Carnal Pleasures (7 page)

“Where in the world did you purchase that gown?” the countess commented. “It’s disgraceful. It has no style, no flair whatsoever. It will never catch a man’s eye.”

“My clothes are meant to keep me warm in winter and cool in summer. I have no wish to catch a man’s eye,” Dulcie replied tartly. Then she remembered not be so mouthy and tempered her reply. “But I believe I will purchase a few new things while I am in London. For that, I will be glad of your help, Mother. I am ignorant of what is in fashion and would rather not look the frumpy, country mouse while I am here.”

“Oh, I shall expect you to spend the Season here, my dear girl, until I procure you a suitable husband.”

Oh Lord, there she goes again with those false endearments and her talk about marriage.

“I already
explained,
Mother,” Dulcie said, emphasizing the word, “that I don’t wish to marry anyone. Not yet.”

“Now is the time, when you are young, not later, Dulcina. We shall get it done between now and the end of June. Take my word on it.”

The countess’s head swiveled when the doors to the parlor again opened. “Ah, good, here’s Griff.” She glanced at her stepdaughter and back to her temporary nephew. “By the way, Dulcina, allow me to present my nephew, Griffith Spencer. Griff, my stepdaughter, Dulcina Trayhern. Now let’s all go in to supper.”

* * * *

The three returned to the small parlor after finishing supper. The butler whispered to Dulcie that her dog had been taken up to her rooms and out of sight of the countess.

“Griff,” the countess was saying, “You are welcome to something other than tea if you wish. There is port and brandy in the decanters and glasses on the sideboard.”

“Thank you,
Aunt
Agina. I shall indulge myself in a glass of spirits. French brandy, is it?”

Agina’s tweezed eyebrows rose only fractionally. Griff knew she hated the sound of it when her
faux
nephew addressed her with that horrid appellation. He had done so to mock their unlover-like agreement.

Agina poured in silence, the tea tray resting upon a low-slung, Sheraton table. The countess and her stepdaughter chose identical blue, cushioned settees facing each other. Griff poured himself a glass of brandy and positioned himself in front of the marble fireplace, leaning an elbow on the mantel and listened to the women’s conversation.

He watched without speaking as the women conversed. Like daggers drawn, Griff had noticed the strained tension arcing between the women early on and realized that neither was greatly enamored of the other.

“Griff and I will keep you company, since it is your first night here, Dulcina,” the countess was saying, chattering about gossip and the Season’s upcoming festivities. “I usually attend everything that is going on during the Season. Staying home is such a crashing bore. I don’t suppose you play cards, do you, Dulcina?”

“No. I’ve never learned,” Dulcie replied, raising the teacup to her lips for another sip.

Griff’s eyes focused on the girl’s lips as she drew the tip of a pink tongue over the bottom lip and licked the errant drop of tea from one corner. A miniscule tightening of his groin muscles surprised him.

“I have made several appointments for you, Dulcina,” the countess said. “I can’t send you out in the world to meet friends and acquaintances of the
ton
until you are properly dressed. Therefore, my dear, you must stay inside for the time being. Perhaps you will find something to amuse yourself while I am away from here. However, I am happy you graced us with your presence…even if you did bring that foul animal.”

“I wish to do some shopping while I’m here, Mother.”

“Hmm,” the countess paused. “You should be ready to go out into Society in another week, but your shopping trips must wait. You’re to remain inside Eberley House, until you have a suitable wardrobe. Later, you may take a footman with you to the bazaars on Regent Street and elsewhere.”

The countess continued, “I hope you have more fashion taste than I noticed in your wardrobe,” she said, the words acid-tinted. “Your father left you a tidy allowance, Dulcina. When you are finally well-dressed and wearing stylish gowns and fripperies, it shouldn’t be too difficult to snare a husband and bring him up to snuff.”

Agina raised an inquiring eyebrow at her young
cicisbeo,
angling a sidewise glance at him, although she spoke to Dulcie
.
“Perhaps you will find something, or perhaps, someone, to amuse you while I am otherwise engaged, Dulcina.” Agina smiled.

“I’m sure my nephew will be glad to entertain you.”

Griff nodded. “Glad to do so,
Aunt
Agina,” he retorted, another glimmer of mischief emphasizing the age difference between nephew and aunt.

The countess’s blue eyes radiated with a subtle glare when Griff repeated his sly innuendo. However, she suppressed her ire and smiled instead as she threw Griff another pointed look.

“My
dear
nephew may even take the time to teach you how to flirt,” she said.

Dulcie quickly replied, “It isn’t necessary, Mother. I already told you…”

“Yes, it is, dear. You desperately need help. I told your father that ages ago. You are pudding-faced
and
untutored in the proper ways of the
ton.
It is time you buckled yourself to a suitable husband. I shall do what I can to prettify you, but you must behave pleasantly at all times…and, above all, make yourself available.”

Griff sipped his liquor slowly, scrutinizing the face and figure of the young debutante who had little to say at the supper table. The girl was nothing out of the ordinary to Griff’s eyes. She was of medium height with a typical set of youthful features. She might be pretty if she did something with the rest of her appearance. As it was, she was dreadfully attired for an aristocrat. That much he noticed immediately. He had met her gaze earlier, behind tiny spectacles perched on her nose. The openness and candor shining from those immense, brown eyes of hers, magnified by the lenses, caused him some interest. They seemed unusually large, with an upward tilt to their almond shape. Surrounded as they were with thick, dark lashes, they needed no cosmetics to make them outstanding. He thought her eyes were her best feature.

And yes, her aura of innocence also intrigued him, almost contradicted his libertine leanings. He had been used to experienced women in his life so far—like the countess. Immediately, Griff felt a tightening in his chest, recalling what he had been ordered to do if he were to save his future from total disaster.

Griff gazed more closely at Dulcie as she sipped her tea in the rosy glow of the firelight. Her unblemished skin was tinted a golden shade. She must spend days outside, not hiding from the sun’s tanning rays like most aristocratic ladies. He took note of the shape of her mouth, too. Full and wide, with a curious appeal that pleased him for some reason. Her lower lip was generous in comparison to the curved, upper one. Those lips looked ripe with promise. He was certain the girl never used anything to tint her lips that luscious, strawberry hue. She must have been born that way.

He noticed, too, that the girl had a coltish way of moving and walking when she first entered the parlor. Her legs must be long and strong in proportion to her other attributes. When it came time to ravish her, he wanted those legs wrapped around his hips in bed. She was young and curvaceous, not overblown. He would have no problem fucking the stepdaughter while showing her the pleasures and intricacies of submitting to him. Perhaps seducing Lady Dulcina wasn’t going to be the chore he originally thought. Not a chore at all.

Emptying his brandy snifter, Griff still wondered why and when the animosity between the women occurred. He might feel for the girl because of the way the countess treated her, but he had his own problems to worry about.

Chapter Seven

Dulcie was up early, as was her wont while living at Bonne Vista. Knowing that Simon needed to relieve himself, she washed her face, dressed quickly, attached his leash to his collar, and they tiptoed out of her room. The dog walked calmly by her side. Their footsteps were soundless as they approached the front door. A footman waited in the foyer even as daylight brightened the east-facing windows.

“Good morning.” She greeted the servant with a smile. “Are you Joshua? The man who walked Simon for me last evening?”

He nodded and reached for Simon’s leash.

“Thank you, no. I’m going to take him out, so you needn’t bother.”

“As you wish, milady. Best be careful, though. The grass is wet with dew and may be slippery.”

The grass was indeed wet, and she was glad she had donned her walking shoes instead of the shabby dress slippers she wore last evening. Simon snuffled and sniffed along the edge of the tiny lawn. He lifted a leg several times, and finally squatted behind a large bush. After he finished his business, they walked toward the mews behind the town house. Dulcie heard horses whinnying and hooves stomping in the stables. They’re anxious to be fed, she thought.

She kept walking until she came upon a tiny garden tucked behind the mansion. Flowering trees were starting to sprout shiny new leaves. The ground cover crept over the gravel paths while sturdy, perennial daffodils brightened the garden with yellow buds. Spring was here, and she wished to be at home, in Surrey. She was homesick already. But no, her stepmother demanded her presence in Town for the best part of the spring.

After Simon’s brief exercise, Dulcie turned back toward the house. A woman stuck her head out of a back entry and sloshed water from a bucket. “Oh my! Ye scared the wits outta me,” the maid blurted, clutching a wet hand against a generous bosom covered by a crisp, white apron over a gray gown. She eyed Simon and said, “And the black beast, m’lady, is he vicious?”

Dulcie giggled. “No. He’s very tame,” she replied with a wide grin.

“Ye won’t be bringin’ him in here, now will ye?” the servant asked timidly. “Yer ladyship don’t…”

“My stepmother knows I have a dog with me. I promised to keep him out of her sight, so you needn’t worry.” Dulcie leaned forward to peek through the doorway. “Do you mind if I bring him into the kitchen? He needs something to drink, and perhaps, I can beg something of a treat from Cook.”

Within a quarter hour, Dulcie was ensconced at the servants’ breakfast table in the kitchen, eating a second scone with fresh butter, and finishing a cup of hot chocolate. Simon lay next to her chomping on a marrowbone. Dulcie had taught him to beg as a pup. The maids all giggled when Simon gentlemanly offered a paw for a few kitchen scraps. He was soon awarded a bigger treat.

When Dulcie finished eating, she asked one of the maids to show her around the ground floor so she could get her bearings. The maid also pointed out the servants’ stairs leading up to the higher floors. When she and Simon hurried up them and stuck their noses out into the second storey hallway, they hesitated.

Spotting Dulcie and Simon, two fluffy cats were poised to scurry away. Striped fur on their backs was sticking up along their spines, their ears were alert, their yellow eyes wide in animalistic fear. One of the cats hissed loud in warning.

“Don’t move, Simon,” Dulcie ordered the dog. “Let them know you won’t hurt them.” Simon dropped to his haunches, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. One of the felines sprinted down the hallway, heading away from danger, but the other one, more courageous and perhaps, curious, held its ground and watched Simon with wary eyes.

Dulcie squatted and reached out a coaxing hand to the large tabby. “Come, puss, Simon won’t torment you. He’s a very friendly dog.”

Simon didn’t make a move to chase the frightened cat but lay down flat, instead, and started panting.

Dulcie whispered encouragement to the cat. It seemed curious and took a few steps toward them.

Simon wasn’t even looking at the feline. He rested his muzzle on his paws and blinked.

“Good boy,” Dulcie told him, as she patted his head.

The cat drew closer.

When Simon raised his head again, the two animals gently touched noses. Simon sat up abruptly, a bit more animated. The cat turned tail, but didn’t rush away, as if certain it wouldn’t be mauled. It made its way along the hallway in the same direction the other feline had taken.

Dulcie smiled and clucked to Simon. The two hurried to Dulcie’s bedchamber. She shut the door and pressed her back against it.

“You were a very good, puppy,” she whispered. “Those were the Countess’s house cats. However, we made it here safe and sound without her catching us out there with them, otherwise she could have screeched her lungs out if she thought you would hurt her babies.” She giggled down at Simon.

“Woof,” Simon replied. She hushed him with a raised finger against her lips. Having had his walk, filled his stomach, and feeling quite content, he plopped down in front of the fireplace, put his nose between his paws, eyes closed, and snoozed.

Marnie, the little maid who had attended Dulcie yesterday, knocked on the door to see if Dulcie needed assistance. “What time does my stepmother rise in the morning?” Dulcie asked as she opened the door as the girl came in to straighten the rumpled bed.

“Oh, Lady Trayhern—yer stepmother, I mean—she won’t be gettin’ up until ten of the clock unless she has somethin’ unusual to do. She takes her breakfast in her room, dresses afterwards. ‘Tis Trent, her abigail, who caters to her and does her hair before she comes out.” The girl hesitated. “I’m not a real lady’s maid like her, ye know,” Marnie explained half-heartedly.

Dulcie turned and asked, “Would you like to be my abigail?” She remembered how nicely the girl had coiffed her hair. “I know I’ll need lots of help.”

“Oh, I’d love to, Miss…er, Lady Dulcina. Truly I would.”

“I’ll ask permission of my stepmother when I see her. Meanwhile, I’d really like a soak in a warm bath. I want to investigate more of the house after that.”

* * * *

Dulcie was headed back to her room after her tour of the upper floors when she saw the tall, tanned Mr. Spencer approaching her up the stairs from the foyer below. He must have just returned from breakfast. He paused at the top of one of the staircases and waited for her to join him.