At last, sage marital advice from a woman who had lived!
Louisa regretted the assumption of infidelity that had first clouded her vision. Her girlish jealousy had almost ruined a budding friendship with this worldly lady. Why had she confronted Madame rather than taken the matter up with His Lordship? If anybody deserved her rage for flirting drunkenly on the dance floor while leaving his wife unsatisfied night after night, it washer husband.
“Why are you helping me,” asked Louisa, “when I accused you of something awful?”
“Because you are young, inexperienced, and untutored in the ways of the world. I wish there had been someone to give me advice in the early days of my marriage, as it would’ve saved me much heartache and humiliation.” Madame de Roubernon extended a helping hand, lifting Louisa from the bottom bunk. After safely seeing the young marchioness on her feet, the sophisticated Frenchwoman said, “We girls must look out for one another.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
She left Madame de Roubernon to meet Mrs. Waldo and baby Emily for lunch. After the meal, Louisa popped into her stateroom to check on His Lordship, who was blessedly asleep. She gathered her dressing gown and toiletries kit before flagging down a stewardess to reserve a bathtub.
Few passengers utilized these facilities in the middle of the afternoon. The bath stewardess delivered towels, washcloths, and a rinsing pitcher, placing them among Louisa’s preferred soaps, shampoos, and fragrant oils.
Louisa locked the door behind her and undressed in the privacy of the bathroom. The space was small, consisting of a mirrored washstand, sink basin, bath stool, and soaking tub. From floor to ceiling, the walls were covered in gleaming white tile, reflecting the light from an electric fixture overhead.
She sank into the tub, immersing her feet, legs, and hips in warm water that poured from pipes affixed to the wall. Soon, the room grew hazy with steam.
Louisa shut off the flow of water and lay back against the bathtub, submerging her belly, breasts, and shoulders. Only her arms extended over the lip of the tub, and she let them hang, languidly swaying to and fro with the motion of the ship.
Little beads of perspiration trickled down her hairline. She wiped her face and puffed her splotchy cheeks, sweating out the previous night’s gluttony of wine and overly rich cuisine.
This must’ve been how gentlemen felt as they stewed in the saunas and bathhouses of their athletic clubs, or why the ancient Romans gathered to luxuriate in their thermae—though she hardly envied them the social aspect of bathing. She was glad to remove her clothes and relax, to enjoy thirty minutes of perfect solitude.
On a ship buzzing with music, laughter, and conversation, the bathroom was silent save for the lapping of the water against the tub, and the gentle hum of electricity overhead. Louisa couldn’t even hear the engines whileCampania’stwin screws charged eastward across the North Atlantic.
Growing drowsy, she let her mind wander to Madame de Roubernon’s advice and to that naughty book the worldly Frenchwoman had pressed into her hand.
“Show him what you want… Learn what you like… Give yourself what he cannot.”
Louisa shifted in the water, stretching to reach the book, which rested atop her clothing on the bath stool. Her fingertips found a corner of the cover, and she carefully drew it into her hand.
Turning to the first page, Louisa reclined against the tub and began to read. It told a shocking tale of veils and jewels, harems, and distant lands, yet it ultimately served as an instruction manual in the art of lovemaking.
She thumbed through the story, mouth agape at what she discovered. Her heart raced as the young man, a handsome cavalier, risked his life to climb the lattice and sneak across the veranda to rendezvous with his true love, a royal concubine.
They embraced beneath the date palms, undressing each other in the moonlight, and reclining on silken divans.
The cavalier knelt between his lover’s thighs to kiss and caress her. With his hands and mouth, he worshipped that secret—forbidden—part of her until her cries of pleasure grew so loud the couple was discovered by the palace guards!
Louisa gasped. She sighed. Surely, she moaned, for the tale was so erotic that she feared she might melt into a puddle!
She had no idea that people did such things, that they enjoyed such intimate acts. Did Madame de Roubernon know? By gifting her this erotic novel, had the Frenchwoman encouraged Louisa to try these things?
“We girls must look out for one another.”
Emboldened, she continued the tale. The concubine was cruelly dragged from the cavalier’s arms. She pined for him every night, enduring her royal duties, yet pleasuring herself with the memory of her lover.
Louisa slipped her hand beneath the bathwater, unable to wait for the star-crossed lovers to be reunited. She closed her eyes, imagining that she was the concubine and her beloved was Lord Granborough.
Soft fingertips quested between her thighs, petting that place of longing, circling and slicking where she had never ventured. Louisa fantasized about all the things she wished to do with her husband, and all the things she wished her husband would to her.
He would do this if she asked. In her mind, His Lordship would do anythingfor her.
She dreamed of his naked body, so lean and taut. The smell of his skin as he arched above her, all around her. His hard thighs flexed against her parted flesh. Long fingers gripped hers, trembling with need. Two desperate bodies twined together, curving and thrusting, desperate with want.
Louisa’s fingers moved faster. She threw back her head, her lips drawn in a silent scream. Pleasure built within her, stoked higher and higher by her own hand, until she began to pant and quiver, quake and moan.
As she came, she whispered,“Giles.”
