CHOCOLATE, TEA AND THE DUCHESS (4 page)

to do is with your father."

"Your Grace, I swear to you, this was not my intention."

"I don't believe you nor shall I ever believe you. However, the point is moot, is it

not? There is nothing for it but to make this right, before your reputation is completely

ruined. I just wish now, that I had done something truly dastardly to deserve having to

spend a lifetime with your mama as a connection."

Felicity began to cry, he noted; her first sign of weakness in his presence. "She

means well."

"She means to have a duke as a son-in-law, and now, she shall have one. Come,

before I change my mind and seek refuge in Italy until the gossips go on to the next

great
on dit
."

Felicity continued to stand fast for several minutes.

"You can't do this, Your Grace."

"I have no choice."

"You do." She struggled against his hold. "I will deny it was me should anyone

say anything. My parents think I am with my friend. Once I tell her what's happened,

she will not betray me. I can go to her now, and no one will be the wiser."

"You're a child if you think that. Come."

He kept a tight hold on her wrist.
Lord, how did this get so out of hand
?

They located Lord and Lady Plimmswood, who were engaged with a small

group of people. Phillip and Lady Felicity had succeeded in calming themselves before

their approach. Phillip stepped up to Lord Plimmswood and whispered something,

drawing the man's attention.

"Excuse me, but I'm needed." He took his wife by the hand and together the four

of them sought out the nearest empty room.

Once the ladies were settled, Thornhill came to the point. "Lord Plimmswood, I

wish to offer for your daughter."

Lady Plimmswood began sputtering and tapping her daughter's hands. "Oh, my

darling, this is wonderful news."

Phillip attempted to ignore the lone tear that streaked down Felicity's porcelain

cheek.

"Well, Your Grace, I'm honored that you would find our Felicity to be worthy of

your consideration to take to wife. She is a fine girl, indeed."

"I wish to accomplish this as soon as possible, if you don't mind. I will procure a

special license and shall we say, three days hence, the ceremony will be performed at a

venue of your choosing?"

Lord Plimmswood gave his wife a deferential look. The lady bobbed her head up

and down in agreement with her future son-in-law. "Yes, we will have the ceremony at

our home, but I had so wished to see her married at St. George's."

"That is quite impossible, madam." He didn't want a display. It was bad enough

to be forced to marry; he wasn't about to celebrate the fact before all of London society.

"Very well, Your Grace, we shall have the wedding in three days." The woman

turned to Felicity. "He must love you very much to be in such a hurry to say his vows."

Felicity burst into tears.

Phillip remained unmoved by the emotional display. "I will have my solicitor

contact you with the settlement papers. I bid you good evening."

He bowed and walked out of the room without a word to Felicity. He feared his

anger would overset his tongue. There would be plenty of time to harangue her for the

behavior that had trapped them both in a marriage neither wanted.

Decisions needed to be made and his head was a muddle. He made his way to

his carriage, still parked under the copse of trees, where he'd thought naively it would

be unseen—they would be unseen.

"St. John's Wood!" His bellow rent the quiet night air.

As the monotonous clacking of the wheels over the cobbles lulled him into a

painful reverie, his anger grew dark. If murder were in his nature, Lady Evelina

Townsend would be dead at this moment. He'd underestimated her ability for revenge.

There had been a time when he fancied himself in love with her, given her sexual

tastes were aligned with his own. Pragmatic to his core, he'd never expressed his

deepest feelings. After all, men simply didn't love their mistresses; why, that would be

the complete antithesis of the purpose of a mistress. However, he'd sought an end to

their arrangement for almost a year. She'd gotten too attached, expected him to forsake

his need for men, which would never happen. Finally, he purchased a very expensive

emerald necklace, bracelet, and earring set and unceremoniously gave it to her after a

particularly satisfying fuck.

She'd seemed happy enough with the gift, but had promptly thrown him out

when he made the purpose of the gems plain. He'd assumed she would calm and see

their end as inevitable. How foolish he'd been, and that foolishness would cost him his

life, for at that moment he felt he'd given up everything.

Chapter Four

Many hours passed before Felicity was allowed to seek the comfort of her

bedchamber. Her mother and father congratulated her on her success in capturing the

Duke of Thornhill's attention. Her mother would be dragging her off to Madame

Devalcourt's in the morning, as a proper trousseau needed to be sewn immediately.

"We will pay whatever it costs," her father had said, for three days was surely not

enough time to make all her mother intended to purchase, not without properly

greasing the necessary palms.

She was attracted to the duke, undoubtedly, but she hadn't been afforded the

time to decide whether or not she wished to be married to him. Now, the decision was

completely out of her hands. Her impetuosity once again had landed her in trouble. Her

future husband was furious with her. If she were honest with herself, she couldn't

blame him.

She'd been quite forward, trying to imitate what she'd observed at school some

time ago. She sensed
Phillip
was a man of great sexual needs, though she had nothing

more to go on than the bulge in his trousers he'd so cleverly tried to hide from her. She

tried to imagine him in the throes of passion, but even with the knowledge she had, she

could get no further than the one kiss they'd shared. He seemed so staid and she

wondered what she could do to make him cast all to the wind and make love to her

with abandon.

His lips had been hard at first, but slowly they'd softened, until the kiss felt as

though he would swallow her whole. She'd wanted him to, truthfully. He was

everything she imagined her first lover to be, a bit rougher than the boys who

constantly tried to feel her breasts when they got her alone at balls. They groped with

such hesitancy she was certain they'd never before seen a woman's breast. Men liked to

touch breasts and kiss them; she'd seen that first hand when Agnes Dye and her swain

had stripped naked and engaged in the acts she foresaw herself doing with the Duke of

Thornhill.

Her quim clenched at the very thought. She wished she knew more about how to

please him. Most women must wonder what it was men liked so much about a

woman's body. She felt like such a school girl. She'd be expected to submit her body to

her new husband in three days time, and she hadn't a clue what to do. Agnes had much

more experience. Though Felicity knew the goal, getting there was what she needed to

learn.

The kernel of an idea began to form in her head, one sure to lead to even more

trouble, but she didn't care. She'd gotten them into this mess; the least she could do was

sexually satisfy her husband.

Her body tingled at the thought of implementing her plan. Only one place

existed she could think of to get the answers she needed
—the Sapphire Club.

* * * * *

Phillip arrived at the club at just past midnight. The night had been interminable,

making the time seem later than it actually was. Hampton, the club's butler, took

Phillip's hat in his usual polite manner.

"Is Damrill in?" he asked as he walked in the direction of the library.

"He is, Your Grace, shall I announce you?"

"No, I'll do that myself."

The click of his heels rang in the marbled entrance hall as he made his way to the

giant double doors. Without a knock, he flung them open to see Lucien Damrill sitting

behind his desk, chatting with Prentice Hyde, Marquess of Wycroft.

Lucien smiled. "Please, come in, Thornhill. Would you care for a brandy?"

"If it is that fine French you usually have."

Lucien nodded at the footman standing unobtrusively to the side. He presented a

snifter with quiet efficiency, something Phillip appreciated.

"You seem agitated, Thornhill?"

Phillip was agitated and made no effort to disguise the fact. "As you must have

been, upon discovering your long-lost wife had returned to your doorstep."

"I certainly was, but all has worked out well. What has you so on edge?"

Phillip related the entire story to his two friends, holding nothing back. At this

moment, the gossip mills undoubtedly churned with the unfortunate news of his

precipitous removal from the lists of marriageable titles.

"She is certainly getting the most
charming
of all England's lords." Wycroft said,

his voice conveying his usual teasing manner.

Indeed, the Duke of Thornhill had been greatly deprived of charm at birth,

though he had more than his fair share of good looks and money. Even he recognized

his shortcomings and dismissed the knowledge as unimportant. "Yes, well, she'll get

what she gets. She's brought this about with her foolishness. I've never wanted to be

married, you know that."

He allowed his rage to surface, for in the company of these two men, he felt at

home. In the years of the Sapphire Club's existence, their sexual escapades had been

renowned amongst the members. He needed to share his fury, and share it with others

who would understand.

"Are you here for some activity, Your Grace?" Lucien asked.

"Yes, and if I ever needed it, it would be now. Is Haynes around?"

"Yes, I believe he is. You go on to the room, and I will inform him of your

arrival."

Phillip swallowed the last of his brandy and stalked out of the room. He went to

the second floor, walked down the red carpeted hallway, passed the erotic drawings

and paintings adorning the walls. He'd passed these same pieces hundreds of times,

and they'd never failed to titillate him. There was no illusion this establishment was

anything but a wonderfully operated sex club, full of consenting adults, whose only

purpose was to play sexual games.

Tonight, he would receive a thrashing, followed by the fuck he'd intended to

pursue when the night began. The Sapphire Club had become important to the Quality,

a place they could go and play out their sexual fantasies with no one the wiser.

Certainly, some of the upper ten thousand appeared appalled by day with the club's

goings on, but by night, they bared their asses and did exactly as he intended to do.

For Phillip Allard, having his backside lashed was as important as breathing or

as his position in Parliament. He'd never been able to explain why to himself and

certainly would attempt no such thing with anyone else. His consequence allowed him

wide berth. His sexual peculiarities were, frankly, none of anyone's business.

Of late, he'd engaged the services of a young man, Haynes. Previously, Evelina

had done the honors, and he'd gladly reciprocated, spanking her errant bottom raw, but

with their parting of ways, he'd been left with no partner.

All must be consensual at the club. He'd taken a fancy to Haynes, a young man

who at one time had served as a footman. Haynes had been given greater opportunities

when he began to take on his own clients.

As always, Phillip chose a room that accommodated the more depraved activities

at the club. He'd been a devotee of thrashings, whippings, and the occasional lighter

spankings since his years at Eton. He was sure his buttocks were calloused, and yet he

insisted on painful thrashings.

The room held a contraption resembling a ladder, to which the duke could be

tied, his legs spread wide and secured in that position. He'd endured many a whipping

thusly trussed and would again tonight.

Haynes entered the room after a quick knock. "Good evening, Your Grace."

"Good evening." He winced inwardly as he realized his clipped tone.

Haynes, who appeared to hold no judgment toward him, made Phillip

comfortable. Though the intimate nature of their arrangement had made Phillip face

something about himself: a sense of shame. As much as he loved the act of fucking a

woman, he was equally enamored with men, something upon which he and Haynes

were in complete accord.

Haynes, a man of seven and twenty, was younger than Phillip by some thirteen

years, though that difference had never mattered. Haynes had never refused him

anything, and had delivered on his end of the bargain. Haynes's wrist was sure, his

attitude resolved, making his sessions quite satisfying indeed. And the fucking . . . oh

my God . . . some of the best sex Phillip had ever enjoyed.

"What shall it be tonight, Your Grace?"

Pain.
Phillip eyed Haynes. "I wish for you to make that decision. I only ask it be

harsh. Do you understand?"

"I believe I do. Get out of those clothes." In the blink of an eye, Haynes's

demeanor changed and he took control.

Phillip's heart raced.