Page 30 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)
“I won’t discuss the fact you’re trying to bring down the house, but I could hint that you are interested in offering him protection, and his brother.”
The carriage drew up outside his house. He ran a hand over his face, wishing he had the power to simply demand Angelo tell them what he knew.
“He may not want my protection.”
She squirmed in his lap. “Actually, I suspect he’d be very keen. He congratulated me on my choice and suggested he’d love to accompany us upstairs one night.”
“Christ.”
“We have to help them.”
The footman opened the door and Maitland pulled the cape from under the seat, helping Marisa put it on to obscure her features when they entered the house.
If Francis was spying on them, or if his neighbors were peering from behind closed curtains, he did not wish anyone to get a close look at his guest.
“We shall continue the discussion inside.”
“I’m not getting out of this carriage until you agree to help—agree to let me help. I agreed to help you with Angelo, you owe me.”
“I wasn’t exactly happy about you helping me. I’m even less happy now. ” He looked at the stubborn set of her chin. The pout to her lips and pride overcame his anger. She was so selfless. “Only”—she gave a little cry of victory—“only if you agree to do as I say.”
“Of course.”
She’d agreed far too quickly, but as he would have her strapped to his side whenever he was at the Top Hat, he’d not have to worry. He watched her walk into the house, enveloped in the cloak.
As he strolled in the front door of his house, the same tension that gripped him every night slid over him. It wasn’t fear of Angelo or their villainess.
It was fear of Marisa, of having to sleep in the room next to hers.
The lovemaking session in her bedroom before they departed for the club had whet his appetite for more.
Already his body hardened thinking of stripping her out of those breeches, revealing her long, finely boned legs that seemed to go on forever to the honey pot between her thighs.
Her breasts would be sore from being bound, and he imagined massaging them, feeling her nipples peak under his caress.
He briefly closed his eyes on the erotic images fueling the flames of his need. He never made love more than once in one day. His schedule had to be kept or God knows what he’d become. He hated the fact that his hands shook when he reached his bedchamber door.
He entered his room like a dead man walking, and allowed Gilbert to help him undress.
He slipped a robe over his nakedness. It would have been safer to remain dressed, as his body was eagerly responding to the sound of Marisa undressing in the adjoining room.
The door between them was open and he could hear Marisa telling Susan all that had occurred.
He dismissed Gilbert and picked up his book, trying to stick to his routine of reading a chapter by the fire before retiring. The words blurred on the page and did nothing to quiet his thrumming desire.
He knew it was only a matter of time before Marisa arrived like a tempting she-devil. Tonight would be a test of his willpower. Could he deny his body’s needs and refrain from making love to his wife?
A full half hour later, he was surprised to note Marisa had not come to his room. Relief was soon replaced by concern. Perhaps the trauma of this evening had upset her more than he imagined.
He closed the book and placed it on the table by his chair. He sat in the silence, contemplating what he should do. He could simply sleep and hope she’d recovered in the morning. He knew it was the coward’s way out and he despised himself just thinking about using that approach.
With a resigned sigh he made his way to Marisa’s room. His bare feet made little noise on the rug and he hoped she was asleep. However, when he approached her large bed, it was to see her lying on her side facing him, a scowl marring her beautiful face.
“I was giving you another five minutes before I came and found you.”
Marisa’s terse greeting proved she wasn’t overly upset about this evening’s events.
“I wasn’t sure if you would welcome my attentions, given the night we have had, and the fact we have already made love today.
I was trying to be considerate.” Maitland kept his voice even, not allowing annoyance to flood his speech.
She pushed herself up onto her elbow, her slinky nightdress slipping to bare one delectable shoulder.
She folded back the sheet, welcoming him to her bed.
“If you were trying to be considerate, then perhaps it would have been husbandly to console me. Sometimes all a woman needs is someone to hold them.”
“Sometimes a man finds it nearly impossible to just cuddle. Especially when the woman is as beautiful and desirable as you.”
The smile that lit her face was well worth his pride.
She patted the bed beside her. “I promise to keep my hands to myself and deny you, should my womanly attractions be too much of a temptation.”
Her laugh made him realize she had no idea how much of a temptation she was and that tempting a man with his sexual pedigree was not ideal. But like a man walking to his execution, he slid in beside her and gathered her in his arms.
She laid her head upon his chest and sighed.
“I needed this after tonight. The Top Hat wasn’t what I expected. I thought it would be titillating and sensual, but it was degrading and sordid. It’s not an equal arrangement. Money changes the dynamics. Making virtual slaves of the poor.”
“True.”
“Is that what it is like in the brothels you and the other Libertine Scholars go to?” Disappointment filled her words.
He closed his eyes and let guilt swamp him. What she said was true. “Most of the women working in brothels have little alternative. Some, however, enjoy the work and think it better than working in a coal mine or sweatshop.”
“I hate that for an accident of birth, I could be in their position. I wish there was no poverty. I still feel dirty,” she whispered. “The young boys at the club . . . Are there girls as young as that at the brothels you’ve attended?”
“The respectable gentlemen’s clubs, no, but I suspect that it will be a very similar situation as the Top Hat in the less salubrious brothels.”
“Men are disgusting creatures.”
Maitland froze, because he was one of those disgusting men—not with children, but he had other tastes equally disgusting. His reaction to what he’d seen and done in the barn all those years ago told him what sort of man he was. He hoped she never found out the truth about the man she’d married.
“Some men like . . . abusing children. It is illegal to be with a girl under twelve, and of course buggery at any age is illegal. It’s seldom tolerated in polite society, but—unfortunately, money makes men into monsters. A wealthy man can buy almost anything in this world.”
Her finger entwined with the hair on his chest. “Clarence and Simon are orphans. Why didn’t they go to one of the orphanages?”
He pressed a kiss to her head. So innocent. “They are often worse than a place like the Top Hat. The men and women running them can be cruel, greedy, and perverted.”
He felt the tension running through her limbs. “Then I want to do something about that.” She bolted upright. “We should employ upstanding men and women to review each orphanage or home and report them if there is abuse.”
“That’s a lovely idea, but most of the homes are privately funded, and why would they let you enter? Especially if they have something to hide.”
She sighed, remaining silent. Maitland could almost hear her brain working.
“You said you didn’t really want my dowry. Is that still the case?”
He nodded suspiciously.
She snuggled back down on his chest and closed her eyes. “Then I shall become a patron of as many homes as possible. Then they won’t be able to stop my investigating how they are run.”
Maitland smiled against her hair. She was an amazing woman. Clever, loyal, and full of goodness. Perhaps during his lifetime her goodness and purity of heart would rub off on him.
They cuddled together, content to simply hold each other and thank their lucky stars they were two of the privileged.
For the first time in a long while, he fell asleep with a smile of contentment on his face.