Page 19 of The Villain’s Vixen (Wanton Wastrels)

CHAPTER 19

E ver since Dominic had pleasured Lexie with his mouth, she had been eager to do the same to him, but she hadn’t been sure if she could be that bold.

However, there was something so dangerous and… forbidden about Dominic in that moment—or rather Avalon —that had warmed her midsection with surprising intensity. Perhaps it was the nun’s habit she wore that was so taboo, but she was on fire for him when she ought to have been abhorred by his harsh behavior. Then again, the man he’d captured had tried to murder him, so perhaps his retaliation was mild in comparison to some.

Knowing that he had cheated death once again was enough for her to appreciate that he was standing there in front of her, healthy and virile, and the overwhelming urge to pleasure him had taken hold and refused to let go.

“Tell me what to do,” she purred, her tongue circling the head of his erect cock.

“Everything,” he rasped, but then he urged her to take him into his mouth once more where he showed her with his hips what he enjoyed.

It didn’t take Lexie long to mimic the rhythm, as it was the same movements when he made love to her. Grasping his thighs, her nails digging into the fabric of his trousers, she found her own hips starting to move in time to every rhythmic motion she made with her mouth.

She moaned in the back of her throat as she increased her pace. Dominic’s hand wound into her hair, and she looked up to see his head was slightly back, his muscular throat exposed, the veins popping out on the sides of his neck. Knowing that she was the reason for his excitement built her own to a fever pitch, until her core was aching to be filled by him.

She wanted his hands on her breasts and his cock between her thighs and the image of them together the night before made her almost desperate for the same.

Her head was gently pulled back, and Dominic urged her to her feet. His dark eyes were almost eclipsed by the black pupils. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to make me come and that isn’t how I want things to end.”

Turning her around to the desk, he urged her legs apart. He set a hand at the apex of her thighs and rumbled his approval. “You’re so deliciously wet.”

Her breath was coming in short pants and when he began to slide a finger along her center and his other hand toyed with her aching nipples, she knew she was about to come apart in his arms.

“Not yet,” he ordered, and moved away from her.

She cried out at the loss, but when she could feel him position himself at her entrance, she held her breath, waiting for the glorious moment of their union. When he thrust forward with a determined slam of his hips, she clutched the desk. Meeting his every advance with eagerness, she could feel something building inside of her, something dark and tempting.

He bent down and nuzzled the side of her neck and then turned her head so he could kiss her with all the wild abandon that was bursting inside her .

All at once, the inferno swept over her and consumed her with its intensity. She closed her eyes as the pleasure washed over her like nothing before. Her legs and arms shook as her body no longer became her own. She belonged to Dominic. She was completely and irrevocably his.

Within moments, he was grasping her hips and spilling himself inside her with a deep, guttural shout.

The only sounds in the room were their harsh breathing as they struggled to return to normal.

Eventually, he slipped from her and Lexie mourned the loss. She had never imagined sharing such a deep, personal connection with anyone, and yet, he had managed the impossible and awakened something inside of her that she would never be able to lay to rest again. It was both frightening and thrilling all at once.

She allowed her chemise to fall back to her knees, and as she turned around to face Dominic, he was fastening his trousers. If anyone were to enter the office, they would likely think that Avalon had just enjoyed a meaningless tup with a local whore, but the look of possessiveness in his gaze was not something she might expect he would share with anyone else.

“You are a magnificent creature,” he whispered. “Vixen.”

She smiled and went to retrieve her discarded habit. Lifting it, she asked, “Is this all you plan for me to wear from now on?”

“I would prefer you wear nothing,” he returned with a heated look. “But since I would have to have words with any other man who dared to look in your direction, I suppose I will have to content myself with proper attire. And no, the costume was just for Mr. Dartmouth’s benefit. And apparently mine as well.” He scratched his jawline almost absently. “I had no idea nuns were quite so seductive.”

She smacked him playfully on the arm. “I am not sure it’s all of them.”

“I would have to agree.” He sighed heavily. “It’s just one. ”

He was bending down to give her a kiss when there was a knock at the door. He moved back with obvious reluctance as Lexie donned her attire and he called out to the visitor.

Amos entered with a carefully neutral expression. “Sorry to…er…interrupt, but this just arrived for you from your personal messenger.”

He moved to hand the sealed missive to Dominic while Lexie tried not to prove what had happened by the warmth that abruptly tried to suffice her cheeks.

As he tore open the letter, Lexie couldn’t stop from asking, “A personal messenger?”

“A loyal street urchin,” Dominic clarified, and then began to read. It didn’t take long before he was folding it back. “It’s from the private investigator I hired to look into Lord Lindley. He seems to have some very interesting information to share and is requesting a meeting in the morning.” He sighed. “This means I will have to return to my townhouse.”

Amos inclined his head. “I will watch over Miss Givenwald.”

Lexie stepped forward. “Pardon me, but I’m standing right here and I will be going.”

Dominic had known that would be her reaction, but he had been hoping they wouldn’t be forced to argue after the magical joining they had just shared. “Alexandra?—”

She pointed a finger at him. “No. You don’t get to use my father’s tone to try to browbeat me into doing what you want. I am going with you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, aware that he was fighting a losing battle, but he had to try. “Don’t you have a care for your reputation? You know things are a lot more complicated in polite society. If you were discovered at my townhouse without a proper chaperone?— ”

“It means little to me since we are to be married.” She quirked a brow at him. “Our understanding is still valid, is it not?”

“Of course, but I feel it would be safer for?—”

She went on as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I will need something appropriate for traipsing about Mayfair, and since I have no idea where my trunks have gone, I leave it up to you to take care of that.”

With that, she moved to stand by Amos, as if they were a united front and Dominic was the single one who was setting his foot down on the subject.

However, when Amos just shrugged, Dominic realized that he truly was overruled. “Fine,” he snapped, determined to have the last word. “But you do not stray from my sight.”

She smiled in a brilliant manner, her lashes fluttering almost innocently when he knew the opposite was true. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than at your loving side.”

As Dominic escorted his “nun” back out of the Crown & Sceptre, leaving Amos behind in case there were any further developments, they returned to the cottage without further incident. He gathered a few things he might need for the journey back to the heart of London and after Lexie had changed into the same torn gown she’d worn when she’d arrived, they set out for Mayfair. By that time, some of his frustration had subsided.

In the hired hackney, Dominic sat back against the squabs. “Come here.” He was glad that she didn’t hesitate but moved across the seat to lie in the crook of his arm. “How long have we known each other?” he mused aloud.

There was a pause, and then Lexie gave a light laugh. “You know, I have no idea, but it seems like forever, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.” A smile tugged at his lips. “It has been an adventure, to say the least.”

“Our odd courtship can be stories that we tell our grandchildren someday.”

He heard the teasing tone in her voice, but something about the image of his estate filled with their grown children and the next generation of the Eastland line struck a chord in him that caused a bit of bittersweet melancholy. “I always imagined my brother, Edmund, with that sort of future. Sometimes it seems that I stripped him of the joy he was meant to have.”

Lexie stirred at his side and then her blue eyes were looking at him with empathy. “That’s not fair to say. You did not steal anything from your brother. He died, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it.”

“I wonder if that were true,” he mused aloud. “Granted, I could not cure him of the illness that struck him, but perhaps I could have prevented my father’s mistreatment and he might have been stronger, more resilient.”

“You cannot blame yourself. It’s wrong to do so,” she returned softly. “There are times I wish that my mother was still here, but while my father was dreadfully cold after her death, I had to keep reminding myself that it was his anger and hurt that caused him to treat me that way. It was nothing that I did—or could prevent.”

He gently turned her around to face him. He hoped that his tone, if not his expression told of his sincerity when he murmured, “I should not wish to treat you in such an offhand manner.”

“You won’t.” She smiled. “And if you do, rest assured I will inform you about it at once.”

He laughed. “I have no doubt of that.”

She returned her head to the crook of his arm. “By the way, I am still owed a proper proposal from you.”

“Although we have given each other our word?”

“Yes. I’m not asking for the romantic gesture with flowers and all the prose, but surely bending one knee?—”

He had to laugh again. He was sure that his future would be filled with many moments like these. With a smile curving his own lips, he promised, “I will give it some thought.”

Lexie awoke with a start when a housemaid entered her chamber and began to tend the fire. “What time is it?”

The sharp demand caused the girl to start. Spinning around, she nearly dropped the poker in her grasp. “A quarter to eight in the morning, miss.”

Since Dominic didn’t have the meeting with the private investigator until nine, she realized she had time to get dressed and join him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she asked, “Forgive me. I was just worried I was late for… something.”

The girl smiled warmly. “Not to worry, miss. The duke informed us that we were to wake you by eight and ensure you were dressed and ready to go by half past ten.”

“I see.” She glanced toward the wardrobe.

“The modiste sent over a few gowns this morning, as well as several undergarments. It’s quite a trousseau.” Her grin widened.

Lexie hadn’t been expecting that much generosity. A single gown would have sufficed. But considering she was to be his duchess in short order, she decided that it was a gift she would accept with undying gratitude.

“Shall I draw you a bath?”

The very image of soaking in a steaming tub was too heavenly to resist. “Yes, please.”

In short order, several footmen were summoned to bring steaming pails of water to her chamber where a copper tub was filled to the brim. As the housemaid helped her to undress, she began to show off all the wonderful accoutrements that the duke had purchased for her use. From a new dressing table set with silver combs and shiny new pins and perfume from Floris, she had never felt like such a princess. Too much of this luxury and she could get used to it.

What made it more special was knowing that Dominic did it all out of devotion. He might not have told her he loved her, but his actions bespoke of a man besotted and she would take that offering and run with it.

As a long-sleeved lilac gown with embroidered yellow flowers was brought forth from the wardrobe, Lexie gasped at the beauty of such a garment. It was so much nicer than the bland shades that her aunt insisted that she wear. But she supposed as a betrothed woman, she had more freedoms than before.

Eagerly donning the soft, cotton undergarments and the silk stockings, she slid her feet into a new pair of leather slippers. Once the maid had pulled her hair back into a simple chignon, Lexie was shocked at the difference in the mirror. After trudging about in the wilderness and pretending to be a woman of the cloth in the East End, it was nice to be reminded of her true identity. If Dominic was nothing but a poor church mouse, she would not have cared in the least, but neither was she going to take such fine things for granted ever again.

At precisely half past ten, she was heading down the stairs.

Dominic was already waiting in the foyer in a three-caped greatcoat and a beaver hat in his grasp. She could tell by his movements that he was anxious to be on the move, but when he glanced up and spied her, all of that seemed to dissipate.

“I shall have to give the modiste a sizeable donation for her wonderful choice.” His gaze swept her from head to toe and she suddenly wished they had more time to be somewhere in private.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She offered a slight curtsy. “You are too kind.”

“Trust me, my reasons are purely selfish.” He leaned closer to whisper for her ears alone. “I will enjoy removing every stitch from your delectable body.”

Lexie’s breath caught as a footman came over and handed her a new fur lined cloak. As she walked out into the dreary, gray day, she hardly even noticed that rain still hung heavily in the air. She barely felt the cold as she threaded her arm through Dominic’s and he led her to his coach. But then the driver tipped his hat to her, as well as the familiar Runner sitting beside him. “It’s good to see you again, miss.”

Her mouth fell open slightly as she nodded in reply. She didn’t find her voice until Dominic joined her in the carriage and they set into motion. “So much has happened that I completely forgot to inquire if they made it safely away from the bandits.”

“Yes. All is well, although they have not yet forgiven their lack of duty where you were concerned.”

“It was not their fault they were outnumbered and caught by surprise. We all were.”

He tilted his head to the side. “It is good of you to be so forgiving.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she returned. “They are not to blame for the earl’s actions.”

Dominic inclined his head as they made the short journey to the private investigator’s office. As he helped her down, she asked, “Was there a reason he didn’t meet you at your townhouse?”

“I requested that we adjourn here,” he replied. “Thus far, all of our conversations have been by private messenger to ensure he wasn’t suspected of working with me. However, he wrote that it was necessary that we meet in person for what he had to share.”

“Oh, my. It must be rather imperative.”

His focus was intent as he said, “Let us hope so.”

Dominic had donned his best attire, ensuring that he looked the part of the duke as he entered the investigator’s office. It seemed to work, because the secretary behind the desk before a closed door looked up in near alarm. “Might I help you, sir?” the young man asked with a slight tremble to his tone.

“I am here to see Mr. Martin. I’m the Duke of Cuthbert. He is expecting me. ”

“Oh… Of course. Go right in, Y-Your Grace.” He added a light bow for good measure and Dominic snorted at the action. It was the one thing he hadn’t missed while playing the part of Avalon. True, he was revered in the East End for his exploits with the Blue Boys, but he found it easier for people to talk to him on a singular level, to express their anger and frustrations when they believed he was one of them. As a duke, most people made a clear path for him and barely made eye contact, let alone carry on a normal conversation.

He took a breath and opened the door to the investigator’s office, hoping that the reception he received here would be different.

“I’ll be with you in a moment.”

His mouth quirked upward when a hand lifted as a wiry haired man with gray hair hastily wrote something on a sheet of paper. When he was finished, he glanced up and set his wire rimmed spectacles to the side. His clothes were rumpled and he looked as though he had seen the bottom of a bottle one too many times, but his focus was clear when he welcomed Dominic. “Your Grace. Thank you for coming to see me. I realize your time is valuable, but I vow I will make it worth your while.” He waved a hand. “Please.” He seemed to come to his senses and realize that Dominic wasn’t alone because he added, “Good day, miss.”

She murmured an equal greeting in return. Dominic could read the question in the other man’s eyes as they sat down across from his cluttered desk and he shut the door behind them. In some sense, this office nearly mirrored the one Avalon used and it made him want to smile, because it proved that Mr. Martin might know what he was doing after all. “Feel free to speak freely in front of Miss Givenwald. She is soon to be my duchess, although we have not yet had time to properly announce our betrothal.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Ah, my felicitations to you both.” As he resettled himself at his desk, his wooden chair squeaked with protest, as though it had witnessed many days such as this in the past. Dominic waited patiently for him to return his spectacles to his face and gather the information he needed. “Yes, yes. Here we are.” He handed a paper to Dominic, which he accepted. Glancing at the paper, he had no need to read it because Mr. Martin explained everything in great detail. “That is the official death record of the previous Earl of Lindley in the private care of an asylum by the name of?—”

“I am aware of the previous earl’s madness,” Dominic interrupted. “His personal trials are not what I asked you to investigate.”

“Indeed. But you will find that is not all I discovered.” He handed him another sheet of paper. “This document states that his son, Francis Marcomb, was also interred in the same institution.”

At this, Dominic stilled. “What are you getting at?”

Mr. Martin folded his hand together “Rumor has it that the earl’s son was also afflicted, that he never spent time on the continent at all, that his condition was covered up from an early age to prevent gossip and conjecture that he wouldn’t be fit to inherit the title. He was granted the freedoms to do so, however, but that is not the most intriguing part. I happened to stumble across some information claiming that Francis Marcomb met his death shortly after he gained the title, after his father was dead.”

Dominic’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have proof of this?”

“A miniature.” He handed it over. “Apparently, Francis and one of the women in charge of the facility were having an affair and it was not known until after the scandal threatened to ensue.”

As Dominic inspected the image in the small frame, he frowned and then handed it to Lexie so that she might see what he was thinking. “This is not the same man who claims to be the current Earl of Lindley.”

“Precisely,” Mr. Martin concurred. “It appears we have an imposter in our midst. ”

Dominic sat back in the chair, feeling as if some of the wind had been knocked out of him. “If he is not the true heir, then how could he make such a claim? Who is he really?”

Some more paper shuffling on the desk. “That was a bit more difficult to uncover. It took some time to ferret out what had actually happened to the earl’s son. Until I received the miniature from Francis’s lover, I did not know what to look for. But soon the pieces began to fall into place. There was an incident at the Lindley estate. It appeared that a footman had been set upon by thieves and murdered, but upon further review, it appears that the man who was found was the true heir and the assailant had smoothly stepped into the role of earl. Not many people could dispute the claim, since Francis had been sent away for several years and there were marked similarities between these two men, so no one thought to question the claim. But I have taken the liberty of doing so.” He glanced at Lexie before adding a bit delicately, “I took the liberty of having the body exhumed and positively identified as that of Francis Marcomb. It should be circulating through the papers this very afternoon, if not already. That, Your Grace, is why I wanted to meet with you so urgently. If this charlatan believes you are aware of his true identity, you could be in grave danger, indeed.”