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Authors: Kate Pearce

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BOOK: Simply Carnal
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In the kitchen, Ambrose was talking to Paul, who was for once dressed smartly in his uniform, as if he’d either just arrived or was leaving. They both looked up as she entered and smiled. Despite her wariness, she couldn’t help but smile back at them.
Paul put on his hat and bowed. “I have to go and report in to my commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Constantine Delinsky. I’ll be back for dinner.”
“Delinsky?” Ambrose frowned. “He’s a member, isn’t he?”
“Indeed he is, but for some reason he prefers not to conduct military business here.” Paul winked at Elizabeth. “It would make my life a lot easier if he did, as I find him remarkably appealing.” He headed for the door and then paused. “From what Ambrose just told me, it seems as if I might be enjoying more of your company after all, Mrs. Smith.”
“So I understand, Lieutenant.”
He bowed. “I look forward to it.”
Ambrose waited until Paul had left and then turned to Elizabeth. “He is quite harmless, really.”
“Lieutenant St. Clare?” Elizabeth took a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Despite his joking, he would never force himself on any-one.”
“I know.” Elizabeth accepted the mug of coffee Ambrose offered her and waited until he sat opposite her at the table. “He told me that he has been encouraged to explore all types of sex at the pleasure house.”
Ambrose rubbed a hand through his cropped hair. “When he first came here, he was still enamored of Gabriel Swanfield, and we were all concerned about how he would react to Gabriel’s marriage.”
“And how did he react?”
“Rather better than anyone expected. He seemed genuinely pleased that Gabriel had found someone to love him. But with Paul it is hard to know exactly what he is thinking.”
“I noticed that.” Elizabeth sipped at her coffee. “He pretends that everything is a great lark, but beneath the surface I suspect he is not at peace with himself.”
Ambrose nodded. “I thought you would understand.”
She looked up at him. “I am at peace with myself.”
“I can scarcely comment on that, can I?” His smile was warm. “But I know from my own experiences that trying to pretend that everything is fine takes a huge toll on a person.”
“What do you mean?” He hesitated and she continued. “I should imagine your life experiences have been very different from my own. I would be honored if you would share your story with me—if it does not pain you to speak of it.”
He settled himself more comfortably on the bench and rested his chin on his fist. “As a child, I was taken from my home and brought over on a slave ship from the West Indies. I cried the entire time and received more than a few beatings on the long voyage.
“When I arrived in London, I was sold to a very aristocratic family as a page boy. It was all the rage twenty years ago. My mistress liked to dress me in costly silks and velvet, with a turban on my head and a gold collar studded with rubies around my neck. I thought I was in heaven. I was pampered like a lapdog, petted and adored. I thought of those people as my family.”
Elizabeth waited as his expression darkened. “Of course, I kept growing and suddenly I was a young man and unable to sit on anyone’s lap anymore. They still wanted to touch me, but not in a childish way. I loved my mistress and I was willing to do anything she told me to, so when her husband discovered me in her bed, he had me beaten and thrown out of the house without a character.”
“That is terrible.” Elizabeth reached across and took his hand. “How did they expect you to survive?”
“I’m not sure they cared.” His quick smile flashed out. “I almost died that first year and probably would’ve done that last winter, if Mr. Delornay hadn’t come across me and offered me a job here.”
“How did you meet?”
“I tried to pick his pocket.” Ambrose met her gaze, his brown eyes full of memories. “I almost succeeded, but despite those good looks, he’s a dangerous bastard when cornered.”
“And he brought you here.”
“Aye, he did, but not to work. I could barely read or write, and he insisted that I receive an education before he would allow me to become a part of the pleasure house.”
“And Mr. Delornay paid for this?”
Ambrose chuckled. “You sound so skeptical. I told you—he is a good man.”
Elizabeth wasn’t quite as sure about that and hastened to change the subject. She didn’t want to think about Christian Delornay being a good man. He was simply her employer and her temporary lover.
“Do you think Madame Helene will agree to the changes he suggests to her this afternoon?”
“I hope she will, or I am afraid Mr. Delornay will follow through on his threats and leave the business.”
“But where would he go? This is also his home, is it not?”
“He owns an unentailed property in Hertfordshire that his father gave him. I suppose he could go there.” Ambrose frowned. “Although, what he would do with himself as a gentleman farmer I’m not quite sure.”
“I cannot quite imagine that,” Elizabeth replied.
“I wish he would find another outlet for his talents, though. The pleasure house has started to consume his life, and he doesn’t even own shares in it.”
“It still belongs to his mother?”
“And to his father. I believe they bought out all the other shareholders several years ago.”
“Then one wonders why Mr. Delornay stays.”
Ambrose’s smile was wry. “That is indeed the question, Elizabeth, and one that I do not have the answer for. I suspect things are coming to a head, though, and that Mr. Delornay will soon have to choose between his need for independence and his devotion to his mother’s creation.”
6
“I
think your ideas are very promising, Christian.” His mother clapped her hands and smiled down at him. “Very promising, indeed. And I’m certain that I detect the hand of Mrs. Smith in several of them.”
“You would be right,
Maman
. Mrs. Smith proved to be most helpful.” Christian poured them both some more coffee and felt himself start to relax for the first time in days.
Helene took her cup, added cream, and sipped at the fragrant brew. “Then you admit that I was right, Christian? You did need some help after all.”
Christian clinked his cup against his mother’s. “Indeed you were,
Maman,
as always.”
Helene’s warm laughter meant he had to smile back at her.
“Ah, you are just like your father,
mon cher
. So stubborn.”
“And not like you at all.”
Helene sighed. “I have been told that I, too, can be stubborn, but I cannot accept it.” She leaned forward and placed her hand over her heart. “It is just that I
know
when I am right, and I am quite prepared to fight for it.”
Christian hid a smile and finished his coffee. In truth, his parents were equally hotheaded on occasion, a trait he had tried hard to suppress in his own dealings with his family. Controlling his emotions had served him very well.
“I hear you are sharing a bed with Elizabeth Smith.”
“That is correct.”
Helene nodded, her blue gaze considering. “She is an interesting woman.”
Christian glanced up at her. “Speaking of Mrs. Smith, do you think you could find out more about her?”
Helene put down her cup and slid off her perch on the edge of Christian’s desk. “I have already made some inquiries on your behalf, although it is difficult to get information out of France since the downfall of that rat Napoléon.”
“I appreciate your help,
Maman
. I’ve never been one to like a mystery.”
“Yet you’ve taken her to your bed.”
“Do you object?”
Helene shrugged. “It is not my place to tell you how to conduct your love life.”
“Really? You were quick enough to come to me with your concerns last year.”
“Because I was afraid for you.” Helene hesitated. “Those clubs can be ... dangerous.”
Christian met her worried gaze head-on. “I know that. Why do you think I frequent them?”
“I ... I could tell you why, but I don’t think you would wish to hear what I have to say. And we are getting along so nicely today that I don’t want to spoil it.”
Christian managed a smile. “Then perhaps we should talk about something else.” He gathered up his papers again. “I hear that Lisette and Gabriel are about to travel up north to their property there. Do you plan on visiting them this Christmas?”
“Philip and I are considering it. I believe Marguerite and Anthony will join us after they return from France. I should imagine Lisette would wish you to come too.” Helene looked over her shoulder at him. “Would you come with us?”
“And leave this place to run itself?”
“Perhaps Ambrose and Mrs. Smith could manage it without you.”
Christian realized his smile was becoming forced. It was always like this with his mother. Somewhere inside him, he resented her for making familial demands on him, demands he still felt she had no right to make considering her long absence from his childhood.
A knock at the door saved him from answering.
“Come in.”
The man who entered the room was about his height and age and eerily familiar. Helene made a small choked sound, and Christian moved from behind his desk to stand in front of his mother.
“May I help you?”
The stranger bowed. “I certainly hope so. Am I addressing Mr. Christian Delornay?”
“Indeed you are.” Christian indicated his mother, who had recovered her composure and looked as serene as ever. “And this is my mother, Lady Philip Knowles.” Despite the fact that it was something of a secret, he deliberately used his mother’s full title, anticipating the effect it would have on their unexpected visitor.
“A pleasure, my lady.” The man inclined his head a stark inch. “You must be my stepmother. I’m Richard Ross.”
Helene studied him, her head angled to one side. “I have no doubt of that. You are the image of your father.” She moved past Christian and held out her hand. “It really is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Richard Ross smiled and brought her hand to his lips. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, too, and to find you are nothing like the woman I had imagined.”
Christian raised his eyebrows. “What exactly were you expecting to see—some raddled old whore?”
“Christian!” Helene frowned at him, but Richard seemed unperturbed by Christian’s pointed comment.
“Hardly that. Reports of Madame Helene’s beauty have reached all over Europe.” He gazed at Helene appreciatively. “And obviously were not exaggerated at all.”
Christian was used to men ogling his mother, but something about Richard Ross set his hackles rising. He deliberately placed himself between his mother and his half brother and indicated they should all sit down beside the fire.
“Are you looking for Philip, Mr. Ross? I believe he had business with his solicitor this morning.”
Richard sat down and crossed one booted foot over the other. “Actually, that’s where I found him earlier. He was kind enough to give me the address of this establishment so that I could come and pay my respects to you all.”
“Your respects?” Christian sat forward. “Rumor has it that you have never accepted your father’s second marriage or the revelation that he already had children. Is that not so?”
Richard sighed. “I must admit that in my youth, I did publicly air my grievances about my father’s behavior, but I am older and wiser now.” He glanced at Helene. “I was hoping we could settle our differences.”
Christian shrugged. “We have no differences to settle with you.”
Richard went to speak and then hesitated. “Can we not be friends? I understand that my sister Emily is already welcome here.”
“She is welcome in our family home and the kitchens here, but not upstairs,” Helene said firmly. “We have great hopes for her social success.”
“She is indeed a treasure,” Richard said, his smile wider and far more genuine. “I hope to further my acquaintance with her now that I am home for good.”
Christian regarded his half brother through narrowed eyes. Despite everything Richard was saying,
he
wasn’t convinced the reasons for Richard’s return were that simple or that easy. He hadn’t failed to notice that Richard was expending all his energy on captivating Helene rather than facing his slightly older and definitely illegitimate brother. Not that Christian blamed him, but he sensed there would have to be an honest exchange of views between them at some point in the future if they were truly to exist in the same family.
Richard rose to his feet. “I’m sure you are both far too busy to sit and chat with me all day. I just wanted to make myself known to you and assure you of my goodwill.”
Helene held out her hand, and Richard took it and brought it to his lips. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Madame Helene.”
Christian wondered if Helene was about to suggest he might call her
Mother
and realized the notion annoyed him.
Richard finally turned to him and nodded. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, too, Delornay.” Richard paused. “Do you not use the Ross name? My father said that he had legally given you his family name.”
“I choose not to advertise the relationship too widely, Mr. Ross.”
Christian didn’t bother to explain exactly what he meant and waited to see if Richard would have the balls to ask why. His half brother chose to nod as if he perfectly understood Christian’s position and walked with Helene out into the hallway.
Christian contemplated joining them and then heard his mother’s airy laugh and Richard’s answering chuckle. It seemed his mother didn’t need his protection after all, and she was, in truth, perfectly capable of defending herself from any man alive.
Christian sat on the edge of his desk and tried to examine his response to Richard’s sudden appearance. He felt ... threatened, and that was nonsensical. He’d always known in the back of his mind that Richard would return one day and reclaim his position as Philip’s heir. Bastards, even acknowledged bastards like Christian, were unable to inherit a title, even if their parents later married. He’d always known that and understood it, so why was he feeling so unsettled?
He contemplated the open doorway. Nuns in an orphanage had raised him. Perhaps it would have been better if he’d studied his Bible more carefully. He hadn’t expected his mother and father to be quite so welcoming to this particular prodigal son.
 
As she approached her bedroom, Elizabeth heard voices, which indicated that both Christian and the anticipated modiste were already awaiting her appearance. She straightened her shoulders and fixed a polite smile on her face. Christian was sitting by the fire chatting to an elderly dour-faced woman who seemed remarkably unaffected by his charm.
When he saw her, Christian rose and bowed. “Mrs. Smith, may I make you known to Madame Wallace?”
“A pleasure, madame.” Elizabeth curtsied and received a sharp nod in reply. “I am in sore need of some new clothes.”
“I can see that.”
Madame Wallace’s blunt reply in an accent that held little hint of France and much of Northern England made Elizabeth want to laugh.
“I need to take your measurements first, Mrs. Smith, and then create a muslin toile my girls can work from at my establishment.” She advanced upon Elizabeth with her tape measure. “You will, however, have to report to my workroom regularly for fittings. I do not usually make house calls.”
“I understand, madame,” Elizabeth replied as the modiste stepped behind her and began to loosen her gown. Christian settled back into his seat by the fire, his hazel gaze fixed on the gradual reveal of her skin.
“I would like Mrs. Smith to have one of the newer, lighter pairs of stays,” Christian stated.
Madame Wallace looked up from her measuring and nodded. “I assumed you would want something more fancy. Using the measurements you sent me yesterday, I’ve already set my best girl on it.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Christian. “You guessed my size?”
He shrugged, the motion hardly wrinkling the exquisite lines of his coat. “You aren’t the first woman I’ve chosen a wardrobe for.”
Elizabeth raised her chin. “I thought we had already discussed this. I was not aware that you were choosing this one.”
Madame Wallace made a huffing sound. “I don’t care who pays for the clothes as long as you both stop talking and let me do my work.”
Elizabeth obediently raised her arms and allowed Madame to remove her stays completely. She was now clad only in her thin shift and the stockings that she had borrowed from Marie-Claude. She stood quietly while Madame made notes in her book and continued to take her measurements, aware all the time of Christian’s gaze on her and the anticipation in his narrowed eyes.
Of course he wouldn’t be able to leave it be; he was a man, after all. He would have to prove he was the best lover she had ever had and make her climax. He wasn’t the first man who had attempted it, and if she had her way, he wouldn’t be the last.
Eventually, she and Madame settled into a discussion about the number of gowns she needed, their purpose, and the fabrics and trimmings that would adorn them. Elizabeth found herself enjoying the experience. It had been quite a while since she had worn anything new, let alone ordered so many new garments. Her husband had been remarkably frugal with his money, and his taste had been old-fashioned and veered toward the puritan.
Christian occasionally added his comments, but for the most part he allowed Elizabeth to choose what she liked. Their only disagreement came over the number of gowns he considered necessary, which was far more than Elizabeth calculated she could ever afford.
By the time Madame left with a stern admonishment for Elizabeth to present herself at the modiste’s shop in one week, Elizabeth was feeling quite in charity with her employer. She moved across to the bed where Madame had left a simple green muslin gown for her to wear and admired the braided piping on the edge of the bodice.
“Don’t bother putting the dress on, Mrs. Smith.” She jumped when Christian murmured in her ear. “I’d just have to take it off you again.”
His arms came around her waist from behind, bunching the thin muslin of her shift against her skin. She waited, her breathing slow and even as one of his hands eased upward to cup her breast. His thumb settled over her nipple and she sighed. He always surprised her. When she expected him to be demanding, he coaxed a response from her with far greater skill and sensitivity than she wanted.
He lowered his head and his lips brushed her ear and moved downward, sampling her flesh, nipping and biting at her earlobe until she trembled. He tightened his grip around her hips, drawing her against his already-erect cock. She found herself struggling to maintain her composure and deliberately pushed her hips back and rubbed herself against him.
BOOK: Simply Carnal
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