Chapter 11

SLANDEROUS RUMORS. Accusations have recently been made about Lady Allen, which have not been substantiated with evidence. A counterargument could therefore be raised that said accuser is a former paramour of said lady, who cannot see her in the arms of another. Why else would he be obsessed with her past? One only need look in a mirror to understand that those who protest too much are confessing the sins they proclaim of others.

There were only so many hours in a day one could read before even that became tiresome.

Olivia slouched into the plush upholstery of a velvet sofa in Thel’s drawing room. The gloomy morning light streamed in through the narrow windows and made the air sparkle with dust. She flipped a page, continuing the story of a romance of peculiar interest involving a murderous barber and an innovative, if disturbed, baker. It was one of her favorite penny dreadfuls, as exciting as it was gruesome, but she could not seem to engage properly.

She had occupied the previous afternoon and evening searching through her correspondence for clues about who might have a reason to want to ruin her reputation. Then she’d spent a restless night alone, remembering how good it had felt to be in Thel’s arms.

It is mere infatuation, nothing more .

Certainly not a reason to be concerned. It had been with Constance in mind that she had arrived at Thel’s home so early that morning, prepared for the awkwardness of facing the girl’s father, only to find he was out on some errand. That wouldn’t have been an issue, except she had received no invitations to events for the day.

During the height of the season. When every venue in the city had been fully booked for months.

She could not decide if it was the articles that had caused society to shun her, or an angry Mrs. Zephyr fanning the flames of gossip as revenge for Olivia agreeing to be a matchmaker for Constance.

Probably both.

But she would not give up so easily. It would take time to earn Constance’s trust enough for the girl to confide in her, and continuing in her role as matchmaker would allow her to establish herself in Constance’s life.

Constance, who had shown no signs of resentment toward her matchmaker despite the ferocity of the attacks that she’d been manipulated to participate in. The girl lounged on a divan with a book, her stockinged feet hanging over the edge in a posture that would have driven a governess to distraction, a lock of hair in her mouth.

It wasn’t that Olivia hadn’t been fooled before—she’d willingly married a monster—but she found it difficult to believe that Constance could secretly hate her. Olivia had not spent much time with the girl, but she seemed the kind to wear her emotions openly, even when it earned her reprimands from adults.

A booming sound somewhere in the house made her drop her book on her chest. Not that it mattered. She had read the same page three times.

Constance rose from her seat on the other side of the room. “Callers?”

The doors burst open, and several figures hurried inside.

“Grandmother!” Constance cried. She leaped from her seat and ran toward an older, blonde woman in a mustard-yellow muslin gown. A man in a gray suit with a matching yellow shirt stood behind her, his expression speaking of fondness. He opened his arms and Constance flew into them.

Strange, sharp sensations swirled in Olivia’s chest. Neither of her parents had ever invited her embrace. They had remained abstract concepts throughout her childhood. Her governess had raised her in their place, hammering the rules of society into her one lesson at a time.

Don’t slouch. Don’t rock back and forth. Don’t stare into the distance when someone is talking to you.

What if Thel’s parents disagreed with their son and wanted to find a husband for Constance themselves? She would have a hard time countering their wishes.

She clutched her hands tightly at her waist, relieved she had chosen a demure outfit for the day. The deep-purple morning gown had a high neckline, long sleeves, and jet buttons down the front. The cuffs had small tufts of lilac knotted lace, and the bodice came to a V in the front. It was one of her favorites for its comfort—it was lined with the softest silk faille—and because it allowed her to blend into a crowd rather than stand out.

At last, Thel’s mother met her gaze. “You must be Lady Allen.”

Olivia dropped into a deep curtsey. “I am pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Hestia squinted at her. “Who is this, then?”

The duchess tutted. “Dear, this is the woman who will find our darling Connie a husband.” She turned her bright smile on Olivia. “It is a beautiful day. Why aren’t you out enjoying the company of potential suitors?”

Now was the difficult part: telling them that her reputation was the reason for their lack of options, while avoiding any mention of their granddaughter’s involvement.

Constance beat her to it.

“We have nowhere to go,” the girl said.

The duchess’s fine eyebrows flew up. “Nonsense. No one would ever deny us entrance.”

“Do not tempt her,” Thel said, entering the room.

The sound of his voice sent Olivia’s heart thundering and when his gaze met hers, shivers went down her spine. He was even more handsome than he had been the previous day in a beige suit atop a checkered navy shirt. The color accentuated the fine, silver hairs at his temple and in his beard and drew her attention to the width of his shoulders.

“Oh, Thel,” the duchess said. “As always, you spoil our fun.”

Olivia looked back and forth between mother and son, not quite understanding what was happening. Were they suggesting they show up at an event without an invitation? It would be the height of rudeness.

Then again…

Lately, she had felt like a circus animal, forced to go against her nature and perform elaborate acts for the enjoyment of society. If they were going to call her scandalous, perhaps she would be truly scandalous.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

Constance squealed.

The duchess clapped her hands. “Wonderful!”

Thel shook his head. “I appear to have been outvoted.” Then he walked to Olivia’s side and offered his arm. “Shall we discuss our options?”

She nodded and allowed him to lead her back to his office. Except this time, when he led her into the room, he paused and glanced behind him. “I should have a servant inform Mrs. Quill that Constance will require her. Wait here a moment.”

When he left, she wandered over to his desk and picked up a leatherbound book. She flipped it open to the first page and immediately recognized it for what it was. How many times had she lain awake, re-imagining the endings of her favorite books? In this handwritten story, which took place in the world of Lady Audley’s Secret , the main character, George, shared a tender moment with his wife, who was still alive.

She had almost finished the first chapter when the book was snatched out of her hands by a red-faced Thel.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was private.”

Thel worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “What did you think?”

It was suddenly, painfully, obvious he was the writer. Another remarkable trait she hadn’t expected him to possess. The man surprised her at every turn.

“I loved it,” she said quickly. No other answer would suffice. She did not want to crush his spirit.

He grinned. “Truly? I worried I made the main characters too unlike how they are in the book.”

“It’s an improvement,” she said. “In the book, the character of George is abrasive, almost unlikeable. Your version of him is much more appealing.” He flipped through the pages, then held the book out. “There is another section I think you would enjoy.”

She dropped her gaze and read. It was another scene with the same characters. Her eyes flew over the lines until she reached a bit that made her jaw drop. In the scene, George caught Helen snooping through his desk and metered out a rather titillating form of punishment.

“Do you like it?”

She set the book on his desk, then spun around and put her palms on his chest. “After reading that, I wonder if you should be the teacher, and I the student.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “My knowledge was gained through research, not experience.”

“Perhaps we should bridge the two.”

She had always wondered what it might be like to take on a role as part of amorous congress. It was something the earl would have been eager to try, except the role he would’ve made her take would’ve been far from pleasant. But the earl was no longer around to constrain her.

She leaned over the marquess’s desk and assumed an exaggerated posture of shock, with one hand at her breast and the other on her cheek. “H-Husband, you are home early! I promise I was only looking for a letter opener.”

Thel ruffled his hair, tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes. “This is the third time I’ve caught you rifling around my desk this week, wife, after I told you to stay out of this room. You must be disciplined.” He gestured toward the desk. “Assume the position.”

The command in his tone had her hands trembling as she leaned over, jutting her rear out as far as she could. It was an awkward pose to hold, but she did not intend to be in it long.

Thel flipped her voluminous skirts up and over her head, obscuring her sight and leaving her nearly bare to him, from the waist to the ankle, aside from her drawers and stockings.

The first shock of his palm on the tender flesh of her rear made her knees wobble. She squeezed her thighs together, but it did not stop the pulse of sensation. She tolerated three of the same before she had enough.

“Please, husband, I cannot bear any more of this treatment,” she said.

He scooped her up and set her on top of a cabinet. It was rickety and hard on her rear, but she could meet his gaze without craning her neck.

“Is it too soon to ask for another lesson?” he asked.

She licked her lips. “I was hoping you would ask.”

He slid his hand beneath her skirt. “I would like to see what I am doing. May I undress you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, even though she ached for him to shove his fingers inside her. She was glad she had chosen undergarments that were easy to remove in anticipation of such an event.

He slipped her boots off, letting them thud to the floor. Then he hiked her drawers up to her knees and untied her garters and unrolled her stockings, one at a time.

He kissed the inside of her thigh at the spot where her drawers split, trailing kisses until he reached her quivering, sensitive mound, then passed over it, brushing the flesh with his beard, before kissing her other thigh to her feet. As his whiskers brushed her big toe, a jolt of pure lust shot up her leg and made her moan.

“Show me how to bring you pleasure,” he said.

She guided him to the place that cried out for his touch.

“You are very wet here,” he said as he slid his fingers along her crease. “You would accept my cock easily.”

The rasp in his voice sent shivers up her back. She pressed his forefinger directly against her clitoris. “A circular motion works best.” She moved his fingers accordingly, and a jolt of pleasure streaked down her legs. “If that does not work, then a back-and-forth motion.” She demonstrated again and this time, the sensation was so sharp, it startled a whimper from her lips.

Thel chuckled. “Quite a powerful reaction.”

His hand twitched, but she held him still as she clawed herself back from the edge of release. It had been months since she had been with a man who had truly satisfied her, much less a man of such a large stature. She distantly wondered if the rest of him was as impressive.

“What now?” he asked.

“Use your mouth and tongue in the same way you used your fingers,” she replied. Merely speaking the words, voicing her demands, made her squirm.

He returned to her sex, peeling her apart layer by layer, before spearing inside her with his tongue in a sudden movement that had her back arching.

She squirmed, wanting more pressure, and he obligingly pressed harder. She was close, but it still wasn’t enough.

There was, however, one thing that always worked.

She reached beneath the many layers of fabric. Without her having to ask, he gave her space, smoothing his palm along her thigh with one hand and freeing his cock with the other.

Knowing he was aroused by watching her pleasure herself was enough to push her over the edge. She clenched her muscles tight and spiraled into completion.