Simply Shameless (28 page)

He shuddered as her fingers brushed his. He took hold of her cold hand and held on tight.

"Even if I had known I was pregnant, Philip, I still would've sent you away."

"I know." He squeezed her fingers hard. "I'm not sure if I would've gone, though."

"You would've had no choice in the end. Your father was determined you should marry Anne."

"And if I had wanted to support you and the twins, I had to marry Anne to claim her inheritance. How ironic."

She stirred beside him, and her skirts made the candlelight flicker. "The twins were well cared for. Viscount Harcourt-DeVere ensured that they were boarded at the same private school as my older daughter, Marguerite. I missed watching them grow up, but at least I knew they were safe."

"Of course; you weren't able to keep them with you, were you?"

"I would've loved to keep them all, but unfortunately, my lifestyle did not allow it. As I said, I could scarcely bring them up in a pleasure house, however exclusive it was."

He could hear the raw hurt behind her light tone and realized he wasn't the only person who had suffered. The hot glow of anger inside him subsided. The older he grew, the more he realized life wasn't black and white, that there were many hues of gray in between. Helene's decisions about the twins had little to do with his wife's deliberate deception and her subsequent lack of interest in the results of her adultery.

"Some women simply abandon their children to the foundling hospitals."

She sighed. "I couldn't have done that. I never knew which man in the Bastille fathered Marguerite, but she was still my child. And the twins were doubly special, because they reminded me of you."

He swallowed hard. "If you had come to me, even after I was married, I would've helped you, supported you, set you up in your own house ..."

"I know, but what would've happened to me then? I'd be beholden to you for everything, at your beck and call, simply existing between the moments you could snatch away from your wife. After my elderly French lover died, I swore that I would never be a kept woman again."

He thought about that. Allowed his mind to consider her words, even realized he could accept her logic, despite his hurt. "And your life has been better without me?"

"My life has been different. I have achieved a level of independence and success that few women manage. I have three healthy children and enough money saved to know I will never have to depend on anyone for anything in my old age."

"That is certainly an achievement." He let go of her hand. She was right. She didn't need him at all. "Do the twins know I'm their father?"

"Non, I haven't told them. I assume you would not have been amused if they'd suddenly decided to seek you out and confront you."

Philip stood up and brushed at his breeches. "Are you going to tell them now?"

Helene picked up the candle and got up as well, shielding the flame with her cupped hand. "That is for you to decide, surely?"

"Will you let me think about it?"

"Of course. I know this has been an unpleasant surprise for you."

"A shock, certainly." Why were they being so polite and reasonable to each other? What had happened to his desire to throttle her for deceiving him? It had faded away, pushed into the background by the sense of their shared pain.

He started for the stairs, aware of her close behind him.

"Philip ... I am sorry."

He half turned, saw her face illuminated by the light for the first time, the tears glinting on her cheeks.

"You are sorry? You were faced with the burden of bearing my children alone. You do not have to apologize to me."

He started up the stairs and emerged into the narrow scullery. The kitchen door was open, and there was no sign of the twins, a small thing for which, in his present disordered state, he was profoundly grateful. He doubted he could face them yet without betraying something of his chaotic feelings. He'd already guessed they were no fools.

The scent of roasted coffee caught at his senses, and he walked into the kitchen. Madame Dubois nodded to him as he helped himself to some coffee and a slice of freshly baked bread. To his relief, his stomach settled and he realized he was capable of functioning again.

Helene hadn't followed him into the kitchen. He wondered where she'd gone. He doubted she would let their agonizing exchange of confidences affect her as much as it had affected him, but she had been crying... .

Philip put down his mug and headed for Helene's office. She wasn't there, so he started up the back stairs and worked his way down through all the floors of the pleasure house.

Where in God's name had she gone? There was only once place left to look.

He knocked on the door of her private suite and was surprised when she told him to enter.

He found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by bundles of letters.

"Helene, are you all right?"

She nodded as she gathered up some of the stacks of letters and placed them into one of the kitchen baskets. He wasn't deceived by her businesslike manner—he had learned that it concealed so much more.

"I wanted to give you these. They are all the letters I have received from the nuns and the twins since they were taken to the nunnery school." She smoothed one of the faded ribbons. "I kept the twins with me for their first year. After that... I had to send them away."

Philip stared at the basket, almost afraid to reach for it. Helene was watching him closely.

"Of course, if you do not wish to read about them, I will understand. ..."

He picked up the basket, surprised at the weight, and realized he held a lifetime of love.

"Thank you. I promise I will return them to you when I'm done."

She smiled. "There is no need." She clenched her fist to her breast. "I think I have them all by heart."

He studied her face, savoring the strength beneath the fragile exquisite beauty. Strength that had made sure his children survived to adulthood despite the odds stacked against them. He wished he could've seen her body swollen with his seed.... With a start, he realized he wanted to bind her to him in the most primitive and possessive ways a man could.

She raised her eyebrows. "Why are you staring at me?"

He managed to shrug. "Because you are beautiful?"

"You have only just noticed that?"

She collected the rest of the letters, put them back into their box, and locked them away in her bedside cabinet. Her self-possession continued to alternately enchant and confuse him.

"I noticed it the first time we met; don't you remember?"

She shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I can hardly be expected to recollect exactly what happened."

He advanced toward her and pulled her into his arms, wanted her attention completely focused on him, wanted to see that famed icy beauty dissolve to reveal her desire for him and him alone.

"You don't remember that I was as hard as a rock for that entire coach journey and that all I could think about was pulling up your skirts and fucking you in front of the other passengers?"

"I don't recall that at all. In truth, you behaved like a perfect gentleman."

"Until I did back you up against a wall and have you."

He suited his actions to his words and maneuvered her up against the nearest wall, shoving her skirts around her waist. At this particular moment, he needed to be inside her more than anything. He hastily undid the buttons on his breeches to reveal his eager cock and lifted her over him.

He held her gaze as he slowly lowered her down over his shaft, groaning as each thick inch was enclosed by her tight wet passage. She gripped his shoulders and dug the heels of her jeweled slippers into his arse.

With a groan, he shifted his grip and allowed her to move on him until he couldn't stand it anymore. He took control of her hips, pressing her down onto his engorged cock as he thrust upward, creating a fast grinding rhythm that drove them both toward a climax.

Helene came first, moaning his name, and he swiftly followed, his cock pulsing endlessly as she milked him dry.

He pulled out and let her legs slide down to the floor, pressing her to the wall with his weight.

"I still get hard every time I see you, Helene."

"And I still let you back me up against walls and have your way with me."

A curious sense of peace invaded his limbs, and he struggled with a strong desire to take her back to bed and forget about all their problems in the joy of lovemaking. In the two weeks since he'd seen her again, his life had changed in extraordinary ways. Whatever happened between them, he would never forget her.

He kissed the top of her head. "If you wish to stay here and rest, I'll do the inspection for you."

She pushed at his chest. "I'm not an invalid, Philip. I'm quite capable of following my usual routine, despite your attentions."

He smiled at her businesslike tone. How like her to emerge from his lovemaking with renewed vigor when he felt like taking a long luxurious nap.

"Perhaps I'll stay here and rest instead."

She fixed him with a glare from her fine blue eyes. "You will not. You will accompany me."

"Still hoping to see me chained up on the top floor, then?"

"I would like that." Her gaze turned speculative. "Are you ready to submit to me yet?"

Despite its recent activity, his cock twitched and started to thicken. "Like you submit to me?"

She bit down on her lush lower lip, and his shaft grew even more.

"You seemed to like it when I spanked you with your own hairbrush."

Her color heightened, and she turned toward her dressing room. "I'll be ready in a moment. Perhaps you might straighten your attire."

He glanced down at his unbuttoned breeches, saw the crown of his cock thrusting through his wet shirttails, and grinned. "As I said, I don't need any of those fancy instruments of torture to get me hard, just you."

She didn't reply, but she did slam the door. Philip smiled, sauntered over to the door, and knocked.

"I'll wait for you upstairs."

He picked up the basket of letters and left, amazed that he could find Helene incredibly alluring and profoundly moving at the same time. His discovery of the twins' identity had shocked him to his core, and yet it seemed that his attraction to Helene was still as strong, if not stronger. He paused in the scullery to hide the letters under his cloak and continued on up to the top of the house.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Is there something wrong, Maman?”

Helene jumped as she realized Lisette was staring expectantly at her again. What on earth had they been talking about? She was supposed to be enjoying her daughter's company over lunch, not staring into space worrying about Philip. There were less than seven days left of their bargain, and she was no closer to knowing what he was going to do than she had been at the beginning. She knew he'd see it through now, but after that? Could she actually work with him after all?

"I'm sorry, Lisette, I didn't quite hear what you said."

Lisette gave a long-suffering sigh. "I was asking if you wanted to go shopping with me this afternoon while Christian is busy at the races."

"I would like that, my dear. Where exactly do you wish to go?"

"To Bond Street and all the most fashionable places to watch the crowds." Lisette's excitement faded, and she bit her lip. "If you are comfortable with that, Maman, of course."

Helene tried to look animated. "Why wouldn't I be? We'll take Mrs. Smith-Porterhouse with us as well. I'm sure she'd enjoy it."

Lisette fiddled with the lace cuff of her new blue muslin morning dress. "Christian says I shouldn't go out in public with you, because you are a notorious fille de joie."

"And if I assure you that he is wrong, will you believe me?" Helene patted her daughter's hand. "I would like to go out with you."

Shyly, Lisette met her gaze. "I would like that too."

Helene smiled at her daughter. "See? I am not quite the ogre Christian would like me to be. I truly wish to start again and be a better mother to you."

Lisette shifted uneasily in her seat. "It is hard to know what to believe anymore. Christian says you can't be trusted, because you lied to us for years."

"I know that I lied to you, Lisette, but I don't intend to deceive you any longer. It's true that I own and operate this pleasure house, but it is not a brothel. And I certainly haven't been a kept woman since I left France eighteen years ago."

"The letter said you'd had more lovers than any other woman in London." Lisette got up and moved to stare out the window overlooking the back garden. "Is that true?"

Helene stared at her daughter's back. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to be honest with Lisette without Christian's interference. "I might have taken a few lovers over the years, but that was by choice. No one paid me or forced me. I simply enjoy sex."

Lisette spun around, her hand over her mouth, her eyes huge. "Maman, what a thing to say! Ladies aren't supposed to indulge in that sort of thing without the sanctity of marriage!"

"Is that what the nuns taught you?" Helene repressed a smile. "Perhaps I should've entrusted your education to a less spiritual school. I'm surprised you are so shocked. The French are usually known for their practicality about matters of love."

Lisette made a worldly dismissive gesture with her hand. "The nuns knew nothing. We girls learned everything from the kitchen staff and the novels that were smuggled in."

Helene rose to her feet and smoothed down her skirts. "One day, when you meet the right man, you will understand about love."

"Did you ever meet the right man, Martian?"

An image of Philip flashed through Helene's mind. "My life has been very different from yours. I wasn't able to make the same choices you will have."

"Do you mean you met the right man and lost him?"

Helene smiled. "I suppose I did, although sometimes fate can play tricks on you. If you are lucky, sometimes you cross paths with a loved one more than once." There, she'd admitted her lasting feelings for Philip to herself, even if she never intended to admit them to his face. He would enjoy it far too much.