Lord of Pleasure (21 page)

Lord Caldwell’s
Evening

“Hawksford!” someone yelled out from across the overcrowded parlor. “Are you really getting married? Or is that just piss flying about the room?”

Alexander swiveled toward the dark-mustached man who held up a glass of gin in one hand while nestling a very large-breasted brunette closer to himself with the other.

Despite the fact that he didn’t know either the man or the brunette, Alexander pointed at the two and grinned. “It’s not piss! I am getting married.”

“Then may you and your future wife fuck to a hundred!” The man tossed back his drink, threw the glass aside, shattering it against the wood floor, then turned and kissed the woman beside him.

“Uh…
thank you!
” Alexander called out to the man, despite the fact that he was no longer the center of attention. “Thank you very much. I appreciate your kind and warm thoughts.”

That was the eighth person tonight who had congratulated him in their own bizarre manner. And all of them were people he didn’t even know. Caldwell’s doing, he was sure.

Alexander finished his port, gave his glass to a passing servant, and strode back toward the entryway, knowing Charlotte would be arriving at any moment. He couldn’t wait to pull her into his arms and make her feel loved and wanted the moment she walked in through that door. He only hoped that she was prepared for the chaos around them. Not that they’d be staying.

Seeing Caldwell was occupied with greeting all the incoming guests by the main entrance, Alexander strode farther back into the foyer’s corridor and out of the way. He settled against one of the walls that had a clear view of the main entrance and waited. And waited.

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but he assumed it was at least fifteen minutes. He shifted against the wall and looked over toward the entryway again.

He paused at seeing Madame de Maitenon’s granddaughter. He’d almost forgotten that Caldwell had invited her. And though everyone in the classroom seemed to have taken to her firm, blunt ways, he still didn’t know what to make of her. Especially after that whole lecture on dildos. Complete with demonstrations.

Maybelle de Maitenon continued to stand in the foyer just outside one of the large receiving rooms as if uncertain as to whether she should stay or go. She then glanced down at the modest lilac lace neckline of her gown and quickly looked up again, looking rather concerned.

He bit back a smile. For here she was, the granddaughter of a great French courtesan, teacher of sex to men, with the nerve to demonstrate the placement of a dildo in her mouth before the entire class, and yet she appeared to feel out of place amongst all the risqué women around her.

It was downright curious.

A chestnut-haired woman dressed in a black velvet gown that provocatively clung to her sizable breasts and corseted waist paused before Maybelle. A cigar was tucked between her raised bare fingers.

Cleopatra, as Caldwell liked to call her. The queen of all things erotic, whose sole pleasure was licking the cunt off every woman who’d let her. And occasionally even those poor women who would normally never let her unless a bit of music and wine was involved.

Cleopatra seductively drew in a long puff from her cigar, cocked her head, and blew out a tuft of smoke in Maybelle’s direction. She pointed her half-smoked cigar toward Maybelle’s neckline and said something.

Alexander’s brows rose at the interaction.

To his astonishment, Maybelle quickly turned away and adjusted the front of her bodice, trying to maneuver her corset in a way so as to shove her breasts farther up and out into the open. She hesitated, peering down at what she’d done, then turned back to Cleopatra.

Alexander shook his head and pushed himself away from the wall. The woman was likely to get raped doing things like that with Cleopatra. Fortunately for his new teacher, he was around to assist. And, of course, being the noble gentleman that he was, he was going to do it without her even knowing.

He strode toward them just as Cleopatra wrapped a slender arm around Maybelle’s waist and yanked her against herself, draping their front sides seductively close.

This would certainly prove to be yet another amusing little rescue. He paused behind them, then wrapped his arms around both their shoulders and gathered both women to his wide chest. “Is there adequate space for one more?” he drawled down at each of them, grinning. “I brought my dildo.”

Maybelle scrambled out of both his embrace and that of Cleopatra. She smacked his arm hard, then pointed rigidly at him in warning. Yet couldn’t utter a single word in her defense.

All that mattered, despite her obviously being miffed, was that she was no longer in Cleopatra’s grasp.

He laughed at his own brilliance, smacked his hands together, then turned and swaggered down the corridor back toward where he’d originally been waiting for Charlotte.

Indeed, the way he felt right now was downright dangerous. For he was in such cocky high spirits, he almost felt like going around and helping whoever else needed assistance.

But then again, he had to first see to his
own
success. Which should be arriving at any single moment.

Late evening and still waiting around at
Lord Caldwell’s

Despite the fact that rat bastard had assured him Charlotte would come, and he had ardently and patiently waited, going around and talking to complete strangers and making an idiot of himself throughout the evening by announcing his upcoming marriage, she never came.

He’d long given up on the port and had since moved on to the gin. Though he was beginning to realize that even all the gin in the world could never possibly take away the feeling that his time for miracles had finally run out.

Through a haze that he prayed would never lift, Alexander staggered among the blurring faces around him, toward the mahogany table that was cluttered with decanters of brandy, wine, port, and gin. The empty glass he held out before him seemed to be the only thing balancing him. The only thing keeping him sane.

Didn’t the woman realize she was killing him? Ever. So. Slowly? He slammed his glass down onto the table, causing all of the crystal decanters on it to chime against one another.

He frantically rubbed the top of his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts, and then stripped off his cravat and tossed it aside. Still feeling bloody hot, he unclasped his starched collar and stripped it away from his neck and drew in a deep breath.

Gripping the edges of the table, he leaned heavily against it. Now what? What was he supposed to do? Wait a bit more?

“Thirty pounds says Hawksford won’t survive a single one past twenty!” a man called out across the room.

He knew he should have never made that boast about being able to stand upright after twenty drinks.

“Oh, come!” another man countered, sounding rather annoyed. “He’s already lasted past eighteen. And look! The son of a bitch is still standing! Like he said he would. I say he’s got another good ten in him. That’s where I’m placing my thirty pounds! Another ten!”

Alexander gurgled out a laugh as more male voices floated around him, placing more bets. He once used to be Alexander the Great. Capable of saying and doing the right thing at the right time with any woman. But now? He was Alexander the Not So Great. And he was completely foxed. What was worse, the men around him were eagerly placing bets on the last of his crumbling kingdom.

Alexander released his hold on the table and pushed himself away. Blowing out an exhausted breath, he reached out a heavy arm and grabbed another crystal decanter filled with brandy. He poured another glass of the amber liquid. Splashing it everywhere.

He tossed it back, then slammed it down on the table and turned for the doorway. He’d had enough of this waiting. This abuse. He was going straight to her house, and, Harold or no Harold, was going to demand that she give him an audience.

A familiar blond-haired woman in a lilac lace and silk gown marched past the doorway and toward the foyer. His brows rose. Ah, now
there
was a person who could help him. His
teacher!
The one who had all the answers about dildos and bedside manners and nightshirts and God knew what else. Perhaps she had a solution. Someone had to have a solution. For he certainly didn’t.

“Madame de Maitenon!” he called out. It was only fitting he call her that after that brilliant lecture she gave on dildos.

She paused, then slowly turned to him.

He staggered for a moment in the middle of the crowded parlor and grinned.

She hurried over to him and set her hands on her hips. “Do not make life difficult for me.”

“This’ll only take a moment. I assure you.” He grabbed her waist and yanked her toward him. Needing something to balance him. “I am in need of advice,” he drawled down at her.
“Female advice.”

Taking hold of his arms, Miss Maitenon tried to ease out of them. “I do not think my advice will do you any good, as clearly, you won’t be able to remember a thing come morning.”

Ignoring her protest, he wrapped his arm heavily around her shoulder and swayed as he looked down at her. “Does love truly exist? Or is it something we…want to exist?”

She froze against him. “Really, My Lord, this is far beyond my level of…”

Her face and words blurred, the room grew dark, and his arms and his body suddenly ceased to exist.

So much for female advice.

11 Berwick Street
Seven o’clock in the morning, next day

Charlotte was downright curious as to what sort of female could have possibly won over Mr. Hudson. The man never accepted visitors at unconventional hours. Nor would he ever dare to summon her from her sleep.

She paused outside the parlor and blinked in astonishment at seeing the oldest of Alexander’s sisters, Caroline.

Caroline was openly admiring all of the nude male statues, tilting her head slightly to one side, as if a different view would somehow change them.

Charlotte bit back a laugh and entered the room. “I have found that the middle one is the most endowed,” she chanced, guessing that they were both naughty at heart.

Caroline jerked toward her, placing a gloved hand to her chest, and let out a laugh. “So I noticed.”

Caroline grinned, a small dimple appearing on her left cheek, and moved closer to her. Her simple royal blue morning gown brightened not only her entire face but her very eyes. “I’m so pleased Mr. Hudson obliged me. Forgive me for calling upon you at such an early hour.”

“You are always welcome here, no matter the hour.” Charlotte gestured at the lone chair. “I hope this will do. I only recently acquired funds from my husband’s estate and have yet to properly furnish the house.”

Caroline glanced toward the gilded chair, then turned back to her. “No worries. This shouldn’t take long. I am merely here on behalf of my brother.”

Charlotte blinked, and though she tried to keep a blush from creeping into her cheeks, it was no use. “Yes?” was all she could manage.

Caroline sighed heavily and shifted from one slippered foot to the other. “As I am certain you know, Alex has been relentlessly trying to win your hand in marriage. And I’m afraid it has finally taken its toll. I usually don’t worry about him, but I must say I genuinely fear for him. From what I understand, he waited for you all of last night at Lord Caldwell’s home. He had plans to ride off with you into the country and propose. But when you didn’t make an appearance, he drank himself into a state of obliteration and is still lying unresponsive on the sofa where he was deposited by God knows who last night.”

Oh, poor Alexander. She’d ruined him. Completely ruined him. And here she was worried about what he’d done to her.

Caroline eyed her. “I am here not to preach, but rather to inform you of his current state. I pray that if you do not love my brother that you inform him of it. For he most certainly loves you. And though he may not have been able to verbalize it properly, surely his behavior should count for something.”

Charlotte’s pulse skittered uncontrollably. For she realized the truth in Caroline’s words. A proclamation of love meant nothing without a fire burning behind it. No one knew that better than she. “Forgive me,” she finally whispered. “I knew nothing of his true feelings or that he was waiting for me. Had I known…”

“I thought so!” Caroline let out an impish laugh, grabbed hold of Charlotte’s hands, and shook them excitedly. “Come with me! Let us put the poor sop out of his misery, shall we?”

Charlotte squeezed Caroline’s hands, still trying to cope with what she was saying. Alexander loved her.
Her
. She let out a laugh in disbelief. “I’d love to put us
both
out of our misery, actually.”

Caroline grinned and leaned toward her, her blue-green eyes sparkling. “Welcome to the family. I can’t
wait
to have another sister.”

Charlotte let out a shaky breath and willed herself not to cry from the joy bursting through her. Family. At long last. She had a family. And not just any family.
Alexander’s
family.

“Is he dead?”

“If he were dead, Mary, he wouldn’t be snoring.”

“Yes, I know, but what if—”

Alexander groaned and pried open his eyes, feeling as though he
were
going to die. How downright fitting that Mary truly thought he was dead. He only hoped she hadn’t already sent out invitations for the funeral. Or ordered his casket.

“Alex!” Mary exclaimed. A pair of small, sloppy lips smacked his cheek, leaving a cool spot against his burning skin. “Oh, thank goodness! You’re alive!”

“I’d rather not be,” he muttered, shifting toward her and Anne, who were both sitting on the walnut coffee table across from him. “How long have you both been sitting there staring at me?”

“
Well
…” Anne jumped up to her feet and rubbed her hands into the sides of her morning skirts. “Seeing as you are alive and all, I ought to go. Have fun!” She waggled her brows at him, then dashed out of the room.

He blinked.
Have fun?
Hell, when she was old enough, he’d give her a jug of gin and then see the sort of fun
she
had.

Mary slowly cocked her head, so as to better see him in his horizontal position. She wrinkled her freckled nose. “Who was that man that brought you here last night, Alex?”

Alexander groaned. Still not feeling comfortable against the cushions of the sofa, he shifted his sore body again. “Please don’t expect me to remember anything, Mary. Because I don’t.”

“Try to remember. It’s important.”

He blew out a breath, wishing he could blow out the pounding headache and nausea gripping him. One would think a man would learn not to overindulge after all these years. “Why? It was probably Caldwell. I was at his house all night.” Drinking the very thought of Charlotte away.

Mary shook her head, still keeping it cocked to one side. “No. It wasn’t Caldwell. The man who brought you home had dark hair and dark eyes.
Very, very
handsome. Not to say Caldwell isn’t. I just don’t care for blonds. Do you suppose you can put out a marriage offer on this dark-haired gentleman so that he’ll wait until I’m eighteen?”

Alexander jerked up into a sitting position. The room momentarily spun, his stomach whirling. God save him, who had he brought to the house last night?

All he needed was Mary to fall in love with a thirtysomething-year-old man. He was still recovering from the whole ordeal with Caroline and Caldwell. “How do you even know the man was handsome? Weren’t you supposed to be in bed last night?”

She leveled her head once again and shrugged, her lips tugging into a frown. “I couldn’t sleep. When I heard voices downstairs, I knew you were home and wanted to say good night. Only I never got past the top of the stairs. You see, this incredibly beautiful man was standing in the hall foyer. Looking up at me. For a moment, I thought Charon himself had come and almost fainted at the sight of him. And what is more…” She lowered her voice as if imparting a great secret. “
He saw me wrapped in my linens
.”

His eyes widened at the admission. “Whoever the bloody hell he is, I assure you that if he so much as mentions you
or
your linens, I’ll change the color of his skin. Permanently. Furthermore, I highly doubt you were feeling faint because of him.”

Alexander noted with annoyance that her face looked even more drawn than it had the previous week. “It’s because you aren’t eating. Caroline told me all about what you’re doing, and enough is enough. You need to eat. Do you hear me? You
will
eat.”

Glaring, she crossed her arms over the ruffled front of her pea green morning gown. “If you gave me back all of my dresses, I wouldn’t
need
to starve myself. Now would I?”

Oh, for the love of mother and child! He’d had enough. Enough of fighting the inevitable. Enough of trying to change those around him. Enough of making everyone into something they simply were not! For it was pointless. Absolutely pointless. And only he and he alone suffered.

“Go!” he barked. “They’re all upstairs in a trunk hidden beneath Mother’s bed. Take them. Take them and wear them all at once if it’ll so please you. Arrange a few funerals while you’re at it, invite all the neighbors, and
die
.”

Her face brightened as her thin brows popped up. “Truly?”

“Yes. Truly. Only before you hurry back to dying, be sure to eat breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, leaned toward him, and smacked his knee with her hand. “Silly. Don’t you know it’s already past one?”

She sprang to her feet, clapping, and then skipped out of the room. “Alex says I can wear my dresses again!” she sing-songed for the entire household to hear. “I told you he wouldn’t last!”

Alexander closed his eyes and groaned at the misery of it all. He simply didn’t have the makings of a man who could run a household. With propriety, that is.

A heavy female sigh echoed within the room as the slow clicking of heels left the far corner of the room and rounded on him. “You’d better be a bit more firm with
our
children.”

Alexander whipped toward the voice behind him in disbelief. “
Charlotte?
”

She stood behind him, her hands on her hips, dressed in her usual black finery. She quirked a dark brow at him. “Do you have anything to say to me?” She coughed suggestively. “Anything at all?”

He bloody wasn’t going to waste any more time, that was for sure. What did he care about making it special? It
was
special. And he now knew that. “I love you,” he blurted out. “I love you, Charlotte.
Very
much. So much, I don’t think I could possibly love you any more. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove it.” He paused. “Do you want me to go on?”

She laughed, rounded the sofa, and slowly sat down beside him. She took his hand and kissed it with those soft lips he had missed so dearly. “I apologize I didn’t come last night. I didn’t realize you were waiting until Caroline called on me this morning.”

“Caroline called on you? You mean…” He furrowed his brow. “But Caldwell said he spoke to you. He assured me you were coming.”

She lowered her chin. “He spoke to
Mr. Hudson
and slipped the man ten pounds. And well…as protective as Mr. Hudson has been as of late, I never received the message. Or the ten pounds.”

Mr. Hudson had clearly taken his earlier words too much to heart.

Charlotte grabbed his hand, set it onto her lap, and slowly and purposefully traced her finger up and down the inside of his palm.

He swallowed and watched her bare finger, hypnotized by the seductive movement that produced a slow heat against the width of his palm. Not to mention the rest of him.

“I’m making love to you, Alexander,” she whispered to him ever so softly. “Most ardently.”

The air around him seemed to grow hot. And if his head weren’t pounding and his stomach weren’t roiling, he would have thrown her onto the sofa and made love to her for the rest of the day. And then for the rest of his life.

Stifled giggles erupted from the doorway.

“Now
that
is quite enough, you two,” Victoria drawled.

“Yes,” Elizabeth added. “If you must know, this is a respectable household.”

“And,”
Mary mocked, lowering her voice to a deep tone that matched his, “there are individuals here under the age of nineteen.”

Alexander’s heart stopped as he glanced up to see all five of his sisters and his mother grouped together in the doorway. Every single one of them was grinning at him. As if he had not only done right by them, but by himself and Charlotte. Without a doubt, it was the most amazing moment he’d ever experienced in his life.

His mother’s arched brows playfully rose. “Does this mean we’re all allowed to be Hawksfords in our home again?”

He laughed. “Yes. But only in the house.”

“I can live with that.” Caroline clasped her hands together. “Ask her, Alex! Ask her, before anything else ruins it.”

Nothing could ruin it. Ever.

Alexander cleared his throat, pressed his other hand atop Charlotte’s, and squeezed it tightly.

Charlotte shyly smiled up at him, her cheeks flushing, making her even more beautiful.

Though the moment of his proposal was not as he had imagined, for he had wanted to do it in the country, it was more. He stood, and seeing that there was no room for him to kneel beside the sofa, he lifted his booted foot and shoved the small table back and away.

He kneeled and took Charlotte’s hand again in his, meeting her dark eyes. “Charlotte…” He hesitated. “Hell. I don’t even know your birth name. And I’m certainly not calling you by Chartwell’s name anymore.”

“It’s Charlotte Jane Sutton,” she offered, still shyly smiling.

“Charlotte Jane Sutton.” He grinned. “Will you honor me by becoming my wife and giving me sons so that I may never be outnumbered again?”

Charlotte burst into laughter, a single tear trickling down from the corner of her eye. She swiped it away with the tips of her fingers and grinned back. “Yes, Alexander. Most certainly, yes.”