but them.
Chapter Ten
Benedict set one book back on Vivien’s shelf and reached for another. His eyes went wide at what was within. The shelves in her public parlors were lined with erotic tomes, complete with illustrations of a most shocking nature. That, combined with her erotic art and wallpaper, made his head spin.
But he had always known that his lover was a sensual woman, unafraid of intimacy of the body. No, what she was afraid of was something far deeper—intimacy of the mind and the spirit. Sharing anything, even the smallest detail, of the woman behind her public persona, was terrifying to her. So she built walls with her clothing, her sensuality, her shocking chambers where sin was king…
He knew she had private rooms in this house…she had to, no one could sleep full-time in that gargantuan bed she shared with her lovers. Those were the chambers he wanted to see, a glimpse of her real self, her real life when she was alone and not trying to impress those with power.
She would never show him of her own volition, but he had a plan to get around her walls this time.
The door behind him opened and he turned to watch her come into the room. Her blonde hair was swept up in a complicated fashion and her bright blue eyes were accentuated by the equally stunning blue of her gown.
“Good afternoon,” he said with a slight bow in her direction.
She laughed. “We are very proper today.”
“I always greet a lady properly,” he said, then crossed the room and took her arm to pull her close. After he kissed her slowly, thoroughly, he smiled. “You see?”
She staggered slightly as he released her and smoothed her dress gently. “Ah, yes. Though I doubt you were taught the second welcome in a comportment session.”
“You never met my governess,” he said, then whistled.
Her eyes went wide. “You cannot be serious!”
He shook his head. “I admit, I am not. But for a moment you thought me as wicked as some of the men who come to your home regularly.”
She smiled, but the expression seemed forced. “Some of those men are very nice, yes, but I would not want them to stay longer than an evening, I assure you. Their wickedness is not their most charming trait. Though everyone seems to think that is all I care about.”
He tilted his head. She seemed truly irritated by what had been honest teasing. Which created an opportunity for him to press for those details he was always so hungry for.
“If wickedness is not the dominant trait you look for in a gentleman, then what is?”
She hesitated for so long that he wondered if she had actually heard his question, but then she sighed. Her gaze was far away as she murmured, “I could scarcely tell you anymore.”
He frowned. “Your tone speaks of regret.”
She darted her gaze to him, wild and unsteady. “Of course not, don’t be foolish. I do not live my life with regret—it is a waste of time.”
“Sadness, then, if you prefer the word.” He shrugged. “Deny it all you like, but I see it in your eyes. I would offer you comfort if you would take it.”
She stiffened and moved away. “No. I’m fine. Of course, I’m fine. I doubt you came to call on me with the purpose of analyzing my thoughts on men or regret.”
He paused. Actually, both those topics sounded like perfectly reasonable ones for them to dissect. At least they were personal. But he wouldn’t say so if he wished to stay.
“I have come because I’ve been thinking of our conversation from two days past about the Earl of Dersingham.”
Her chin jerked up at that and interest pushed away the warning in her eyes. “Have you?”
He nodded. “I believe I’ve come up with a way to destroy him, if that is still your desire.”
Her spine straightened and she moved toward him a few steps. “It is! What is your plan?”
He drew in a breath. “Well, my dear, I’m afraid my answer isn’t going to be as simple as all that.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What does that mean,
Chapter Ten
Benedict set one book back on Vivien’s shelf and reached for another. His eyes went wide at what was within. The shelves in her public parlors were lined with erotic tomes, complete with illustrations of a most shocking nature. That, combined with her erotic art and wallpaper, made his head spin.
But he had always known that his lover was a sensual woman, unafraid of intimacy of the body. No, what she was afraid of was something far deeper—intimacy of the mind and the spirit. Sharing anything, even the smallest detail, of the woman behind her public persona, was terrifying to her. So she built walls with her clothing, her sensuality, her shocking chambers where sin was king…
He knew she had private rooms in this house…she had to, no one could sleep full-time in that gargantuan bed she shared with her lovers. Those were the chambers he wanted to see, a glimpse of her real self, her real life when she was alone and not trying to impress those with power.
She would never show him of her own volition, but he had a plan to get around her walls this time.
The door behind him opened and he turned to watch her come into the room. Her blonde hair was swept up in a complicated fashion and her bright blue eyes were accentuated by the equally stunning blue of her gown.
“Good afternoon,” he said with a slight bow in her direction.
She laughed. “We are very proper today.”
“I always greet a lady properly,” he said, then crossed the room and took her arm to pull her close. After he kissed her slowly, thoroughly, he smiled. “You see?”
She staggered slightly as he released her and smoothed her dress gently. “Ah, yes. Though I doubt you were taught the second welcome in a comportment session.”
“You never met my governess,” he said, then whistled.
Her eyes went wide. “You cannot be serious!”
He shook his head. “I admit, I am not. But for a moment you thought me as wicked as some of the men who come to your home regularly.”
She smiled, but the expression seemed forced. “Some of those men are very nice, yes, but I would not want them to stay longer than an evening, I assure you. Their wickedness is not their most charming trait. Though everyone seems to think that is all I care about.”
He tilted his head. She seemed truly irritated by what had been honest teasing. Which created an opportunity for him to press for those details he was always so hungry for.
“If wickedness is not the dominant trait you look for in a gentleman, then what is?”
She hesitated for so long that he wondered if she had actually heard his question, but then she sighed. Her gaze was far away as she murmured, “I could scarcely tell you anymore.”
He frowned. “Your tone speaks of regret.”
She darted her gaze to him, wild and unsteady. “Of course not, don’t be foolish. I do not live my life with regret—it is a waste of time.”
“Sadness, then, if you prefer the word.” He shrugged. “Deny it all you like, but I see it in your eyes. I would offer you comfort if you would take it.”
She stiffened and moved away. “No. I’m fine. Of course, I’m fine. I doubt you came to call on me with the purpose of analyzing my thoughts on men or regret.”
He paused. Actually, both those topics sounded like perfectly reasonable ones for them to dissect. At least they were personal. But he wouldn’t say so if he wished to stay.
“I have come because I’ve been thinking of our conversation from two days past about the Earl of Dersingham.”
Her chin jerked up at that and interest pushed away the warning in her eyes. “Have you?”
He nodded. “I believe I’ve come up with a way to destroy him, if that is still your desire.”
Her spine straightened and she moved toward him a few steps. “It is! What is your plan?”
He drew in a breath. “Well, my dear, I’m afraid my answer isn’t going to be as simple as all that.”
Her brow wrinkled. “What does that mean,
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