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Authors: Kate Pearce

BOOK: Simply Scandalous
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“Of course, madame.”
“Then that is what I shall do.” Helene handed Philip back his handkerchief and smiled into his eyes. “Thank you.”
Philip touched her cheek. “I love you, Helene.”
“And I love you too.”
Richard saw Christian grimace at such an open declaration of love and wondered if his own face bore the same expression. Neither of them was entirely comfortable with the obvious passion that burned between their respective parents.
Still holding Philip's hand, Helene turned back to the twins. “You must visit me here later in the week. I will have a letter ready for you to send to your grandmother.”
“It will be our pleasure to deliver it, madame.” Jack bowed and then looked at his twin. “It will also be a pleasure to converse with you further, won't it, Vincent?”
“Indeed.”
Violet's voice was lighter and softer than Jack's. From the corner of his eye, Richard noticed that Christian had sat forward and was staring intently at the two brothers. Inwardly, Richard groaned. Christian was far too experienced not to notice that the younger Lennox twin was not quite what he seemed.
Philip and Helene stood and everyone else followed suit. Helene walked across to Jack, kissed his cheek and then Vincent's.
“Thank you for coming to find me. I appreciate it.”
“Thank you for having the courage to meet us, madame, although after what our grandmother told us about you, we weren't surprised.”
Helene laughed and patted his cheek. “I see her spirit in you both.”
Philip shook Jack's hand. “Shall we return to the drawing room? Your mother must be wondering where the devil we are.”
Christian waited until everyone but Richard had preceded him from the room and then turned to his half brother.
“This makes it even more interesting, doesn't it?”
“What does?”
“That Vincent Lennox isn't quite the man he claims to be.”
Richard moved toward the door. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”
Christian smoothly barred his way. “Which begs the question, which Lennox
did
you fuck at the pleasure house?”
Richard just stared at Christian. “Perhaps I had them both.”
“And, yet again, I underestimated you, my dear brother.” Christian stepped out of the way.
“Perhaps you did.”
 
Emily opened the door into her bedchamber and stepped inside. The long evening of avoiding Richard's inquiring looks and remembering to be polite to the Lennox family had given her a headache, and she never had headaches. She considered them a ridiculous female weakness. Thank goodness, Jack Lennox had proved an amusing companion and had kept her entertained during dinner. Like most gentlemen of her acquaintance, he'd barely expected her to do anything except laugh at his gallantries and utter one-word answers whenever he required them.
With another furtive glance at her door, she hurried to her chest of drawers and drew out the box Thomas Smith had given her in the park. She'd already started reading the letters, which were not addressed to anyone but were obviously meant for a lover. Emily had a sinking feeling that the lover was not her father, but another man entirely. But why had Thomas Smith kept the letters? Had he acted as some kind of go-between?
She took out the pile of letters and put them in order from the first tentative note to the last impassioned plea for the lover to take her away from the horror of her marriage, of her children. . . . Emily stared at the last of the letters, the one that had shaken her so badly. In the world of the
ton
, it was not uncommon for a married woman to take a lover after she had fulfilled her duty to her husband and provided him with an heir. But this affair, this affair of her mother's, appeared to have started before her marriage and continued almost until her death.
Emily put the pile of letters down and stared at them. It certainly explained why Philip had been such an unwelcome visitor in his own home, and why he had stayed away. Had Philip lied and never actually relinquished Helene? Was that why Anne had taken her own lover? Her mother was dead, and she could hardly ask her father such an indelicate question. He would surely want to know why she wanted answers after all these years, and she was reluctant to disclose her recent reacquaintance with Mr. Smith.
Emily put the letters aside and took her mother's diary out of the box. She suspected that many of the answers to her questions lay within the pages of the thick journal. A hint of her mother's stale perfume wafted up from the book and something tugged at Emily's memory, making the task of opening the book too painful. She dropped it back into the box and tossed the letters on top.
It seemed her courage had deserted her again, just as it had after Ambrose had kissed her so passionately and stepped away. She put the box back into her dresser and rang for her maid. Mayhap she would try to read the book again tomorrow.
6
“I
hope you don't mind us coming around to the kitchen.”
Ambrose put on the pine table the bottles of wine he had just collected from the cellar and studied the two men who had entered through the back door of the pleasure house. It was just after ten o'clock, and he was mentally checking through his plans for the evening's entertainment and anticipating the arrival of the guests. He had seen the two men before, but not in such close quarters. In truth, they were a remarkably handsome pair. Ambrose reckoned they would be much appreciated by the other members of the pleasure house—especially if they liked to fuck together.
“It's Mr. Ambrose, isn't it?” The first man advanced with his hand held out. “I'm Jack Lennox, and this is my brother, Vincent.”
Ambrose shook the proffered hand. “It is just Ambrose. I remember Mr. Delornay mentioning you, Mr. Lennox. Welcome back to the pleasure house.”
Jack Lennox smiled. “Even in such an unorthodox fashion? I expect most of your guests come through the front door.”
“They do.” Ambrose gestured for the men to join him at the table. “Usually only members of the family use this entrance.”
“Miss Ross told me that if I wanted to know anything about the pleasure house, you were the man to ask. So I decided to come straight to the source,” Jack said.
“Miss Ross is very kind, but Mr. Christian Delornay is the owner of the house, and he is far more knowledgeable than I will ever be.”
“And far less approachable.” Jack winked. “I met him last night at Madame Helene's house. He seems to delight in causing as much controversy as I do.”
“Impossible,” his brother muttered. “You are the master of that.”
Jack nodded at his brother. “Thank you.”
“It wasn't a compliment. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be in our current predicament.”
Ambrose concentrated his attention on the soft-spoken twin. If he was correct, Vincent Lennox was no man. As he considered their involvement with both the usually staid Richard Ross and the enigmatic Lord Keyes, his interest in the couple deepened.
“Was there something in particular you wished me to help you with?” Ambrose inquired.
Jack put his elbows on the table and settled himself in his seat. “We were wondering about payment.”
“For your sexual services?”
Jack laughed. “God, no! I meant how much it will cost us to have a temporary membership here.” He glanced at his twin. “We're not that plump in the pocket at the moment.”
“There is no charge.”
“Are you sure?”
Ambrose shrugged. “Mr. Ross asked Mr. Delornay if you could be added to the guest list. Mr. Ross is part of the family; therefore, there is nothing to pay.”
“That seems rather generous.”
There was a note of skepticism in Jack Lennox's voice that made Ambrose reevaluate his first opinion that the man lived off his charm and good looks.
“If you and your twin decide to participate in the sexual games here, I'm sure Mr. Delornay will consider you to have paid your dues.”
Jack met his amused gaze. “Do you participate, Ambrose?”
“Indeed, I do, Mr. Lennox.”
“And what do you prefer?”
“In terms of sex?” Ambrose held Jack's gaze. “I am willing to try anything at least once.”
Jack's smile was slow and heated. “A man after my own heart.”
“Scarcely that, sir. We do not trade in the finer emotions of love here, merely the physical ones.” He'd been repeating that truth to himself every time he thought of the feel of Emily Ross kissing him.
Vincent Lennox nudged his brother. “If you have finished trying to disconcert Ambrose, Jack, perhaps we should go upstairs.” He hesitated. “Is Mr. Ross here tonight?”
Ambrose studied her carefully. “I believe he is expected later this evening. Do you wish me to tell him that you are here?”
“If you would.” Vincent smiled at him. “Thank you.”
The back door opened again, and a gust of wind blew Emily Ross and the tall form of Seamus Kelly inside in a rush. Ambrose got to his feet and tried to school his features into his usual welcoming smile. Despite all his vows, he'd kissed Emily Ross. What was worse was that he still wanted to kiss her, to taste her, to have her underneath him screaming his name as she climaxed. . . .
“Good evening, Miss Ross.”
“Ambrose.” Her smile was almost as guarded as his. Did she regret what she'd said, what he'd done? He could hardly ask her now with the Lennox twins watching them. And then there was that puzzling matter of the man from her past. . . .
“Miss Ross!” Jack Lennox rose to his feet and bowed, as did his brother. “What an unexpected pleasure. I was just talking about you to Ambrose.”
Emily took a seat at the table, her face becomingly flushed, her brown hair caught up in ringlets that framed her strong features. Ambrose loved her face, had watched her mature, had seen the intelligence and courage blossom in her eyes, and for years had wanted her to look at him alone.
She took off her gloves and laid them on the table. “I've just returned from the most boring musical evening I have ever attended. None of the young ladies who performed were more than averagely talented, and even if they were, they were too busy simpering at all the men to pay attention to their music.”
“You don't believe in flirting, Miss Ross?” Jack Lennox asked, his blue eyes dancing, his attention completely focused on Emily. Ambrose felt his smile slip. Did Jack Lennox have to be so charming to everyone?
“I fear I've had my fill of it, Mr. Lennox.” Emily pulled a face her chaperone would not have approved of. “I'd much prefer to have an honest conversation with a man about what I want and what I expect from him.”
“An admirable wish, Miss Ross, but one that I suspect would frighten off all but the most timid of suitors.”
“Exactly.” Emily glared at Jack as if he was personally responsible for the failings of the entire male race. “Most men are afraid of an intelligent woman and terrified of being caught in some ridiculous marital trap.”
For some reason, Ambrose felt compelled to divert Emily's attention away from Jack. “I appreciate your intelligence, Miss Ross. I always have.”
Emily stared at him, a combative gleam in her eye. “But you are still afraid of me, aren't you?”
“I . . .” Ambrose swallowed back the rest of his words. “This isn't the appropriate time to discuss my many shortcomings.” He rose to his feet. “Would you like me to escort you upstairs, gentlemen? I have to attend to my duties.”
He didn't dare look at Emily. He knew she'd be thinking him a coward, and perhaps she was right. He
was
afraid to deal with his feelings for her, but not for the reasons she thought. Why admit to wanting something that he could never have?
Vincent Lennox rose, too, and bowed to Emily. “A pleasure, Miss Ross. Are you coming upstairs too?”
“I am not permitted upstairs,” Emily said. “My family thinks I am too young and impressionable to see such sights.”
“And you agree with them?” Jack asked, and Ambrose wanted to curse.
“No, I don't.”
Emily scowled at Ambrose, who walked toward the kitchen door and held it invitingly open. Unfortunately, only one of the Lennox twins took the bait, and it wasn't the one he wanted. Jack remained seated at the table opposite Emily.
“Mr. Lennox?” Ambrose asked, and Jack looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“I'll be there in a moment. Please don't wait for me.”
Ambrose could do nothing but bow and escort the more malleable of the Lennox twins up the stairs to the first level of salons. His desire to escape back to the kitchen was immediately thwarted by the appearance of Elizabeth Delornay asking him to assist her in the room of desires. With a sigh, he followed his employer and could only hope that Jack Lennox quickly left Emily alone for the more salacious delights of the pleasure house.
Emily watched Ambrose leave and let her determined smile slip.
“Does Ambrose not approve of you, Miss Ross?”
She looked up at Jack Lennox, who was watching her attentively.
“Ambrose definitely doesn't want me in his kitchen.”
“Ah.” Jack nodded. “I did wonder about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm not stupid, Miss Ross. There is obviously something between you and Ambrose. His whole demeanor altered when you arrived.”
“It did?”
Jack smiled at her. “Of course, it did. How could he resist you? I've only just met you and I'm quite smitten.”
Emily scowled at him. “Don't try and dally with me, Mr. Lennox.”
“Why not?” He raised his eyebrows. “Don't you think it is time Ambrose saw you as a desirable woman rather than the family member who comes to annoy him in the kitchen of the pleasure house?”
Emily studied Jack Lennox. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“I'm supposed to be doing the Season with my mother and brother, and I'm determined to keep the matchmaking mothers away from me. What if we pretended to form an attachment to each other?”
Emily considered his words. “No one would believe a man as attractive as you would be interested in me.”
“Miss Ross, you're not thinking clearly. I'm an impoverished man with great charm, beauty, and wit, and you are an heiress.” He sat back and spread his arms wide. “Some might say it was a match made in heaven.”
“And you don't care if the gossips call you a fortune hunter?”
“Why should I care? It's not as if I really intend to marry you, is it?”
Emily bit down on her lip. “I'll help you with the society mothers, but only if you will help me with Ambrose.”
“I'm quite happy to assist you with winning Ambrose.” His smile was devilish. “But I think we will have to be a little more direct than dancing too many times together or slipping off to wander around the family grounds. I doubt Ambrose will play by society rules. Are you willing to risk your reputation?”
Emily met his wicked blue gaze. “Yes, for Ambrose, I believe that I am.”
 
Violet took up a position in the main salon that allowed her to see everyone who entered through the main doors. She'd almost been relieved when Jack stayed to talk to Emily Ross. It gave her more time to find Richard without Jack's interference. She loved her brother dearly, but he did have an annoying habit of upping the stakes and tempting the Fates. She shuddered to think what he had been like as a boy. His antics must have terrified their grandmother. It was surprising he had survived to adulthood unscathed.
She sipped at a glass of wine and tried to ignore the sexual frolics happening around her. She had no desire to join in and expose her lack of manly equipment—although, if she gave them pleasure, her sex probably wouldn't matter to the majority of the guests.
Just after she replenished her glass of wine for the third time, Richard strolled into the salon, his hands behind his back, his posture upright and commanding. He wore a brown coat that brought out the gold in his hazel eyes—eyes that were staring directly at her. She inclined her head an inch and he walked toward her, his expression bland, his mouth a firm, unsmiling line. When had he stopped smiling so readily? She had a horrible feeling that if she asked him directly, he would either dismiss the question or, even worse, blame her.
“Mr. Lennox.”
“Mr. Ross.” Violet indicated the empty chair beside her. “Will you join me?”
He sat down, his keen gaze still scanning the room. “Where is your wastrel of a brother?”
“I believe he was talking to Ambrose in the kitchen.”
“Not to Ambrose. I just saw him heading into the room of desires.”
Violet waved a vague hand. She knew what older brothers were like, and she had no desire to get Emily Ross or Jack into trouble. “Then he is probably here somewhere. Why, did you want him for something?”
“Would you be jealous if I did?”
Violet blinked. “I wouldn't. Jack can be very persuasive when he wants to be. If he wants you, he'll be the first one to let you know.”
“I noticed that,” Richard said drily. “He is charm personified.”
Violet felt an unexpected surge of anger. “Like me, he has lived on his wits and very little else. We are not all blessed with your good fortune, Mr. Ross.”
Richard sat back in his chair and regarded her. “You sound quite bitter,
Mr
. Lennox. Is that why you have come back into my life? To take from me the things you think I don't deserve?”

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