CHOCOLATE, TEA AND THE DUCHESS (2 page)

squat, and unkempt. His premature baldness did not help the picture, and he had a

propensity not to betray a single uneaten morsel of food. For his years, the man was

obscenely obese.

Changing the subject, Phillip said, "I am sure one of the lovely young ladies here

tonight would cut off her right arm to become your viscountess, Westerhouse."

"I am not of that opinion. It seems I will have to up the settlement to be made

upon the lucky lady's family."

"Well, I shall leave you to your quest." Without waiting for a reply, Phillip

sought out a table and took his place. He still had time to play some cards before the

waltz with Lady Felicity and realized he looked quite forward to holding her in his

arms.

* * * * *

Felicity Linden watched as the Duke of Thornhill approached, her stomach

hosting hordes of butterflies. No one in the room matched his elegance; his aloof air

appealed to her for so many reasons. In truth, he had to be nearly twice her age, but she

simply couldn't abide the immaturity of the young men clustered together on the

opposite side of the ballroom. They fairly drooled whenever a young lady passed by,

making comments, and one of them had even pinched Emily Farrow's bottom.

No, Felicity had maturity in mind, and if good looks came with that attribute, so

much the better.

The duke dressed in an understated fashion, black coat, trousers, cravat, and

shoes with a white linen shirt and silver waistcoat. His dark hair was laced liberally

with silver, particularly at the temples. His patrician nose, full lips and dark, mysterious

eyes, made her heart flutter. To put it simply, he took her breath away.

She steeled herself for his arrival at her side, determined she would converse if

he so wished, without the usual simpering taught her by her mother. At nineteen, she

found her friends being led astray by their marriage-minded mamas, who all seemed to

favor stupidity over education. If a young woman went into a marriage knowing how

to embroider, play the pianoforte, and to paint, she satisfied her mother with the

upbringing she'd been given.

Felicity's mother had been much the same, but she'd had the foresight to send

her daughter to Mrs. Ellery's School for Young Women, a fine establishment, where

Felicity had not only learned the refinements required for her station, but much more,

including a rather well-rounded education in the art of making love, though, to this

day, she'd yet to perform the act. Quite assuredly, Mrs. Ellery and her esteemed staff

would have been appalled that such a course of study was available, pursued after

hours within the confines of the dormitory.

Felicity had been a great listener and upon occasion, a voyeur, on those

somewhat frequent occasions when a young man visited one of the naughtier girls at

the school.

Since the first time such a delicious opportunity presented itself, Felicity had

thought of little else but the curves of the man's backside, the magnificent protuberance

emanating from the nest of dark curls, and the sac, which hung directly below the man's

aroused flesh. Why, just thinking about the gentle rolling of his hips as he thrust in and

out of Agnes Dye's quim was enough to moisten her drawers, even now.

She consciously cut the memory off, fearing an unattractive blush as the duke

came within her space.

"Again, good evening, Lady Felicity."

He bowed, setting her heart aflutter. He smelled of sandalwood, a scent she

would forever associate with him.

He offered his arm, upon which she laid her shaking hand. A naughty thought

crossed her mind, recalling how another hand had encircled the aroused penis of a

young lord and the look on his face when Agnes had drawn her hand up and down his

engorged cock. Yes, she had even learned the words for all of the pertinent body parts

and had practiced saying them aloud in the privacy of her bedchamber. She could do so

even today, without so much as a hitch in her voice.

Her aspiration to be a bawdy wife was one she treasured. She often had

wondered if the rumors about the duke were true, that is, concerning his membership at

the Sapphire Club. She'd heard her father's friends speak of the club, in graphic terms

reserved for conversations where they thought themselves alone. She'd listened at the

dining room door many an evening, while her mother entertained the wives of the men

taking port and cigars with her father. She'd never failed to become moist just hearing

about the things that went on there.

When mention of the duke met her ears, her interest had been greatly

heightened. Now, she wondered if she could use this dance as an opportunity to ask

him to take
her
to the Sapphire Club.

Chapter Two

The duke swept her onto the dance floor, his strong arms making her feel secure,

though she trembled terribly. Excitement raced through her so wantonly, she feared

he'd hear her heart beating, for she certainly could.

"Are you quite well, Lady Felicity?" Thornhill asked, his face exhibiting a curious

expression.

"Quite, Your Grace."

"Do I make you nervous? You're shaking like a leaf."

She felt like a leaf about to lose its grip upon the branch. She couldn't recall how

long it had been that she'd harbored an attraction to the much-older gentleman in

whose arms she wished she could stay forever. God, he smelled so good.

"I—I'm not nervous, Your Grace."

"If that is not the case, my dear, you give an admirable imitation."

His smile seemed to be one of concern, if that indeed were possible. She wanted

it to be so, for to have the Duke of Thornhill concerned for her well-being indeed would

be a wonderful thing.

He proved very agile on his feet, circling her amongst the other couples; no other

woman's partner seemed nearly as attractive as hers did. She wished to ask him her

provocative question about taking her to the club, quite dearly in fact, but now, in his

arms, she feared spoiling the moment.

His leg brushed against hers as they danced, his arm encircling her waist, his

breath sweet with a hint of brandy; she likened her time in his arms to time in heaven.

She closed her eyes, taking in the smell of him, that all-male aroma that set her cunny to

tingling and her breasts to aching.

". . . . and the season."

She then realized he'd been speaking.

"I am sorry, Your Grace. I became lost in the music." A lie, but she couldn't very

well tell him the truth, that being she'd become completely lost in
him
.

"I wondered if you are having a nice stay in London and enjoying the season."

She wanted to say, "I am now," but instead said, "Yes, I always enjoy London,

and Mama has kept me so busy, I've hardly slept."

He smiled. She recognized the look of polite amusement, for she saw a similar

one on the faces of all the men her mother had attempted to snag in her marriage trap.

"I suppose having a young lady of marriageable age must keep your mama much

busier than usual."

"She worries over the disgrace of having a daughter of twenty, which I will be

soon, being on the shelf."

"Twenty seems so young from where I stand, my dear, and your beauty would

never allow you to be placed on a shelf. There must be young men lined up at the door

eager to take your hand. Your poor papa will be fending them off with sabers and

Mantons."

It sounded like a compliment, which made her giggle.

"I suppose, Your Grace, but I am not interested in any of them. They are too . . .

young." She hoped he would understand her thinly veiled attempt to engage his

attentions.

"Why, my dear. Am I to gather that you would prefer an older man?"

Her face heated. "Yes, I suppose I am saying just that."

"I see."

And he did see, only too well. Her mama had taught her well—flatter, blush, and

agree. If he were anyone else, she might be all for which he could ask.
This
man,

however, could ask much more, and a girl young enough to be his daughter wasn't on

his list of favored things.

He'd never wished for a wife, particularly since his sexual tastes included the

occasional liaison with a man.

His mind drifted, thinking how several days had passed since his last visit to the

Sapphire Club, and he grew anxious to quit this social engagement and make his way to

St. John's Wood.

His cock stirred to attention with thoughts of what would transpire later in the

evening. Phillip's thoughts had been of little else but of Haynes, his flawless ass

quaking beneath Phillip as he plundered the handsome young man. Yes, indeed, he

wished to engage in the activity, after a good thrashing, of course, but then that went

without saying.

The dance ended and Phillip escorted Lady Felicity back to her mama, who no

doubt awaited news of an engagement. She would be sadly disappointed.

"Lady Felicity, you are indeed a delightful dance partner. I do hope you will

spare me a dance when again we meet."

The girl raised her chin. "I will . . . if you ask me
nicely."

"Felicity!" Her mama bellowed, attracting the attention of those nearby. "I am

ever so sorry, Your Grace." She curtsied, then required his aid to recover herself to

standing.

"No harm done, but I have been known to bite young girls for such insolence."

He turned and winked, sure only Felicity could see. His action caused her to giggle.

Lady Plimmswood fanned herself with a fury, obviously flustered by her

daughter's impertinence. Felicity whispered, "I hope not
too
hard."

"Just hard enough." He spoke the words before he could govern himself and

regretted it in an instant. He'd been flirting with her, something he'd not done with a

woman in years.

He broke the moment with a curt bow and walked away, lest his errant cock take

further notice of the feisty young lady.

He found his hosts and made his excuses. He needed to get away from this place

and off to the place he felt most at home. He had energy to work off this night, and he

hoped Haynes wasn't otherwise engaged.

Half an hour after he'd walked away from the lovely Lady Felicity, he gathered

his cloak, walking stick, and hat from the butler, who already had sent a boy to

summon the duke's carriage. The coachman pulled up as Phillip reached the bottom

step.

"St. John's Wood."

The footman opened the crested door, and Phillip climbed into his beautifully

appointed carriage. He took the seat facing the horses and tapped the roof with his

walking stick, the universal signal to the driver to be on his way.

A squeak caught his attention as the carriage jolted. He jerked to attention,

finding he was not alone. Though in shadow, the noise indicated his companion was a

woman.

"State your business, whoever you are."

He received only a startled gasp.

Faint wisps of moonlight filtered in through the small windows, shining briefly

upon the cloaked figure sitting in the corner of the opposite seat.

"I said, state your business."

Slowly, she raised her arms, and with delicate fingers removed the hood from

her head. Phillip raised a brow. His visitor was none other than Lady Felicity Linden.

"I wish to speak to you, alone, Your Grace."

He lifted his walking stick to tap on the ceiling, but she grabbed it before he

could do so. "Please don't."

"Does your mama know you are here?" His suspicious nature wouldn't put it

past her mother to have placed her in a compromising position.

"No, of course not, Your Grace. I told Mama I was spending the night with a

friend."

"Where does
your friend
think you are now?"

"Well, there is no friend. I mean, I made the story up."

"I see." He didn't like the way this conversation was trending.

"Please let me explain."

"I advise you do so quickly, so my driver may take you home."

"I wish to go with you."

"
With me
? My good young woman, I fear that is quite impossible."

"I know where you are going, and I wish to accompany you. I wish to learn

about the Sapphire Club."

"What could you possibly know about the Sapphire Club?"

"I know enough, and it is my fondest wish to learn more."

Taken aback by her declaration, he cleared his throat, before reaffirming his

conviction. "I fear that is quite impossible." He again raised his walking stick, and she

again deterred him.

"Please, Your Grace. I respect you, and I wish you to be my escort. I will go alone,

if you insist, but I
will
go."

"I'll see to it you are not admitted. You are much too refined for such activities."

"Am I really?"

Phillip shuddered, hesitant to read too deeply into her meaning. "I daresay you

are."

"There is much you don't know about me, Your Grace."

"There is much I have no interest in knowing, my lady, and there is much a

young woman such as yourself shouldn't know. Believe me, the Sapphire Club is not a

place for you."

"I know more about sexual affairs than you think I do."

Phillip coughed. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear.

She jumped over into the space next to him and began to slap him on the back.