An Introduction to Pleasure (2 page)

A peace that was quickly replaced by anxiety when she realized that Vivien Manning was staring at her. Simply
staring
, almost like Lysandra had sprouted a second head or danced a lively jig on the table before the Queen.

“I have offended you,” Lysandra said softly, almost more to herself than because she expected an answer from Vivien.

The other woman blinked a few times, but then a slow smile lifted the corners of her lips.

“No, not offended. You
have
surprised me, and no one has done that in an age.”

Lysandra covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Vivien laughed. “Don’t be. I find I rather enjoy the sensation.

Slowly, Lysandra let her hands fall away and she looked at Vivien. The other woman had no malice in her expression, nor mocking. In fact, she had a kindness to her face that once again surprised Lysandra. She had not been raised to think that women of Vivien’s kind could be so…nuanced.

Or that she could like one as she was beginning to like Vivien.

“But, my dear, what you are asking…it is quite a lot.”

Lysandra tried to ignore the tightening in her chest and the tickle of tears that stung her eyes.

“I do understand that,” she said.

But Vivien shook her head slowly. “I’m almost certain you do not. You see, while I
have
matched certain ladies as mistresses to certain gentlemen, I don’t just match up any woman with any man. There is nothing willy-nilly about it.”

Lysandra clasped her hands together tightly. She almost felt like a schoolgirl in the face of Vivien’s wise attitude. “No, of course not. You would not have the success that is whispered about you if you did that.”

Vivien smiled as she continued, “You and I have only just met. How would I know your disposition? Your values?”

Lysandra could sense the final refusal hovering in Vivien’s next sentence. To head that inevitability off, she jumped to her feet.

“I could tell you! I
would
tell you anything you wished to know, I assure you!”

Vivien’s smile fell, replaced with concern. “Lysandra—”

Without thinking, Lysandra fell to her knees in front of the other woman and clasped both her hands. “Please, please do not refuse me.”

“You are trembling,” Vivien whispered.

“This is my only choice,” Lysandra said, just as softly. “Please, if there is anything I can do or say, any way I can convince you to be my savior, I will do it.”

It was only then that she realized the tears had begun to fall, trailing down her cheeks.

Vivien clucked her tongue and pulled one of her hands free from Lysandra’s to grab a handkerchief from the pocket of her pelisse.

“Here, take this,” she said as she handed it over.

Lysandra retook her seat and dabbed away the tears. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to come here and deposit my difficulties onto your doorstep.”

Vivien shook her head. “Clearly you are in a most difficult position and though I do not know the details, I do understand. I’ve been there myself. But I am not certain you truly know what you are asking me to do for you. And I hesitate to introduce you to this life if you aren’t ready for all it entails.”

Lysandra squeezed her eyes shut. She had been trying very hard not to think of what “this life” would entail. Foggy images clouded her brain, but she shoved them aside. In this, she could not waver.

“Miss Manning, I assure you that while I may not be as experienced as some of the women in your acquaintance, I do know what I’m asking of you. And I can only hope that you will help, for my alternatives are far more unpleasant.”

Vivien’s eyes shut, and she sat like that for almost a full minute before she sighed. “I suppose if you are in such dire straits then those alternatives would be quite terrible. I would hate to be the one to place you in their path. So yes, if you insist on this course of action, I will help you.”

Lysandra was seated, but she gripped the arms of the chair as dizzy relief washed over her in an almost uncontrollable wave.

“Thank God,” she breathed.

Vivien smiled again, but this time there was a sadness to the expression. “I will need to ask you a few questions in order to best help you.”

Lysandra refocused and bit her lip. “Of course.”

“This is delicate, but what kind of experience
do
you have?”

Lysandra tried to focus over the increased throbbing of her heart. Here was the difficulty. If she told Vivien the truth, she could easily lose the opportunity she had finally won. If she lied, she could end up far over her head. But better the second than the first.

“Not much, as I said,” she finally answered. “But I am aware of the expectations placed upon a mistress.”

Once again, Vivien was quiet for a very long time, simply watching Lysandra through a hooded and nearly unreadable gaze. To Lysandra’s surprise and relief, she did not press the issue, but instead said, “And what do you ask for in a protector?”

Now it was Lysandra who was silenced by surprise. She hadn’t thought much about that subject, mostly because she had never thought a mistress could demand anything of her protector. Wasn’t it he who held all the power, along with the purse?

But when it came down to it, wouldn’t she ask for the same qualities in a lover that she had once hoped for in a husband?

“A kind man,” she said, almost beneath her breath. “One who would not be cruel. One who would take care of me and not mind if I had other…responsibilities.”

Vivien’s expression grew softer. “A child?”

She shook her head. “M-my mother. She is quite ill.”

Slowly, Vivien nodded. “I see.”

There was one more silence between the two women. Lysandra couldn’t help thinking of her mother, and she had a suspicion Vivien’s thoughts were also of people she loved and had sacrificed for.

Finally, the other woman shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and said, “I can make you no promises, Lysandra. Leave your information with Nettle, the butler who showed you the room, and I will call you back to meet with me within a week at most.”

Lysandra clutched her reticule with both hands and pushed to her feet. A week was so long to wait, especially considering her current situation, but she could ask for no more from Vivien.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I so appreciate your assistance.”

Vivien waved her hand as if her help mattered little, but as Lysandra slipped from the room, the swell of emotion that filled her was not to be minimized. This woman, if she could truly help Lysandra, could save her life.

And for that, she would never be able to repay her debt to Vivien.

Andrew sighed as his carriage pulled up to the London estate he had taken almost five years ago. There was nothing wrong with the beautiful home, per se. In fact, many complimented it and envied him its posh situation near St. James’s Park. But regardless, he did not look forward to these quarterly trips to Town. If it were up to him, he would let the place out and stay in the country permanently.

But his father requested his visits. And he respected the man too much to refuse him, even for very good reason.

The carriage stopped, and he stepped out to find the main members of his staff lined up and awaiting him. With a forced smile, he greeted each one by name and asked a personal yet empty question about family or illness or whatever else came to mind.

And as always, he saw the pity and worry flash in their stares before they could cover the reactions. Once those things had made him angry. Now they were just embarrassing and tiresome.

The last servant in the line was his butler, Pruett. Unlike the others, he was able to keep any emotion from his face, thanks to a great many more years of experience in service. He had been with Andrew’s family for years.

“Welcome home, Viscount Callis,” the older man said with a shallow bow at the waist.

“Thank you, Pruett,” Andrew said as he led the way inside. The other servants dispersed back to their duties, leaving him alone with the butler in the foyer.

“And are there any messages?” he asked.

It was habit to request them when he arrived, when in truth he expected only something from his father. His old friends no longer tried to coax him back into their wicked lives and he hadn’t tried to make many new friends since…well, in a long time.

“Yes, sir, there are,” Pruett said, and to Andrew’s surprise he handed over two missives.

Andrew wrinkled his brow in confusion. Two?

“Thank you,” he said. “I will take these to my chamber. That will be all for the time being.”

He wandered up the stairs, barely hearing Pruett’s response. The letter on top was the expected one from his father, of course, but as he flipped to the second, it was in a hand he didn’t recognize. It was feminine and the paper smelled faintly of lightly perfumed waters.

He waited until he was alone in his chamber to break the seal and open it. As he scanned over the words within, he couldn’t help but sit down beside the fire with a thump.

The message was from Vivien Manning.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know the notorious former courtesan. The woman had been mistress to at least two friends from his youth, and he had always liked her.

But he hadn’t seen her in almost three years, let alone spoken to her in a way that would encourage correspondence.

And yet here she was, asking him to visit her home at his earliest convenience.

He stared at the request over and over again, trying to decipher the meaning behind the simple, one-sentence request. There was no reason she should ask to see him. They had no relationship beyond a vague acquaintance, nor had he ever expressed a desire to expand that. Everyone knew he lived a monastic life, by his own choice. He had made that abundantly clear to the few friends who dared to question his lifestyle.

But how could he refuse her request? He had no desire to be rude to Vivien, even if he had long ago divorced himself from the lifestyle she represented. Perhaps it was best to simply visit her, kindly make it clear that he had no interest in an affair with her, and be done with it.

He did not look forward to that refusal, for he doubted Vivien heard the word “no” very often. She was a beautiful and powerful woman. One he couldn’t help but respect.

With a sigh, he pulled a sheet of paper from the table beside his bed and scrawled a quick note indicating he would call on her for afternoon tea the next day. But as he called for a servant to take the note and arrange delivery, Andrew stifled the curiosity and thrill of excitement that filled his chest.

He had let go of that life long ago. He had no intention of ever going back.

Chapter Three

Andrew sat in Vivien’s parlor, staring at the delicate wallpaper. The dark red and pink pattern depicted something most people would never notice: naughty scenes of men and women entangled. He remembered coming to a party here once many years ago and trying to find all the hidden images.

A lifetime ago. Before he had married Rebecca. Before everything in his life had changed. He could hardly recall the man he was back then. He didn’t
want
to recall it. In retrospect, it seemed like such a frivolous, empty existence.

The door behind him opened, and he rose to his feet and turned as Vivien entered. She was undeniably one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, and that beauty had always been complemented by her quick sense of humor and sharp intelligence. There was no wonder she was so sought after by the men in his circles.

Hell, a decade ago, he had lusted over her himself. But not now. Now she did nothing for him, not even a quickening of his blood.

Even if she had, any desire would have been squashed when she smiled at him and the pity she felt toward him was as clear and obvious as her hair or eye color.

How tiresome it was to always see that damned expression.

He forced himself to return the smile, though it was just as false.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said as she closed the door behind herself and crossed to him, hands outstretched.

“Good afternoon, Vivien.” He took them, and she pressed a kiss to each cheek before she stepped back and looked him up and down.

“I have not seen you in so long; I’m so pleased to have you here,” she said, motioning to the two chairs before the fire. “Please, sit. May I get you tea or other refreshment? You were always a fan of bourbon, were you not?”

Andrew tilted his head. Damn, but she was good.

“A bit too early for bourbon for me, I am afraid.”

She laughed. “I suppose so. I am simply pleased you are here at all. I must admit, I was a little surprised when you answered my missive, let alone so quickly. I half expected you to ignore me. Or at least refuse my request for a call.”

Andrew arched a brow. Vivien had always been direct, that was certain.

“Who could refuse you?” he asked.

Her smile grew more wry. “I hear told that you refuse many, if not all, of your old friends nowadays.”