for a
parsel
of change, there were arrangements in place to have
her shipped to the continent where an Italian man would collect her on the
shores of Versailles. The manner of business was not clear, but the port master
did say it was not the first time.”

Blood rushed
from Avonlea’s face and a chill swept through his body as if he had crawled out
of the Thames. “Do you mean to tell me his grace has made those arrangements
before Cordelia?” he whispered, clinging to the table.

“Yes. And I
doubt he will stop. It is no secret the man is in debt. And a desperate man
will go to many lengths to get what he wants.”

Charles closed
his eyes.
How many women have gone
missing over the years?
He could not think of anyone. Yet, if necessary, he
could pose the question to the local magistrate. At this point, any information
to help break the engagement would be helpful.

“You are
absolutely positive the port master identified the Duke of Downsbury as the one
making the transactions?”

“How many
times do I have to say yes, Avonlea? The duke is indeed up to his neck in a
scandal all his own, and one can imagine what he’s thinking of doing to the
innocent he plans on marrying. Did you know Cordelia came with her own inheritance,
and that should she perish before Richard, all the funds would go to him? What
do you think now? It all sounds too suspicious, doesn’t it? And in addition,
everyone in London knows the young Miss Thompson comes with a dowry that
includes her inheritance.”

Charles put
up his hand and refused to hear anymore. He could barely see straight. Fury
raged through him. If he did not get his temper in control, he was likely to do
something he might regret rather than find a means to rescue Emily before she
was sent overseas.

Wycliffe
pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “I know that look, Avonlea. It was the
same one you gave when you found out what Downsbury had done to the
marquess
.”

“Is it now?
This is the look of wanting to a kill a man, yet knowing you can’t within the
confines of our laws. Pity we do not live in more barbaric times, or I would
take immense pleasure in torturing the bastard any way I can.”

“What you need,
my friend, is another drink, maybe two.” Wycliffe flagged down a server and had
another brought over. “This round is on me. Now that you’ve consoled me, it is
my turn to aid you in any way I can.”

Avonlea doubted
his friend could help him, but the thought gave him comfort, knowing the option
was there.

* * * *

“Mama, was
it truly necessary to hide me in the middle of London?”

“Yes, my
dear, it was. If that dreaded earl interferes one more time, I will be the
least of his concerns.”

Emily, for
the life of her, could not understand why her mother despised the earl. His
lordship had been nothing but kind to her and had shown her mother the utmost
respect, until now. And what on earth did she mean she was the least of his
worries? What kind of plan was the wretched woman up to?

Emily sat at
the writing table in the cozy morning room of Lady Talbot’s townhouse, and
began scrawling a note to her beloved brother. Someone had to know her mother
was up to mischief, and if anyone could stop her, Nathaniel could. She desired
he visit her at once, as she doubted she had be permitted to leave without a
proper chaperone.

A servant
stopped, placing some tea and biscuits in front of her. “Will that be all,
miss?”

“Not quite.
See that this is sent immediately and, of course, without Mama’s attention,
please.”

“Certainly,
ma’am.”

There. Now
that she had sent word to her brother, she had time to contemplate how to get
out of this arrangement with the duke. But every time she thought of him, her
thoughts ended up in her evening with Lord Avonlea. His lordship had a wicked
tongue to put it plainly. But
an oh
so devilish charm,
and talented fingers, and…

Her mother
dashed into the room, ending the visual she was getting of Avonlea and his
impeccable male form.

“My dear, I
have it on good authority we will be dining with his grace tonight. Come along,
we mustn’t tarry. We have some items we must pick up in order to complete your
look for the evening.”

“But, Mama,
we just passed through town yesterday, and only now you want to pick up
things?”

“I will not
have you looking so paltry and meager. I have had a few more gowns made up and,
to clarify, you’ll be returning again before the week is out to be fitted for
your wedding dress and trousseau.”

Emily sighed
inwardly. What she would not do to be hidden in a nunnery at this moment.
Things were getting far too out of hand, and there was no end in sight she
could foresee.

From the
moment they returned to town, came home, and changed her gown, Emily could not
find a moment of peace. Her dear mama prattled on endlessly. Whether she was to
be a duchess or not—the dowager failed to comprehend—the wealth all belonged to
her future husband.

That her
mother thought that she would be elevated was beyond her scope of understanding.
What she did understand was that, the moment a woman is married, she becomes
the property of the husband. Losing any voice they may have once had, and no
say in how money is spent.

Emily
clenched her fists at her side the moment she stepped out of the duke’s
carriage. She now understood why his palatial manor was held in high regard. Columns,
six of them, graced the façade, much like the paintings of the ancient Greek
and Roman palaces. The servants lined up outside the door, where they saw to
his entrance. “Your grace,” Emily and her mother said in unison as they
curtsied.

“Come along,
ladies. I am sure you will find the food and service stupendous and far more
superior than what you are accustomed to. Lady Thompson, if you would kindly
follow Myles, I would like to take a moment alone with Emily and show her
around. She might as well become familiar with her future.”

“Why, of
course, your grace,” her mother said, following the butler.

His grace
extended his hand, offering it to her, and inclined his head. “Allow me to show
you around, my little innocent.”

She shivered.
If he only knew the mischief she and Avonlea had gotten into last evening, he would
not think of her in that light. In fact, perhaps telling his grace that their
engagement is a mistake would help. Yet,
a niggle
of
doubt shadowed her thoughts. She was positive the duke would consider it a
relief she had had some exposure to such carnal delights.

When she
ascended the final steps of the west wing, the lavishly decorated apartments
immediately drew her attention.
Just
where exactly is he taking me?
They stopped at a set of double doors
guarded by a footman, who then opened them.