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 aproblem.You expect me to believe that what we just did is what aristocratic men prefer in the bedchamber?Thatis 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 hearyoucomplaining.”
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 notcareone 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 believedhewould 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.
