A Marriage Most Scandalous (Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Book 2) by Victoria Vale Page B
Authors: Victoria Vale
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I’m a delicate porcelain doll to be set on a shelf and admired? I am sick to death of being treated that way! I am a woman , Sheridan. I am your wife. Can you not see past your ridiculous notions?”
“You don’t understand!” he roared, his face reddening.
She flinched, startled. His expression became contrite, and he took a deep, noisy breath and released it on a sigh.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “It’s just that it is not as easy for me to push aside my ridiculous notions, as you call them. They’ve been ingrained in me since I became old enough to understand the difference between men and women.”
She exchanged a glance with Petra, who gave an encouraging nod.
“Go on.”
“My parents shared a very formal relationship,” he began, still avoiding looking at either of them. “They referred to each other as ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady’, and never showed affection in front of me and my brother. When I grew old enough to understand intercourse, I often wondered if my parents had only engaged in it twice—just to create Aaron and I—as there existed no evidence that they felt any sort of physical attraction to one another.”
“Were they ever affectionate toward you?” Petra asked.
He shook his head. “My father never was. The most he ever did was shake my hand after an accomplishment and say ‘well done’. He managed to crack a smile when I completed my education at Cambridge. My mother … well, I always wondered if she weren’t a more affectionate person before she married him. She always seemed to want to show us affection, but he was always there to remind her that it wasn’t proper. We were boys, and as such, did not need coddling. He took our rearing in hand. In truth, we hardly ever saw her. Of course, she died when I was twelve, and there never came a chance to truly get to know her.”
Cecily’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at his revelation. What sort of man kept a child from his mother? Of course, a boy needed his father, but he also needed the love of his mother. She did not know her father-in-law well, and realized now it was because Sheridan did everything he could to avoid being anywhere near him. She understood now why he’d been so adamant that they rent their own town residence while in London.
“When I was thirteen, he told me I had become a man,” he continued. “He told me I would have urges that were perfectly normal. Men are supposed to explore and slake those urges on any willing female so long as she wasn’t a lady. Whores, courtesans, scullery maids … all fair game.”
Petra snorted, rolling her eyes. “Typical.”
“When I turned fourteen, he showed me to one of the guest rooms where a young scullery maid waited for me. She was …” he paused, his cheeks reddening. “Naked. He told me she was my gift and to enjoy her in any way I wished.”
Cecily clapped a hand over her mouth. “Dear lord!”
“Did you?” Petra asked, her face still schooled into a mask of calm composure.
He nodded. “I had just turned fourteen and I’d never known a woman before. She had breasts and a cunt, and was willing. Of course I did. I had a bloody good time, too.”
The Madame inclined her head, giving him a sympathetic look. “The fun did not last long, did it?”
“No,” he confirmed. “This was just the first of many lessons my father taught me about the fairer sex.”
“Lessons?” she inquired.
She did not like the turn this conversation had taken, and had a feeling she’d like the rest even less.
“To him, they were as important as the rest of my studies. My conditioning for society and marriage, he said. He wanted to ensure I understood the difference between ladies, and … well, everything else. He took me to my first brothel when I turned sixteen.”
She supposed she didn’t conceal the gasp burning in her throat as well as she’d thought, because Petra reached across the carriage to pat her hand reassuringly.
“A common
“You don’t understand!” he roared, his face reddening.
She flinched, startled. His expression became contrite, and he took a deep, noisy breath and released it on a sigh.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “It’s just that it is not as easy for me to push aside my ridiculous notions, as you call them. They’ve been ingrained in me since I became old enough to understand the difference between men and women.”
She exchanged a glance with Petra, who gave an encouraging nod.
“Go on.”
“My parents shared a very formal relationship,” he began, still avoiding looking at either of them. “They referred to each other as ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady’, and never showed affection in front of me and my brother. When I grew old enough to understand intercourse, I often wondered if my parents had only engaged in it twice—just to create Aaron and I—as there existed no evidence that they felt any sort of physical attraction to one another.”
“Were they ever affectionate toward you?” Petra asked.
He shook his head. “My father never was. The most he ever did was shake my hand after an accomplishment and say ‘well done’. He managed to crack a smile when I completed my education at Cambridge. My mother … well, I always wondered if she weren’t a more affectionate person before she married him. She always seemed to want to show us affection, but he was always there to remind her that it wasn’t proper. We were boys, and as such, did not need coddling. He took our rearing in hand. In truth, we hardly ever saw her. Of course, she died when I was twelve, and there never came a chance to truly get to know her.”
Cecily’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at his revelation. What sort of man kept a child from his mother? Of course, a boy needed his father, but he also needed the love of his mother. She did not know her father-in-law well, and realized now it was because Sheridan did everything he could to avoid being anywhere near him. She understood now why he’d been so adamant that they rent their own town residence while in London.
“When I was thirteen, he told me I had become a man,” he continued. “He told me I would have urges that were perfectly normal. Men are supposed to explore and slake those urges on any willing female so long as she wasn’t a lady. Whores, courtesans, scullery maids … all fair game.”
Petra snorted, rolling her eyes. “Typical.”
“When I turned fourteen, he showed me to one of the guest rooms where a young scullery maid waited for me. She was …” he paused, his cheeks reddening. “Naked. He told me she was my gift and to enjoy her in any way I wished.”
Cecily clapped a hand over her mouth. “Dear lord!”
“Did you?” Petra asked, her face still schooled into a mask of calm composure.
He nodded. “I had just turned fourteen and I’d never known a woman before. She had breasts and a cunt, and was willing. Of course I did. I had a bloody good time, too.”
The Madame inclined her head, giving him a sympathetic look. “The fun did not last long, did it?”
“No,” he confirmed. “This was just the first of many lessons my father taught me about the fairer sex.”
“Lessons?” she inquired.
She did not like the turn this conversation had taken, and had a feeling she’d like the rest even less.
“To him, they were as important as the rest of my studies. My conditioning for society and marriage, he said. He wanted to ensure I understood the difference between ladies, and … well, everything else. He took me to my first brothel when I turned sixteen.”
She supposed she didn’t conceal the gasp burning in her throat as well as she’d thought, because Petra reached across the carriage to pat her hand reassuringly.
“A common
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