LOVE LESSONS AT MIDNIGHT
Excerpt
When London’s most famous reformer comes to its most infamous bordello madam with a most unusual request, Lady Fantasia is intrigued by the possibilities in Rob St. John’s predicament…
“After spending the past two years trying to drive me out of business, you now wish to hire me?” Amber Leighigh Wolverton studied the man standing in her private quarters through narrowed eyes. When his face flushed red as a spring tulip, she felt a keen tickle of satisfaction.
“Not you personally!” Robert Emery Crispin St. John, sixth Earl of Barrington, quickly replied in a strangled voice. Clearing his throat, Rob imagined what he was certain must be the madam’s cat-in-cream expression, even though he could not see her face. He felt tongue-tied as a schoolboy, hardly the fiery orator who held members of the House of Lords spellbound. Reaching inside his waistcoat, he took out his purse.
“Pray, put your money away. I do not accept payment before I have a clear understanding of what a gentleman wants. Not all fantasies are…ah, acceptable here. If what you propose is suitable, there will be time enough to discuss cost.”
“I believe you will find my fantasy to be rather mundane,” he said with a trace of irony.
She stared at him, again noting his nervousness. “Allow me to be the judge of that.”
All he could see of her face was the glow from her eyes. The only light in the large, opulent room was provided by a small branch of candles positioned directly behind her. A part of him wished he could see her more clearly, but perhaps it was better that he did not, lest he lose his nerve and give over this gin-witted scheme. However, he could discern the outline of her body and it was splendid.
She wore a gown of some dark shade. Blue? The soft fabric clung to her pale shoulders. A matching sapphire necklace glinted at her slender throat. Although he took no interest in women’s fallalls, he recognized the quality and elegance of the gown and its wearer. Swallowing for courage, he answered her question. “I want instruction from the most skillful female in your employ.”
“The women in my employ await instruction by the gentlemen, not the other way around,” Amber replied dryly, her curiosity more piqued than ever.
The earl paced across the thick emerald carpet of the opulently appointed office. “If I merely wished a compliant woman I could damn well afford a mistress,” he burst out in frustration, feeling his face flame anew
“Ah, but if you kept a mistress, how could you rail in the House of Lords against immorality?” Amber watched the tic in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Was he implying what she thought he was?
“I do not rail against immorality. I speak out against criminality,” he replied stiffly
“But you believe my establishment to be criminal?”
“Most bordellos are criminal, even exclusive ones. But the scandal sheets would have it that your, er, establishment is unique. Every rake in the ton comes here to live his own peculiar fantasy.”
Amber quickly interjected, “Not all the rakes in the ton are accepted here, m’lord. I have refused some most peculiar fantasies because I do not permit violence, involve children, bestiality, opium eating, drunken bacchanals, or any other odious things that you and your friends in Parliament might imagine.”
Rob watched her slender body stiffen ever so slightly. Lady Fantasia’s demeanor indicated that she was displeased. Well, he was not exactly all cock-a-whoop himself! “I intend no offense. If I believed you allowed abusive behavior, I would not have come to you with my…request.”
“I am immensely relieved by your good opinion.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he swallowed and plowed doggedly ahead. “I have investigated your establishment. According to all reports, your courtesans are educated, of sound health and well trained in the pleasure arts.”
Amber raised her chin as proudly as the wife of a marquess, which she was. “They possess all those qualities and beauty, besides. ” She waited for his next move like a chess player, which she also was. This is humiliating the stiff-rumped devil. She felt another tickle of satisfaction.
“I am considering marriage within the year.” His face flushed with heat. Damn, why did his swarthy complexion betray him as if he were a bran-faced boy? “I wish to please my wife…as much as befits a gentleman to impose himself upon a lady.”
She could sense his intense discomfort growing apace. “And you believe a courtesan would prove the best instructor.”
“Only if she were completely honest with me as the…instructions progressed.”
“Ah, then you expect not only skill but honesty. The latter is not a trait members of your reformist cadre usually assign to those in my profession.”
“I am willing to pay for honesty. That should suffice.” The moment he snapped out the words, he regretted them. “I did not intend an insult,” he said.
She rolled the crystal tumbler filled with excellent French brandy between her palms. He had declined to imbibe with her. A moralizing prig…or a man desperate to keep a clear head? She wondered. Taking a sip, she said, “Give me leave to doubt what you intended—but,” she waved her hand dismissively, “it signifies nothing. You will pay handsomely for this…honesty.”
“I have been given to understand that you are a woman of your word,” he said, trying not to sound grudging.
“A compliment? I shall return it, m’lord. You are to be commended for your intentions. Most men do not give a fig for their wives satisfaction in the marital bed.”
“I am not most men.” He bit off each word.
Amber studied his face in the dim light. “No, you most certainly are not,” she agreed. The earl was the most impossibly handsome man she had ever seen. The broadsheet sketches had not begun to do his physical beauty justice. Worn longer than current fashion, his thick black hair framed his face in unruly waves. Piercing green eyes bored into her while the heavy dark eyebrows above creased in a frown. His nose was long, elegant and straight, his jaw bold and masculine, but his mouth, ah, that mouth could be wickedly sensual…if he ever smiled. Did he? She wondered.
His eyes glowed with fiery intensity. Even tense and angry, he was arresting. He should have had women falling at his feet in a swoon. What would make such a man believe he required sexual tutelage? Somehow she knew it would be unwise to ask. “Very well. What you propose is acceptable.”
“There is one thing more…” His voice faded.
“And that would be?” Amber found herself hoping that he was not going to spoil everything with a less than wholesome addendum.
He paced across the room, raking one hand through his already tousled hair. With his back to her he replied, “The bed chamber must be darkened.”
“If you have indeed investigated my establishment, you know no woman in my employ would ever stoop to blackmail,” she said sharply. “Not even of so tempting a target as a confidant of Mr. Wilberforce and his ‘Saints.’”
“I realize some of my associates in Parliament would be shocked to learn I am here, even more dismayed by what I have proposed. But I did not intend to accuse you of blackmail…”
“What then?” Amber knew she was toying with him but for some reason could not resist. He appeared to steel his nerve to face her, grasping the back of a Chippendale chair in a whitened grip. His long, strong fingers were lightly dusted with black hair. Suddenly she felt guilt…and something else. She dismissed the disturbing train of thought when he spoke.
“I would be more comfortable in the dark—and I am certain my future lady will prefer to maintain her modesty.”
Amber noted the way he had quickly added that last thought. She nodded gravely, wondering if he had some concealed disfigurement, a scar perhaps? No, he is as green and uncertain as he appears. Although she did not know the reason why this should be so, she determined that she would find out. But she had tormented the man quite enough. “You are a most…considerate man, m’lord.”
“When do we begin?” he asked, eager to be quit of what was becoming an increasingly uncomfortable conversation.
She leaned back in the Robert Adams chair and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I shall require a bit of time to select the woman best suited for your needs. Say, three days. Will that fit your schedule?”
He fought down a sudden urge to bolt for the door, devil take his cork-brained idea. You’ve come this far. Only hold fast for another moment. “Quite,” he replied with a stiff nod
“Now you may take out your purse, m’lord.” Lady Fantasia allowed herself a bemused smile. “For the initial payment…”
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