Just Perfect (4 page)

*    *    *

William stared at the doorway, completely at a loss. Bringing Constance to climax was astounding, her soft sounds of pleasure, her soaking wet pussy, her delicious breasts. In that moment of orgasm, when she was wild for completion, he could have simply opened his trousers and buried himself deep inside her. Her incredibly lovely legs wrapped around his waist, her body one with his, he would have driven them both over the edge.

He sank down on the chaise, spreading his thighs to ease the pressure on his shaft. She didn’t know what she was doing, no matter her assertions otherwise. If he’d taken her, he’d be honor bound to marry her. True, he
could
take a wife. Stranger things had happened, like Kane and Leed both finding wedded bliss with the women they craved. He just wouldn’t know if she was serious about him or just looking for adventure during her third season out. The thought of her having that adventure with any other man made his stomach clench.

“I won’t make a mistake,” he vowed softly.

Maybe she truly did want him, and only him. She was pure—he’d felt proof of that tonight. He’d never heard a hint of scandal or improper behavior on her part, nor did he see her interact inappropriately with any other gentleman. In his sight, that was. No. Constance was his, even if she didn’t realize it yet. When he finally took her, and he would take her, they would both know what the future held.

“If she truly wants forever,” he murmured. “I’ll give it to her.”

He breathed in slowly, still tasting the passion he’d licked off his finger. He couldn’t believe he’d done that in front of her, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Her sweet scent still filled the room. The echoes of her passionate cries still filled his head. He was in a bad way, and not just sporting a rock-hard shaft. He longed for
her
, not just some nameless, faceless woman.

When he managed to rein in his lusts somewhat, he stood and pressed a hand against his semi-hard groin. He had to figure this out, and fast. Before he ruined her and his reputation, and any chance they had to be together.

*    *    *

Constance sat in the parlor the next afternoon, fuming over William’s dismissal of her last night. Her cousin Sarah was with her, as usual, but even the girl’s chatter couldn’t distract her. She knew what she had to do. William was an accomplished lover, if last night was any indication. If she was to secure him, and she wanted so keenly to secure him, she had to learn how to please him.

She recalled how marvelously free she’d felt after the release he’d given her, and imagined how good he would feel inside her with his cock “hard enough to drive nails.” Perhaps then he’d realize how she needed him in her life, how close he held her heart, though he was unaware of it.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Sarah asked.

Constance shook her head. “I’m sorry. Something about Lord Palmer?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. She was beginning to tire of people doing that in her direction.

“Yes, Constance,” Sarah said. “Lord Palmer. I thought he was interested, but it seems he’s mooning after one of the Talbot girls.”

“Catherine?” Constance asked. “Oh, it would be wonderful if she found someone to love. After what that worm Waltham did to her.”

“Poor Joan,” Sarah said with a nod. “I say Catherine is better off without that man.”

Constance nodded her agreement. “Yes.”

“But no, I was referring to Elizabeth Talbot.” Sarah went on to name the next man in her sights, Lord Palmer’s older brother. “It seems he’s just returned from a year touring the continent. He had a bad experience in the war, apparently.”

“I don’t imagine many of the men had good experiences, Sarah.”

“I suppose.”

While her cousin entertained ideas about the elder Lord Palmer, Constance’s mind worked. However was she to learn how to please William?”

“Sarah, you always hear the best gossip.”

“What?” Sarah’s eyes rounded, then she grinned. “Yes, I do.”

“What do you know about where gentlemen go after the parties break up?”

Sarah’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Titled gentlemen can’t just … relax with young ladies like us, can they?”

“No, they usually head off to their clubs.”

Constance shook her head. “No, not for cards and cigars. For
relaxation
.”

She raised her brows to get her point across. Sarah blinked, then gasped.

“You mean pleasure?” she asked.

“Yes, but keep your voice down. If my mother were to learn of my curiosity, I’d never see the light of day again.”

“Too true.” Sarah leaned back, tapping her foot as she seemed to consider the subject. “I know they go to public houses. For ale and … companionship.”

“How do you know that?”

“Young Lord Palmer, the one now quite smitten with Elizabeth Talbot, lamented how her brother and his friends never invited him along to their favorite pub.”

“Oh.” Constance imagined Lord Leed and the others wouldn’t want the boy tagging along on their adventures. “Did he say which public house?”

Sarah shook her head. “Just its location.”

Constance clasped her hands. “We’ll go there tonight.”

“What?” Sarah cried, sitting up straight. “You can’t be serious.”

“I need to know some things, Sarah. I will not be kept in the dark when my very future happiness might depend on gaining that knowledge.”

“I admit I’m curious as well,” Sarah said. “I’ll call for you in my carriage around eight. Tell your mother you don’t feel up to the bashes tonight and I’ll do likewise. I’ll tell my mother I’m spending the night here with you.”

“Should the sisters compare notes, Sarah? What then?”

Sarah grinned, and Constance knew she’d chosen the perfect co-conspirator. “But I
will
spend the night here with you, Constance. Just after our little sojourn into the less-than-proper part of the city. I’ll have my driver park around back in the mews.”

Constance felt a bubble of anticipation rise in her chest. She would learn something tonight, all right. Once armed with that knowledge, she would make William see they were meant to be together, and for more than the length of a dance or dalliance.

“This isn’t quite what I was expecting,” Sarah said, wrinkling her nose.

“It is precisely what I was,” Constance said. She alighted the carriage, stepping out onto the slick cobblestones. “Come on, Sarah. The night is wasting.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sarah grumbled. She stepped out, then turned to her driver. “You are to wait here, Johnson. I have no idea what we’ll encounter within, and need you to be ready to cart us away with much haste if necessary. If you think about ducking into the pub for a drink, I’ll have you drawn and quartered. Do you hear me?”

Evidently, Johnson was used to Sarah’s escapades, for he hadn’t blinked an eye when she gave him the directions or looked askance when he saw the destination. Perhaps Sarah was up to more than even Constance knew.

“Come, then,” Constance said, lifting the hem of her skirt as she made her way toward the narrow door of the pub. “Little wonder no one speaks its name. You can barely make out the lettering on the sign.”

“I daresay the place survives on word-of-mouth referrals,” Sarah said.

Constance laughed and then caught herself. “Stop that. This is a serious fact-finding expedition.”

Sarah nodded solemnly and waved a hand. “Onward, then.”

Constance clicked her tongue and the two girls entered the pub. The smell struck her first, ale and sweat and sawdust. The place was poorly lit, and full of boisterous talk and laughter. Most of the small, round tables were occupied with gentleman, both stout and skinny, and there were no women in view save for the serving girls. Constance and Sarah huddled together in the doorway, their cloaks wrapped tight.

“Out of the way, birdie,” a rough voice said behind her.

They were jostled as three men came through the door and into the pub. They were greeted with hearty shouts, and quickly blended into the dim interior.

“I suppose we should find a table,” Constance said.

Sarah shrugged, mute for the first time in Constance’s memory. She took her cousin’s hand and led her through the crowded dining room, though that name was too grand for the cramped space. She located a vacant table, scarred and sticky, but vacant nonetheless, and sat on a wooden chair. Sarah did likewise, finding her tongue at last.

“Now what?” she asked.

Constance shrugged, looking around for a hint toward her next move. She feared sneaking out of the house and coming here might have used up her bravado for the next year at least!

She watched the serving girls, scandalously clad in low-dipping bodices, and thin swaying skirts, bend over the tables as they joked with the customers. The men seemed to enjoy themselves, though what man wouldn’t want a pair of large breasts practically in his face? That thought brought her back to William, and his apparent pleasure in the state of her own particular breasts.

He’d caressed and kissed them, teased, and praised them, until she thought she’d die from the pleasure. Had he taken delight in any of the breasts in this room? She tamped down any jealousy that thought might bring and chose to focus on the matter at hand.

“I need to know some particulars, Sarah. I believe these women will be able to answer my questions.”

As if on cue, one of the servers, a dark-haired girl no older than Constance, draped herself over a large man seated at the next table. He was dressed like a gentleman, and it seemed as though he and the girl were on very familiar terms. She whispered something in his ear, he tickled her on her backside, and the two of them stood and made their way toward the narrow stairs at the back of the room.

“I wonder what they’re up to,” Sarah quipped.

“Hush,” Constance said.

She lifted a trembling hand to signal one of the serving girls. A tall girl spied her, narrowing her eyes on them, and sauntered over to their table.

“What are you two birds doing in here?” she asked, pushing her blonde hair back from her face. “Not a place for fine young ladies like you, I wager.”

Constance held out her hand. “I’m Lady Constance Bridges.”

“Lady Constance Bridges,” the server said, taking her hand and giving it a shake. “I’m Lizzie.” She glanced over at Sarah, who paled. “I take it the cat’s got her tongue?”

“She’s my cousin Sarah,” Constance said in dismissal. “I need some information, Lizzie. I think you can help me.”

Lizzie’s eyes rounded. “Now, listen. I don’t tell tales, you hear? If a gentleman wants to get rowdy, drink some ale, have a bit of fun, who am I to care? I’m sorry if your husband found his way here, but that’s none of my business.” She nodded. “Sad though it is for you.”

Constance smiled, finding she liked this outspoken woman no matter their differences. “I’m not married and I’m not hunting for my unfaithful husband. I just wanted to know a bit about what goes on … abovestairs.”

Lizzie’s brows shot up. “Truly? Then you’ll be needing a bit of ale if I tell you that.”

“Quite a bit,” Sarah said in a small voice.

Lizzie laughed and turned to walk to the tap. She returned with three tankards and placed them on the table with a
thunk
. She sat herself down and took a long drink from one of them. “I’m taking a break.”

Constance fiddled with the handle of the tankard, trying to find her words. “Lizzie, I know a gentleman of my acquaintance frequents this pub. I just wondered if you knew who he was with.”

“I told you, no telling tales,” Lizzie said.

“I know, I know. That’s not quite what I’m after. You see, I’m involved with this man and I want to know …” She took a big gulp of her ale, swallowed the cool drink down, and let out a small burp. “I want to know how to please him.”

Lizzie and Sarah’s mouths both dropped open.

“Constance!” Sarah hissed.

“Do tell?” Lizzie asked. “Truly?”

Constance nodded. “You see, I want a future with this man, and I feel woefully uneducated in certain matters.”

She obviously didn’t have to say more, for Lizzie took another long drink of her ale and leaned her arms on the table.

“Who’s this gentleman, my lady?”

Constance slid her gaze to Sarah, who wore a look of intense curiosity. There was nothing else for it.

“Lord Chester,” she said.

Sarah gasped. “Lord Chester?”

Lizzie let out a whoop. “Lord Chester’s been a regular of mine, though he hasn’t been in for a while.” She winked at Constance. “Been keeping himself busy, I guess.”

Constance’s cheeks flamed, and she was grateful the place was so poorly lit. “What can you tell me, Lizzie?”

Lizzie pursed her lips. “You’re not going to get all missish, are you? Act the maid and faint away?”

Constance covered her heart with her hand. “I promise.”

“I don’t,” Sarah said. “But do go on.”

Lizzie dismissed Sarah’s comment and leaned closer. “Lord Chester is a true gentleman, no worries there. He likes his ale and he likes his romps, but he’s a solid man.”

Romps.
“Then you’ve been with him.”

“Quite a few times,” Lizzie said. “Lord Chester is … how can I put this? He’s single-minded and steady.”

“True,” Constance said, unsure.

“No, you don’t get me,” Lizzie said. “He sets his mind on a task and won’t give up until it’s finished.”

Realization dawned on her and she gaped at the serving girl. “What?”

“When he concentrates, nothing breaks him. Chester can ride me for a good long time,” Lizzie said. “And he has.”

Constance glanced over and saw Sarah draining her tankard, her eyes wide. She gulped. But in for a pence …

“Tell me more,” she said, then took another fortifying drink of ale.

“He’s hung,” Lizzie whispered.

Constance and Sarah exchanged a look of confusion.

Lizzie chuckled. “He’s hung like an ox, my lady.”

Constance shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“His cock’s as long as your arm!” Lizzie explained.