Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

S ebastian was careful to wait until mid-afternoon to arrive at Marianne's home on St. James Street. After the previous night, he would hazard a guess that she was still feeling the effects of too much drink. Hopefully she'd had a chance to sleep it all off.

And now he stood in her front parlor, staring around the room, shocked by the fact that he didn't think he'd ever come to her home before. He always met her at Delacourt's estate a mile away, or at his own. And Delacourt was always in attendance at those times so they were never alone for more than a few moments at a time. But he doubted his friend was here now, not with her asking for such shocking help from Sebastian.

So the whole exercise felt…odd. Odder still was the fussy parlor. It was truly the domain of a spinster with its doilies and miniatures of elderly relatives. It didn't feel like Marianne. Despite her labeling by Society as such, she never seemed like a spinster to Sebastian. Not truly. No, Marianne was in a category all her own.

The door behind him opened and he turned to watch her enter the chamber. Her dark hair and gown were impeccable, and if one only looked that far, she would be the perfect vision of a lady. However, her cheeks were pale and her eyes a little glassy. He smiled slightly. It seemed she was still hungover.

"Sebastian," she said as she slowly advanced on him, hand outstretched in welcome. "I didn't expect you."

He lifted her knuckles to his lips briefly and laughed at her as he released her. "My God, you really were in your cups. You must be miserable."

Now color rushed to those pale cheeks and she took a few wobbly steps to the settee, where she sank down. "I am," she admitted. "My head throbs and I'm certain I'll cast up my accounts at any moment."

He shook his head slowly, both amused by her and also driven to help. "That will not do at all. One moment."

He crossed to the door and rang the bell. In a few moments her butler appeared. "May I help you, my lord?"

Sebastian leaned forward and quietly requested a few items from the servant. It seemed the old man might refuse, but when he looked past Sebastian to Marianne, worry for his mistress overrode whatever hesitations he had at being ordered around by a stranger, even a titled one.

"Yes, my lord. Immediately."

Sebastian nodded and then turned back to Marianne. She was staring at him. "Oh, what in the world did you ask Adams for?"

"You'll see. Nothing terrible, I promise you."

She covered her face with her hands. "I'm so embarrassed that my staff has seen me in such a state. I'm sure they're all whispering below stairs."

He moved to her and sat momentarily, catching her hand again. She wasn't wearing gloves and her palm was soft in his. "My dear Marianne, you are not the first person to have a few too many drinks at a spirited gathering. You won't be the last. And I'm certain that you were charming and kind to your staff, as you always are to everyone, whatever state you're in. I know you were so when we were on the veranda together last night."

"We were on the veranda?" she gasped.

He laughed again, but before he could say anything the butler returned with the items Sebastian had suggested, which he set up along the sideboard. When he had gone, Sebastian went to them and took up a crystal glass from a set. He went to work, feeling Marianne watching his every move, even if he didn't look at her.

When he returned, holding out the glass that was now filled with cloudy liquid, she eyed it suspiciously. "What's floating in it?" she asked.

"It's better not to know," he assured her. "Just drink up."

"I trust you," she said softly, and then took a large swig of the liquid before he could fully digest those words. She gasped and coughed, glaring at him over the rim of the glass. "Sebastian, that is dreadful!"

He nodded. "It is, it really is. But it will help. I am far too experienced at recovering from overindulgences, I'm afraid. Terrible character flaw, but it allows me to be your servant in this case. Keep drinking and let's discuss why it was you invited me here today."

Her eyes went wide as she struggled to swallow a second mouthful of the curative. "I invited you?" she said at last. "Good Lord, I was senseless, it seems."

He laughed softly. "A bit. And yes, you invited me. You said you wanted my help. You were desperate for it."

She took the last sip of the drink and set the empty glass aside with a disgusted expression. "I think you're teasing me."

" Me ?" he said with a shake of his head. "You wound me. I would never."

She smiled a little and he once again felt that triumph that he could cause it. It was always fun to play with her, tease her gently, watch her blush and titter. "Help me with what, exactly? Or did I say in this altered state you describe?"

"Well," he said with a wink. "You said you wanted to learn some naughty words. You said something about a list."

Her lips parted and now the teasing pleasure left her face as she got to her feet and swayed slightly. Then she took a long step away, putting her back to him. "A-a list? Whatever could that mean?"

He wrinkled his brow. That was an interesting response. Almost…guilty. Fascinating. It only made him want to understand more about why.

He pushed to his feet and took a long step toward her, crowding into the space she had created by walking away. "I'm sure I couldn't know. Perhaps we could talk it out. Try to get to the bottom of it together."

She pivoted and seemed surprised by his proximity if the way she jolted as she looked up into his face was any indication. "I'm certain it was just a strange twist of phrase in my drunken state. It needs no—no further exploration."

He narrowed his eyes as he examined her. She was trembling ever so slightly. "I see. So does that mean you don't want to learn any swear words, naughty words as you put it?"

Briefly panic crossed her face at the idea that he would leave, but then she smoothed it away. He tilted his head at how good at covering her emotions she was. Had she always been so?

"Well…well, you kindly came all the way here to call for the purpose didn't you?" she asked. "It seems rude if I turned you away instead of taking you up on the offer."

He nodded slowly, but he was gathering evidence as he did so. It seemed that though she might not remember entirely what had happened the night before, she knew exactly why she'd asked to learn profanities from him. She still wanted to know them, even if she would deny him the true reason why.

He stepped closer and now he was near enough that he could reach out to touch her. He heard her breath catch, watched as her pupils dilated ever so slightly when he moved into her space.

But she didn't back away, not even when he said, "Do you want to tell me what's really going on, Marianne?"

T he world was spinning as Marianne stared up into the brightest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen and found them so entirely focused on her that she could hardly draw breath. Sebastian had always paid her attention, of course, but it was playful. And though this…interrogation, for she had no better word for it…had begun that way, now it felt like it had shifted. The entire world had shifted actually, and her knees were trembling as she tried to gather her wits.

He wanted to know what she was doing, why she was asking him for such inappropriate things, but she couldn't tell him. Not him. He would pity her for one. And he would most definitely report her actions to Finn. Her brother would never understand. Never. He might even try to stop her in some misguided attempt at protection.

"Going on?" she whispered, and then cleared her throat to try to make her voice stronger. "I cannot imagine what you mean."

"Marianne," he said, and it felt like his voice got deeper when he put that warning edge to it. Like it resonated all the way down her spine.

Despite all the good reasons she had just listed to herself not to tell him, in that moment she almost wished to ignore all that and do it. Give him her heartbreak and her desire to be more than just a pathetic wallflower that no one thought of, if only for a few short days or weeks.

But no.

"I promise you, Sebastian, there is nothing going on beyond my utter and complete boredom. And since you came here today, that must mean you agreed to teach me about swear words."

He pursed his lips and for a moment she thought he might force her hand. But then he shook his head and the teasing light returned to his eyes. He let out a small sigh before he said, "Of course I agreed, Marianne. How could I ever resist you? I'll do as you ask if you still desire it while stone-cold sober. Certainly I think it will be entertaining to hear wicked things coming from that sweet mouth of yours."

His gaze slipped from her own and hovered for a moment on her lips. And once again the mood in the room shifted. But this time it wasn't fraught with danger but something else. Something heated. She felt tingly as his eyes lingered on her mouth, discombobulated just as she had when she'd been in her cups.

He blinked and his gaze darted away from her entirely. "Are you…are you concerned that we might be interrupted by your aunt in this wicked exercise?"

She shook her head. "No. Aunt Beulah is making calls to friends today. She won't be back for ages."

His breath shortened and he paced away, pointing to a chair before the fire as he did so. "Sit," he ordered.

She swallowed, trying to push away all these odd feelings and did as she had been told. He made no effort to do the same, but crossed back to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. She rubbed suddenly sweaty palms on her gown as he did so and waited.

At last, he turned back and all the heat she had felt from him was gone. Her friend was back, mischief in his stare, a grin quirking his full lips. The rest she must have imagined, there was no other explanation.

"Do you know of a bobtail, my fair lady?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I've never heard the term."

He smiled slightly. "Why, it's the term for a lewd woman."

She felt her eyes widen and his smile did the same. "A bobtail, gracious," she said. "A lewd woman would be…what would one do to be considered lewd?"

His smile faltered a bit. "Er, well, one who is lasciviously interested in sex, I suppose. One who fucks without thought of consequence." He arched a brow.

She flinched. "I've heard my brother say ‘fuck' before, but never when he knew I was near. Is that a term for…for marital relations?"

"Not only marital," he said. "There are many a couple who indulge in conjugal pleasures without wedlock."

"I suppose there are," she said, feeling her cheeks heat with the bold nature of this conversation. She hadn't really thought through the fact that discussing dirty words would also involve discussing their meaning. "Does that…does that mean that you are considered a lewd gentleman?"

Now it was his eyes that widened and he took a long swig of his drink before he answered. "In some circles I must be known as such, yes. Unfairly, men are not held to the same standards as woman, especially in our class. To be a rake does not necessarily mean to be held in lower regard."

She pursed her lips. "But it is very different for women, yes. We're taught to not even have such desires in our minds, let alone act on them."

His brow wrinkled. "Having desires isn't wrong, Marianne. It's human. No matter what anyone teaches you. And no one has to know what is in your head, do they?"

"I suppose not," she said, and thought of Claudia's list, locked up in her chamber at present. "Perhaps that's for the best."

He leaned back. "Does that mean Lady Marianne has a secret, rich fantasy life?"

She shook her head. "Oh…oh no. Of course not. I couldn't…I wouldn't even know what to imagine."

"That's a shame," he said, taking a step toward her before he stopped himself. "Fantasy makes reality worthwhile sometimes."

Her mind floated, quite of its own accord, to foggy dreams she sometimes had of the very man before her. Of his gaze holding hers as it was now, of him taking her hand. Of him kissing her. She felt the heat on her cheeks increase as she turned away. "What other words are there?"

He hesitated a moment before he said, "A man's member is called a cock."

She pivoted back to him. "Like a male chicken!"

He laughed at her expression and once again the tension in the room faded a fraction. "Indeed."

"Why in the world would one call such a thing a cock?" she asked.

He swallowed hard and then shrugged one shoulder. "Well, when a man is…is excited by a woman…when he wants her, his cock stands up straight."

She sucked in a breath. She'd never been close to marriage, so she'd never had the conversations other women had to explain what to expect in the marital bed. It seemed she would learn a great deal more than just about swearing today. "It does?" she said. "Why?"

"Great God," he muttered beneath his breath and shifted before he took a seat on the settee across from her and crossed his legs. "Well, er…he wants to take the woman, you see. Have you…have you ever seen animals rut in the country?"

"I…yes," she said. "That is how it is with…with…" She dropped her voice. "Fucking?"

Once again he sucked in a breath. "Yes. Without the cock being hard, standing at attention, it would be difficult to put…it…inside. And I suppose the way a male chicken stands up straight and races around, certain and wild, is a bit similar." He cleared his throat. "Do you understand?"

"Not entirely, but I'll take your word for it." She clenched and unclenched her hands in her lap. "And what do you call a woman's…parts?"

"There are a great many words for that," he said, leaning forward. "Her dumb glutton."

"Oh." She pulled a face. "That isn't very nice."

"I agree. Not my favorite." He smiled slightly, but it was growing more wicked by the moment. "Her hat."

"What?" She shook her head. "Now you're just teasing me."

"I'm not!" he insisted. "They call it that because it is frequently felt."

Her mouth dropped open at the pun. "Sebastian!"

"I didn't create the term, nor the reason, my dear."

"It isn't fair. So a man gets a cock and a woman gets such odd terms?"

"Well, there are better ones. Her cunt, for example. Her pussy. Those are my preferred terms for such things."

There was something in the way he said those words that gave them more weight, more sensuality than the sillier names. She found herself shifting in her chair and the tingles between her legs increased when she did. She reached up to cover her hot cheeks with her cool hands. "It seems that most of the words are about…about…copulation."

He tilted his head as if to consider that. "I suppose that's true. As long as there has been language, there have been words to describe fucking."

"Why do you think that is?" she asked, trying to meet his eyes as if this was all normal instead of so odd and heated and strange a conversation.

"It is our basest instinct," he said without hesitation. "Our deepest pleasure that we try to pretend away in ‘good' company. And yet it occupies our art, our language…and our dreams. Even if you don't admit it."

She dropped her gaze that he would bring her thoughts back around to her inappropriate dreams. "I suppose I have, from time to time, had an improper thought about a gentleman."

There was so long a silence that she forced herself to look at him. She found him staring at her intently. "Who?" he asked softly.

But before she could answer, he pushed to his feet and then turned away. "The afternoon grows late, I fear," he said. "And I think I've scandalized you enough for one day. I should go."

She blinked at the sudden formality to his tone and the way he moved stiffly when he walked across the room toward the door to the chamber. "I see. Of course, I wouldn't want to keep you," she said, making herself follow as a good hostess would. "Thank you for your help today. It was most educational."

"Excellent, I'm pleased to be of service."

He signaled to Adams for his horse to be brought and then turned to her. He was smiling, but there was something false about it. She'd never seen that kind of expression on his face, at least not when it came to her. She didn't like it.

"I hope you don't…don't judge me for asking," she said.

"No," he insisted. "Of course not. We'll see each other soon. Good day, Marianne."

And then he was gone, out her door and onto the stoop where he began to walk toward her small stable as if he couldn't wait for his animal to be brought. She shut the door slowly, confusion flooding her. But also a sense of excitement. Sebastian had opened her thoughts into a wide world she'd never been allowed to consider before in her sheltered life. So whatever happened next, at least she had been able to take a glimpse at that forbidden place of desire and sin.

Perhaps, if she continued down Claudia's path, she might even get a little more.

S ebastian mounted his horse and urged him forward, hastening to get himself out of Marianne's view as swiftly as possible.

What had he been thinking? It was one thing to playfully educate Marianne about the intricacies of inappropriate slang, but he'd gone further than he ever should. Not only had he only spoken to her about words that represented, as she had put it, copulation, but he had leaned into her. He'd drawn her out. Flirted the way he would with a woman he was actually pursuing.

And he'd seen her with different eyes because of it. When her lips had formed those filthy words, he had been physically affected. Even forced to block an erection from her view. Worse, he'd watched those lips and wondered what they would feel like pressed to his. What they would look like parted as she arched her back beneath a man.

Not just any man. Beneath him.

And he couldn't do those things with her. Delacourt had always been clear at the kind of boundaries that would need to be maintained in order to keep their friendship. So if he wanted to remain close to a man he considered brother, Sebastian would have to be more careful around Marianne.

That was all there was to it.