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Page 15 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Chapter Thirteen

B eatrice could not believe it.

The Marquess of Leith had just made love to her.

As primly and dryly as if he were a church rector tasked with bedding his virgin bride!

No, she reasoned. The church rector would have allowed the convenience of a candle, surely. He would be a practical man. And might actually enjoy seeing his wife’s face during the act.

But, the Marquess of Leith, notorious rake, insisted on having not a stitch of light in the room.

Not to mention, she was still wearing her gown. And he was fully clothed as well.

It had been the most depraved bedding in the history of England.

And not in the good way.

At first, Beatrice had thought the man was playing an erotic game. That he was showing her what the fine men of London liked—some kind of obscure bedsport that hadn’t made its way to Somerset.

But, instead, he had delivered her the most muted erotic experience of her life.

Yes, she had orgasmed, but, as she had tried to explain to him, that was hardly remarkable. It was just how she was made.

She could hear him moving about the chamber now, ostensibly cleaning up. He really did seem to abhor mess of any kind.

“Lord Leith,” she said, her voice sounding, even to her own ears, thin and irritated, “I am lighting a candle.”

“Do whatever you desire. I will be sleeping in my chamber.”

“No,” she said, moving to a small armoire and lighting the candle in the stand. “Do not leave this room. We need to speak.”

Their eyes met in the candlelight. His handsome face appeared as she had never seen it. Sheepish. As if he had committed not a crime but an embarrassing indecency.

“Is there a problem, Miss Salisbury?”

“Yes, there is a problem . You expect me to believe that what we just did is what aristocratic men prefer in the bedchamber? That is the experience they will pay me hundreds of pounds to deliver them?”

He straightened.

“I do not catch your implication.”

“Come now, you must.”

“I do not.”

“I have made clear to you that I have had other lovers. I am not an innocent.”

“Nor am I.”

“Do you always bed women in that fashion?”

He shifted, his gaze leaving her face. “It is no matter to you.”

“Very well, I suppose you are correct. But you are supposed to be teaching me how to be a courtesan, not a bloody vicar’s wife.”

“I did not hear you complaining.”

She brought her hands to her temples in frustration. “An orgasm is not all there is to bedding. As I told you, for me, it always happens.”

Indeed, Beatrice reflected, a particularly bumpy carriage ride could titillate her, although not, thankfully, to completion.

“I do not care one way or the other whether you enjoyed the experience. I was only noting that you did not seem displeased.”

“You do not care one way or the other? Very gentlemanly.”

This fool was wrecking all her plans. He was supposed to be a notorious rake. She had approached Lord Montaigne, a man who had known naught about her, and asked him for an introduction to Lord Leith because she believed he would be the key.

But, with a sinking horror, her brain began to work out what her body knew. No, the aristocrats of London were not paying to tup their mistresses in such a fashion. It was not possible.

She had imagined Lord Leith would teach her to use novel methods of seduction.

It was clear that, if she wanted to learn such things, she wouldn’t do so here . With him .

Tonight, at the opera, while she had resented it, he had given her sound advice for interacting with the men of the ton . But she had appeared to reach the limit of his expertise.

“All men are different. I cannot promise you the key to pleasing every one.”

“Is that how your friends bed women? What the newspapers are full of, when they gossip about their exploits? Or how they now tup their wives? You know they do not.”

“My friends aren’t usual men. They are notorious! They are—they were —the Rank Rakes!”

“ You are supposed to be a Rank Rake, you blockhead!”

“Miss Salisbury,” he gasped. “You are becoming overset. I cannot talk to you when you are in such a state.”

“You knew I wanted an education in the bedchamber. Why on earth would you have accepted this arrangement under the circumstances?”

“I do not know what circumstances you refer to.” He glowered.

She held up the candle. “Lord Leith, I am still clothed , as are you.”

“What of it, woman!”

“Fine,” she said, rage filtering through her blood at an alarming rate. “Let us be practical. Surely, you must know the things most fine London gentlemen want from their mistresses. You must have experienced them yourself, even if they aren’t to your preferences. We can practice those.”

She was desperate for a solution. She could feel her plans turning to ash.

And even in the candlelight, she could see him paling.

“I am going to bed, Miss Salisbury.”

“Surely, you are familiar with other ways of making love.”

“Of course I am,” he spat out.

“We could try something in that line. Surely, you’ve had a woman…ride you astride?”

“Yes,” he snapped.

Thank God for that, she thought.

“And you’ve had your cock sucked, I am sure.”

Of all the acts a man with a predilection for courtesans would have experienced, that would be it!

“Yes, although—” He broke off.

“What?”

“I do not care for it.”

That was odd. Very odd. Especially given the admiration he had expressed for her anecdote in the carriage. But she supposed it was hardly an issue, as she knew how to do that particular act quite well.

“What of entering a woman from behind?”

“Dear Lord, Miss Salisbury, I am not answering any more questions.”

“I need to know if I am wasting my time, Lord Leith.”

“Since you already seem very well versed in everything you mention, I hardly see why it matters.”

“In these things, yes, but not in others! I’ve seen enough of the intimations in the scandal sheets to know that. I understand some men like spanking—”

“Miss Salisbury, please. No one here is getting spanked.”

“You’re supposed to be a rake!” she repeated, frustrated beyond belief.

“I am a rake,” he spat back. “I have been with hundreds of women.”

“How many of those women did you bed in that manner and that manner only?”

He was silent. And this silence gave Beatrice an extremely ominous feeling.

“How many, Lord Leith?”

She looked at him. His eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Strangely, he wore an expression not unlike the possessive, jealous one he had worn earlier that night in the carriage.

When he had been jesting.

Relief coursed through her.

It was just another jape!

She laughed, although she was annoyed he would play with her in such a way, when it was a matter of deadly seriousness to her.

“You are an intolerable man. To jest with me about this matter.”

But he did not smile as he had earlier in the evening.

With a sinking feeling, she realized that she had been wrong once more.

“I am not jesting, Miss Salisbury. I am extremely serious,” he said, his eyes now burning into her. The handsome lines of his face had lost all trace of the coxcomb. For Lord Leith, she thought with a scoff, this was probably as wild as he got.

“You will be my mistress for the next two weeks. We will bed in the manner that I prefer, because I am paying you . I do not care if you think my education in the bedchamber is not the right one. I am an aristocratic gentleman, who has been with countless courtesans, and I have never had a word of complaint. I cannot help it if you have previously participated in depraved conduct with others.”

“ Depraved? You, my lord, are the depraved one! A man that people consider a rake only willing to bed courtesans fully clothed and in one position!”

“There are many men in the aristocracy who are just like myself, I assure you.”

“You are mad. You belong in Bedlam.”

“I am not mad—” he was hissing now “—I am a peer of the fucking realm. And who are you, Miss Salisbury?”

“Oh, I am just a whore, am I?” she said, aware that her voice was well raised now. She prayed they weren’t waking up Sally or any of the other servants. “You’ll have to do better than that, my lord. I have been called a whore plenty of times.”

“No,” he spat, “I wasn’t going to call you a whore. You see, I like whores. You’re just a desperate madwoman who I have been cornered into helping.”

Beatrice reeled back. She wanted to slap the man, but she wasn’t given to violence. Her childhood had made such recourse impossible to her.

“I could have any number of beautiful women as my mistress, Miss Salisbury, and they would do exactly what I wanted. Let that be your first lesson as a courtesan. Do what the rich gentleman wants.”

She shook her head. She had dealt with many unreasonable, delusional men in her existence, but this one might be the worst. And not only did she dislike him personally, and find his style of bedding reprehensible, but he was trying to waste her time. He was attempting to destroy the plan that she had carefully constructed to save herself and her family from ruin.

“I am not going to sit here for two weeks and learn nothing that will be of use to me, Lord Leith. You’ve already fulfilled your function. The men of London know of me. I am sure Lord Stratton or Mr. Pennington would do just fine. I will leave this place tomorrow. I need nothing else from you. You are released from the obligation that my request to Lord Montaigne put you under.”

“You will do no such thing, Miss Salisbury. You will not leave this house before our two weeks are finished.”

He looked very angry now. He took a step towards her. She wondered if he would reach for her. But he didn’t.

“You will have to stop me, then, because I will not tolerate such treatment. I do not let men waste my time.”

“You are about to become a courtesan,” he sneered. “I will not be the first to waste your time, I assure you. Be thankful you will be paid handsomely for the experience. With me, at least. I cannot assure others will do you the same honor.”

He had reached the door that joined their chambers. Then he turned back, his expression more severe than she had ever seen it, transforming his placid, handsome face entirely.

“Do not leave this house. If I wake and you are gone, I will find you.”

“I have made up my mind, Lord Leith,” she snapped. “I will be departing this house very soon indeed.”

But he had already slammed the door.