DisobediencebyDesign (16 page)

Joseph surveyed the sympathetic expressions of the members
gathered at the Merchants and Industry Club. Arthur was either admirable or
daft to have called an evening meeting of investors. He needed to grieve. Henny
had been dead and buried for less than a week.

As the men entered the club room Arthur shook hands and
accepted condolences but once everyone was settled he slumped into the curves
of a leather chair and proceeded to drink too much brandy. Luckily Geoffrey was
there to facilitate and answer questions, assuring the investors that indeed
the scheme was proceeding as planned. Joseph did all he could to deflect
scrutiny of Arthur’s behavior—exhibiting new plans and drawings, explaining
technical details, telling toned-down stories of the American Wild West. Amidst
the grins he received a handful of compliments on his sartorial choices, a few
exclamations of delight on his accent and one offer of club nomination.

Meanwhile Arthur remained seated and silent, looking dapper
and tipsy.

“Can you take him home?” Geoffrey asked. “He’s looking more
and more beleaguered.”

Joseph offered a twisted smile at the diplomatic assessment
of Arthur’s state. “Can you handle questions about Indians and San Francisco?”

“Sometimes they wear clothes and there aren’t enough women?”

Joseph chuckled. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Arthur was not reluctant to go home. Once deposited in his
foyer he headed straight for the library instead of his bed. He poured a
snifter of brandy then held forth the decanter. “You?”

“Arthur, do you think you should have more?”

He downed his drink. “No. A Christian man is a temperate
man.” He poured two glasses, offering one to Joseph. “Of course I stopped being
a Christian man once I lost my wife to the devil.”

Joseph took the proffered snifter. Arthur had told him
everything about Henny and Royston past and present, details that just
solidified Joseph’s own belief that the man was pure evil.

He took a swig of his brandy. “Look, Arthur, the meeting
went well. I’ll see Geoffrey tomorrow to get further assessment. But right now
you need to get to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” Arthur snorted. “I am.”

He took the glass from Arthur’s hand. “I’m going to take you
to your room and see that you are properly tucked in for the night.”

“Okay.” Arthur bit his lower lip as he smiled. His American
accent was terrible.

He clung dramatically as Joseph hauled him up the stairs.

“You have your own legs, my lord,” Joseph teased.

“Yes but yours are so much stronger than mine at the moment.”

Once in his bedroom Arthur stripped off his jacket and
unbuttoned his waistcoat. He eyed Joseph with a raised brow, his lips curled in
a sly smile. “Are you going to watch me undress?”

He hadn’t considered it but the idea suddenly intrigued him.
“Do you want me to?”

Arthur stepped forward until he was toe to toe with Joseph.
He placed his hand at the back of Joseph’s head and pulled him forward.

Then kissed him.

It was a slow, languorous kiss, their tongues tangling
tentatively then twining with intention. Joseph held Arthur firmly, a hand on
each shoulder. Arthur slowed to pull back slightly.

He leaned his forehead against Joseph’s. “Stay the night in
my room.”

His cock throbbed in anticipation. “Arthur, you’re
vulnerable.”

“I’m also randy as hell.”

The offer was damn tempting. “Look, I—”

But Arthur was on his knees before Joseph, unbuttoning his
trousers, his drawers, ignoring his flailing hands, his weak protestations,
freeing his aroused cock, wrapping insistent lips around him.

“Christ!”

He could not remember the last time a man had done that to
him. The last time anyone had done it was Sophia and that had been her first
time, made apparent by her overzealousness and her gagging, attributes repeated
by Arthur at that very moment.

He grabbed Arthur’s hair, pulling him off. “This is your
first time.”

Arthur swallowed. “Is it that obvious?”

“You have to want to do this.”

“You have to want me to.”

They locked eyes, Arthur’s with a touch of endearing
entreaty.

“God yes, I want you to,” Joseph growled.

Arthur grasped Joseph’s hips and slid his tongue down the
underside of his shaft, then back again to tease the head with wet swirls and
pulsing squeezes. The man was a fast learner. Joseph groaned his approval.

Little by little, Arthur drew Joseph’s cock into his mouth,
each advance wetter and warmer and tighter than the last until his lips
encircled the root. Arthur swallowed. Joseph sighed at the exquisite flutter of
his friend’s throat.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “You have to breathe.” He raked his
fingers through Arthur’s hair, tenderly, encouragingly.

Arthur retreated then proceeded once again, languidly, too
slowly. Joseph pumped his hips provokingly, wanting, needing to go faster.

“All right.” Arthur’s words reverberated with a chuckle.

He gripped Joseph’s butt, steadying his hips. Arthur sucked
determinedly, moving along the length of the shaft with the fullness of his
tongue, squeezing with his lips, nipping with his teeth, keeping with the
rhythm of Joseph’s lust. The painful pinch of fingernails in the straining
muscles of his buttocks heightened the pleasure of Arthur’s mouth, now picking
up speed in tempo to Joseph’s muttered oaths.

Theirs was a beautiful cadence. Joseph closed his eyes,
letting the sensual act lift him to a higher plane of ecstasy. Desire pumped
through his limbs, taut and trembling, struggling between suspension and
release. Energy coiled at his groin, tightening his balls heavy with need.

He clinched Arthur’s head in his hands, bucked against his
mouth, spewing his seed. Unable to pull back, Arthur sucked and swallowed, his
hands falling to his sides in submission.

Joseph’s heart thundered as he relaxed his hold.

Arthur sat back on his heels, gasping for breath. “I need
some water.”

He laughed and helped him up. “That was rather brave.”

Arthur stumbled over to the basin. “I don’t know about that.
Interesting perhaps.” He drank deeply from the porcelain pitcher. “I still
prefer women, you know.”

Joseph chortled as he shucked his clothing. “As do I.
Especially your sister,” he reminded, raising a brow.

“Shit. Look—about Sophia,” Arthur said, unbuttoning his
trousers. “I have a plan. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” He pulled off
his shirt and climbed into bed, smoothing the sheet beside him. “Lock the door.
The maid will know to not bother us.”

Joseph had to admit it was a very restful slumber.

* * * * *

For Sophia to be invited to Arthur’s for a private luncheon
was a bit out of the ordinary, although this was the first time in years Arthur
had been without female companionship, so perhaps such invitations were a new
ordinary. Sophia hoped at least. She liked spending time with her big brother.

Sending a private carriage to pick her up and drive her to
the front door was a gallant gesture too. He hadn’t said anything about it
being a formal affair but Sophia had dressed in a brand new frock of pale
emerald with pink lace edging the neckline and frothing at the ends of the
short, puffy sleeves. She wore the pearl choker Arthur and Henny had given her
for her eighteenth birthday, hoping it would be a happy reminder of pleasant
memories for him as it was for her.

The footman held her hand gently as he helped her step out
of the carriage and did not let go until she was in the foyer with the front
door closed behind them.

Arthur was concerned for her safety. Before
the incident
she would have been annoyed. Now the attention made her feel protected.

He dashed out of the library to greet her, kissing her on
both cheeks.

“Sophie! I’m so glad you’re here.” He clasped her hand and
led her to the dining room. “You are looking well.”

“Thank you. I am recovered. And you?”

He was glowing with excitement about something. He must have
received good news about his business.

“I’m as well as a man can be, considering…” He pulled out a
chair for her next to the head of the table.

“Yes of course.”

She settled herself while he took the head seat. Just the
two of them as intimate friends was quite nice.

Luncheon was excellent.

“Henny arranged for Mrs. Babcock to study under a chef from
Provence. Now when she’s not cooking, she’s tending her newly planted
Provencal-style garden in the back. Or pining for the chef.”

Sophia giggled.

“How is your first Season? Have you met anyone interesting?”

“I’ve met the queen.” She couldn’t contain her smile.

Arthur laughed. “But of course. Is she a good dancer?”

She swatted him. “Arthur!”

His eyes twinkled at her. “Who else? What about all the
balls you’ve been attending? Geoff says he’s seen you once or twice.”

“Geoffrey’s quite popular, you know.” He had been spending
time with Flora Sheffleigh, which meant his flirtation with Sophia was over. “We
barely have time for a ‘how do you do’ these days, which is too bad since he’s
far more interesting than all the others I have to dance with.”

“Anyone I might know?”

“Well there’s been Rupert Prescott, the heir to a viscount.
The Marquess of Aldersley who’s widowed with a son. And the Earl of Croxley.”

“They’re all a bit old for you, don’t you think?”

“They’re younger than the Duke of Royston.”

“Ah. Yes. Prescott’s brother is one of my investors.” He
grinned at her. “But he’s already married.”

“Probably any one of your investors is far more interesting
than the men Mama makes me dance with. They don’t really
do
anything.”

“What about Joseph? He’s been spending more time with Geoff
since…well, since I’ve been dull. Do you ever see him at these events?”

Sophia turned her attention to the perfectly seasoned potato
salad, hoping Arthur did not see her blush. “I never see Joseph anymore.”

“That’s too bad. You get on quite well.”

She smiled. “He did send me a book the other day.”

“That was thoughtful. What book?”

Joseph had sent her an extraordinarily naughty novel
involving schoolgirls, which Arthur would not, could not ever know about. “It was
a lovely little book with Classical designs. Vitruvius, I believe.” Joseph had
wrapped that one along with the other so she would not have to lie about the
contents of her package.

Arthur chewed his lamb thoughtfully. “Joseph has a lot of
books sent here from Jacobs in Lincolnshire.”

“Oh.” She forked too much of the potatoes in her mouth.

“Sophie, to be honest, I invited you here today for a
reason. I have a proposition.”

Sophia blinked. “A proposition?”

“I want you to be my hostess when I hold events here. You
know…dinners and such.” He put down his knife and fork. “Now that Henny’s gone
I need a woman in the house, to balance out the guest list when I hold parties.
Otherwise there’s always one extra forlorn bachelor.”

She patted his hand.

“I’ve asked Mother and Father and they have agreed to allow
it, despite your age and position.”

“I suppose it is rather irregular.”

“Rather. Mother was mostly worried about your absence at
important events—”

Sophia snorted.

“No matter how boring, dear sister, you are expected to be
present at certain affairs to keep up appearances. Do you want to think it
over? There’s no hurry. I really haven’t done any entertaining since…well…since.”

He looked so much like a forlorn bachelor at that moment.
And giving parties did sound fun. “Yes, Arthur. I think I’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh good! And you’ll meet so many more people—men—to extend
your circle of potential suitors. To show off your abilities as a hostess.”

“I need to learn how to be a hostess first.”

“Mother will teach you and I can show you what Henny used to
do.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” She was encouraged to know he had so
much faith in her.

He pushed his chair back. “Now let’s repair to the drawing
room so I can teach you how to drink brandy and smoke cigars.”

Sophia stared in astonishment. “You can’t be serious.”

“Sort of,” he said, pulling out her chair as she rose. “I’ve
been known to throw some wild parties.”

She giggled as he regaled her with tales of bachelorhood on
their way to the drawing room. She took her place on the couch in the central
conversation area and arranged her skirts around her. Arthur placed a tray with
a crystal decanter and two snifters on the table before her. “This, dear
sister, is brandy. You should never drink too much of it.”

“Oh my. Tell me what happened.”

“I think you best not, my lord.”

Sophia turned to the familiar voice. “Joseph!”

He beamed and went to her, taking her hands in his. “My
lady.”

Her heart pounded with joy, rushing heat to her cheeks. “It’s
wonderful to see you.”

“It’s been a long time.” His gaze was intense. “Did you get
my book?”

A tingle teased between her legs. “I did.” She bit her lip. “It’s
lovely.”

Arthur offered him a glass of brandy. “Glad you could join
us, Joseph. I’ve just been telling Sophie about my idea to have her be my hostess
this Season.”

Joseph relinquished her hands. “Ah yes. An excellent idea.”

She liked that they talked about her when she wasn’t around.

Arthur handed her a brandy. “Have you ever tasted it?”

She glanced at Joseph. “Once.”

Arthur held up his glass. “To my hostess.”

“Slowly,” Joseph cautioned.

She sipped the liquor, feeling it burn on her tongue before
it hit the back of her throat to burn there. “Is it supposed to taste good?”