Chapter Eleven
A nthony sat with his back to the china cupboard, not wishing to look at it, and sipped his whisky. Pemberton was already in his cups and Buswick was well on his way there. Leighhall, he noticed, drank very little.
The dinner had been a far more normal affair than he’d expected, differing from a typical evening in London only by the ladies’ dress and the few ribald comments and innuendos that peppered the conversation. What was very different was the jovial mood and relaxed camaraderie. That did give him pause. Was that due to the status of the ladies? Yet they still left the gentlemen to their drinks while they gathered in the parlor as usual.
“I say, young Bellamore, wherever did you find that pretty little morsel, Daguette? She’s a special one, that one.” Rothbury turned to the others. “I do believe she invited me to bed in French.”
Pemberton guffawed. “Are you sure she didn’t invite you to the kitchen?”
Not to be outdone, Buswick winked at Rothbury. “Your French is as bad as your breath, my man. She clearly invited you to a horse race, which, based upon your skills, I have no doubt you’d lose.”
Seeing as no one actually expected an answer of him, Anthony took another sip of his drink, content to let the jovial mood continue.
“My question, Pemberton, is where did you find Alice? On the docks?” Leighhall’s interest seemed more than just casual.
“Not at all. I found her in a decent brothel near Mayfair.” Pemberton laughed. “She was so good and so willing to try anything, I just had to keep her.” He lowered his brows, trying to put on a serious face, but failed miserably. “She was a lady’s companion but found it far too boring.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Buswick lifted his almost empty glass. “Here’s to Alice—may she always be willing and wet.”
The men cheered, and Pemberton basked in the glow of their admiration.
Leighhall set his glass down without taking a sip. “You always find the best whores. I really must meet up with you in Town next Season.”
“The more the merrier, Leighhall.” Pemberton grinned crookedly. “We old men need all the experiments we can get before we leave this earth. How’s that Selene you have now?”
“She has the required physical attributes, but no imagination. I have Alberta for tomorrow. She’s far more inventive with her body and willing to do anything. If any of you want a go at her tomorrow afternoon, you’re welcome to her.”
Anthony gritted his teeth at Leighhall’s attitude. Yes, he understood the women were only mistresses, but the viscount made it sound as if they were dogs. No, less than dogs. The other men didn’t speak so.
Maybe he was just used to having Lissa about. She had so much intelligence and skill. He hadn’t even known how beautiful she was, or how alluring, until the day in Melton Village when she’d set about seducing him.
He found himself hard pressed to behave as he should. His only control was his respect for her, and also how much he cared for her wellbeing. On one hand, he wished to protect her from learning more than she already knew, and on the other, he wanted to teach her so much.
“I say, Bellamore, who will you have do the hunting tomorrow?” Buswick raised his brows.
“Do not the men hunt and the women stay here?”
Pemberton laughed loudly. “Really, Leighhall, did you not tell the man anything about this weekend?”
Leighhall shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Buswick lifted his glass to be refilled. “The hunt tomorrow is on foot. You can choose to be the hunter or the prey. Your Daguette will be the other.”
“But there is no cheating.” Leighhall said the words forcefully, making it clear they must play by his rules or not at all.
Anthony thought it best to learn more. “How does one cheat at hunting one’s partner?”
Rothbury was happy to explain. “If the two determine a hiding place ahead of time or if the prey leaves obvious signs they are in the vicinity, like a ribbon on a branch or a piece of lace on the ground.” He turned to Buswick. “Remember when Lord Archer thought himself clever by leaving lemon drops along his path so his mistress could find him, only to be bitten by ants?”
Buswick laughed. “I do. As I remember, she was far off his trail and didn’t know where he was until he started yelling. I’ve never seen a man so happy to pay the forfeit.”
Anthony didn’t think it sounded very laughable. “What’s the forfeit?”
Leighhall scowled, clearly angered by anyone who would cheat at his games. “Any cheater must walk back to the house naked.”
Anthony sucked in a breath, not liking that forfeit at all. “And is there a great prize for the hunter who finds his prey first that such cheating is done?”
Pemberton, Buswick, and Rothbury looked at each other blankly before they all laughed.
Confused, Anthony looked to Leighhall, who smirked at the men. “There is no prize, unless you wish to brag that you can smell your whore’s readiness faster than others. Of course, that’s if you are the hunter. If you’re the prey and your whore finds you first, I suppose you could brag that she is that anxious to be jocked.”
“I see.” Anthony pretended to ponder the issue. “So in essence, it is merely pride that drives the spectacle.”
“Very good, Bellamore. Very good,” Leighhall replied. “But do not underestimate a man’s pride.”
Anthony took another sip of whisky to hide his concern. This weekend gave Leighhall much that he could twist to get other men to do as he wished, while he himself seemed above it all, except whatever he did behind closed doors. Maybe a visit to the man’s room while he was otherwise occupied could lead to his own secrets in addition to the room they’d found.
“I hear Prinny is getting impatient.” Rothbury frowned before gesturing with his glass, spilling port on his black trousers. “It seems he’s tired of waiting to be king.”
Pemberton snorted before throwing back the rest of his scotch. “I don’t see why. He has all the privilege and, might I add, women to enjoy without all the responsibility. Why the rush?”
Leighhall waved his hand to dismiss the notion. “That is just rumor. I heard from him just the other day, and he is in no hurry to take the country upon his shoulders just yet.”
Surprised, Anthony turned toward Leighhall, who still sat at the head of the table as if presiding over a court himself. “You have the ear of the regent?”
“The ear? Our host is in regular correspondence with Prinny.” Buswick, now definitely having a bit of a time walking, lost his balance and landed hard on a chair. “You, young Bellamore, are in the presence of one with more power than he admits to.”
Leighhall, instead of lifting his chin as he usually did when pleased with accolades, seemed disturbed. “Do not exaggerate a casual friendship, Buswick.” He turned to Anthony. “Prinny and I simply have a common hobby.”
“Women!” Pemberton yelled as if he’d been asked what the hobby was.
Leighhall took a deep breath then gave a single nod, obviously beginning to lose patience with his corned guests. The lords getting drunk must not have been planned. “Yes, that is how we became acquainted. We both enjoy a good rutting with a pliable and obedient trollop.”
Anthony gave the man a smile then took another sip of his whisky, not revealing that he now felt his attendance at Woburn Manor was a waste of time. If Leighhall was friends with the regent, it was doubtful he’d be able to find anything with which to keep the man in check. Frustrated, he wished himself anywhere but with the viscount. Unfortunately, wishing and current circumstances did not meld well.
A footman came and stood next to Leighhall, but didn’t say a word. Immediately, the viscount put down his drink. “Gentlemen, it is time to rejoin our various whores and wantons.”
“Hope I remember which is mine.” Pemberton laughed loudly before holding out his glass to have it refilled before he left the room.
Buswick rose. “I, for one, am happy to move to yet another enjoyable activity. What do you have planned for us this evening, Leighhall?”
The viscount rose and gestured toward the door. “The usual parlor games, nothing more.”
Anthony stood as well, and Buswick clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t believe him, my young Bellamore. Our host always has a creative twist that we all appreciate in one way or another.”
He forced himself not to stiffen as he strolled out with Buswick by his side. As soon as they entered the parlor, he stepped to the right and glanced over the room, quickly spotting Lissa, who sat next to Delilah in facing wingback chairs. Alice was sprawled upon the settee with Violet standing at one end. The other women present were looking out the window for some reason.
Leighhall immediately joined Selene at the window. “What is it, my dear? I can’t believe the moon would be nearly as interesting as you are.”
Not wishing to hear any more of Leighhall’s acting, Anthony moved to where Lissa sat. He couldn’t resist laying his hand on her almost bare shoulder, the warmth of her skin seeping into his palm, making him feel more himself again. “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”
She looked up at him as she laid her hand over his. “I am indeed. There are so many interesting people here.” Her eyes danced with humor.
“I agree. But I must say the most interesting is you.” His gaze slipped from her face to her breasts pressed together by her stays and in danger of falling out. As he continued to look, he was quite sure he could see a bit of pink areola.
“My dear baron, if you keep staring at Daguette so, everyone will think you in love.”
He blinked at being caught and met the warm gaze of Delilah. “Well, I hope so, because I am. Daguette has my heart.”
Delilah placed her hand over her rather large bosom. “That’s so wonderful to hear. But it saddens me that you cannot marry.”
“It doesn’t sadden me. I’d much rather spend my life with Daguette. Marrying someone would only pull me away from my love.”
Delilah moved her gaze to Lissa. “Is he jesting?”
“No. Though I’ve told him numerous times that he cannot avoid his family obligations, he remains adamant.”
He squeezed Lissa’s shoulder slightly, proud of how well she acquitted herself in such an unusual situation. “I am that. I have an older brother who is married with a son. As far as I’m concerned, I am free to live my life as I choose.” He sobered as if unhappy with his circumstance. “But I admit to hoping for advice from Lord Leighhall on how to accomplish that.”
“My advice?”
Having seen Leighhall moving in their direction, Anthony wasn’t surprised by the man joining the conversation. “Yes. It was one reason I’d hoped so much to attend your fete.”
The viscount’s brows rose. “And here I thought it was for the freedom to be social with your mistress.”
“I admit that intrigued me greatly. But I also hoped you could advise me on how to manage my family’s need to see me married, with my enjoyment of being with Daguette always. You have managed to stay unmarried, and you are older than I. I’m hoping you have strategies you could share.”
“Strategies?” Leighhall appeared to ponder. “I’m not sure I have any. I simply told my family that I would marry when I wished.”
“But what about your parents?”
Leighhall chuckled. “My father has passed and my mother is dependent on me for her comfort. She agrees with me that if I’m happy then she will be as well.”
Anthony frowned, though he’d already known about the man’s father. “I beg your forgiveness. I was unaware of your father’s passing.”
Leighhall waved off the apology. “It’s of no matter. The bugger was worse than a wild boar. We are all better without him, especially my dear mother.”
It was obvious the man had said the last to impress the women around him.
“Leighhall, what is our next adventure?” At Pemberton’s shout from across the room, Leighhall moved on.
“I’d best save Rothbury from that Selene.” Delilah rose before lowering her voice so only Anthony and Lissa could hear. “She made it clear to me that she is only with Leighhall for this weekend and is looking for a new protector. I will not let her take him from me.” With that, she moved off.
He moved from behind Lissa’s chair and sat on the arm next to her. “Do you wish to forgo the games?”
Lissa looked up at him. “Absolutely not.” She leaned in and whispered, “I don’t remember the last time I felt so comfortable. I know the Belinda School for Curious Ladies aspires to teach us new ideas, but I must say I have learned far more in the short time we’ve been here than I have in the last two months at school.” She moved back. “I can’t wait to see what the games are all about.”
Her observation made him uneasy. How could she marry well, even among the middle class, if she had so much knowledge about this other side of life? Would her husband be pleased or horrified that she was so interested in sex? Even among the peerage, it depended on the man.
He froze as his mind connected the pieces of the puzzle that were Lissa. She wanted to marry middle class because she couldn’t marry a peer. She wasn’t a virgin. How could she hide that after the marriage was consummated? A peer would be furious. Why had he not figured it out before?
Immediately his mind raced to the wealthy men he’d pointed out to her in Talley on the Green. He tried to imagine her with each of them, but none of the matches felt right. He would have to give her future husband much more thought. And now he’d have to be sure that whomever he introduced her to, had no dealings with any of the men at Leighhall’s party. He’d definitely made his promise to Lissa that much more difficult to fulfill.
“I wonder if we’ll play charades.” She set her hand on his thigh. “I do so enjoy them.”
Though dinner was close to typical, he did worry about the games. If “hunting” took on a new meaning, what might “games” portend? He took her hand in his, feeling far more protective of her than he’d ever felt. He was responsible for her being in such a situation, and he would make sure she didn’t do anything she didn’t wish to do.
As Leighhall called for their attention, he stood, ready to make an excuse if Lissa wished to leave. As the game of Puss, Puss in the Corner was announced, he was relieved that there was no particular forfeit, though he needn’t have worried, as Lissa was much faster than most of them. Leighhall didn’t play, instead directing and judging.
Next was Hunt the Slipper. Each woman took off her shoe in an appropriate manner, except Alice, who made sure she lifted her skirts above the tops of her stockings before removing her slipper. Anthony did notice that Lissa untied her left boot, so as to keep her dagger in her right boot hidden. It was a reminder that she was neither the lady nor the mistress she appeared to be in her dresses. Only he knew the true Lissa, and a feeling of happy nostalgia filled him at that thought.
As the laughter died down from a joke Alice made after the game ended, Lissa yawned. Anthony glanced at the clock on the mantel to see it was only midnight but immediately rose from the floor where they all sat. “I fear I’ve grown tired after so much activity today. I hope you don’t mind if Daguette and I retire early.”
“Too much activity, you say?” Pemberton looked to everyone else. “It certainly wasn’t with us.”
As everyone laughed, Anthony helped Lissa to stand then wrapped his arm around her. “No, it wasn’t with you, and I’m hoping for a bit more activity before sleeping, too.” He winked, causing more laughter and a few ribald comments.
“Don’t forget the dressing room.” At Buswick’s reminder, Anthony held back a grimace.
Lissa waved her hand. “Oh, I don’t think so tonight. I prefer those manacles on the bedpost.”
More laughter ensued, and they made their way out of the parlor. They had barely reached the stairs when they heard a woman’s distinctive voice. “I’d be happy to help you hold ’em down, love.” Which was followed by a squeal as Pemberton, no doubt, took Alice to task.
They climbed the stairs in silence, next to each other but not touching. Anthony didn’t look forward to sleeping on the settee, but he would not make Lissa uncomfortable. After opening the door, he stepped aside so she could enter. No sooner had he turned and closed the door then her hands came around his waist, her cheek against his back.
“Thank you for bringing me with you.” She squeezed him, the happiness in her voice making him want to turn around and see her face.
She quickly let go, and he turned just in time to see her dark eyes alight with joy, her lips parted in a wide smile, much like in France. “This”—she spread her arms wide—“is what life is, learning and experiencing new things. No wonder you won’t give up your investigations.” She flopped down on the settee and spread out as Alice had been. “I never knew about the life of a courtesan. I do believe I prefer their company over the ton .” She paused. “Excepting my fellow curious ladies, who have wonderful hearts. But so do these women, or rather some of them.”
She sat up straight. “That Selene is odd. How can a prude be a courtesan? And Alice…” She grinned. “She doesn’t hide anything. I do believe I could be great friends with both Delilah and Violet. I wonder what this Alberta is like. Most likely another lady swooning over Leighhall’s charming manner.” Her nose wrinkled. “Delilah and Violet know it isn’t sincere.”
Since there was no other chair, he moved to the bed’s foot post and leaned against it. “Did they have anything else to say about Leighhall or his activities?”
“Indeed they did.” She sobered. “Delilah has been here the most, since she’s been with Rothbury three years now. She said at least once each time Leighhall loses his temper about something and it is scary to behold. She also said she’d overheard his talking about some of his women, and it was quite unpleasant.”
That was a mild way to phrase it, but he understood. “I’m sorry she had to hear that.”
“Oh, but it wasn’t all she heard. You’re right. He is vengeful. She said he took revenge upon a woman just this year for something she did three years ago.”
“What did she do?”
“She refused to lie with him when he chose her at a brothel. At a brothel, no less! It took him three years, but he finally managed his revenge by paying two men to tup her, which she loved, but they used no French letters. She became pregnant and had to leave the brothel, as that was their rule.”
“And I imagine she had no way to support herself and the child.”
Lissa shook her head. “No one knows what became of her. I wonder how two men tup one woman. Do they take turns?”
His anger at Leighhall turned faster than a water spout. The thought of another man with Lissa, never mind two, had him curling his fingers into fists. “You would not like it.”
“Probably not, especially two men I didn’t know.”
He didn’t care if she did know them. Two men were out of the question. Actually, any man was out of the question.
When the hell had he become possessive? No, not possessive, just protective. Risking his own life in his investigations was one matter, but even if there were no threat to them, he’d already risked her innocence, or rather her ignorance. No, that wasn’t right either. He couldn’t quite name it, but he wanted to protect her from more sexual knowledge than she needed. Something told him he wasn’t making sense, but he ignored it. He simply needed to protect Lissa.
“Neither Violet nor Delilah care for Selene. I think it’s because she acts as if there is some hierarchy among mistresses, which I’ve been assured there is not, at least among the ones housed by peers. She believes she is of better status, I think.”
“Better status? How?” He’d never had a mistress, though he’d enjoyed many women’s company from most levels of society. So his knowledge in the societal norms of fallen women was woefully lacking, not that he thought he’d ever need it.
Lissa sat straighter and lifted her chin like the finest debutante at a ball. “Why? Because she was the courtesan of Lord Morely, the very good friend of King George, until just a fortnight ago, when he was told some absolute lies about her and he threw her over.” Lissa dropped her chin and grinned. “As she tells it, Leighhall was such a dear as to offer to take her on for a few weeks until she settled on a new protector.”
Something clicked in his mind. “Selene was the mistress of Morely?”
“Yes. Why, is that important?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed away from the bedpost and strolled to the fireplace, which, now lit, gave plenty of warmth to the room on the cool autumn night. “This is the third connection to the royal family I’ve stumbled upon.”
Lissa rose, turning to face him, her gaze intense with excitement. “What are the connections? Maybe if you talk through the information, we can find the common thread.”
That did make sense, and if he admitted it only to himself, he did value her keen insight. “Very well. The first was Mrs. Boscawen, the laundress and seamstress to Queen Charlotte. Leighhall spent two nights at an inn with her en route to visiting her family. The second was this evening, when I discovered that Leighhall and the regent write letters to each other after some past escapade of a sexual nature, or so it was intimated.”
She cocked her head. “And now his mistress for a few weeks is the discarded mistress of a man who everyone knows is great friend of the king.” She dropped her hand as her brow furrowed. “Those are connections to the top three royals. It appears the viscount is well situated.”
“Yes, it does.” But Anthony’s instinct was telling him there was more, and he began to pace. “The connection to the regent is direct, but precipitated by a common enjoyment of women. My guess is they shared one or participated in some, um, sexual event.”
Lissa didn’t say anything, but she did roll her eyes.
“The other two are connections to Prinny’s parents, one a direct servant and the other a less-direct mistress of a close friend. Could it be coincidence?”
“Are you not the one who told me there are no coincidences and that someone just needs to look deeper to find the reason?” She folded her arms over her chest, which made it easier for him to think.
“That’s true.”
“Then you must look deeper. Think back on the women Leighhall has tupped.” She smirked, obviously enjoying using the word. “Did any of them have indirect connections to any royals?”
He stifled a groan. “There have been so many.”
“Then look back to the most recent ones. Whom did he tup before Mrs. Boscawen?”
“Lady Amherst was just before Mrs. Boscawen, and Mrs. Coster, a baker in Bedford.”
Lissa’s eyes rounded and she dropped her arms to her sides. “Lady Amherst? But she’s married to an earl.”
He turned away to keep his concentration and walked toward the bed. “Yes, Lord Amherst. He’s…” He stopped mid-stride. “He’s a godson of the king.”
Lissa plopped on the bed next to him. “And what of Mrs. Coster, the baker?”
He started to shake his head but stopped and looked at Lissa. “Her son is one of the king’s footmen.”
She grabbed his arm. “That’s it. That’s the connection. Leighhall is tupping women who are close to people near the royal family, but why?”
He looked down at her and then wished he hadn’t. Her neckline crinkled with her position and he could clearly see one of her breasts, the whole perfectly shaped breast, with a large dusty-rose areola and tiny nub. Spinning away and pulling his arm from her hands, he strode to the window to look out upon the black night, trying to focus on the discussion.
“Anthony?” Her confusion was clear in her tone.
“I must think upon it.” But as he stared at the darkness, all he could see was the soft, pretty breast that he’d tasted for the briefest of moments earlier. Now all he wanted was to taste it again…and more.
“Could it be he was obtaining information? I can see where his flattery might turn the head of an unsuspecting woman.”
He forced himself to focus on her words. Information. From women. “By Jove, that’s it! He’s using these women to gather information about the king. But why?” He faced the room again, but didn’t look at her. He felt he was close to something important some revelation. He just didn’t know if whatever it was could aid him in his mission. “Why would Leighhall need information about the king?”
“Maybe he wants to ask him for something. Your king has many daughters, no? Maybe he wishes to improve his situation by marrying one of them.”
It was a possibility, but there were easier ways of accomplishing that. “I believe the answer is located either in that secret room or the man’s bedroom. I suggest we investigate both on the morrow. From what I’ve gathered, he will give us free rein of the house for tupping our mistresses again tomorrow before dinner, so that might be an excellent opportunity to further our search for answers.”
“I agree.” She jumped off the bed and moved to her trunk.
As she pulled the crepe shift out, he moved to the settee and sat to remove his boots. “I will sleep here. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.” He would be uncomfortable, but in a much better position than attempting to sleep on the bed without touching her.
“That’s all well and good, but you will need to unbutton me first.” Her booted feet came into view.
He looked up. “Yes, of course.” Quickly, he rose, anxious for her to crawl into the bed, so he wouldn’t have to worry about craving her. After unbuttoning the deep-blue dress, he untied the silken ties of the stays. “I believe that will accomplish what you need.”
She held the dress to her chest and looked over her shoulder at him. “I have a feeling that you know that as well as I.” Then, with a toss of her head, she strolled toward the armoire.
He ignored her comment, unwilling to discuss his skills with women, and dropped back down on the settee and removed his boots, greatcoat, and waistcoat. Then he lay back and closed his eyes. He didn’t plan to open them again until morning, even though the room already cooled.
As he lay there, he heard the armoire open and imagined her hanging her dress, and with each small sound, he pictured her until he was confident she had brushed her hair and crawled into bed. When the cloth first touched him, his eyes popped open to the sight of her long black hair hanging over his chest as she covered him with a blanket.
He snapped his eyes shut once again. “Thank you.”
She patted him on his shoulder. “We take care of each other , mom ami .”
The brush of her lips upon his forehead both startled and settled him. “Yes, we do. Always.”
Even as he heard her pad over to the bed and climb upon it, his last word seemed to echo in the room, or was it in his head? Just as he started to drift off, he thought he heard it settle into his heart.