An Introduction to Pleasure (32 page)

Actually, she could guess it. He had come here thinking he had to protect his son against her, and realized there was nothing to protect. And the idea broke her heart all the more.

She sniffed back impending tears and shook her head.

“No,” she said out loud. “I have cried far more than enough. Tonight I
will
go to Vivien’s party and I
will
find a new protector. I may not be able to control anything else in this situation, but I can control how hard I try to make a future for myself and my mother.” She sighed as she fiddled with the hem of her gown. “Without Andrew.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Andrew shifted his weight back and forth as he waited for the arrival of his host and was startled when he realized he was behaving just as he’d seen boxers in the underground do for years. He was preparing for battle.

And that was exactly what this was. The first skirmish in a war for Lysandra. One he intended to win or perhaps lose everything trying.

The door opened, and he turned to glare as a man he’d known nearly all his life entered. The Earl of Culpepper was a tall man, intimidating in his finely tailored attire and with an air of controlled sophistication about him.

But Andrew no longer saw that when he looked at the man. He no longer saw a figure he respected. He saw only a person who had hurt Lysandra. Humiliated her. Made it his mission to destroy her, just because he could. Just because she had dared to lift her chin and say no to an offer most women couldn’t refuse.

In short, Andrew despised the man to his very core.

“Callis,” Culpepper said with a thin smile. “What a pleasure to see you. I thought you had gone back to the country after your quarterly visit.”

“I had,” Andrew said, carefully controlling his tone as best he could. “But I think you knew that, rather than simply ‘thought’ it, considering the company I took with me.”

Culpepper’s smile faltered just a fraction and his eyes grew dark with the beginnings of anger. “Ah. So you have come here not for a friendly visit, but with something more specific in mind.”

“Yes.”

Culpepper took a seat in one of the chairs and waved for Andrew to take the other. He ignored the request and remained standing.

“I admit, I had heard you had struck up some kind of affair with my former employee. I was horrified to think that that wench had taken advantage of you. But now I have also heard that she is no longer living in a home you provide. So it seems you have dodged quite the dose of heartache.”

Andrew ground his teeth. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Culpepper flinched, and Andrew stifled an ugly smile. Good, now he had his attention.

“I beg your pardon?” Culpepper asked, rising to his feet.

“Sit down,” Andrew said, moving on him. “I highly suggest it.”

Culpepper hesitated, and Andrew could see he was debating the merits of refusing Andrew’s “suggestion”. But in the end, Andrew was younger and stronger, and Culpepper sat back down and folded his arms in petulant anger.

“Explain yourself,” Culpepper snapped.

Andrew leaned in closer. “I know what you have been saying about Lysandra. The lies you have been spreading.”

Culpepper shrugged. “They aren’t lies. The strumpet seduced me and then demanded I give her exorbitant amounts of money to keep her from spreading tales to my wife and anyone else in Society who would listen.”

Andrew could scarcely see past his rage. “Ah, you see, I know you’re lying. Not only do I know Lysandra, but when she came to me, she was a virgin.”

Culpepper hesitated and Andrew almost laughed. The bastard could hardly imagine that a woman so beneath him could be virtuous. Or innocent. Or anything but a toy for his pleasure.

“Well, I never said we made love,” he offered weakly.

“You never touched her, because when you cornered her with your demands, she refused you. And that angered you so deeply that you not only sacked her without reference, but you made it your mission to destroy her.” Andrew placed a hand on either arm of Culpepper’s chair and leaned in closer. “Isn’t that right?”

There was a very long moment of silence as Culpepper struggled with an answer. Andrew held his gaze the entire time, not allowing him to weasel into a denial.

“Yes,” Culpepper said on a scarce whisper. “But what right did she have to say no? We’re men of power, and she’s nothing but a servant.”

“She has every right to determine what and who she is,” Andrew growled.

He pushed away from Culpepper’s chair, mostly because his emotions were so raw and wild that he feared he might actually kill this man if he was so close for too much longer.

“I am about to tell you what is going to happen,” Andrew said. “And you are going to bloody well listen and hear me. You are going to stop talking about Lysandra. If her name crosses your lips anywhere, anytime, I will destroy you in every way that is possible. Do you understand?”

“That whore has you under her spell,” Culpepper sneered as he leapt from the chair, as if he’d found his courage. “She must be a hell of a fuck, or why else would you defend her?”

Andrew stormed on him, caught him by the throat and smashed him against the wall with all his might. Culpepper’s legs dangled and he sucked at air.

“She’s not a whore. If I have it my way, she will be my wife and I will protect her with every fiber of my being. Hurting her will be very unhealthy for you.”

He dropped Culpepper and the older man staggered to stay on his feet as Andrew walked away from him.

“Your wife?” he repeated, his voice hoarse from the damage to his throat. “Are you serious? You’re going to bring that…that
person
into our circles? No. I won’t accept that. I’ll do whatever I please and make sure she is never accepted by anyone of good Society.”

Andrew stepped forward to charge a second time, but before he could the door between the parlor they were currently in and the one next to it slid open to reveal Culpepper’s wife. Lady Culpepper was willowy, and she glided into the room with the dignity of a queen even though her cheeks flamed red and her eyes snapped with anger and humiliation.

“My dear,” Culpepper choked as he stared at the adjoining doors. “I did not realize you were in the next chamber.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said, cold as a frozen winter. “But I could hear every word you two said. And all it did was verify what I have long suspected about why we’ve lost so many good servants over the years. Including Lysandra, who I actually liked a great deal.”

She shot Andrew a look, but he couldn’t read her intentions.

“You may have the title, my dear,” she said to her husband softly. “But the money comes from
my
family and a good deal of it remains in
my
control. So I will add my own threat to the one of Lord Callis: if you attack this girl, in private or in public, I will do something about it. And I have the capability to do so. As for her acceptance…” She turned to Andrew with a sad expression. “I think you know it will be difficult for her. But I will certainly try to make her transition into Society as easy as possible if you truly intend to marry her.”

Andrew stared at her. He had barely ever interacted with Lady Culpepper, but here she was, offering to help Lysandra. In that moment, she became one of his favorite people.

“I do, if she’ll overlook my many faults and take my hand,” he said softly.

She smiled and waved him toward the door. “It seems you have someplace to be.” She glared at her husband who was still shifting, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish out of water. “I have this situation under control, I assure you.”

Andrew bowed toward her, then strode past Culpepper without hesitating and toward the door. But as he moved into the foyer, he skidded to a stop. His father stood there, staring at him.

“I heard you,” he said without preamble.

Andrew shook his head. “Apparently Culpepper needs to invest in thicker walls. Why are you here?”

His father shifted. “I saw the girl today. Miss Keates.”

That stopped any movement Andrew had been making. He stared at his father. “Where?”

“I looked for her at the place you put her and when I realized she was with Weatherfield, I pursued her to the home he let for her.”

Andrew rubbed his face. This was it. Any chance he had with Lysandra had to be dashed if his father had gotten hold of her. The amount of damage he could have done might very well be irreversible.

“What did you do?” he whispered.

His father shrugged. “I went there fully intending to pay her off to leave you be. To make sure that she wouldn’t take advantage of you. But what I found when I met her was something quite different from my expectations based on the…well, apparently the lies Culpepper told me.”

Andrew tilted his head. “So you did hear everything.”

His father nodded. “But it was when I told her that you were wrecked, moping about since your return to London that I realized something.”

Andrew flinched. That wasn’t exactly how he wanted Lysandra to know that he needed her. “What did you realize?”

“As I heard the words come out of my mouth, I recognized that you must care for this woman, very deeply, to be so hurt by losing her.” His father sighed. “And I never thought you would or could care for anyone ever again after you lost Rebecca. This woman gave you a gift, a gift of emotion. Of
living
again, not just looking for a way to die faster. And I suddenly appreciated that a great deal.”

Andrew stared in utter shock at his father. “I see.”

“I may seem too proper for you, but the truth is that I almost lost you two and a half years ago, and I hated that moment, that feeling.” His father shook his head. “I’m not certain I approve of the plans I overheard in the parlor. That you plan to marry this woman. But in truth, I would rather see you chose to live and be happy than see you proper and alone and desperate. So I will not interfere. I will accept her. Because…” His father shifted and Andrew saw his utter discomfort. “I do love you, boy.”

Andrew blinked. His father hadn’t said such an intimate thing since he was a child. He knew it, of course, despite his father’s propensity toward propriety over emotion, Andrew had never doubted his father’s love, but hearing it meant something. Knowing his father was in his corner in this war meant a great deal more.

“Thank you,” he said, clapping his father on the back. “Thank you.”

His father shook his head. “I think you have someplace to go.”

“Yes.” Andrew grew sober. “Weatherfield’s house to try to convince Lysandra to end her affair with him.”

His father cocked his head. “Don’t you know? After I met with her, I had three of my best men do some research. They quickly discovered that Lysandra has not entered into an affair with Weatherfield. But I do believe that mistress woman…Vivien Manning, I think her name is, will be presenting her tonight at a soiree.”

Andrew’s heart leapt and sank in the same moment. Leapt at the thought that Lysandra had never taken her relationship with his friend so far. And sank because if she was going to Vivien’s, it meant she continued to seek a permanent protector.

“Then I’d best go now. Before it’s too late.”

His father smiled. “Don’t forget, son, it’s never truly too late. Good luck.”

Andrew smiled as he departed the house and bounded to his carriage below. Luck he would need.

Lysandra’s body was standing in the ballroom at Vivien Manning’s home, but her heart wasn’t in this place at all. It wasn’t that the gathering was bad. She had imagined so much when she thought of coming here for a ball and to look for a protector. But the music was good, the punch much stronger than in the few gatherings she had attended or served at in the upper class, and the company was friendly.

Yes, there were some shocking displays of passion in the hallway and on the stair and sounds of them coming from parlor after parlor, but Lysandra could see they were displays enjoyed by both parties, so she could look the other way with a blush and a tingle in her pussy that told her she would have plenty of images to pleasure herself by for weeks to come.

As for the company…it was also pleasant enough. Several gentlemen had approached her for conversation, indicating their interest in her if she was interested in return. None were horrible. Many were actually very handsome men with good humor.

Only none of them were Andrew, and that was the central problem. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t focus, she couldn’t begin to imagine starting an affair with anyone else.

“Stupid girl,” she muttered.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say stupid.”

She turned to find Vivien approaching. Her friend slipped a hand about her waist and squeezed. “What can I do to make this easier, for I can see it is tearing you apart?”

Lysandra sighed. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who is more interested in your well-being than your lovely bosom, my dear.” Vivien laughed. “So in other words, none of the men will have even noticed your mood.”

Lysandra laughed, though the comment made her shift with discomfort. The idea that these men were judging her on her bosom and didn’t give a damn about anything above it was not a particularly comforting one.