“Kneeling at the altar is a euphemism for sodomy.” I watched Colt leave the room, his back ramrod straight. Per usual, not a single blond hair was out of place. Before I made my presence known, he’d been flirting with Lady Lillian.
Very interesting, but not unexpected. He never showed any interest in anyone, to my knowledge. Of course, he was a private person, and even when he was present, he kept himself at a distance. During the initial months of his employment, his coolness pained me. I had a bad habit of developing infatuations for the wrong men.
I had reconciled myself to the fact that our relationship would be platonic. Colt wasn’t enamored of men. At least if he’d any such tendencies, he never let on. I’d had my fair share of women lovers as well. I enjoyed coupling, and I sought out partners of a more outgoing nature to share my bed.
“Oh my goodness, I never ...” She blanched, her knuckles whitening on the book she held clutched to her bosom. “I mean, I ... oh dear. So,Kneeling at the Altar of Achillesis very, um, scandalous.”
“Very scandalous indeed, especially since Achilles is often depicted in Greek mythology as a sodomite.” I had awakened early with one person on my mind. Lady Lillian Tapper. Unable to sleep, I sought her out. She fascinated me. Her proposal stillstayed utmost in my mind. The most troubling part was I was considering saying yes.
“Oh, this is rather farcical, isn’t it?” Her embarrassment turned into laughter, and she rocked on her heels, head back. A curl escaped and brushed against her cheek. She pushed it back and tucked it behind her ears.
Her eyes were alight with good humor, and I smiled in return. If I could keep her out of her shell, it would make our association much more agreeable. She would be a temporary visitor using my library, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t be amicable. “I see you have one volume from Moran’s publications. I hope you are prepared to blush, for you will with this book.”
“Oh dear, I’m sure I will. I daresay I’ll persevere. I brought pen and paper to take notes. Are you certain I’m not in the way?” The politeness was back, along with the reserve she carried with her like a second skin.
Saddened, I shrugged. I wanted Lillian the woman back, not Lady Lillian, but I wasn’t supposed to be courting her or befriending her. She could blackmail me into doing her bidding for all intents and purposes. It would be best for me if I kept my guard up. I wasn’t always wise. I liked people and wished to think the best of them. “No, I offered, and you accepted. Colt should be back with the tea. I’ll be in my studio. I have to finish a piece for my cousin Victoria.”
“Are you referring to Queen Victoria?” she asked.
I shook my head and settled my knuckles on my hips. Sore muscles protested my movements, and I stretched my neck. Sitting at the wheel most of the previous night was physically challenging. The pot I had thrown was well worth it. “I’m not related to Her Majesty. My mother does wish I would make more of an effort at court, but I find it tedious.”
“I met the Queen during my coming out. She was very nice to me. My mother spent time in her court during her youth.” A tremulous smile returned to her mouth, bowing the corners. I wished she would smile more often.
My mother had mentioned that Lady Lillian was bookish and seldom spoke when she was around. I’d noticed Lady Tapper was a rather quiet sort; well, quiet compared to my mother. It wasn’t always that way. My father had dampened her spirits at every turn. Shaking my head, I tried to erase the thoughts of him from my memory.
“It is a great honor. As a duke, I have many opportunities to curry her favor. However, I’ll be upfront and say with emphatic confidence that I appall toadies. Therefore, I refuse to become one.” I moved my arms behind my back and, using my wrist, pulled. My arm cramped at my forearm, which was common when I worked too hard at the wheel. I winced and splayed my fingers to ease the ache.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Lady Lillian asked, lines forming between her fine eyebrows. She watched my every move, mouth parted very tellingly. I wasn’t ignorant of my appeal, and although my stretches were innocent, she was paying marked attention to my every movement.
She’d asked to be bedded—for research, of course. No matter how appealing the idea seemed, it was taboo. Her father was an earl and a high-ranking member of the House of Lords. Her mother was also my mother’s friend. Therefore, I had better rethink my lustful musings toward Lady Lillian.
Hypothetically speaking, if she was one of my lovers, I would have asked her to massage my arm. Gavin had been useful for more than cock-sucking. My blood stirred at the memory of him performing a full body massage on me, resulting in a very erotic rump ride. “I dare say I’ll live.”
A rattle from the tea cart coming down the hallway had me turning my head. The twin servants were pushing it. Karen wore a modest dress befitting her station. Her brother Henry, however, was outfitted in a Breton black and white striped shirt and black trousers, his round face painted a stark white. To complete the look, he had rouged his lips and cheeks a vivid red. He pointed to the milk and sugar containers on the cart with the exaggerated motions of a pantomime while Karen poured the tea.
“Do you take milk and sugar?” Karen asked with a polite smile, interpreting for her brother.
“I, thank you, yes, um, both—” Lady Lillian dropped the book in her hands and stepped back. Her knees hit the chair's seat, and she fell into it. Shock was written all over her face, freezing her features in a comical grimace.
“Henry,” I said, trying to hide my amusement. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence to see twins, and one of them costumed as a pantomime blanche.
Henry settled the tea cart next to her chair. He cast Lady Lillian a concerned look before lifting one thin eyebrow in my direction, never breaking character.
“Would you like a cup, Your Grace?” Karen asked.
“Thank you, but no. You may both go. I’m sure Lady X will call if she needs anything else.” I dismissed them with a wave. Henry offered a polite nod, before he exited behind his sister, back ramrod straight.
“Lady X?” Lady Lillian asked, in a small whisper, slumping more fully into the chair. The dark blue of her skirt contrasted with her shoes’ gold kid leather, and the fabric rode up to expose a blue silk stocking. She composed her features once more into a mask of pseudo calmness.
“After what you observed, that’s the question you have for me?” I asked, tearing my gaze from her leg. Giving in to mylust for my blackmailer wasn’t conducive to my plans to cut my association with her after she got what she wanted. Continuing our friendship might be doable if whatever was growing between us remained platonic.
Her face turned a deep rose, and she exhaled a long, low breath. She was clearly flummoxed and trying hard to formulate a response. “It isn’t proper to comment on someone’s appearance. I assumed Henry is in some sort of production?”
“He is studying the works of Gaspard Deburau, a famous French pantomime. If you haven’t guessed already, my household is unusual on purpose.” Structure was never my friend. My father was a harsh taskmaster and tried to control every nuance of my life. He’d failed miserably. I balked at the restrictions put on me by society and my title. In my house, I was myself. It was refreshing to never worry about keeping secrets from my staff or stifling myself simply for appearances. “Have you ever felt out of place, Lady X?”
Earnest green eyes met mine. “Every day of my life. I’m sorry if I was rude to Henry. It simply caught me by surprise. I never, well, I have, but not outside the sanctity of the nursery, or the theater I suppose...”
I waited for her to continue. She was disclosing something personal. Since there was one male among the Tapper children, I assume she referred to the viscount, who was Tapper’s heir.
