An Introduction to Pleasure (28 page)

His friend tilted his head. “I-I don’t understand.”

Andrew sighed. “It’s a long story. Let me tell it to you.”

Lysandra took a moment to check her reflection in the mirror in the hallway before she went to Andrew’s office. She hadn’t expected to be called to see him after he claimed he had work to take care of in the morning. But the fact that he had demanded she join him made her think that perhaps a passionate little interlude was in order.

She smoothed her hair and her gown with a smile, then continued up the hallway to knock on his door.

“Enter,” came his voice, but she frowned at the tone of it. Very serious.

She walked inside with a smile meant just for him, but skidded to a stop. Two men were inside waiting for her. One was Andrew, but the other man who stood up from the seats before the fire and turned to look at her was one she didn’t recognize. He was devilishly handsome, though, and he looked her up and down as if appraising a sweet treat he was thinking of buying.

She shifted in sudden discomfort.

“I apologize, I didn’t realize you had company,” she said, then hastily added, “my lord.”

Andrew motioned her inside with a pinched expression that seemed as uncomfortable as she, herself, felt. “I wanted you to meet my friend, Lysandra. Come in.”

She stared at him for a moment. Although he had taken her to the opera in London and introduced her to his brother, Andrew had made it very clear that she was to be kept separate from most aspects of his life. In all truth, she had always thought he had few friends, spurning the ones he’d had before Rebecca’s death and never bothering to make new ones.

“Please,” he encouraged quietly.

She reached behind her to shut the door and stepped forward to the two men.

“This is Lysandra Keates,” he said to the stranger. “And Lysandra, may I present the Marquis of Weatherfield.”

She swallowed as the Marquis held out a strong, ungloved hand.

“Miss Keates,” he said softly. “Callis has been telling me a great deal about you. I’m more than pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Th-thank you, my lord,” she said, taking the hand he had extended. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles that warmed her hand and felt entirely inappropriate, though not unpleasant.

She shot a glance at Andrew. His jaw was tight and a look of grim determination lined his face.

“Won’t you join us, Lysandra?” he asked, motioning to the chair he had vacated.

“Of course,” she said, sitting.

Weatherfield took the same place he had had before, in the chair beside hers, but to her surprise, Andrew took one halfway across the room, folded his arms and simply watched them.

“Andrew tells me you are a new convert to opera,” Weatherfield said, snagging her gaze with his. It was very focused. Very dark. She could well imagine many a lady had lost herself in it.

She nodded. “Y-yes. I
did
enjoy the show we saw while in London. I can see why it is such a popular diversion.”

“There is a great deal of passion in opera,” Weatherfield said softly. “Or at least I have always believed that.”

Lysandra sent another look Andrew’s way. Was another man supposed to talk to her of something so intimate as the subject of passion? It seemed quite bold to do so with her lover sitting not three feet away, watching them. But Andrew said nothing. He did nothing. He just continued to stare with that sour look on his face.

“I-I can see how that point of view would be valid, my lord,” she said.

The other man smiled, but she could see that he was searching her face, examining her on a level that went beyond mere interest in a friend’s companion. But why?

“You are a very pretty woman,” he mused.

Everything became clear in that moment. She jerked her gaze to Andrew, but he wasn’t looking at them anymore. His was staring at his hands, clenched in his lap. His hangdog expression told her everything she wanted to know. He had brought his friend here to…to…declare her as open season for a protector. Weatherfield was being groomed for that position and she had been invited to the room to be examined like cattle at a market.

She swallowed hard, then straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She would not allow this humiliation to break her.

“Thank you, my lord. I appreciate the compliment.” She turned toward Andrew. “Might I see you on the terrace for a moment, Lord Callis?”

Andrew jerked his head up in surprise. “I—”

She turned back to Weatherfield. “You will excuse us, just for a moment, won’t you, my lord? I have a sudden need to discuss something of importance with Callis.”

Both Weatherfield’s eyebrows lifted, but then he chuckled. “Of course, Lysandra. I will wait here patiently for your return.”

She got up, snapped her skirts into place and marched past Andrew to the doors out to the terrace. Without waiting for him, she stormed onto the wide stone patio and then turned to watch him follow her. He shut the door and crossed to her.

“What is it?”

“You are selling me off to your friend?” she snapped.

He frowned. “Mind your tone, Lysandra, you’ll bring the house down.”

“That isn’t a damn answer, Andrew,” she said, though she did temper her voice. No use letting the other man hear everything she was about to say. “Did you bring this man here in order to offer me up, like you are some kind of…of…mistress matchmaker? Like Vivien? Because I hadn’t realized that was a business you were interested in pursuing in your spare time.”

Andrew flinched but didn’t stop looking at her. “Lysandra, we both know this affair is swiftly coming to an end. I simply want to make sure you are taken care of when our time together is done.”

She stepped forward, her hands trembling, her lips trembling. “Why?”

He looked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Why do you feel this sudden drive to foist me off on a new man?” she asked, her voice rising again, despite her attempts to control its level.

He shook his head. “I’m not foisting you off. We both know that I cannot provide what you need.” He turned his face. “What you deserve.”

Lysandra pursed her lips, but remained silent, too afraid to speak for fear she would reveal far, far too much.

“And I worry about you and your future,” Andrew continued. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time now. I want to be sure you are with a man who will treat you well, who will take care of you and your mother. If that is all I can give you, I want to make sure I do.”

She fisted her hands at her sides and tried not to feel the shattering of her heart. Impossible. It ached in every part of her. She had been a foolish mistress and fallen in love with this temporary protector. Now she suffered for it as keenly as if he had stabbed her in the chest without regard for the lifeblood that would spill out on the stone terrace.

“I see,” she said, her tone curiously flat when she felt so much high emotion on the subject. “And you think this man, Weatherfield, would be the right man for me.”

He shrugged. “As much as he is considered a rake, he is also a decent man. He will think of your comfort and your…your pleasure.”

Lysandra squeezed her eyes shut. Were they truly having this conversation? Was this truly what their affair had come to? Or was this all a nightmare?

But when she opened her eyes she was still standing on his terrace, looking at a man who seemed sick with the idea of what he was proposing. However, he made no effort to back away from it.

She nodded. Then this was his choice. Very well.

“I suppose I should thank you for going to all this trouble to ensure my comfort and my
pleasure
.” She sighed. “But I think if this is the path we are now taking, I should move out of your chamber into a separate one of my own, as you offered when I first arrived at Rutholm Park.”

He tensed. “And what if I want you in my bed?”

She stared at him, filled with disbelief and even more humiliation. “You would continue to take me, even while this other man decides if he wants to…to woo me to him?”

Andrew swallowed. “It isn’t entirely uncommon.”

“How comforting,” Lysandra said, her voice as cold as an icy dawn. “Well, then you can call on me and I will fulfill whatever duties I still owe to you. Will that suit you?”

He folded his arms. “Lysandra—”

“I should go back inside,” she said, turning away from him.

“Why?” he asked, his voice cracking.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “If I’m to determine whether I want to put myself in this man’s bed for months, perhaps even years, I should put myself to the task. I assume he will only be here for a short time.”

With that, she strode back into the office and the man who awaited her there. And left behind the one she loved, the one who refused to keep her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The supper had seemed like a benign enough idea when Andrew suggested it. But he had underestimated Weatherfield’s single-mindedness when it came to his interest in a mistress, and Lysandra’s focus when she put her mind to a task was equal to the Marquis’. Now the two sat close together at the small table, talking as if Andrew were not even in the room at all.

“Four horses?” Lysandra burst out with laughter at some silly story Weatherfield had been telling. Andrew hadn’t been listening, but he doubted it deserved so much mirth.

“Yes, and I swear that the poor groom must have run five miles that day trying to catch them.” Weatherfield chuckled.

“Miles,” Lysandra said, wiping her eyes with her napkin. “That poor man!”

Andrew tensed. She had called Weatherfield by his given name, an intimacy that meant a great deal to men of his station who were usually addressed by their title or simply “my lord”. Anything more was a privilege.

He fisted his napkin in his hand and shoved back from the table with a screech of his chair. “I think perhaps we should retire to the parlor for drinks,” he said with a forced smile that he was certain resembled a grimace more than anything else.

The other two glanced at him like they had forgotten he was even in the room.

“I suppose we have been finished with our meal for some time,” Weatherfield laughed. “I had quite lost track thanks to my charming companion.”

Lysandra blushed like a schoolgirl, and Andrew’s stomach turned. Thank God he hadn’t eaten much of that supper to begin with or it would be roiling most unpleasantly.

“Yes, well…” he began, moving around the table toward Lysandra.

“May I escort you?” Miles asked her before Andrew could reach her side.

Andrew shook his head. This was quite enough. “I think I shall take her,” he snapped.

Lysandra stared at him, her face pinched with anger and frustration, though he wasn’t certain if that was because she so desperately wanted to hold on to Weatherfield’s arm or that she was still angry at Andrew. He found himself wishing for the second as he reached out his elbow toward her.

She sent Weatherfield a slightly apologetic glance, then slipped her hand into the crook of Andrew’s elbow and let him lead her from the dining room with Weatherfield trailing behind them at a polite distance.

“Seems as though you are no longer so hesitant about the idea of a new protector,” Andrew said, his tone tight with emotion.

She refused to look at him as they entered the parlor.

“Just remember that this was
your
idea, Andrew. And who am I to question my betters? After all, once a mistress loses her protector, she must find another. This is what you wish me to do, for you no longer want me.” She shrugged as he let him go. “So please keep your judgmental tone to yourself.”

Andrew heard the pain in her voice as she turned on her heel and crossed back to Weatherfield at the fire. He had hurt her, as he always seemed to hurt her, but Lysandra was a resourceful woman. It was all but programmed in her to make the best of the worst situations. Something he admired except for this moment when making the best seemed to mean turning all her considerable wiles on Weatherfield. It was evident the other man was already quite taken with her.

And that meant she would be in Miles’s bed, and out of Andrew’s life, in record time.

He poured himself a drink and downed half of it before he turned away from the poorboy and found Weatherfield and Lysandra both staring at him. His friend cleared his throat and said, “Miss Keates, it’s a lovely night. What do you think about taking a stroll out on the terrace with me to enjoy the moon?”

Lysandra hesitated a fraction, which made Andrew’s heart swell with pleasure. At least she was still a little bit torn about what was happening. But the high emotion faded the moment she smiled.

“Yes, I think that would be lovely.” She glanced at Andrew. “As long as Lord Callis doesn’t mind that we are abandoning him for a short time.”

Andrew bit his lip. He could refuse. But that would effectively end Weatherfield’s pursuit of Lysandra. A short-term win for him, a long-term loss for her. As much as it pained him, he found himself nodding.

“Y-yes,” he choked. “A fine idea, indeed.”