Mastering the Marquess (2 page)

“Oh, I see.” She bowed her head again, with embarrassment, but more at the pain of finally knowing this harsh truth about her dear husband. Why had John never talked to her, let her comfort him? She could only imagine how great his anguish must have been. She became even more determined to guard his secrets well.

“I see your distress, my lady, so let me gently tell you that your husband was capable of receiving pleasure, but not by any method that a lady would engage in. And he was not capable of fathering children. He could not come.”

“Could not ‘come’?” She might know the meaning of sex, but what did Madame mean by “come”? Louisa looked up. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I hate ignorance.” Madame’s exclamation was loud and angry.

“I am sorry.” Could this get any worse? If she wasn’t careful she was going to cry, and that might be the most embarrassing thing of all—worse than any of this discussion.

“No, I am sorry, child. It is not you I am angry with, but society. But that is not a topic for this moment—or, indeed, ever.” Madame’s voice gentled. “A man comes when he reaches completion. Another word is ‘climax’—or ‘orgasm.’ No. You don’t know those either. Do you know that a man plants his seed within a woman and that is how children are conceived?”

Louisa nodded.

“And you know the parts of the body involved. The penis. The vagina.”

Louisa dropped her gaze again. How could Madame say these words? Louisa knew her mother certainly had not. “I know pe—the first one.”

She had a vague memory of her brother whispering that word to her when he’d been
about eight and had learned it from a friend. He’d been soundly thrashed for saying it once too often.

“The vagina is the part of a woman’s body that a man puts his penis into. Perhaps you have heard it called a ‘cunny.’ ”

Oh dear. That term she had heard, but only from the rudest of laborers—when they did not know she could hear. All she could do was nod again.

“When a man’s seed leaves his penis he feels great pleasure. This is his climax. It is called ‘coming.’ ”

Louisa’s mouth made an
Oh
, but no sound left her lips.

“Your husband, John, was no longer capable of this, and therefore could not ever father children. I think it is important that you know that. He would never have deprived you of being a mother if it had been within his power.”

Another silent
Oh
. Her hand drifted down to rest upon her belly, to the child that had never been.

Her mind filled with questions, but she was incapable of uttering a single one.

Madame seemed to understand without the words. “You wish to know why he came here if he could not … did not release his seed.”

Another nod.

“He was still capable of feeling some pleasure, felt a man’s need for these feelings. My girls helped him with this.”

“But why …?” Words burst from Louisa’s lips, but then became lost. “I would have …,” she tried again, but without success.

“I know. I understood when you came to me before, but you must understand that this is not what your husband wished. Some men feel that wives are pure and should not be troubled with a man’s needs other than for the procreation of children.”

“But …”

“You are correct. Your husband was not such a man, but his feelings were not far from it. He was ashamed. Ashamed of both his body and what he needed done. He wished to keep you as the best, most perfect thing in his life. He felt his needs would sully you. He would never have wished that.”

“But I …” Louisa raised her eyes to stare straight at Madame. What did any of that
matter? She had loved John enough to manage anything. “I did not care, do not care. I would have done whatever was needed to help him. Surely he knew that.”

“He did know.”

“Then what did he need done that I could not … that I could not do?”

Madame blinked. “I do not think that matters. He wished to keep it private during his life, and I don’t think he would wish me to betray him now. Do you?”

Louisa wished she could lie. “No. I do not.”

“But you are curious. So I will tell you it involved mouths and hands, and some degree of pain.”

“Pain?” How could John have wanted more pain? He’d often suffered it—fine lines of exertion had creased his noble face many mornings when he first tried to walk.

She wasn’t sure she could ever have hurt him. Perhaps that was why he had come here, because he’d known she would be incapable of causing him any physical pain?

“There are men who like pain—both to receive it and to cause it,” Madame replied. “John did not quite fit this category. Instead I think some of his nerves were damaged so greatly that it took intense feeling for him to react at all. Pain was the easiest way.”

Men who liked pain? Who could possibly like pain? Louisa wasn’t sure which was worse, the thought of receiving it or causing it. She didn’t even like to squash a bug. “He was that injured?”

“Yes.” Madame rose from her seat. “Now, perhaps if I have answered your questions as best I can and you have finished your tea”—Madame stared at Louisa’s empty cup—“then perhaps it is time for you to leave. Evening is approaching, and I do not think you wish to meet any of my guests.”

“But I didn’t come here just to ask questions.” Louisa jumped to her feet.

“You didn’t?” For the first time, surprise showed on Madame’s face.

“No. I came to ask you for help with a problem.”

“What kind of problem can you have? I understood John left you quite well off, despite the title’s going to his cousin.” Madame’s gaze took in every detail of Louisa’s gown and cloak, as if she was pricing each item in her mind.

This was the moment. “I wish to remarry,” Louisa said.

“And how do you need my help with this? I may be a matchmaker, but never for
marriage, although I’ve often thought I’d have a knack for it.”

Louisa closed her eyes—and then opened them again. “I am a virgin widow—a laughable thing.”

The corners of Madame’s mouth twitched. “I must admit I had never believed they existed.”

Her cheeks growing ever hotter, Louisa continued. “As I have said, I wish to marry again. However, I cannot bear for anybody to think less of John. I do not yet have a specific man in mind. I want this taken care of before I meet someone and have any thoughts of feeling unfaithful.”

Madame’s face grew serious. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to help me lose my virginity.”

Chapter Two

The Marquess of Swanston reclined in the wing chair, one leg tossed carelessly over the side. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small set of green enamel
ben wa
balls and began to spin them in his hand, making sure they did not click together. The antique set had been the gift of his good friend the Earl of Duldon after a visit to the Far East, and he’d fallen into the habit of playing with it whenever he was bored—or wished to appear so.

He was not pleased to be here. Not pleased at all. He had been surprised when the message was delivered and now was even more surprised that he’d chosen to come. His last experience in this establishment had left a sour taste in his mouth.

He wasn’t sure why he was here, and considered leaving, but then the door behind him creaked open and he heard the soft tread of feminine feet. Ruby never wore heels that clacked—and it was not her fault that he had delayed returning.

Her soft voice filled the room. “Ah, you’ve arrived.”

“I was summoned.” His attitude made it very clear he did not respond well to orders.

“Oh relax, Geoffrey. Don’t get your dander up with me. It was a very carefully worded request for your presence. A very gentle request.”

“Hmmm.”

“Would you respond better if I called it an invitation—a personal one?”

He turned his head. Ruby, Madame Rouge, might run the best house in London, but she never took clients herself. There’d been speculation aplenty over the years, but never had he heard of any man entering her bed. “Now that could be interesting.” He raised a brow.

“Down, boy.” He felt caressed by her low chuckle, a laugh that had driven many a man to distraction, himself included.

“If not that, then what? Have you found me a new friend? One who shares my tastes?” As well as running her own set of girls, Ruby managed meetings between those of particular interests. Swanston had never liked paying for his pleasure, but it was often difficult to discern a woman’s desires when meeting her in a crowded ballroom. Ruby made it very simple, and she charged only for the use of a room and any delicacies that he chose to order. “It’s not the
Countess, is it?” He deliberately made the title a name. He wanted to keep all thoughts of the woman as impersonal as possible. “After my last visit, I believe I made myself very clear on that score. I do not care for the same games that she chooses to indulge in.”

“And yet you enjoyed her for a while.”

“As a young boy enjoys downing a whole bag of sweets before vomiting in the street.”

Ruby smiled. “I am not sure the Countess would care for the comparison. She seems to have developed quite a
tendresse
for you. She is always asking after you.”

“And you, I trust, have made it quite clear that I am not available.” The balls clicked loudly in his hand, his irritation clear.

“I have told her, but I am not sure she believes me. I think she hopes it is all one more game. I have never seen her become so attached.”

He clenched his jaw. “It is not.”

“I know that. I saw your face after her last adventure. I could have told her you would not enjoy using force. You have always looked for willing playmates.”

“Rape has never been my fantasy.”

“And if I had known of her plans, I can assure you that I would not have allowed them within my establishment. I do have rules. Although, when I spoke to the girl afterwards she did insist she was willing—and older than she appeared. My girls are here by choice, and my clients understand that.”

“And have you found me a new one? Do you have a new guest?” He swung his leg down and turned to Ruby. She was looking quite fine tonight. The dark red of her gown highlighted her pale skin and bright blue eyes. She had a woman’s body, all lush curves, soft flesh, her full breasts rising high above the gown’s low bodice, the creamy skin inviting a man’s touch. It was a wonder he’d never felt more drawn to her. Except for her signature red wig, she was exactly what his body wanted in a woman. Only, for no reason he had ever understood, she left him cold and always had—except for that laugh. That laugh could make a man rise up from the grave.

“I am afraid not. At least not in the way you mean. It is about a woman, only not one of your normal milieu. I have a favor I need to ask.” Ruby walked across the room and positioned herself on the chaise longue, striking a pose indicative of the French empress. He had no doubt that she’d practiced the position.

“A favor? I am intrigued. I’ve never known you to ask for favors.” He clicked the balls in
his hand once and then let the warm enamel slide into his pocket. He would grant Ruby his attention.

Ruby pursed her lips. “It is true I have no liking of favors—there is the problem of paying them back. And I’ve never been fond of debt—of any kind. In this case I am hoping that it will be considered a mutual favor by the end. And if not, then I suppose I will pay the piper.”

He leaned forward, his gaze focused on her face. “I am even more intrigued.”

“I want you to give a woman a wedding night.”

He sputtered. There was no other word for it. He was lucky not to have frothed at the lips. A wedding night? He closed his lips tight, letting his ire show in his eyes. “I have avoided a wedding for thirty-two years—why do you imagine I would seek one now? And why would you ever imagine that I would turn to you for help?” He rose from his chair, towering above her.

Ruby stood in a single movement, refusing to be cowed. He had always liked that about her.

“If you had any sense, you’d be begging me to help you find a wife when the time came. I know what you like and how you like it. Don’t you ever forget that. I’d be much more successful in finding you a wife you’d be happy with than any society matron will ever be. If I wanted to find you a wife, she’d be the best wife you could ever dream of. Lady Perse and her famous matrimonial teas could not do a better job than I. She’d have you married to a sweet young chit who’d bore you silly within a month, if not a week.”

“I believe Lady Perse is looking for suitable husbands for the ladies. I’ve never heard that she cares what the gentleman thinks, although they are rumored to be love matches. Heaven forbid.” Swanston’s anger abated. He’d always enjoyed a good argument—the winning of it most of all.

“Never mind that. You have me distracted from the purpose.” Ruby returned to the chaise. “I said nothing about a wedding—only a wedding night.”

Relaxing his shoulders, Swanston also retook his seat. It did not do to be standing when a lady was not, even a lady such as Ruby. “A wedding night without a wedding? However does that work?”

“Men.” Ruby looked up at the ceiling in disgust. “No imagination.”

“I rather think I’ve plenty of imagination.” He gave her a sizzling stare.

She laughed. “Really, Geoffrey, if you’d ever had a thought like that about me I’d have
known long before this. Now pull your chair over and I’ll explain everything.”

“You’re giving orders again. You know I don’t like orders.”

“Unless you are the one giving them. Yes, I do know that. Now, would you please be ever so kind and help me by moving your chair closer so I don’t have to yell.”

It was his turn to laugh. He thought of pointing out that she could have chosen the seat across from him—he had been sitting first. He also refrained from mentioning that the heavy chair, clearly designed for a man—as was all her furniture, except the chaise—probably weighed as much as a draft horse. Instead, without a word, and with considerable ease, he lifted the chair and set it beside her.

“Begin.” It was an order.

Her low laugh sent shivers down his spine. “Ah, Geoffrey, it is a good thing you were born to be a duke and not a farmer. Now, where to start? A lady seeking a favor of her own approached me recently. She finds herself needing to lose her virginity.”