Page 6 of A Deal with a Rake (Wicked Widows’ League #35)
She’d long discovered that the only way she would find pleasure with a man was to please herself while they were inside her chasing their own release.
Men, in her opinion, only cared for their own pleasure, which Florentia often shortened due to the fact that she never allowed anyone to finish inside of her.
There was no way she would be able to explain a child a year after her husband’s death, and she had no inclination to be saddled with someone she did not love.
Not that she believed in such fantasies.
There was a time before her first season that she prayed for a love match and a white knight on a horse to save her from her mother and the fate of a loveless marriage. She was no longer that foolish girl.
Florentia knew that no one would save her but herself.
“I was wondering when you’d send for me,” Thomas said, leaning forward to kiss her.
Florentia stepped back, avoiding him and his attempt to seduce her. He had been an itch that needed to be scratched, but like Montague, he had become overly attached.
Turning down Montague’s proposal had not swayed him in the least. A sennight after the dreadful dinner at her parents’, he was still sending letters daily.
“I’ll make this quick. I’m sure Anderson needs your assistance.” She stepped away from him and sat on the upholstered bench in front of the four-poster bed.
Taking him into her bed had been a monumental mistake. She should’ve learned from her previous dalliance with the former groom.
One evening, Florentia was wracked with loneliness and worry on what would become of her once the heir was located.
It was often tiresome to be in her own company, so bedding Thomas seemed a splendid idea.
But that was three months ago. Now he was an annoyance that she could not dispose of fast enough.
“One word from you would silence him.” He sat down on her bed, a little too comfortable for her taste. “Besides, once the new duke is in residence, we can be together. Perhaps you could purchase a townhouse for us on Arlington Street. I could hire us a small staff.”
Florentia tried to hide her chagrin at his nerve. “You’d do that?” she asked sweetly.
Like her other lovers, she’d fully expected him to be competent, but found only an excited boy. It was still preferable than being with her late husband.
Throwing her head back, she stared up at the elaborate ceiling adorned with angels hiding behind clouds.
Decorated for royalty, the duke’s chambers at Summerset House featured a large canopy bed in the center of the room, gold trim ceilings with matching doorknobs, and plush carpet imported from India.
It wasn’t surprising in the least, considering her late husband’s love for all things expensive and opulent.
She’d loved the room immediately. The angels on the ceiling had become her closest companions in the nights following her marriage.
She remembered looking up and wishing she could hide away with them.
However, there was no hiding for her, not from him and not from her fate as his wife.
Not until Florentia had changed her own fate.
“Of course, I’d do that for you. I will need a small income of course.” His fingers trailed over the thin material on her shoulder.
She raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back the scowl she wanted to give him. “Of course, you will. How much will you need?” Shrugging her shoulder, she waited patiently for an answer.
He swallowed, his eyes shifting around the room nervously. “I-I believe a few hundred pounds would be more than enough to find a household.”
Having heard enough of his delusions, Florentia stood and walked to the door. “Thomas, while this has been enlightening, I’m afraid our time together has come to an end.” She paused briefly, placing her hand on the knob. “I trust that I can depend on your discretion.”
“Florentia, wait!” He rushed over to her, taking her hand in his. “I thought I meant something to you and that we’d be together.”
Removing her hand from his, she gazed into dark brown eyes that resembled panic more than affection.
“I’m afraid you are wrong on both accounts.
” Crossing her arms, she tilted her head to the side, seeing him clearly.
“I think you believed I was your way to a better future, but you see, Thomas, I am not.” Waving two fingers between them, she said, “This little thing between us was nothing but a way to pass my time, and now it is over.”
“I was just a game to you? A way to tickle your fancy?” he spit out with venom.
“It was a rather boring game, if you must know.” She glared at him from head to toe. “Did you expect me to set you up in a townhouse and give you an allowance? What were you going to do, become a member of society?” she questioned, seeing clearly what Thomas wanted from her.
Fortune hunters were not new to her. As a young debutante with a decent dowry, she found herself inundated with offers of marriage from penniless lords. None were a suitable match according to her mother.
Thomas shook his head. “I only thought that you could provide for me until I found my own income.”
Laughter bubbled out of her. “Provide for you? I’m not in want of a cicisbeo.”
It was unfortunate for him that she herself was in need of a benefactor, but the time of her selling herself to an older man was over.
“You’re crueler than they all say.” He stepped away from her like she was the one using him.
Growing bored, she turned and opened the door of the duke’s chambers. “Perhaps I am cruel. Now do hurry before Anderson realizes you’re not at your station.”
Without another word, Thomas stormed out of her rooms. Florentia entered the bathing chamber, exhaling once she was alone.
It wasn’t that she enjoyed being cruel, but really what was the point of pretending that they were going to be more?
Especially when it was clear that he was only using her for advancement himself.
Why was it perfectly fine for a man to treat a woman any sort of way, but she could not do the same?
Shaking her head, she walked over to her dressing table. Staring in the mirror, she took in her pale skin and blonde hair. Her only pleasing features, according to her mother.
She loved her hair and her green eyes; they were a constant reminder of her grandmother, Jemima. Her father’s mother was one of the few people who’d ever been kind to her. She’d died when Florentia was a young girl, taking away the only kindness she’d ever known.
Removing her dressing gown, Florentia walked over to the large tub, already filled with steaming water. Her maid, Tabetha, was always prepared. Twenty years her senior, Tabetha had been her maid since she was fifteen.
A stern woman who’d never married, Tabetha often disapproved of Florentia’s choices and behavior. They often disagreed, but through the years, she could always depend on her maid for a quiet show of support. Florentia had found comfort in the stern yet calming presence of her maid.
Settling in the warm water, she rested her head against the tub before picking up her worn copy of Frankenstein and losing herself in Victor Frankenstein’s journey. She felt so connected to a monster that didn’t exist.
The novel was a favorite of hers since she’d first read it years ago. When she learned it was written by a woman, Florentia couldn’t believe it. She’d never had the courage to show her own writing to another soul, but it was nothing compared to the brilliance of Frankenstein .
“You’ve received missives from Mr. Hughes, Lady Woodmere, and the Dowager Lady Wyndam,” Tabetha said as she entered the room, waving the missives in the air.
“The Dowager Lady Wyndam?” she asked, sitting up to face her maid.
Florentia couldn’t fathom a reason why Lady Wyndam would write to her. They were not connected in the least, her mother knew the Dowager Lady Wyndam, but the two famously did not get on.
“Yes, it arrived this morning. Shouldn’t you be more concerned with Mr. Hughes’s missive?” Tabetha placed the post down on the small table next to the tub.
“Why ever for?” She placed Frankenstein down and picked up the letter from the Dowager Lady Wyndam. “He probably would just like to inform me of my spending habits, which he terribly disapproves of. He doesn’t want me bankrupting the new duke, after all.”
Opening the letter, she propped her foot up on the large tub.
“This is…interesting. She wants me to come for tea today.” She placed the parchment down and picked up the next one.
“I can’t help but wonder why the Dowager Lady Wyndam wants to see me of all people.
I’ve been the duchess for three years and not once have I had an invitation from her. ”
“Perhaps, it has something to do with the Widow’s League?” Tabetha folded a towel and placed it on the Louis XVI chair that sat in a prominent position by the door.
The entire bathing chamber, like the rest of the home, was immaculately decorated. Her late husband took great care in appearances, so much so that every crevice of both the townhouse and the ancestral seat, Rainchester Manor were decorated completely in the finest luxury.
During her three-year marriage to the old Duke of Summerset, Florentia was rarely permitted into his grand bathing chambers except when he insisted on bathing her. Their wedding night was such an occasion when he insisted on bathing her to ensure she was not sullied.
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the memories of that night.
Barely a woman at eighteen, forced to marry after another failed season.
The fear that gripped her that night still haunted her.
Of course, on the outside, she was her regular unpleasant self, but on the inside, worry and fear were her constant companions.