He remained still.
“There’s no shame in it,” she said. “All men who visit me take pleasure from the sight of a female form, whether they care for their wives or not. It’s a natural male instinct, though your heart and loyalty may prevent you from acting upon it. Imagine, then, the pleasure you’ll take from looking at your wife, spread before you, all willing and ready?”
He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath, willing his cock not to spend in his breeches.Sweet Lord Almighty—to imagine Olivia in such a pose, engaging in such debauchery!
Anne chuckled, and Charles opened his eyes.
“The woman takes equal pleasure from being looked at.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Oh yes, my lord,” she said. “I said, during our second lesson, that what a man takes pleasure in is, more often than not, enjoyable for the woman also. I’ll wager my body that your wife will take as much delight in the act as you. Not all men are as considerate as yourself.”
Her expression darkened for a heartbeat, then the smile resumed.
“You can seemybody’s reaction today, my lord. I take great pleasurefrom being looked at intimately by a man.”
Closing her eyes, she slipped her hand between her thighs, her chest rising and falling as she inhaled. She opened them again, and he caught a flash of shyness in her expression.
Then her smile slipped. She withdrew her hand and pulled her dressing gown around her body, securing it with a sash.
“I think your final lesson has come to an end.”
She blinked, and Charles caught a sheen of moisture in her eyes.
Is something the matter?
She stared at his hands, then shook her head. “Forgive me, I don’t understand you.”
Yes, you do.
Charles fished in his pocket, drew out a sovereign, and placed it in the delicate porcelain dish together with the rest of the coins.
“Very well,” she said. “A woman in my profession must abide by many rules. Not just to maintain the safety of her body, but she needs to temper her own desires such that she is not in thrall to them. A good whore ensures that her client is not only fully satisfied, but that he leaves an encounter already eager for the next. But when the whore herself is desirous of the next appointment with a client—not for coin, but for more personal reasons—then the time has come to part with the client.”
Surely she wasn’t saying that she’d fallen in love with him? He hadn’t even touched her.
Charles held up his hands, showing three fingers on each.
She smiled and nodded. “Yes, Lord Devereaux, I’m aware that our arrangement was six lessons, and that we part company after today.” She let out a sigh. “Have no fear, I’m not in danger of falling in love. But even the hardest-hearted whore must admit that there’s something irresistible in a man who’s in love with his wife.”
Charles frowned.
Love?
A brute such as him wasn’t built for love. He was the antithesis ofmen such as Whitcombe, whose ready wit supplied him with an endless stream of flowery declarations toward his wife.
The doxy gave a soft smile, something akin to affection in her eyes.
“You think yourself unworthy? Incapable, even?” She shook her head. “I’m visited by many men who’ll fall over themselves to assure me how violently they love their wives, who continue voicing that love as they rut me from behind. But you, Lord Devereaux—you may be incapable of telling your wife that you love her, but by your deeds, the way you’re so eager to learn how to pleasure her, yet torment yourself with the guilt of visiting another to teach you…”
She shook her head and wiped her eyes.
“By what greater means can a man demonstrate how sincerely he loves his wife—even if he has yet to admit it to himself?”
Charles approached her, tempering the urge to ease the pain in her eyes. Then she glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf.
“Mercy me, is that the time? My next client’s due any moment. I believe you’re acquainted with the Duke of Foxton?”
