ThePleasureDevice (16 page)

He chuckled. “Well, first of all, I’m not even a baronet.”

“Can’t you be made one?”

“I suppose. But I am descended from earls. I think that’s a
bit better.”

“Earls?” Helena jolted back to face him. “Are you in line to
be an earl?”
Please let it be true!

He chuckled. “Probably at some point. It’s my cousin who’s
the earl.”

“Oh.” It was really too remote to satisfy her parents.

“And,” he squeezed her again, “I haven’t asked you.”

She looked up at him smiling down at her, obliged to the
night for hiding her flush of abashment. He tenderly touched her heated cheek
with the tip of a finger, tracing tiny circles along her jaw to her chin. She
desperately wanted to kiss him. Could a girl do such a brazen thing?

She reached up to press her palm behind his head, then drew
him down toward her.

A giggling couple scurried along the path on the far side of
the fountain.

Nicholas pulled back. “Darling, there’s a far more private
place.”

He stood and gallantly offered a hand, then guided her
behind the grotto’s vault to a set of stone stairs leading down into the earth.

She held on to him as they descended into the pitch
blackness together, their eyes adjusting slowly to a view of a magnificent
underground chamber. Beams of moonlight and lamplight shone through small holes
in the ground above, creating a starlit canopy over the subterranean space.

He led her to a stone bench carved with ancient motifs.
There they sat and looked up at the false stars, the sound of the fountain
above echoing faintly around them. She leaned into his welcoming embrace.

It was dark and quiet. And they were truly alone. Perfect
for lovers.

Helena snuggled deeper, reveling in the comfort of his body
surrounding hers, the rhythm of their breaths and the tempo of their hearts
merging in unison. He bent and kissed her neck, then nuzzled his nose against
her shoulder. “I love being with you like this. Just the two of us in the dark.”
He chuckled, his breath hot against her. “It always seems to happen when we
meet.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she agreed with a giggle and a
realization. Each time had been a step forward, each time she had seen more of
him, touched more of him, kissed more of him. But this time, she didn’t want a
furtive fumble with a quick return to the ballroom. This time she wanted all of
him and wanted to give him all of herself, a desire that verged on desperation,
inciting her, emboldening her. “Nicholas,” she said, turning to him, “I think
of you often…how we were together at the Quimbys’, when I touched you, your
response to me.”

He threaded his fingers through hers. “I feel the same. I
can’t get you out of my head. I think of you frequently. Far too frequently,”
he confessed. “Even when I make love to Lavinia, sometimes I imagine you.”

Helena swallowed her excitement at his admission, but it
welled up, refusing to be tamped down inside her. “My body hungers for you. In
my bed at night, when I pleasure myself, my thoughts are filled with images of
you, and I find myself no longer alone.”

He pulled her more closely to him as he inhaled deeply, the
fine linen of his shirt warm, his shirt studs cool against her bare shoulders.
His slow exhale jittered with emotion. “Helena,” he murmured morosely. “I have
to know. His machine, would it be enough to keep you from me?”

How does he know?
She turned to face him. “Did he
tell you?”

He took another deep breath. “I saw it. I was supposed to
have rescued you, but everything went awry. He locked me in a closet next to
the examination room. There was a sort of peephole…”

“You watched me?” The very idea was astonishingly arousing.

“You’re not completely appalled?” His forehead crinkled in
disbelief.

Perhaps a girl could be brazen after all. She pecked his
luscious lips, agape and slightly smiling at her enthusiasm for his voyeurism.

The peck turned to passion as he held her head steady and
melded his mouth to hers. He pulled back, panting. “Where have you been all my
life?” he murmured with a chuckle. “Darling, I saw you in ecstasy. I cannot
express what that did to me, still does to me.” His gaze flickered as he
caressed her face. “Would I be enough for you?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “Yes, oh, yes.” She traced his
lips with a finger still imprisoned in a glove. “All the pleasure I felt with
the machine cannot compare to the pleasure I feel when I am in your arms.” She
licked her lips. “Nicholas, I want to give myself to you.”

“Oh God.” His head fell into his hand.

She placed a palm against his chest. “Nicholas?”

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. His tears
glistened in the pale light. “I burn for you, Helena. I cannot tell you how
much I burn for you.”

His mouth descended on hers, their lips and tongues merging and
twining urgently, frantically, perfectly. Somehow, after only two encounters,
she knew what he wanted, what he needed and how to give it to him. And he
understood her desires before she even knew them herself. Their quick
familiarity reassured her that when he made love to her it would not be
shocking and disagreeable as she had been told at school but liberating and
sublime, the stuff of poetry.

He clutched her closely, humming his satisfaction against
her mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to hold his head steady as
she dared to break free and kiss his cheeks, rough and masculine under her
delicate lips.

His mouth trailed down her neck, sizzling against her
tingling skin, his lips searing her shoulder, not stopping, his fingers working
the buttons at her back. She sighed when he kissed the tender flesh of her
bosom, shuddered as his tongue flicked under the neckline of her dress. Her
bodice loosened and slipped from her shoulders, exposing the layers of fine
undergarments. His hands slid along her waist to gently cup her breasts,
pushing them above her corset, pulling aside the cambric corset cover, the
linen chemise, exposing her naked flesh to the night’s chill.

She gasped when his thumbs teased the tender peaks and
discovered a new thrill when he drew an excited nipple into his mouth, a thrill
that shot all the way to the most intimate of places between her legs, now hot
and moist like the tongue tormenting her.

She now knew what her body craved when she pleasured
herself.

Him. Inside her.

She arched her back, inviting further invasion. “Nicholas,
my love, I want you. Now. Please.”

He suddenly stopped, his labored breathing burning her
décolletage. “Oh God, Helena, darling,” he whispered against her. “We both know
we should not be doing this.”

“Do you want to do this?” His lips and tongue met her
heaving chest with every inhale.

“God, yes. This and so much more.” He lifted his face, his
expression like a guilty, needy boy.

She placed her hand on his thigh. His muscles tightened and
tensed at her touch. He stared at her apprehensively. She slid her hand along
the fine wool until she found the heated hardness between his legs. Nicholas
sucked in air as she glided her thumb up and down the wondrous length.

“Is—is this what you want to do to me?” she asked brazenly.

“Yes.”

She grasped the shaft thick with lust. “Will it make me
faint?”

“Faint?” he queried unsteadily.

“Like in the books.” Each stroke of her palm elicited a sigh
of masculine need. “I mean, will it hurt?”

“No. It feels wonderful.” His voice was rough and hoarse.

He shifted, moving one leg until he was straddling the
bench. Helena kept her hand on his crotch, exploring with utter fascination.
She looked up at him, questioningly. He nodded.

With a boldness she had never imagined, Helena took off her
gloves, unbuttoned his trousers and drawers and pulled up his shirt. His
erection jutted forth, its smooth tip inviting touch. She hardly knew what to
do and fingered him tentatively.

Nicholas gasped with a grunt. “Oh God.”

“Do you like this?” she said, stroking him up and down. He
was as hard as stone but warm and vibrant.

“Yes.” His voice trembled.

A small drop of liquid emerged at the tip. Captivated,
Helena bent down and tasted the musky dew.

“Christ!” Nicholas hissed from between clenched teeth.

Helena licked and kissed his heated shaft, encouraged by his
responses to give him more pleasure, drawing him deeper into her mouth.
Nicholas twitched against her with a clipped groan.

“Darling, darling,” he said placing his fingers under her
chin. “We should not, we must not, do any of this.” He lifted her head off him.

Helena saw the expression of utter abandon on his face and
kissed his lips. “But I want to give myself to you.”

He held her head steady between his hands. “You cannot, you
simply cannot, Helena. He’ll know if you are not a virgin.”

Nicholas’ words ripped her back to her horrible reality. “I
don’t care,” she said resolutely, shaking his hands away. “I do not want to be
married to that man. I do not love him. I love you. Why can’t I marry you?”

“We’ve been through that—”

“But what if I have to marry you?”

Nicholas studied her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if I were with child. Your child. What if we
had physical intimacies and I carried your child?”

He exhaled his astonishment. “You mean right now?”

“Yes. Now.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “It doesn’t quite work that
way, darling. I mean it does, but it might not happen on the first try.”

“You mean we’ll have to keep doing it?” She certainly would
not mind that.

“Yes—I mean no!” He sighed. “Helena, once a woman is
engaged, there are certain expectations about her conduct. Any deviation might
mean legal action.”

Helena’s jaw dropped. “Dr. Christopher could take you to
court?”

“If the engagement is deemed legitimate, yes. Your father
could too. For seduction.”

That was not how it happened with her parents. “But if I am
with child, then they’ll have to let me marry you.”

“Not necessarily. You might be sent away and your child—our
child—taken from you.”

“Taken from me?” Was that why Uncle Arthur had kept her
mother sequestered at his house during her confinement? Why her father had
stayed in England the entire nine months? Protecting mother and child from
legal action by the Marquess of Richmond? “Truly?”

“It is unfortunately so.”

“But what about my uncle Arthur? And Lady Foxley-Graham?
What about your cousin the earl? Surely they’ll help us?” She knew she was
grasping at uncertainties.

Nicholas raked his fingers through his hair. “Darling, we
can’t count on any of that. Look, I don’t know much about what happened when
your mother and father had you. I take it your uncle Arthur had a hand in
protecting your family. Still, the gossip mill says your grandparents were not
happy about your parents getting married, nor about you. They disowned the lot
of you.”

“Yes, that’s true,” she admitted glumly. “But Uncle Arthur
will be the next Marquess of Richmond and he doesn’t care about titles and
lineages. He’ll let me marry you.”

Nicholas took her hands in his. “Helena, I no longer have
any close family. My father and brother just died in an accident. My mother
died a few years ago. To have my own children, to love and play with them, to
watch them grow and have families of their own, this is so very important to
me. It is a dream of mine. I do not want to take such a risk.”

“That’s why you went away, isn’t it? Your brother and
father.” She could not fathom such a great loss all at once. “And now you have
no one.”

“Well, there’s my cousin the earl.” He smiled at her concern
and brushed away a stray lock from her face. “I would love to give you
children, Helena. I would love to be married to you and raise them together.
One day, I hope to be your husband. But there is simply too much uncertainty in
your proposition.”

His words moved her. “Yes, I understand.” She watched as he
tucked in his shirt and buttoned his flies, adjusting himself in his trousers,
then met his eyes in the dark.

“Don’t look like that.” He cupped her cheek, then took her
hands in his. “Have hope. There may yet be a chance for us.”

His voice held conviction, enough to mollify her, enough to
fuel her fantasies once again, fantasies of him and her… “Nicholas, I want to
give you something of myself.”

He quickly pressed his lips to hers. “You have given me
something.” He pecked her face as he tugged her clothes back into place. “You
gave me your first kiss, your first touch. That is all I can accept from you
for the moment.” He positioned her until she lay back against him, his arms
encircling her. “We have to be content with what we’ve had with each other,
love, and dream about what we hope will come.” He kissed her neck. “Now you
tell me something, a story, anything. Just talk to me. I want to listen. I want
to simply be with you, share this moment with you.”

Helena leaned into him, letting his heat and strength
comfort her. He was right, of course. Until this mess was settled, she would
have to content herself with a kiss, a dance and a little daring exploration.
She sighed morosely, realizing what she shared with Nicholas in a few furtive
meetings would be more than what she would share in a lifetime with Dr. Julius
Christopher.

Nicholas found himself retreating to Lavinia’s house after
work more often than not. It wasn’t the sex so much as the refuge from the
bizarre situation at his office.

“Darling, there’s a note from your valet on my desk,”
Lavinia said, pointing to the missive. “Apparently, Mason is waiting for you at
your flat.”

“Mason?” Nicholas queried distractedly.

“Your family butler.”

“I know who Mason is! What the devil is he doing here in
London?”

“Well, perhaps you should go home and find out.”

Certain that whatever news Mason had would not be good,
Nicholas persuaded Lavinia to go with him for support.

The three gathered in his study, Mason looking quite
official with a dossier under his arm. He opened the contents onto the bureau
as Nicholas and Lavinia sat in matched wingbacks.

“Lord Saxondale—”

Lavinia giggled.

Mason lifted a scathing brow in her direction. “Sir, your
father’s will has been read. There are some matters of importance I must go
over with you before you see the solicitor yourself.”

“So he left you something after all, Nicky dear.” Lavinia
was cheerful.

“Indeed, Lady Foxley-Graham, the earl did leave something to
his lordship.”

Nicholas, however, was not at all curious. It was probably a
few heirlooms, valueless trinkets left over from his father’s and brother’s
creditors. “All right, Mason, let’s have it. What do I get?”

“You ‘get’, sir, to be the Earl of St. Albans.”

Lavinia gasped.

“W-what?” Nicholas was not quite sure he heard correctly. “Mason,
what did you just say?”

“Your father has made you his heir.”

Nicholas shook his head. “What about Bertie?”

“The Viscount Ravensburgh, it seems, did not reflect the
qualities your father would like to see in the future Earl of St. Albans. You,
apparently, do.”

“Really, Nicky, you should be flattered,” remarked Lavinia.

“Flattered? I’m stunned! Absolutely stunned!” Nicholas stood
up and began pacing. “Flabbergasted, alarmed, bewildered. Me? I’m not suited
for such a life! I’ve purposely kept a distance from all of that nonsense.” He
stopped, standing stock still with his hands on the top of his head. “Good God!”

“I know this comes as a shock, given your history with your
father and brother, sir.”

“Well, yes, Mason, quite a shock.” He let out an exasperated
groan.

“What is it, Nicky?”

“That also means I inherit the family debt.” Nicholas turned
to his butler. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord,” Mason agreed. “However, once the creditors
were secretly informed of the choice of you as earl, they pulled back. They are
quite prepared to negotiate with you given your principled reputation, it
seems.”

Nicholas sighed. “I’ll have to learn about running the
estate now, I suppose.”

Mason cleared his throat. “Well, sir, if I may, sir, owing
to the dearth of silver to polish and guests to satisfy, I spent my days these
last few years learning about estate management in general and the running of
the St. Albans estate in particular.”

Lavinia sat up in attention.

“Oh?” Nicholas raised his brows.

“There is a lot of profit to be made, my lord. With the
proper management, of course.”

“Of course.” Nicholas shook his head in awe. Mason, it
seemed, had been planning for this precise moment for years. “And what if I
disclaim the title? What then?”

“Well, you would also forfeit the right of your son to
inherit—”

Lavinia raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Nicholas.

“But given that you are childless as far as we know, this is
not an issue. Your cousin, ‘Bertie’ as you call him, the Viscount Ravensburgh,
is successor after you.”

“Good. Then he is second,” Nicholas mused.

“Yes. He would have to be called back from Italy or wherever
he happens to be traveling with the Marquess of Norrington.”

Lavinia gasped with glee.

“Bertram’s with Percy?” Nicholas chuckled. “Well, that’s a
damn sight better than Jack.”

“Yes, my lord.” Mason looked him squarely in the eye, his
expression stern. “You should know, my lord, your father expressly stated that
he did not want you to disclaim the title.” He removed an envelope from his
jacket pocket and handed it to Nicholas. “He knew you might consider it, so he
left a personal entreaty. He wanted you to be the one to restore honor to the
title.”

On the front of the envelope was scrawled
Nicky
in
his father’s handwriting, recognizable despite the shaky script. It was
probably the last note he ever wrote.

Lavinia beamed. “Darling, I think you should just accept it.”

Nicholas turned to her, hastily wiping the tears threatening
to run down his cheeks. “And give up my profession? Vinny, I’ve just spent
seven years forgetting about that old life and forging a new one. I know you’d
rather see me as a peer, but I must admit I truly like being a doctor.”

She tilted her chin with a challenging look. “But, darling,
think of Helena.”

He shook his head. “Isn’t it hopeless?”

“No, darling. Mr. Phillips still needs to consent to the
marriage. There is a possibility that he will not. Not only has Julius been
sleeping with his wife, he’s quite a bit older than Mr. Phillips. Some men don’t
take kindly to those sorts of things.”

Nicholas resumed his pacing. “And if the marriage goes
through, I’m stuck with being Earl of St. Albans. Alone. God, what a bore.”

“I’ll be there for you, Nicky. I can help you over some of
the hurdles.”

“As can I, my lord,” said Mason with a faint touch of
hopefulness.

“Besides, can’t you be the country doctor of your little
village or some such? And,” Lavinia winked at him, “I’m certain Penelope
Hardcastle will make a fine countess, don’t you think, love?”

Well, at the very least she’d be fashionable. And lively in
bed.

* * * * *

Joseph Phillips paced a path in the carpet as he waved his
hands in the air. “What the hell were you thinking, Sophie? Who the devil is
this man?”

He had stormed into the morning room of his London townhouse
the second he arrived without even a “hello” to his wife. Conveniently, Helena
had been diverting herself in the library.

Perched nervously on the edge of the sofa, Sophia began to
sob.

He hated to see his wife cry. “Sophie, honey, look, I need
to know what is going on here.” He knelt before her. “I received a telegram
from Charlotte Banbury that seemed rather urgent. You were the one who
expressly said that Helena should marry a highborn nobleman, and here you are
giving her away to a doctor. I know you, sweet. What is really going on? Who is
this Dr. Julius Christopher?”

“He’s…he’s,” she stammered. “Oh Joseph!” She threw her arms
around him.

Joseph knew at that moment his wife was sleeping with the
man. While he did not care so much about that—they had a very modern
arrangement—he was more concerned with the fact that Sophie was going to allow
the same man to sleep with their daughter. Of all Sophie’s affairs, this was
rather irregular.

“What has this Dr. Christopher done to you, love?” He sat
down next to her on the couch.

Sophia wiped her eyes. “He has a machine,” she sniffled.

That was an intriguing bit of news. “A machine?”

“An erotic machine. It forces one to experience pleasure.”

Joseph started at that. “Really?” If this was true, then no
wonder his wife had succumbed to the doctor.

“It’s a new medical device. Doctors are using it now for
hysteria treatments.”

“Hysteria!” Joseph was nonplussed. If there was one thing
his wife did not suffer from, it was hysteria. An obsessive need for physical
stimulation, perhaps, but that only calmed her. She was never really of a
nervous disposition.

“Well, yes,” Sophia admitted sheepishly. “But as I have
learned from Julius—”

Joseph eyed his wife disapprovingly.

“I mean from Dr. Christopher, when doctors treat hysteria
they are really only bringing women to sexual climax, to orgasm. And as not all
women achieve this type of release as easily as, well, I do, it can be quite a
tedious undertaking, sometimes taking an hour.”

“Good God! An hour?” Joseph said in amazement. “I feel very
sorry for the poor husband whose wife takes an hour.”

“Well, I dare say, and this is Julius’ theory, that these
doctors simply do not know how to massage women properly.”

Joseph grunted. “Then I feel very sorry for those doctors’
wives.”

“And so this vibrating machine has been invented to, shall
we say, speed up the process. Really, dear, as a modern man of business you
should be impressed. These doctors are using machines to increase the numbers
of patients they can see in a day, thereby increasing their income.”

Joseph stood and resumed his pacing. “Yes, well, I can see
how this would be useful for a doctor treating a patient with hysteria but,
Sophie, love, that is hardly your condition.”

“No, Joseph,” she said in hushed embarrassment.

“So what the hell was he doing to you? Making false claims
about your health so he can cure you of some ailment you do not suffer from so
he could get your money? Does he know who you’re married to? Is that it?”

“No, darling. Julius is an honest man. He refused to treat
me after I told him I knew how to assuage my own urges. But I couldn’t satisfy
myself completely. For that I needed a man.”

“You seduced him.” Joseph knew all too well how his wife
could behave.

“Yes, I suppose I did. Then we began using the machine not
as a medical tool, but as an amusement.”

“And then you became dependent on what it could do for you,
wanting more?”

Sophia stood and walked to the window in frustration. “I’m
sorry, Joseph, I got caught up.” She hung her head. “I did grow to need it.
Julius knew.”

“So how does Helena fit into all of this?”

She turned and faced her husband. “Your daughter really was
suffering from hysteria, you really must believe me, darling. She’s been nothing
but nerves since the beginning of the Season.”

“For God’s sake, Sophie, she was thrown to the wolves with
this damn marriage business!” A meek glance from his wife mollified him. “So
she went to see Dr. Christopher and his machine?”

“First he taught her how to placate her own desires—”

“Oh God, I don’t think I want to hear this, Sophie,” he
growled.

“Well, I don’t think I could have taught her,” she said
defensively. “It was all very medical, really. And yes, he did use the machine.”

“So then what? He fell in love with her? Surely this man
must see countless women and have his pick.”

“Joseph, as her father you really have no idea how
absolutely stunning Helena is to men.”

“As I am in love with her ravishing mother, I know precisely
how beautiful our daughter is.”

Sophia blushed. “Yes, well, Julius fell in love with her. He
made me agree to the engagement under duress.”

“And you call him an honest man?”

“Darling, please, don’t raise your voice.”

“This is my house and I will raise my voice all I want,” he
bellowed. He pounded his fists against his thighs in utter astonishment at his
wife’s conduct. Yet he knew he should not be surprised. In the past, he had had
to smooth over several mishaps. The worst had been Sophie’s pregnancy with a
much younger lover. She had been devastated, both for the requisite abortion of
the child and her betrayal to her husband.

Joseph calmed himself as much as he could. “Sophie, darling,
you have been very incautious and self-centered in your dealings with your Dr.
Christopher. You have proved yourself weak once again. While in the past your
weakness has been tolerated, this time it is inexcusable for you to have
involved Helena.”

Sophia returned to the sofa and sat like an admonished
child. “Yes, Joseph. I apologize. I know I have been an inconsiderate wife and
mother.”

“Well, that’s a start. Now about Helena, how does she feel
about this young man?”

“Oh dear,” Sophia started.

“What?”

“He’s not a young man, Joseph.”

“Well, okay.” He had expected as much. “So how old is he?”

“Forty-eight.”

“Good Christ above!” Joseph threw his arms in the air. “He’s
older than I am! Oh no. No. That will not do. Is she in love with him?”

“I think she is fond of him.”

“Fond? Fond!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Go get
her. I want to talk to her. Now.”

Sophia complied immediately.

Helena burst through the door of the morning room and ran
into her father’s arms. “Papa! How wonderful to see you! I didn’t expect you
back for quite some time.”

Joseph kissed his daughter on the forehead. “My sweet dove.
I was summoned by news of your engagement.”

“Oh.” Helena sat down on the couch, her hands folded primly,
mirroring the pose once again assumed by her mother.

“Helena,” Joseph began, pacing before her, “what do you
think of this man to whom you are engaged?”

“Well,” she began haltingly, “Dr. Christopher is
intelligent, polite and, I suppose, fine-looking.”

“Hmm.” Joseph recognized the traits as rather generic and
his daughter’s enthusiasm as rather dull. “Are you worried that he might be a bit
old for you?”

“Well, he is much, much older than all the other men I’ve
been dancing with this Season. I don’t suppose it is very odd for a young girl
to marry an older man, though. Why, one of the Roxton twins is engaged to a man
her father’s age.”

“Your Dr. Christopher, as you call him, is older than your
mother and myself.”

“Oh. Yes, I see. I had thought perhaps that might be the
case,” she said diffidently.

Good God. She knows nothing about the man.

Joseph sat on the couch next to his daughter and took her
hand in his. “Darling Helena, I must ask this, are you in love with him?”