Page 10 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)
Chapter Eight
W hen Beatrice entered the carriage, she could immediately tell that the Marquess of Leith was in a foul humor.
At the modiste, he had been the warmest and most charming she had seen him yet.
Now, the relatively relaxed man from this afternoon was gone. Instead, he was scowling in his dark evening clothes, the handsome lines of his face pinched up. He couldn’t manage to look unattractive, but, for all his handsomeness, he didn’t look welcoming either.
“Good evening,” she said, as the footman, a good-looking young man of about eighteen, shut the door behind her.
He nodded at her. The carriage lurched forward.
His gaze remained trained out the window.
Apparently, he was not in the mood for conversation.
She had worn the green dress that he had so admired, but he barely looked at her now. It was vexing. She remembered the heat in his gaze today in the dress shop… No, she wasn’t disappointed . She shook her head. She was being ridiculous once more.
And, more to the point, she knew how to provoke a man to speech. That was a talent that she had long possessed.
“Are you nervous, my lord?”
His gaze instantly snapped to her from the window.
“What do you mean, Miss Salisbury?”
“For tonight,” she said, with a bright smile. As if she were unaware of it, she brought her hand to her bosom.
He looked down. He managed to look away again, but she was pleased to see that it took him some effort.
“For the opera?”
“No, for after the opera. You have not forgotten our agreement, have you?”
He frowned. “I have not.”
“So, I am asking if your sour mood can be attributed to nerves. Are you nervous about bedding me, my lord?”
“Christ. Obviously not.”
“Then to what can I attribute your low spirits?”
“I am not in low spirits,” he spat. “This is the problem with women. A man wants a moment of peace and quiet, and suddenly he is in low spirits.”
“Very well. You aren’t in low spirits. It would be natural to be nervous, however.”
The carriage wheels clattered over the cobblestones. Outside the window, London was reveling—it was the time of night that held promise. Beatrice watched as a man in a hack driver’s costume pressed a kiss to the lips of a housemaid. The couple looked like they knew exactly what their evening would soon hold.
“Not for me.”
“Truly?” she said, breathlessly, leaning over slightly so that her breasts pressed against the absurdly low neckline. “Well, I find that I am very nervous.”
His gaze snapped from her bosom to her face.
“Are you?”
“Oh, yes.”
The look on his face—suspended somewhere between arousal and concern—was without compare. She couldn’t contain her mirth.
She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she did so.
“Very amusing,” he said, his tone caustic.
“Your face! You know, Lord Montaigne does sell you short. You looked positively worried about me.”
“My apologies for showing a moment of human weakness. I will try harder next time to be more inhumane.”
“I appreciate the effort.”
“You will remember, Miss Salisbury, that you are not the usual run of courtesan. My apologies if I regard you with a bit more caution.”
“That is fair,” she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.
“And you were raised as a gentlewoman.”
That brought her up short.
It made her think of her father. And what his ambitions for her had been once. And the fact that those ambitions had not just belonged to her father. But to her mother, too.
“Indeed.”
“Under the circumstances, you can excuse me for fearing you an innocent. You are the cousin of an earl, after all.”
“Third cousin. And I assure you that you needn’t worry for my innocence.”
His attention had long switched from the window to her. Unfortunately, somehow, she found herself on the defensive.
“Explain to me, then, Miss Salisbury, why you need my help at all. If you are so experienced in the bedchamber, then why do you need my instruction?”
His entire body was taut across the carriage from her. He looked scornful, but, also, incredibly tense. He was a man who liked neatness, she wagered, and this entire scenario with her was mussing his order. She could recognize it on him because she was the exact same way. She liked to be in control.
“Many courtesans begin their careers at bawdy houses, learning their trade from more experienced practitioners. If I am to find a protector of means and aim to keep him, then I need this specialized knowledge. While I am experienced with men, I am not experienced with this class of man or what he expects from a paid companion.”
He snorted. His arms were crossed, his nostrils flared. “And what class of man are you experienced with?”
She thought for a moment. “Linen drapers. Ditch diggers. What men of your station might call ‘the yeomanry.’”
Really, she was exaggerating. She had only been with one ditch digger. But she enjoyed the affront that spread across his features.
“Let me make one thing clear, Miss Salisbury. While you are under my protection, you will have no other men. Do you understand me?”
His face was a mask of tightly controlled rage. She had been enjoying provoking him, but she was shocked by the look of absolute seriousness on his face.
“Of—of course.”
He looked at her for a beat, his expression of wrath completely unchanged.
And then he burst into laughter.
Bastard.
“Your face,” he drawled.
“I’ll be sure to find a ditch digger during intermission.”
“You will do no such thing. While you don’t stir me to a jealous ardor, Miss Salisbury, I will not share my mistress with any man. Even if she has been foisted upon me by circumstance.”
Beatrice suspected that she was unsuccessfully fighting back a blush. He had really seemed sincere in his jealousy. She supposed that she deserved it, for what she had done to him. She usually was better at reading people, men especially.
She needed to regain the upper hand.
“Indeed. In fact, Lord Leith, I understand that the upper classes have been known on occasion to commit carnal acts during the opera. We will be in a private box, yes?”
He clenched his jaw. “Quite.”
“Perhaps you can begin my education during the production.”
He did not look delighted at her suggestion.
“If you remember, Miss Salisbury, I am not supposed to be bedding you.”
Oh, yes. She had forgotten about Lord Montaigne’s stipulation.
“It wouldn’t do to be caught in the act in front of all of London. I do not think Monty or Olivia would appreciate that.”
“Of course.”
But she sensed there was more to his refusal. She wasn’t sure why.
“Very well,” she said, brazenly. “There is always the carriage.”
His hands, already braced on his knees, flexed.
“The carriage?”
“Yes, no one can see us here. Why not begin my education now?”
“I don’t wish it,” he said quickly. “And it is impractical. We are almost at the opera house.”
If anything, he had gone tenser. His body was all coiled power. His storybook features were blunted by his absolute rigidity.
She looked out the window. With the pace of traffic, they had ten minutes, at least.
“We have plenty of time for a quick lesson.”
“I don’t wish it,” he repeated.
“Why?”
“We are too—too exposed.”
His gaze darted to the window. Yes, the curtains were still open.
“We could close them.”
“It’s not that.”
She looked at him. Beatrice wasn’t sure if it was another game or not. She didn’t think so, but she had misread him last time.
“You prefer to keep such things private.”
“Yes. Precisely.”
“So, you have never copulated in a carriage?”
“God damn it, no .”
Beatrice couldn’t believe it. This man was one of the most famous rakes in all of London. And he had never tupped a woman in a carriage? It was strange, indeed. But, perhaps, she had been closer to the mark than she had imagined with her threats. Perhaps, he preferred privacy because his proclivities were so depraved.
Even if that were so, she wanted to embrace this opportunity to show him that she was not an innocent. That he could teach her everything he knew without worrying about horrifying her. And here, it appeared, if he were telling the truth, was an area in which she was more experienced than him. Surely, that would be a novelty. She could make her impression, though, on that score.
“I have.”
He looked at her as if she were the Devil himself.
“ You have? In a carriage?”
She nodded. It was true. She had. On more than one occasion. With her linen-draper lover. He had given her several rides into town when her mother had use of the horses. He had been a friendly, neighborly sort. A good fellow.
“Yes. And I understand, Lord Leith, that you aren’t comfortable with such doings. But what if you were someone else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Another lord. The type who might become my protector.”
“Yes, so what if I was?”
“Well, I imagine such a man might enjoy a mistress who wanted to copulate in a carriage.”
“He might,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Or he might not.”
Beatrice smiled. She didn’t even have to touch him. No, in fact, this way was better.
“And do you know what I would do in such a case?”
“Let him tup you, I suspect, if that was his preference.”
“No,” Beatrice said, shaking her head. “Or, at least, not in the regular way. But I am not sure if what I have in mind is the kind of thing fine gentlemen like.”
He grunted, urging her, she knew, to speak more. But she wanted him to ask for it.
After a moment, he sighed. “And what is that?”
“Well, in my experience, tupping, you know, the usual way, in a carriage, is not particularly comfortable. The carriage is suited to other acts.”
He murmured and shifted in his seat.
She couldn’t tell if he was aroused. But she was sure he was interested.
“So, if I were with a fine gentleman—not you, of course, because you don’t like such things, but another one—I would hitch up my skirts—” Beatrice moved as if she were going to do so, but didn’t actually, merely letting her hands travel over her body “—and show him my pussy. I’d let him watch me touch myself.”
Leith swore under his breath. She was sure that he was deadly serious now. She would bet her life on it. In the low light of the carriage, his eyes had gone from their usual port color to near onyx.
“I’d take my time because we wouldn’t be in a rush. And I wouldn’t let him touch me. I’d only let him watch. Do you think he would like that?”
“I am sure.” He was trying for his usual tone of detachment, but he did not quite succeed. His voice sounded thin as a Warburton silk.
“Once I had spent, I’d get down on my knees. On the carriage floor.”
She gestured with her hand below her.
“And then I would touch him through his breeches. And he would be very, very hard. Don’t you think?”
“It’s possible.”
“I think he would be,” she said, keeping her voice low. “And then I would undo his tapes and take him in my mouth.”
“Christ.”
“And I would suck and suck, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.”
“Bea—Miss Salisbury—”
“Is there a problem, my lord?”
“I said—not in the carriage.”
“I am not doing anything in the carriage . Unless I am affecting you? With my hypothetical?”
“Dear God, woman, you are talking about…sucking my cock—”
“Not at all. I am talking about sucking some other gentleman’s cock in his carriage.”
He groaned.
“Fine—tell me. What would happen next?”
“I would suck him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. But I wouldn’t let him spend. Not until he was begging me for it. Then, finally, very kindly, I would let him come in my mouth. And I would swallow his seed happily.”
Lord Leith was looking at her as if she had spontaneously burst into flames.
“Do you think he would like that? The fine gentleman?”
She was asking. Yes, it was amusing for her to tease him in this way (after all, few men wouldn’t find such a story at least a little provoking, and he had eyed her bosom quite fiercely on more than one occasion today). But she also wanted a sense of whether such tactics would be enough to keep the interest of a ton gentleman.
“If he were given to carriage tupping, I suspect he would.”
She stared at him in the dim light of the carriage. He wasn’t laughing as he had been previously. But his tone and expression had become placid once more, as if she had imagined the arousal of moments before.
“But, Miss Salisbury, I think you will find the men of this world not long diverted by such coarseness.”
“That is why I have you , I suppose. To teach me.”
Beatrice did not appreciate his characterization of her as coarse. But she also knew she was in an unfamiliar world. She had no idea how the men of the aristocracy tupped. In her experience, most men were well pleased with a cock licking, but the men she had bedded had been ordinary men. They had to work for a living. They couldn’t spend their days focused on their pleasure and their nights sampling different women until they found the exact one who suited their tastes.
“Quite,” he said, his face still that mask of equanimity. “Come, Miss Salisbury, we are here.”
The door to the carriage opened.
Beatrice had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed that they had arrived at the opera.
She straightened her spine.
Beatrice Salisbury had never made her debut in good society. And she never would.
But, tonight, she would make a debut of another sort.
And she needed it to be a success.