Lady Varney's Risqué Business (3 page)

“But my fortune will be very large. My homes, here and in the country, are grand estates. I will be married to this woman for many decades, and I need the best companion possible.” He frowned, very determined looking. “I have the right to declare to whom I shall be joined!”

“Precisely so, my lord, but we must be prudent.”

“You be prudent! I shall be as I am!”

His virulence shocked her.

“Your fees are high. I shall have whom I want! Who is best suited to me.” He strode closer and seized her arms, his powerful body dwarfing hers. Once his might had been comforting, but now, full of fury, his size made her wince. She had been intimidated by her husband far too often, and she would not be by any man ever again.

She stiffened her spine. “Tell me your other requirements.”

“She must spend twenty-four hours with me at Belmont Manor.”

“Oh, I see.” She let out a breath, relieved. “You want her to visit.”

“No, I want her in my bed.”

Kitty blinked. “I…I’m sorry. You want her—?”

“Naked. I want to learn if she likes men. Me, to be exact.”

“I see.”
Women do like you, from what I hear.
One mistress in particular who boasts of your prowess in the art of pleasing a woman
.
“Why wouldn’t she?

“I need to learn if she is a dry piece of toast. Or a willing woman who likes a man’s touch. If she’ll be a desirable partner.”

“Most women are.”

“
Really?
You think so?” With a sound of derision, he spun away and walked toward the window. “I have learned that women in English society tend to be naïve and foolish. Certainly the ones who have been shoved at me as appropriate are witless ninnies, reared in tiny rooms by smaller-minded governesses. I want a woman in my bed, a full blown beauty with brains.”

“I see.”
Did you also think me witless? A ninny?

“Can you find one?” He peered at her with narrowed, merciless eyes.

She felt undressed from so far across the room, but she lifted her chin and carried on in a snit. “Indeed, I can, my lord. To fit your qualifications, I have two candidates.”

“Two. Damn me! So many!” he scoffed—and his expression implied he was surprised at her capabilities
. Odd.
He ought to be damn pleased. “I am delighted at your resourcefulness, Lady Varney. I wish to interview each of them, naturally. At my home in Kent.”

“First, I shall inquire if each is interested and accepts your terms.”

He waved a hand. “Of course. Do it within the week. I need to know quickly. My uncle is not well, and he wishes this matter of my marriage resolved before he sheds his mortal coil.”

Kitty frowned. Had she been wrong all these years to remember Justin as kind and caring? Had she varnished him with a romantic veneer of her own making?

He strolled closer. His magnetic allure nearly buckled her knees. But she stood taller, met him toe to toe, damn his eyes!

“And who are these women you have chosen for me?”

She gathered her courage. “Maribella Winter, Baroness Avon. And Susanna Curtis, Marchioness Hamill.”

“But to be honest, there is one more. Is there not, madam?”

“A third? No, none that I—”

“What of the illustrious blonde beauty who travels in the best of Society? What of the widow who has a son by her deceased husband? What of the heiress who holds through her own ancestry the ancient title of Lady Downey?”

Kitty caught her breath at the mention of her own ancient title. “She is not available.”
Not rich.
“Not suitable.”

“I say she is.”

She stared at him, tempted and hating herself for it. “She is older.”
Wiser than to do this.

“She will be presented to me at Belmont Manor.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I triple my fee.”

“Triple?” she parroted like a simpleton.

“One sum of five thousand pounds for each candidate.”

She could not refuse him. Not that sum. That amount would nearly free her of Henry’s gambling debts and give her enough to buy a few new frocks for next Season. The ability to hire a governess for Hank. “Justin, fifteen thousand pounds is a startling sum. But I cannot take it. Cannot ask three women to rendezvous with you. Really, how could I? I want to, but I cannot because—”

“Kitty! Stop this!” Justin stepped toward her so quickly, she scarcely noticed that he’d moved. But his arms crushed her close. His fingers lifted her chin. His lips took hers. Once, twice. Damn him, three times. Her own arms twined around him. She whimpered and moaned into his mouth while her breasts beaded and her nether regions flooded with a wet, hot desire. She had not felt so gloriously wanton since last she stood in his embrace.

“Oh, you’ll take it. Look at me,” he demanded. “Tell me who the third candidate is.”

She stared up at him, the devil. He had planned it this way. Devised this scheme to torture her, punish her for how she had not fought to stay with him eleven years ago. Poor man, he believed the
ton
. Thought she was rich. But he’d get no wife in her, only a lover.
For one day and night. One risqué affair.
“The last woman is me.”

Chapter Two

Would Justin be a good lover?

Ramrod straight, Kitty pondered that as she sat in her hired carriage, her fingers fiddling with the lace at her cuffs.

She rapped on the roof of her coach. “Hold here a moment, will you please, sir?”

The coachman reined the four in hand to an idle.

Her gaze, locked on the gigantic iron gate to Belmont Manor, did not stray from her destination. Nor did her mind from her quandary. To go or return home? Was that really a question? Shocked she had the boldness to have travelled alone these one hundred miles, Kitty felt caught in the trap of her own needs.

To have an affair with Justin Belmont was a magnetic idea. She sought no marriage, for she was done with such subjugations. But the very idea that she might for one day and one night enjoy a physical relationship with a man had overruled her own common sense. Would going to bed with Justin be worth the risk to her reputation? After all, she was known among Society as a woman of virtue. A woman who had honored her husband, never cuckolding him. A mother. A devoted one. She was a light of the
ton
and enjoyed it. Now that she had developed her matchmaking business to earn the fees, she had enough money to scrape by, even if she feared the blackguards to whom she paid Henry’s gambling debts. That left only one lack in her life. A man. If there even existed such a thing as an entertaining man in a woman’s bed. Ba! She’d never had the proof of that pudding!

But coming here did offer her one compensation. Before the next day had come and gone, she could rid herself of the notion that Justin Belmont was the only man who could please her. She’d come to prove him inadequate to the task.

It was quite true, however, that in the past years when she’d been in Society, she had not found any man who captured her attentions. True, even if she’d found such a man, she had not been free to sample his charms. But she had looked. She had dreamed that one day she might be free. When Henry had died of a sudden Christmas chill, she’d been stunned. But learning of his profligacy with her dowry and his own income, she’d realized soon after her husband’s death that she would never be free. Of Henry. His perfidy. And his debts.

“Madam?” The coachman called down from his box. “Should I continue up the drive?”

Kitty licked her lips and stretched toward the window. “Please do.”

“Walk on!” He flicked the reins and off they went.

She settled back, pushed down her fears and reached inside her well of courage to bring up resolution and force a smile.

Transforming it to the pleasant look she usually wore when receiving guests or walking the length of a ballroom in London, she awaited the coachman’s descent from his perch to open the door. With a turn of her head, she watched the butler step down from the white stone portico of the high-towered house and extend his hand to help her descend to the pebbled drive.

“My lady,” Justin’s elderly, white-haired butler greeted her with deference. “Welcome to Belmont Manor. And you there,” he addressed the coachman and waved for a footman to come forward from the foyer, “Gerald will help you with the lady’s portmanteaux. Thank you.” He placed a few jingling coins in the coachman’s palm and smiled politely at Kitty. “I will show you inside, madam.”

As she walked through the entrance hall of Belmont Manor, Kitty saw what Justin’s forty-thousand-a-year income offered. Spotless marble entry. Tromp l’oiel ceilings. Was that a Holbein on the wall there? French Aubusson runners down the far hall? Yes, she had always known she was a slave to extravagance. The odd. The new. Any lavish excess excited her mind and made her nipples into diamonds and her cunny a flowing river of wantonness.

“Lovely, is it not?” the butler queried with smug pride.

“Superb,” she affirmed.

“My name is Harrison, madam, and I am at your service for anything you require.” He extended a hand toward the broad black-veined marble staircase before them. “Please. I would imagine you wish to rest after your journey, and I can show you to your rooms.”

“Thank you, Harrison.” She removed her gloves, pulling finger by finger, then unbuttoning the frog closure of her cloak and turning to allow him to catch it. “You can show me into the presence of Viscount Belmont.”

Harrison shook his snowy head. “I am afraid not, madam. The Viscount is not at home.”

“Not—no?” She caught herself, unnerved not so much by the breach of etiquette but by the fact she could not face him now when she was as prepared as a sixty-gun galleon of the line.

“He sends his apologies and asks that you make yourself comfortable here. Gerald, the footman, Cook and I are to provide with anything you require. The rest of the staff have been given leave for the next few days and only we three remain here to serve you.”

“I see.” Oh, she understood perfectly! Miffed by Justin’s insulting absence, she was alternately grateful that she need not brave a coterie of maids and men who would find her presence here alone not only odd but titillating. “In that case, then, I wish tea and a few small cakes, after a tour of the house.”

* * * *

The tea was strong, hot and fragrantly rich jasmine. The cakes were an assortment of vanilla, spiced honey, drowning in crème and cocoa frosting. Justin’s home was huge, a mix of decors from the Ottomans, the French Empire and the Chinese Ch’ing dynasty. A rambling house, it was originally an Elizabethan country home in the shape of an E to honor that Tudor monarch. But the manse had gracefully embraced many renovations, including the sumptuous three-room suite that was Kitty’s. The abode was richly appointed with imported fabrics, art from the Continent and every amenity imaginable, including running water from a copper tube to the large porcelain bathtub in her suite.

Kitty disrobed, wallowed in a hot soapy bath, and ate a large serving of roast duck and potatoes, finished off with more iced cakes, enjoying the elegance of her rooms and the kindness of Harrison. But by midnight, she paced her suite, awake, aware and anxious for company. Male company. Her nerves would kill her before dawn.