His Desirable Debutante (3 page)

“You’re depraved,” Helene said. “Don’t you know it’s the height of immorality to touch yourself?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said, curious about her reaction. She hadn’t looked away as he’d expected and seemed enticed by his nudity, but her curiosity was tinged with shame at his self-pleasuring. Interesting, as she’d done nothing to be shameful of…unless…she had.

“Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“Not particularly,” he said. “I don’t generally give a damn of what others think. I do what makes me feel good.” And speaking of feeling good, he continued stroking his member, moving inches closer to Helene.

“A true hedonist and sinner then?”

“If that’s how you choose to look at it?” She was a tangle of appearances. Aroused and intrigued yet angry and scared. How to calm her and focus her on just the arousal?

“Well, what of love and marriage?” she asked. “Why bother with my pleasure, if you plan on running off to other lovers at any time?”

A good question and one he hadn’t contemplated before sweeping his bride to his ancestral home. During his wife search, it had been easy to imagine abandoning his faceless wife, but now that his wife was Helene, something fundamental had shifted. His old life lost some of its luster, and his wife’s siren call beckoned. His hand dropped off his cock still standing at attention. With an inward curse, he strode to Helene’s side and untied her.

“Well?” she asked. “What now? Are you going to renege and force yourself on me anyway?” Her arms crossed over her chest, hands briskly rubbing her shoulders.

“No. I honor my word, but you’re right,” he said. “I was being a selfish ass.” He’d been so intent on fulfilling his mother’s request, he’d neglected to consider the feelings of his intended bride, a bride who from all appearances now hated him due to his ill treatment. “I shouldn’t have bound you and forced seduction on you.” He ruthlessly squashed the childish emotion inside him crying out for Helene’s affection.

Christ, where had this streak of chivalry come from? Every other man he knew would have bedded his wife on the wedding night and would now be contemplating how soon to leave for the mistress’s apartment. How in hell had he, the most notorious bastard in Britain, ended up coddling his virginal wife?

A wife who continued to stare at him silently, wariness edging out hostility.

“If it means that much to you, I’ll let you go. We can arrange for an annulment.” As the words exited his lips, he clenched his fists at his sides. Honor dictated he release Helene, but damn, he didn’t want to.

Hope filled Helene at Pierce’s words, but then reality set in, and she let out a snort. “An annulment? For
us?
No one would believe we didn’t consummate the marriage. I’d still be ruined, and you’d become a laughingstock.”

Brandford turned and grabbed a robe from a wardrobe. Once he was properly covered, he came back and perched next to her on the bed regarding her with a quizzical look. There was something more in his eyes that she didn’t wish to contemplate at this moment.
Need? Loneliness?
His need was too close to her own for comfort.

“So what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

She shrugged, eyeing Brandford. Once again she had landed on an unexpected path and now she’d have to live with the consequences, only this time she wasn’t in it alone. She had a husband now, albeit an unconventional rake of a man, but a partner nonetheless. Could he be trusted with her body, or maybe even…her heart? “I’m not certain, but we’re here together now.”

Something like relief crossed his face, but was quickly replaced with his customary arrogant mask, which Helene was starting to suspect was exactly that. A mask.

“Tell, me Brandford, why marry in the first place? I know Lord Ryder believed you wanted to mend bridges with society, but I don’t believe it.”

“No?” He raised a brow.

She shook her head. “You would not have chosen me. I was the last maiden who would achieve the goal of repairing your reputation. A dozen other debutantes spring to mind who could’ve helped you more.” She ticked some off on her fingers. “Lady Melissa Matthews, Katherine Rodman-Spencer, Victoria Albright…”

Pierce visibly shuddered at the last name. “That whey-faced simpering—”

She cut him off. “We’re getting off topic. Again I ask,
why
marry
me
?”

A lengthy silence fell, during which Pierce crawled fully onto the bed and relaxed against the headboard, arms anchoring the back of his head. His weight sank the mattress, forcing her closer, near enough to smell the soap from his bath. The silk of his robe clung to damp patches on his chest, draping over every intriguing angle of his masculine body.

“You didn’t fear me,” he said at last. “Every other virginal miss went running for the safety of her parents at my approach. You stood fearlessly and danced with me.”

“I hid behind a plant,” she protested. “You pulled me onto the floor—what choice did I have?”

A shift turned his gaze directly on her face. They sat nearly nose to nose “But you danced, and stayed to argue with me. And, in fact, engaged me in conversation at every ball from that night till our wedding day.”

“Only to tell you to stay away,” she insisted, but his curled lips and raised brow told her he saw right through her protests. The truth was he fascinated her. Here was a man who didn’t give a fig what society thought of him, and if rumors were true, explored every aspect of his sexuality freely. Something she’d only tried once with disastrous results.

“But eventually you caved and agreed to the marriage. Why? Did your father force your hand?” he asked.

Papa had railed at her and pushed her toward the marriage, but as she well knew, he was mostly bluster and little bite. “Not exactly.” She chewed on her lower lip debating how much to tell him.

“Well, what then? With your beauty and dowry, you would eventually have found a man willing to overlook your reputation, and speaking of which…I think the time has come to enlighten me as to the exact nature of your indiscretion, especially since you claim to hold your maidenhood.”

Her head shot up to beg him not to probe further, but he sat resolute.

“So, what happened? Did you fondle a footman? Mix it up with your maid?

“Stop,” she said, unsure of what the last one even meant.

But Pierce was on a roll and enjoying himself. “Dildo another deb—“

“Stop,” she repeated, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. He was truly incorrigible, and that was why she’d agreed to the marriage. When he wasn’t stirring her insides to jelly from lust, he kept her on edge with his outrageous comments and wit.

Her husband sat up with a jolt and turned to grasp her hands in his. “You can trust me, Helene. There is little in this world I haven’t heard of or tried myself. I doubt your supposed transgression will even register on my list of horrors.”

She watched him closely, searching for any signs of humor, but she only saw his honesty and his desire to know. Another thought took her mind to five minutes ago when Pierce arose from his bath, hands wrapped around his member. Perhaps he could be trusted.

With closed eyes, she took a deep breath. “A few years ago, I was the most sought-after debutante. Proposals flew at me, but I didn’t take any of them seriously. I thought to wait for love or…something. All my suitors lacked something, but I didn’t understand what. Now I do.”

“Passion,” Pierce said.

She opened one eye. “Correct. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I accepted an invitation to a house party knowing that certain gentlemen would be in attendance.”

“Ah. Those of my ilk who rarely attend balls where ambitious mamas will be seeking them out.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what happened? Were you caught entering or exiting the wrong bedroom one midnight’s eve.”

“Hardly,” she snorted then took a deep breath. She’d arrived at the shameful part. “I was caught at something, but a gentleman wasn’t involved.”

“A woman then. Another debutante?” Pierce said. “I hadn’t taken you for a Sapphist.”

She wasn’t sure what a Saphist was, but she had to clarify. “There was no woman. I was…alone.”

“Ah.” Pierce nodded. “I see. Shall I assume you were caught giving yourself pleasure?”

Her cheeks felt as if flames licked them, and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Another girl who debuted alongside me entered my room to see me in my bath and I was…well…” She let her voice trail off, too ashamed to continue.

“And the hateful cow spread the news that you were a dirty little girl, rather than keeping the news to herself.” Pierce said. “As if she’d never explored the delights of self-pleasure.”

His derision for the sneak bolstered Helene’s confidence and all the anger she’d suppressed three years ago resurfaced. “I thought she was my friend. I should have seen she was jealous of my success and would take the first opportunity to throw me to the wolves.”

“Bitch,” he said, and for the first time since the afternoon of the fateful bath, she laughed, a full genuine laugh.

“Yes, it was a terrible thing to do,” she said, “But she got what she deserved.”

“How so?” Pierce asked.

“Her father married her off to a decrepit old goat, who, according to rumors, is intent on gaining an heir and visits her bedroom nightly.” It felt good to share that without keeping the spite out of her voice.

Pierce laughed. “And does that sound terrible to you, having your husband visit your bed nightly?” His fingers trailed a flaming path up and down her forearm.

She shivered in delight. At last she’d found that missing ingredient from all the previous men who’d offered her marriage and more recently offers that were not as honorable. “I guess it depends on the husband,” she said, inwardly bemoaning the fact that of all the men of her acquaintance, Pierce was the one who made her tingle with delight. She’d risk opening her heart and desires to a man who might leave to explore a whore’s bedroom.

“Well, what about
your
husband?” he asked, a sly smile curving his lips.

“What about him? According to all gossip, he’s an old letch and a rake. He doesn’t have any interest in fidelity or respectability,” she said, testing the waters.

“And what if he did?”

Helene weighed the idea in her mind; Pierce as a true gentleman, faithful to her. But he interrupted her thoughts, shattering her vision with his next words.

“I’m willing to try becoming an upright member of the Ton, on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You give up some of your notions of decency. Embrace your sexuality and take advantage of my knowledge. I will be your tutor and guide you. Our couplings will not be limited to one tepid weekly encounter.”

A thrill shot through her at his words. And she thought for a long minute, while he murmured delicious things into the darkening bedroom air.

“I’ll take you anytime I have the urge. In my office, in the stable, in your bath. You’ll be wet and ready for me.”

She squeezed her thighs feeling the dampness.

“We’ll have visitors to our bed. Members of this household are used to my craven desires and make for excellent bed sport.”

At that, she started to protest, ignoring the sudden gush of more wetness between her legs.

“Open your mind, Helene. You were aroused when Henry delivered your food tray and saw you in your nightgown. Are there any other similar scenarios you can picture that heat your blood?”

Oh, Lord, how easily Pierce saw her true desires. All the wicked images and cravings she’d had for so long. And held in secret. He released them and gave her opportunity to act on them. But could she?

Did she have the bravery to say goodbye to all her ambition for a respectable marriage and embrace what Pierce offered?

Before she could say a word, Pierce spoke up. “Don’t give me an answer tonight. Sleep on it. I will go to another room, leaving you alone with my offer.”

“And if I don’t accept? What then?”

“As you said, an annulment is not a possibility. So I would leave you at another one of my estates. One where my reputation is not so blackened. I would return to my usual ways in Town.”

She nodded.

“But think hard, Helene. Another opportunity this enticing may not ever come your way again.” And he slid off the bed and exited the room.

The next morning, Pierce shoveled down fluffy eggs and perfectly toasted bread slathered with marmalade. His regular breakfast consisted of black coffee at noon, but he’d spent the night sleeping soundly, dreaming of all the ways he’d seduce his wife, and it made a man hungry.

Now that the sun had risen, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear when Helene walked into the room. Part of him hoped she agreed to his proposal so he could finally take her. The rational part of him prayed she’d come in and denounce him for the scoundrel he was. Then he could return to his regular agenda with a different activity each day.

Helene swept into the breakfast room looking virginal, beautiful and untouchable in a stark white day dress with nary a ribbon or hint of cleavage to liven it up.

He held his fork midair halfway to his mouth and reminded himself to breathe. Her answer shouldn’t matter so much to him—he’d had prettier women. True, none called to him and sparked his interest the way she did. But still, he’d be fine if she turned down his proposal. Back to normal by tomorrow at the latest. He swallowed the eggs over the sudden lump in his throat.

“Good morning,” she said, allowing a footman to seat her. “Just toast and tea,” she directed.

“Good morning,” he replied. “Did you sleep well?” He imagined a lifetime of mornings like this. Feigning civility over tea, when he really wanted to dismiss the footmen and order her on her knees under the table sucking his cock. Or let the servants stay. It mattered not to him.

“I’m sure you can guess I barely slept.” She still wouldn’t quite meet his eye and took a tentative bite of toast.

He didn’t like seeing her like this, and much preferred the fiery argumentative vision in white on the dance floor.